The Arrival (Of Fan-Xie clan)
Despite Xie Wu’s best efforts, the forest path proved only marginally less murderous.
The carriage bounced. It rattled. It personally insulted their ancestors. And then—They hit it.
The pothole. A crater. A declaration of war.
The carriage launched—Gongsun flew from his seat like a scholar achieving enlightenment mid-air—straight into Xie Zheng’s lap. Changyu toppled sideways, wedging Qi Shu firmly between herself and the wall. Somewhere in the chaos, dignity died.
“Are you alright?” Qi Shu asked immediately, pushing herself upright and pulling Changyu with her.
“I’m—”Changyu stopped. Everyone stopped. Because at that exact moment—A very unmistakable gush of water followed.
Silence. Qi Shu froze. Gongsun froze. Even Xie Zheng, who had been half asleep, suddenly looked wide awake—as if his memory loss had politely stepped aside for sheer panic.
Qi Shu turned, eyes sharp. “Your water broke.”
Gongsun went pale. Xie Zheng went paler. Between the two of them, it was unclear who looked closer to giving birth.
“What do we do?!” Gongsun demanded, his voice climbing several scholarly octaves higher than usual. Meanwhile, Xie Zheng sat there, utterly still—like a man who had just been personally selected by fate for something he did not remember signing up for.
In the span of a heartbeat, he went through all four stages of emotional rollercoaster: Denial—This has nothing to do with me, Doubt— …Does this have something to do with me? Realisation—His gaze shifted, slowly, to Changyu. To her hand, that automatically gripped his. To the very obvious situation unfolding—This definitely has something to do with me. Regret—I should have shown more self-restraint.
“Find a quiet place. Now,” Qi Shu ordered, trying to keep everybody in check.
“Shouldn’t we turn back to a village?” Gongsun blurted. “Somewhere with… people? Facilities? Basic sanitary… and sanity?”
Qi Shu looked at him flatly. “And announce to the entire population that the Marquis of Wu’an’s wife is about to deliver in the middle of their street?”
“…When you put it that way—”
“You insisted on secrecy,” Qi Shu continued calmly but dangerously. “You made the entire academy swear not to breathe a word about this! You made General He raise the salary of all his servants to keep a tight lip or die. Congratulations!”
Gongsun closed his mouth. “Right,” he said faintly. “Panic noted. Regret ongoing.”
The horses surged forward at a speed that suggested they, too, understood the situation—and wanted no part of it.
Inside the carriage, another contraction hit. Changyu sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the seat.
“Here,” Qi Shu said quickly, grabbing Gongsun’s hand and offering it to her. “Squeeze this.”
“Wh—why is it my hand?!” Gongsun protested, horrified.
“Because your hand is currently contributing nothing to society!” Qi Shu replied briskly, already rubbing Changyu’s lower back while instructing her how to breathe through a contraction. Occasionally, she would wipe the droplets that appeared on Changyu’s forehead with her handkerchief and whisper, “You are doing great.”
Changyu turned her head and looked at Gongsun’s hand.
She was, after all, a woman who could stun a large pig with one strike. She had the strength to carry a man nearly twice her size, and that happened not just once. Gongsun’s hand, on the other hand, looked like it had never survived anything more violent than turning a book on advanced algebra too aggressively.
“…Perhaps not,” she said diplomatically.
“Wise choice,” Gongsun whispered, immediately retracting his hand like it had just narrowly escaped execution.
And then—Another hand reached out. Steady. Unhurried.
“Take mine,” Xie Zheng said.
His voice was calm, almost gentle, as though they were discussing tea rather than imminent childbirth in a violently shaking carriage.“It’s only a minor injury,” he added, before anyone could object, though the bandage wrapped around his hand told a quieter truth.
There was something in that steadiness—something unchanged, even now. Stripped of memory, of past, of everything that had once defined him… and yet still the same at his core—He was always kind and dependable. Just like the first time when he suddenly said yes to marrying into her family before she asked him.
But was this a good idea?
For a fleeting moment, she hesitated—uncertain whether reaching for him would mend something in her… or break it further.
And in that small space of uncertainty—His hand moved. Slowly, gently, he closed his fingers around hers, as though the choice had already been made—just not by her. As though, even without remembering why… he still knew to hold on.
Outside, the carriage thundered through the forest, wheels protesting against every bump and root.
Inside, it was chaos—orders barked, breaths counted, pain rising and falling like waves.
And somewhere amidst the jolting, the panic, and the rapidly approaching reality of parenthood—Gongsun came to a deeply unfortunate realisation.
If anything went wrong today…
He was going to be remembered as the man who brought a labouring woman on a scenic detour through potholes.
In less than an hour, the carriage screeched to a halt beside what could only generously be described as a seasonal fishing hut—meaning it was useful in summer and utterly abandoned in winter… much like Gongsun’s courage at the moment.
By the time they got Changyu inside, things had escalated from “slightly concerning” to “this is definitely happening.”
Changyu was in no condition for dignity. She was bent over in pain, breathing unevenly, gripping Xie Zheng’s hand like it had personally signed a lifelong contract.
To his credit, he did not pull away. To his misfortune, his hand was probably no longer his.
“Xie Wu—boil water! Xie Qi—get the brazier going, she must stay warm!” Qi Shu snapped.
The two men fled with impressive efficiency. No matter how joyous the occasion was, no man in his right mind wanted to partake as an honorary guest in the delivery room.
Inside the hut, Qi Shu turned to Gongsun. “Lay everything down. Coats. Silk. All of it.”
Gongsun blinked, brain processing.“…All of it?” He stared at the state of the floor, which certainly did not just look vintage with a lot of signs of wear, but also was not exactly clean.
“Yes, unless you’d like her to give birth on this filty floor and personally haunt you afterwards.”
Moments later, layers of outrageously expensive garments—each worth enough to buy a respectable home in Lin’an—were unceremoniously sacrificed to the cause. If wealth could talk, it would be screaming.
They helped Changyu down.
Xie Zheng followed, still holding her hand, now promoted from “support” to “lifeline.”
Qi Shu checked quickly between her legs.
“Good. Very good,” she said. “We are nearly there.”
“Nearly?” Gongsun echoed faintly as Qi Shu just declared Armageddon was coming, the sky was falling, and he got only minutes to live.
“Towels," Qi Shu ordered instead of answering his question. It was best that these clueless men knew as little as possible of what was coming. "And something sweet. She’ll need energy. I left some persimmon juice in the top left corner of the carriage.”
Gongsun obeyed. Because at this point, disobedience felt like a worse decision. He rushed out, tripping over absolutely nothing on the way.
Inside, Qi Shu arranged Changyu to lean on a tower of cushions and then pointed sharply at the direction of the Marquis. “Jiuheng. Come here! Hold her legs.”
Xie Zheng froze like a man who had just been told to negotiate with death itself.
“Yes.” If this were a better situation, Qi Shu would find it very funny to see the formidable national hero who had performed a massacre on thousands of soldiers was about to pass out in the delivery room.
“I—” Xie Zheng opened his mouth and closed it again. What happened to that plan not stressing him out?
“I need my hands to catch the baby,” Qi Shu said sternly. “You don’t have to look.”
This was, unfortunately, not as reassuring as she intended. He stepped forward anyway. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like a man about to be executed.
And then—He looked. Just for a second. A fatal mistake.
His face drained of colour so quickly it was almost impressive. If this continued, they might need another physician.
“Scared?” Qi Shu said dryly. “You helped start this process. It’s only fair you stay for the delivery,” and even had the guts to add. “It’s a bit unfair if men only join the fun and never take the part of knowing the consequences, no?”
Xie Zheng opened his mouth—Closed it again. Wisely. He was about to say the fun Qi Shu was referring to—he didn’t remember any of it.
Beside him, Changyu was too busy surviving labour to notice his ongoing existential crisis.
Outside, Gongsun returned, clutching towels and a canteen of juice like a man bringing offerings to appease higher powers.
“Here!” he said, a little too loudly.
“Lower your voice,” Qi Shu snapped. “She’s giving birth, not attending a banquet.”
Gongsun immediately shrank. Between them—One woman in labour. One physician in command. One marquis who was on the verge of fainting. And one scholar was rapidly reconsidering becoming a celibate.
Qi Shu clicked her tongue.
She had delivered babies before. But never, she thought grimly—had she needed to manage this many children at once.
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