Fresh from the bath and wrapped in clean undergarments that smelled of sun-dried cotton, Li Hua found herself being carried out of the bath house and into the main home.
"Hua'er, be good and sleep with your brothers tonight, ok?" Her father's voice was gentle, but Li Hua caught the undertone of concern that his smile couldn't quite conceal. The shadows in his eyes spoke of calculations and contingencies—things a simple farmer shouldn't know about, yet somehow did.
This wasn't just about sleeping arrangements, and Li Hua understood immediately. After the day's revelations about their dragon cores, keeping the children together was both comfort and strategy. Her assassin's instincts, even housed in this young body, recognized the wisdom in it—when uncertainty loomed, family became both fortress and shield.
She nodded, curling closer to her father's chest as he carried her.
As they entered her brother's room, she found her brothers already nestled among the quilts, their small forms illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns. Li Hua noticed how her brothers had arranged themselves: the eldest at the outer edge, the second eldest tucked safely against the wall, an unconscious formation that spoke of protection.
Placing her gently between them, her father smoothed back her hair with calloused hands that betrayed both strength and tenderness. Li Hua felt the weight of her brothers shift around her—a living barrier of warmth and trust.
In this warm atmosphere, Li Hua found herself still wanting to confirm her father identity.
Softly she asked, "Bàba, Dragon too?"
Her small voice carried the weight of her past life's shrewdness, even as her child-like pronunciation betrayed her current form. The question hung in the lantern-lit air, born from the day's discoveries and her growing understanding of her extraordinary heritage. Her father's earlier revelations about their dragon cores and her mother's story had awakened questions that even her assassin's trained mind couldn't fully grasp, yet her heart seemed to know the truth before the words were spoken.
Surprise flashed across her father's weathered features, a fleeting shadow that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His dark eyes, usually guarded with the wisdom of centuries, softened at the edges as he regarded his daughter's perceptive gaze.
His little poppy was just too intelligent.
Her father's hesitation spoke volumes—a language she had learned to read well in her past life. The slight tension in his shoulders, the almost imperceptible shift in his breathing, these were tells that her former self would have exploited in combat. But now, wrapped in the cocoon of family and trust, these subtle signs only deepened her curiosity. Her tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of his robes, her eyes never leaving his face as she waited with a patience that belied her young age.
"Yes ," he finally whispered, his voice carrying the weight of his own secret. "Your Bàba is also a Dragon."
Li Hua nodded and then gently lay down between her brothers, their warmth enveloping her. Li Wei's steady breathing on one side and Li Hao's slight snoring on the other created a rhythm that spoke of peace and belonging—a lullaby of family that even her battle-hardened soul couldn't resist.
Through half-lidded eyes, Li Hua watched as her father performed what was clearly a cherished nightly ritual. He moved with the deliberate tenderness of someone handling precious treasures, leaning down to press a soft kiss to each child's forehead. First Li Wei, then Li Hao, and finally herself. His lips were warm against her skin, and she caught the faintest scent of jasmine that seemed to cling onto him after his bath.
As he drew the cotton quilt over them, his movements were gentle enough not to disturb her sleeping brothers. The fabric settled like a cloud around their small forms, and Li Hua noticed how he tucked the edges with practiced care, ensuring no cold air would slip in during the night.
His hand lingered for a moment on the quilt, and in the soft lantern light, Li Hua saw something glisten in her father's eyes—pride, love, and protectiveness all mingled together in a way that made her heart ache.
In her past life, she had witnessed countless expressions of power and dominance, but never had she seen such raw, unconditional devotion.
"Sleep well, my precious ones," he whispered, his voice barely a breath in the quiet room. The words carried a weight that seemed to settle around them like a protective charm. Li Hua felt something stir within her chest—again the same unfamiliar warmth that made her assassin's instincts recoil and soften simultaneously.
His footsteps, somehow both heavy and graceful, barely disturbed the reed mats beneath. Each step measured and careful, the dried grass yielding silently to his weight, as if even the sound of his departure was choreographed to maintain the delicate peace of the children's rest. The door slid closed with a hushed whisper of wood against the floor's wooden frame, leaving behind only the gentle glow of lantern light and the steady breathing of her brothers.
"Master!" Little Firefly's voice perked up in her thoughts.
"Yes, I'll head in now." Li Hua responded.
Li Hua shut her eyes and the feel of a gravitational pull tugged at her consciousness, drawing her into the familiar depths of her space. The sensation was like sinking into warm water, each layer of reality peeling away until she found herself standing in the ethereal space where Little Firefly dwelled.