Poppy leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we offended them?”
“Several,” he said. “Irreparably.”
She huffed a tired laugh.
Lysandra piped up from her reclined sprawl, “If they try to summon us again, I’m bringing snacks and a water bucket to throw at anyone who talks down to Poppy.”
“That’s not helping,” Poppy said.
“It helps me.”
Chapter 115
By the time the carriage crested the mist-draped ridge overlooking Huoyáo Jìng, dawn had shifted into soft morning light. Foxfire lanterns glowed beneath the trees. Warriors trained in the courtyard. Elders carried baskets of herbs past the gates.
Home.
Mingxi kissed Poppy’s temple as the carriage slowed. “You deserve rest.”
“You all do,” Yunlian added warmly.
They stepped out into a wash of gentle foxfire. Younger clan members ran to meet them, tripping over one another in their eagerness. Minghua brought sweet cakes. Mingjun had tea ready. Caelan and Lirrane appeared around a corner, arguing loudly about something.
It was chaotic. Warm. Safe.
Poppy exhaled deeply, shoulders unspooling tension she hadn’t realized she carried.
Mingxi guided her toward their rooms. “A quiet day,” he murmured, “with no councils, no shards, no politics. Only us.”
“And naps,” Lysandra added, already halfway to her guest room. “Do not wake me unless the world ends. Again.”
Poppy laughed softly.
Mingxi scooped her up without warning, ignoring her yelp and tucking her against his chest like he’d been waiting all day for the excuse.
“I love you,” he said simply.
She cupped his cheek. “I love you, too.”
For the first time since they met, since the moonwell, since the fear beneath the valley—everything was calm.
Epilogue
The night was unusually calm when Shen Mingyue was born.
Huoyáo Jìng glowed with plum blossoms drifting lazily overhead, as if the valley itself held its breath. Mingxi had refused to leave Poppy’s side for even a heartbeat, not when the contractions began, not when the midwives rushed in.
Not when Yunlian calmly told him, “Sit down before you faint.”
He hadn’t sat down.
When their daughter finally arrived tiny, pink, furious at the world, he made a sound no fox spirit should ever make. Something between a sob, a laugh, and an oath to the universe.
Poppy held Mingyue against her chest, exhausted and glowing in a way that had nothing to do with magic.
“She has your nose,” Mingxi whispered, brushing his finger over her cheek.
“She has your stubbornness,” Poppy murmured.
