The largest one occupied the center, a square tea table positioned beneath it and ringed by cushioned seats.
Yi Xian’er, Ji Ya, Yan Meng’er, and the others had tagged along with Yan Yan to keep her company. But the little one kept complaining of hunger and pestered Jialan Saint Lord into taking her home for a feed, leaving the rest of them behind.
Now only a handful of lotus root people were sneaking peeks at the women.
These lotus root folk were shy creatures by nature. Any attempt to interact sent the knee-high little things scampering off with pitiful whimpers—especially after Yan Yan and Long Ying had chased them around earlier like village bullies herding chickens. The fright lingered, and none dared approach now.
As the women idly toured the platform in boredom, a space portal ripped open without warning. Jialan Fairy glided in with graceful steps, cradling a small boy in her arms.
The women blinked in surprise, then stared—and gaped in shock.
This child looked uncannily like Yan Zhen. No, it was him. The eyes, the aura: a perfect miniature version!
Amazement rippled through the group, their eyes sparkling. Yan Zhen had always been strikingly handsome, and in this pint-sized form, he was even more adorably so, stirring affection in every heart.
Yan Meng’er ventured a call:
“Is that you, Cousin?”
Fresh off his public humiliation before his daughter and that bottomless pit Long Ying, Yan Zhen now faced a fresh layer of mortification. The women’s peculiar stares turned his handsome little face beet red. With no other recourse, he buried his head deep in the Saint Lord Master’s generous cleavage, playing ostrich.
Jialan Fairy held the three-year-old Yan Zhen with an impassive face. The gentle warmth in her eyes had given way to the stillness of a deep well, laced with cool detachment. She was clearly displeased—and this was his punishment.
The women traded uncertain glances, sensing that Yan Zhen must have upset her. Anyone else, and she likely wouldn’t have batted an eye.
Ji Ya asked cautiously:
“Jialan Master, what happened to Little Brother Yan Zhen?”
Yi Xian’er voiced her concern:
“Did Yan Zhen make you angry, Jialan Master?”
“It’s nothing. Head back, all of you.” Jialan Fairy’s tone remained even. “Cai Lian endured a three-year pregnancy; birth took its toll. As her sisters, you ought to go look after her. When your own time comes, she’ll return the favor.”
Before they could respond, she flicked her sleeve. A swirl of power whisked them away, leaving the vast platform deserted.
The lotus root people perked up at their master’s return, eager to greet her—until her indifferent command rang out:
“Go play somewhere else. Don’t disturb me.”
They froze, picking up on her mood at once. Trembling, they retreated the way they’d come and scattered.
Jialan Fairy settled into her customary seat with Yan Zhen in her arms, then set him down across from her. The lecture was clearly imminent.
Yan Zhen sensed disaster. Once she got started, it could drag on for days. He blurted out:
“Saint Lord Master, let me explain!”
Interrupted mid-incantation, Jialan Fairy grew only more irked:
“Explain what? You naughty Yan’er—if you were craving it, you should have come to me. Why steal from Yan’er? You’re her Father Emperor, after all.”
Yan Zhen protested his innocence:
“You’ve got it all wrong, Saint Lord Master! I wasn’t after Yan’er’s milk. I only wanted to ease Cai Lian’s discomfort from the swelling.”
“It was meant for Little Yan’er to begin with, and there’s plenty to go around. What ‘discomfort’?”
“I-I figured the girl wasn’t going to drink it anyway.”
“So many assumptions… As I see it, Yan’er, you were simply too greedy to resist, making a total fool of yourself.”
Her petulant tone drew a wry smile from Yan Zhen:
“I really didn’t, Saint Lord Master. You have to believe me—I’m not the sort who’d snatch snacks from a child!”
Jialan Fairy’s expression softened fractionally, though the sermon continued:
“Believing you changes nothing; you did it. Have you considered how Little Yan’er will view her Father Emperor from now on?”
“I know I messed up, Saint Lord Master.” Yan Zhen shriveled like a deflated ball. “I jumped the gun without checking what Yan’er really wanted, turning it into this huge embarrassing mix-up. I’m sorry~”
“No more of that Zhuzi Continent gibberish.” Jialan Fairy flicked his forehead smartly. “It sounds dreadful.”
Yan Zhen yelped and clutched his brow, hastily swapping the foreign apology for a proper “I’m sorry.”
Satisfied, Jialan Fairy lowered her hand. Kindness and warmth returned to her gaze.
“We’ll let it slide this time. But no repeats—or I’ll give you an earful the likes of which you’ve never heard, Yan’er!”
Yan Zhen nodded vigorously, desperate to dodge an endless tirade.
Sigh. What a day.
This was meant to be his triumphant debut as a father, yet here he was, reduced to a toddler even smaller than his newborn daughter. If she caught sight of him like this, he’d never live it down. Might as well drop dead.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he moved to ask the Saint Lord Master to change him back. But she suddenly gave a muffled grunt, clutching her chest like a damsel in distress while her slender white brows knitted together.
Yan Zhen startled:
“What’s wrong, Saint Lord Master?”
Jialan Fairy fixed him with a soulful gaze:
“I’m… swelling up and it hurts.”
Oh… Yan Zhen’s face twisted in awkward realization. Then came her follow-up:
“It’s because you always refuse, Yan’er. Every visit, I hold back. I can’t anymore.”
Yan Zhen clutched his head. Who knew the exalted Saint Lord Master would resort to such tactics? No one could hold out against that!
That said, she had conditioned herself purely for him. If he kept demurring, would it really cause her harm? Some urges, once awakened, demanded release—they didn’t simply fade.
The three-year-old Yan Zhen wrestled with indecision.
“Yan’er~ Come here to my arms, won’t you?” Jialan Fairy spread her arms invitingly, her voice soft. “Holding you will make it all better.”
“Saint Lord Master…”
Something stirred deep in Yan Zhen’s heart. Unbidden, he drifted toward that pristine, maternal embrace until he sank fully into it.
A faint smile graced Jialan Fairy’s lips at last. Her wide sleeves of white-and-gold embroidery joined like prison bars, trapping the Yan Zhen in her bosom.
“Saint Lord Master, I—”
Yan Zhen faltered, but she soothed him gently:
“Relax, Yan’er. I won’t pressure you. Whenever you’re ready, seek me out. I’ll wait forever if need be, all right?”
She planted a kiss on his forehead. In a flash, the toddler transformed back into the strapping new father.
Now fully grown again, Yan Zhen found he couldn’t lounge so comfortably in her arms. Blushing furiously, he scratched his cheek and ducked his head.
He failed to notice how his inner walls were crumbling. Resistance wouldn’t last much longer.
Jialan Fairy’s demeanor stayed steady as ever:
“There now, Yan’er. Go keep She Ji and Little Yan’er company. If memory serves, the Solar Essence Flame descends from the heavens in just a few days. You’ll need to handle it personally as Saint Son.”
