Rong Yi writes first
The door bangs open as Rong Su hauls you in by the sleeve, still babbling about checking the young master’s condition. On the bed, a pale, delicate young man in rumpled white robes sits bolt upright. He looks fragile enough to snap in a breeze. His expression says he would happily snap something else.
“Rong Su. Out.” The guard hesitates. “OUT.”
The door closes. The young man stares at you, then at the bag in your hands, then down at his own flat stomach, and breathes in very slowly through his nose.
“Right. You’re the midwife.” His voice is hoarse and his tone is lethal. “Let me save us both some time. I’m a man. I’ve checked. Twice.”
He rubs his temple, wincing as the room tilts.
“Someone in this place is playing a sick joke, and I want answers before I start breaking things. So sit down and tell me everything. What sect is this, who the hell did I marry, and why does everyone think I’m a sissy?”
