Chapter 21 You are not dead, you are back, right?

Chapter 21 You are not dead, you are back, right?

"Feed with the blood of both parents?"

Shang Youqing once suspected that she had misheard, but the look in Mu Weiting's eyes was so deep and clear, without any hint of joking with her.

Shang Youqing frowned and took her little phoenix baby from Mu Weiting's hands.

Shang You rubbed her burnt tail feathers, shook her wings, and instinctively stumbled into Shang Youqing's arms.

It seemed like she was back to the time when she was just hatched, in pain and aggrieved. Her little claws tightly grasped the corner of Shang Youqing's clothes, and she chirped softly and weakly, asking her mother to hold her and coax her. It was

not until Shang Youqing's warm and cool healing spirit poured into her that Shang You felt a little better. She buried her round head with messy fur in Shang Youqing's clothes, and her little claws softly arched her back. Soon she fell dizzy and fainted in Shang Youqing's arms.

Lu Jingchi, standing nearby, had barely digested the conversation between his senior brothers and sisters. Seeing his niece, Shang You, suffering from the burning pain of her failed tail molting attempt, his heart sank in his throat, and he murmured worriedly.

"How could this happen... Little phoenixes need the blood of both parents to complete their first molt, but Senior Sister can't even remember the humans she slept with. What should we do? We can't let Shang You's tail feathers continue to burn like this. It's bound to cause trouble..."

Shang You glanced at him.

Lu Jingchi obediently shut up, but the next moment, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath again, "That's right, Senior Sister, you said you went down the mountain to seek spiritual roots, so why did you lose control and break your vow? Now, you don't even know who You You's father is. If You You really can't complete your first tail molt this time..."

"Jingchi," Mu Weiting interrupted with a slightly sullen tone.

Lu Jingchi noticed the coldness on his senior sister's face, and only then did he realize what he had said in a moment of bluntness. He quickly tried to make amends, "Senior sister, I don't mean to blame you. I'm just worried about Youyou—"

Shang Youqing smoothed over the little phoenix chick, whose feathers were trembling in pain as it nestled in his arms. Finally, he regained some consciousness and looked at Mu Weiting again. "Senior brother, do you know something? Jingchi told me that it was you who brought me back to Wutong Mountain."

...

Even on the other side, in Yanyuan.

"Feathers?"

He Cong sat down on the edge of his young son's crib, picked up the soft, snow-white feathers in the little fellow's hand, and gently stroked the shapes on them with his fingertips. A subtle shift gradually took place in his calm, dark eyes.

He Zhimo was still clinging to him, pouting and mumbling, "When I got up this morning, there were several feathers on the bed. The housekeeper said they might have fallen out of the quilt, so they changed it for me. But just now, while I was sleeping, I found new feathers. Daddy, where did these feathers come from?"

He Cong calmly put the feathers away and gently rubbed his son's head with his warm hands to soothe him. "I'll have someone check in tomorrow morning. Momo, go to bed first?" The

young master He looked up at his father's stern face and, for some reason, couldn't help but make a clingy request: "I want Daddy to tell me a story to put me to sleep tonight."

He Cong always agreed to his son's requests, so he naturally said "yes".

After the little guy lay down obediently and tucked in the quilt, he picked up a storybook from the bedside table. He sat calmly on the edge of the bed, his voice low and gentle, reading a story from the picture book to put the little guy to sleep.

The young master closed his eyes contentedly, his two small hands clasping He Cong's dangling hand. He counted the Buddhist beads on his father's wrist while listening to his father's lulling tales, finally drifting off to a deep, sweet sleep.

Seeing the cub sleeping soundly, He Cong slowly closed the storybook.

Gently, he removed his palms from the cub's soft hands and placed each of them under the soft blanket.

Then, he gently brushed aside the tangled hair that had clung to the cub's face, leaned over to adjust the nightlight to a gentle, sleep-friendly glow, ensuring the cub's peaceful sleep. Then, he quietly retreated from the small room.

He Cong didn't return to his room to sleep directly. Instead, he ascended to the attic on the top floor of the main house. He unlocked the door with his fingerprint, and a soft yellow light flickered on. He Cong walked through the gallery to the studio at the end.

A feather pendant, strung with beads, adorned the immaculate walls.

He Cong approached, picked up the feather pendant, and examined it. He then pulled the several small feathers He Zhimo had shown him from his coat pocket.

He carefully compared them with the feather pendants on the studio wall.

They were both snow-white, fluffy down, with soft, delicate feather root structures. The only difference was that the feathers the little cub had shown him were thin and small, while the feathers on the studio wall were longer and denser.

This was also a secret that no one knew -

during his last year of confinement in Pingzhuang Mental Hospital, Fuying had personally woven many beautiful feather objects for him.

At that time, he was only seventeen or eighteen years old. Due to the effects of long-term medication, He Cong suffered from memory loss and mental disorder for a long time.

Especially at night, he was plagued by bloody and terrifying nightmares. He had to hold Fuying tightly to barely fall asleep. Sometimes, when he woke up the next day, there would be beautiful feathers in his bed.

Fuying had a penchant for collecting beautiful feathers. Whenever he worked hard to get full marks during rehabilitation training, she would knit him a small gift out of these beautiful feathers as a reward.

To earn Fuying's reward, He Cong would push himself to get full marks during subsequent rehabilitation training.

Later, when Fuying brought him back to the He family, He Cong carefully stored away all the feather items, until she personally destroyed them all when Fuying was pregnant with He Zhimo.

The only feather pendant left was the one He Cong had found and brought back to Yanyuan from Pingzhuang Mental Hospital.

At that moment, He Cong stared at the feather, which, apart from the size of the feather, was essentially the same shape as a down feather, and a violent and repressed element gradually welled up in his dark eyes.

"You're not dead... You're back... Right?"

He Cong murmured darkly, clutching the tiny feather.

Yes.

Fuying wasn't dead at all.

She was back. She

had secretly come back to see their child and accidentally left the feather behind.

Because she was afraid that he was still angry with her and refused to forgive her, she did not dare to appear in front of him again, nor did she dare to come to see him.

Yes, that must be the case.

The veins on He Cong's wrists were bulging due to the tension, and he ignored the ebony Buddhist beads pressing against his wrist joints. He

strode straight down to the first floor and woke up Chen, the housekeeper who had already returned to the annex to rest, to check the Yanyuan surveillance.

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