The Tianra Imperial Palace.

After returning to the Sky Stairway, the first person Yueyang wanted to see was none other than Fourth Mother.

Meeting Pandora in Desire Valley had ultimately been a good thing — but looking back on it now, he’d nearly been destroyed by her Calamity god-force and the valley’s own laws. Just thinking about it sent a cold chill through him. If he’d never made it back, what would have become of Fourth Mother and Bing’er? How heartbroken would Wuxia and Qianqian have been? None of those hypotheticals had come to pass, of course — but when his mind drifted back to those moments, a restless ache welled up in his chest, a need for something he couldn’t quite name.

Who could ease that kind of weight?

Wuxia. Qianqian. Luohua. Yinan. Tianfa. Yue Yu. Any of them could.

Even Bing’er, Shuang’er, Bao’er, Niunu, and the rest of those little girls who still relied on him for so much — just having them nearby, all their bouncing energy and cheerful noise, their complete ignorance of anything resembling comfort, would still somehow be enough to pull him back into the light without a word being spoken.

But without question, the person who lifted him highest and silenced the darkest thoughts most completely was Fourth Mother.

Soft and gentle Fourth Mother — quiet as still water, warm as hearth-fire, with a kind of natural maternal grace that seemed to shine out of her without any effort at all.

She didn’t even have to say a word. She only had to look at him.

And he could feel her absolute, unwavering faith in him.

That confidence. That warmth. There were no words for it. He only had to see her face, and something inside him simply knew what it was he was supposed to do.

He only had to see her, and his heart was at ease — the way a wandering child feels when he finally comes home. Whatever blow the world had landed, whatever worry had taken root, it vanished the instant he crossed her threshold, gone as if it had never existed.

Yueyang returned to the garden courtyard.

He was just in time to see the Drunken Cat Imperial Lady stepping out of the same teleportation array, and for a moment they both blinked at each other. Of all the coincidences.

She recovered first, cutting him off before he could open his mouth: “You’ve come back at a bad time. Wuxia and Qianqian took Bing’er to study the ancient rune inscriptions. Yue Yu went to visit her mentor. Everyone else is deep in training inside the Sky Stairway. Nobody’s free to keep you company.” A beat, and then, before he could even glance her way: “And don’t look at me. I’m not free either. His Majesty’s birthday is coming up — I have arrangements to make.”

“I’m free!” Little panda Niunu, terrified of leaving her brother disappointed, came trotting over at once. She wrapped her small hands around his arm and tilted her rosy little face up toward him. “Shuang’er and I are both free! We can stay with you!”

“Such a good girl.” Yueyang scooped her up and planted a loud kiss on her smooth forehead.

“You — go do your homework.” The Drunken Cat Imperial Lady turned on the child with the severity of a strict mother, and the little panda girl’s eyes went wide. She stuck out her tiny pink tongue, released her brother at once, and bolted inside. She’d find Yue Shuang first, finish today’s lessons, and then find some way to sneak back out and play.

At the corner she stopped, turned, and made a secret little gesture at Yueyang — wait for me.

Only when he nodded did she bounce away with a happy squeal.

The Drunken Cat Imperial Lady watched the whole exchange with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “How old are you, exactly? Playing games with children?”

Yueyang grinned. “People who keep a childlike heart never grow old… His Majesty’s birthday — can I come?”

The Imperial Lady gave a supremely elegant little sniff. “You’re not invited. Don’t show up without being asked — the last thing anyone needs is you causing chaos. And frankly, with Fourth Mother living here, you’re already here far too often. It reflects badly on His Majesty.”

Yueyang played innocent. “How does it reflect badly?”

She came very close to strangling him with her bare hands. She restrained herself, barely. “Never mind how — it just does. All of Longteng knows you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

Yueyang took offense.

“Now wait a moment — His Majesty has three thousand beauties in his harem. That old man Jun Wuyou has his three palaces, six courts, and seventy-two consorts on the books, and the gods only know how many more off them. Compared to either of them, what am I? I’m not even in the same category. And for that matter, which emperor in all of Longteng or the entire Sky Stairway doesn’t have a hundred-odd women? Put me next to any of them, and I’m practically a saint. Pure of heart. A model of fidelity.”

“You,” said the Drunken Cat Imperial Lady, swaying slightly, “are a pure-hearted model of fidelity?”

“Compared to the competition? I’d stand by that claim.” Yueyang’s skin was, at this point, essentially structural steel. A little argument was nothing.

“You — you can’t just compare yourself to other people!” The Imperial Lady rounded on him, suddenly furious. “Those awful men can do whatever they like — that’s one thing. But you’re supposed to be different! You’re supposed to set an example!“

“That kind of example,” Yueyang said, with a dismissive wave, “I’d rather not set.”

“What?!”

“I’m only pointing out,” he said, raising a hand meekly, “that I’m also one of those awful men you just mentioned.”

“Does being an awful man mean you get to be awful?” She zeroed in on this with the precision of a prosecutor.

“Doesn’t it?” He blinked at her, genuinely curious.

“You are going to be the death of me!” She shoved him aside, turned on her heel, and stormed off without looking back, still fuming as she went: “Stop talking to me. I’m done with you.”

Yueyang scratched the back of his head, staring after her.

Something was off. She wasn’t usually quite like this — there was a different edge to her today, something sharper underneath the familiar bickering. Had something happened?

No one around to ask. He filed it away.

He made his way to Fourth Mother’s quarters, only to arrive just as she was saying goodbye to a visitor. Curious. Who had come to see her?

Fourth Mother turned around. She saw Yueyang.

Her face lit up instantly.

Her spirits were clearly high. She guided him to a seat with a gentle smile, and while she carefully smoothed his travel-worn hair with her fingers, she spoke with quiet, radiant happiness: “The elders have been talking things over, and they’ve settled on a date. The engagement has gone on too long without any real ceremony — that isn’t fair to Wuxia and Qianqian and the others. Now, you young people have your own ideas, and if you’d rather keep it private rather than make a formal occasion of it, the family can accept that too. But you should still meet with your elders and let things be properly acknowledged. This isn’t about distrust — it’s about us old ones hoping to see the family take root and grow, to have grandchildren laughing around our knees someday. The fighting outside never really stops, but here in the Sky Stairway things have finally quieted down. You ought to hold your celebrations while you can, so that when children come, everything will be proper and right…” She paused, warm and practical all at once. “The customs differ by clan — we won’t dictate how you manage the ceremony itself. Simple or elaborate, traditional or otherwise, you’re the young ones, it’s your occasion. We only want the confirmation. The blessing.”

Yueyang listened, and understood that there was no avoiding this.

He nodded.

Fourth Mother stared at him for a moment as though she couldn’t quite believe it — and then, with a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob, she pulled him close and buried her face against him. Tears fell, one after another. “Sān’er… the greatest wish I’ve had in this entire life is to watch you grow up, bring home a wife, start a family of your own. If you could give me a grandchild to hold in the next two years, I’d have nothing left to want. Nothing at all.”

She had braced herself for an argument. A long one.

Instead, he had said yes almost before she finished speaking.

It left her astonished — and deeply moved. When had he changed? He’d gone off to the heavenly realms, passed through whatever trials awaited him there, and come back somehow… softer. More ready.

Fourth Mother felt it in her bones. She reached out and gently turned him to face her, brushing the traces of tears from the corners of her eyes, and looked at him with a gaze both warm and searching. “Sān’er. Something happened in the heavenly realms, didn’t it? Tell Fourth Mother. You’re not allowed to hide things from me.”

Yueyang smiled. “It wasn’t much, really. Just an unexpected complication or two. But everything turned out fine…”

And so he told her — briefly, the shape of things. Desire Valley. Beast Valley. The broad strokes of what had happened.

The telling was, in itself, a kind of release. Whatever shadows had still been turning quietly in his chest dissolved as he spoke, as though the act of putting them into words had drawn out the poison.

Fourth Mother listened with widened eyes and a hand pressed to her heart. When he finished, she gave him a gentle tap on the top of his head — half-scolding, half-tender. “If you had the best way through already, why go looking for trouble? You nearly frightened your Fourth Mother to death. From now on, absolutely no more of that — whatever you do, think of the people waiting for you. If something happened to you, what would we do? What would become of us?” Her voice softened then, settling into something quieter and more thoughtful. “Still… none of this is entirely your fault. This is simply what fate is. Pandora found you — that was its own kind of destiny. Some things can’t be outrun no matter how hard you try. And with your sister watching over us from above, I believe we’ll always find our way through whatever comes.”

Yueyang didn’t say anything. He simply lowered his head into her arms, like a child falling asleep, and closed his eyes.

Fourth Mother’s face flooded with a tenderness beyond measure. Her long lashes dropped gently. She began to stroke his hair, to trace the line of his cheek, and her voice came like music from somewhere far and peaceful, like the stars speaking:

“Sleep, Sān’er. You’ve been carrying everything for so long. This whole family rests on your shoulders — Fourth Mother knows. She’s always known. There’s nothing to be done about it, but… sleep now. Fourth Mother is here. There’s nothing to fear. Everything will work itself out.”

In the soft radiance of her warmth, Yueyang drifted away.

Not into sleep, exactly — into something more. A wordless country of the spirit: still, serene, clear and utterly without worry.

Was this what Fourth Mother’s heart looked like inside?

In a place this peaceful, one could sleep ten thousand years and never feel alone.

When Yueyang surfaced again, he found himself lying flat on the long settee, his head resting on Fourth Mother’s knees, his arms loosely curled around her waist, exactly as he’d fallen — like a child the whole while. He didn’t open his eyes. He heard the Drunken Cat Imperial Lady’s voice, and kept very still, listening from behind the pretense of sleep.

Her voice was shaking slightly. She was pleading. “Can you take my name off the list? Fourth Mother — I don’t want to marry him.”

“Why not?” Fourth Mother’s voice was soft as a still pond.

“Wuxia’s name is on that list. Qianqian’s. Luohua’s. All of them together, and me as well — how does that look?” There was something close to tears in the Imperial Lady’s voice.

“Is it about who becomes the principal wife?”

“No. No, it’s not that.” Quick, emphatic. “Wuxia is the right choice for that. Even Qianqian agrees.”

“Then you don’t care for my Sān’er anymore?”

“That’s not — it’s not that either.” A pause. The voice dropped lower, more unguarded. “It’s just… the gap between his position and mine is too great. And he’s always teasing me — I can never tell what he’s thinking. Fourth Mother, my heart is in knots. Please give me time to sort it out. And please, talk to His Majesty — he means well, I know, but this is something I want to decide for myself. And please, please — don’t let him find out. If it comes to nothing, I… I don’t know how I could ever face him afterward…” In her agitation, she’d reached out and taken Fourth Mother’s hands in both of hers, eyes bright and red-rimmed, looking up at her like a lost child. “Fourth Mother, you’re the kindest person I know. Please. Help me.”

“I know what you’re afraid of,” Fourth Mother said gently. “But none of that matters as much as you think it does. Go home and think it through, you silly girl. Everyone knows this situation is unusual — but this is a whole lifetime’s happiness we’re talking about. Is happiness really so easy to find? If you spend all your energy worrying about what other people will say, won’t you just exhaust yourself? Wuxia, Qianqian, and Luohua have all let go of exactly what you’re holding onto. Why be so stubborn? Stubborn like this, you’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

Fourth Mother murmured on in her quiet way, and drew the Imperial Lady gently against her side.

Under that steady warmth, the Imperial Lady’s frantic heartbeat slowly began to ease.

And then she made the mistake of glancing at Yueyang’s face — still supposedly asleep, features slack and unguarded, the corner of his mouth curved very slightly upward, as though even in his dreams he’d found something to smile about. As though he could see straight through her even now, laughing at her without making a sound.

Her heart lurched. Lurched again. She couldn’t stop it.

“Fourth Mother — I’m going. Let me think about it.” She didn’t dare look any longer. She stood up abruptly, afraid that one more second would pin her feet to the floor, and fled as if the room were on fire.

“What a stubborn, foolish girl,” Fourth Mother said to herself, and could not hold back a fond and helpless smile.