Ah Yin watched Wang Qiu'er leave in dejection and said nothing.
At a time like this, she could not bring it up. Mentioning it would only seem deliberate, and she had no way of knowing what the Holy Son truly thought.
She silently murmured to herself, Qiu'er, sorry. As your good sister, I can only take one step ahead first.
Time trickled by. The intermittent cries of pain from the delivery room gradually weakened from their earlier urgency.
After waiting a full six hours, just as everyone beneath the corridor had begun to grow anxious, a clear infant's cry suddenly tore through the silence within the hall.
Jiang Qingyu abruptly straightened, unable to hide the excitement flashing in his eyes.
Immediately afterward, the midwife lifted the curtain and emerged, her face radiant as she called out loudly:
"Congratulations, Holy Son! Congratulations, esteemed lords! It's a young miss! Mother and daughter are both safe!"
Before her words had even faded, Jiang Qingyu was already striding inside, with Qian Xunji and several worship elders following closely behind into the delivery room.
The room still carried a faint scent of blood. Bibi Dong sat propped against the headboard, her face pale and the loose strands before her forehead damp with sweat. Yet she carefully held the infant in her arms, her gaze softer than it had ever been.
Jiang Qingyu sat down beside the bed and gently brushed aside the wet hair at her forehead, his voice low and tender. "Thanks for the effort, Dong'er."
Bibi Dong looked up and smiled faintly at him, exhausted yet content. "It was nothing. Look, our child."
Jiang Qingyu lowered his gaze toward the little one in the swaddling clothes. The baby's tiny face was scrunched up, her eyes not yet fully open, but the outline of