THE REAL PROTEGE

Old Master Li and Madam Li sat beneath the shaded pavilion, sipping cooling tea and exchanging quiet stories from their own youth. Watching their granddaughters spin like wild petals under spring wind, a rare lightness settled into their chests.

Just before noon, the upstairs hallway stirred with motion.

Ling Li and Four Eyes appeared at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, dressed in crisp casual wear — Ling Li in soft satin trousers and an embroidered top, her hair cascading in loose waves, and Four Eyes in pressed navy slacks and a mandarin-collared shirt that barely hid his nerves.

His eyes darted toward Madam Li. "Am I dressed enough?"

Ling Li nudged him with her elbow. "Relax. It's lunch, not trial."

Old Master Li set down his teacup and stood with sudden decisiveness.

"We'll dine out today. Take Mr. Xu and Mrs. Xu around the city. Let them feel the pulse of our streets, not just the formality of our gates."

Madam Li gave an approving nod. "Yes. A good idea. Let Naga show them why we are proud."

The twins shrieked from across the courtyard, chasing each other with cloth fans.

Mushu muttered into his wrist comm. "Operation Lunch Parade... initiated."

Pharsa groaned. "Someone tell Chatty he's not allowed to wear his dragon sunglasses in public again."

And so, the Li family's day continued — laughter mixing with tradition, strategy entwined with joy — building momentum toward something vast and unpredictable. The city awaited them like a stage, and every step they took threaded another stitch into the unfolding tapestry.

The moon hung low over the Li estate like a polished pearl, bathing the veranda in cool silver light. The garden swayed gently under the breeze — a harmony of rustling leaves, distant wind chimes, and the soft patter of tiny feet.

That night, after dinner had quieted into memory, Mrs. Xu stepped softly onto the veranda, drawn by the sight of Ling Li, seated quietly with her robe pulled tightly around her, eyes distant and luminous as she watched the twins play.

"Ling, you should cover yourself more. It's chilly at night," Mrs. Xu said with maternal concern, her voice soft and smooth like aged silk.

Ling Li turned, surprised but warmed by the gesture. Her lips lifted in a tired smile.

"Mother-in-law, why are you still up? Would you like to sit and have some tea with me?" she asked, gesturing to the porcelain set beside her. A light mist swirled from the teapot as if the night had steeped itself in the fragrance of jasmine.

"Sure," Mrs. Xu replied, lowering herself into the chair opposite with the grace of someone who rarely sat without purpose. Ling Li carefully poured her a cup, the motions deliberate, as if honoring the silence between them.

"Thank you," Mrs. Xu said, accepting the cup with both hands before her eyes drifted toward the garden.

There, Kim Kim and Chin Chin chased one another around the peach tree, giggling with wild freedom. Their fluffy dresses fluttered like petals caught in the wind, their laughter piercing the cool evening with life.

"The twins are truly exceptional," Mrs. Xu murmured. "They can speak and run around at just one year old."

Her voice held a sense of awe, mingled with the tender ache of watching time move faster than expected.

Ling Li's gaze remained fixed on her daughters, but something inside her stirred — a wave of emotion that rose slow and aching through her chest.

"They are indeed special," she said softly. Her fingers curled loosely around her teacup. "From the moment they were born, it was as if they came knowing things. Their eyes... they already recognized me. And Four Eyes. As though they had been waiting."

Mrs. Xu leaned in slightly, her expression shifting — no longer just admiration, but understanding. "They're not just smart, Ling. They're connected. It's rare. It means something."

Ling Li looked down, then out toward the moonlit garden again. Her voice came as a whisper:

"Sometimes I worry I won't be able to protect them from everything. From what's coming."

Mrs. Xu's hand reached out, touching Ling Li's knuckles with a feather-like tenderness. "You're not alone. You're surrounded by people who love them. And love you. And you're strong, Ling. Even when you forget that."

Ling Li didn't reply right away. She watched Kim Kim trip and roll onto the grass, then pop up laughing as Chin Chin helped her up — their bond already like steel wrapped in sunshine.

And in that moment, Ling Li's smile returned, steadier this time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Mrs. Xu nodded, sipping her tea as they sat together, two women linked by fate, watching the next generation race through moonlight.

The moonlight spilled like quiet silk over the veranda, casting gentle shadows as Mrs. Xu stepped closer to where Ling Li sat watching the twins play in the lantern-lit garden. There was a gentle steam of tea curling upward, and the chime of laughter from Kim Kim and Chin Chin, still running like wind spirits around the peach trees, added a soft contrast to the chill that hung in the air.

"Ling... can I ask you something?" Mrs. Xu asked, her voice low and hesitant, as though unsure if she had the right.

Ling Li turned from her quiet vigil, her gaze patient and steady. She noticed the way Mrs. Xu looked down, fingers slightly curled with nerves, and answered with gentle assurance.

"Mother-in-law, don't be so polite with me," Ling Li said, her voice calm but warm. "Just ask me anytime, and I will try my best to answer you and help you."

Mrs. Xu sighed, the breath releasing years of restraint. She nodded slowly, then looked up — her eyes vulnerable, searching.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Then I'll directly ask," Mrs. Xu said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Ling… is Nina alive?"

She exhaled deeply, the question escaping like a long-held burden finally let go.

Ling Li, who had been calmly sipping her tea, paused mid-movement. The cup hovered near her lips. Her eyes blinked once, then slowly met Mrs. Xu's.

Ling Li nodded. The answer hung in the air like a bell toll that only those with heartache could hear.