While Qiu Ling was trying to talk Jing He into being romantic with him over in the Nine Heavens, things didn’t seem to be moving forward much in the dragon realm. Leng Jin Yu was lying next to his husband as well, his gaze thoughtful.

He didn’t know what exactly Tian had done. Considering that that person was the sovereign of the immortal realms, somebody that neither the gods nor the dragons would ever dare to antagonize knowingly, he probably shouldn’t worry. With him making a move, how could Jinde not get any better? But so far, nothing seemed to have changed about his lover’s situation.

Jinde was still curled up next to him, his face pale and his fingers curled tightly around the blanket. Sometimes, his eyelids moved and his brows furrowed as if he was trapped in a nightmare, while other times, he was completely still as if nothing could move him. Seeing him like this was torture.

To be honest, he had no idea how he had managed to get through the last weeks. Most likely, it was only the knowledge that he needed to keep it together for both Jinde and Qiu Ling that allowed him to not break down. He forced himself to keep his calm, to check up on their child every day, to talk to Qiu Ling to see how he was doing, and to otherwise guard Jinde’s side in case there was the slightest hint that he might get better again.

Throughout all of this, he felt powerless. He might check on their child, yes, but he couldn’t do a single thing. He had to watch as the spiritual energy they had originally imbued in the shell and then wrapped around it as a protective layer was absorbed bit by bit, reducing every day. He couldn’t do anything to stop it or to replenish the energy, knowing that when the energy was completely used up, it would only be a matter of days or maybe weeks before the child inside the shell died.

As for Qiu Ling … for a full week, he hadn’t heard from him. And even now that Qiu Ling had returned, things weren’t looking good for him. And yet, there was nothing he could do. He didn’t hold any position in the Nine Heavens so his voice held no weight. He might be able to ask the God of War for help but that was all and he doubted that Qiu Ling needed that. After all, his own relationship with the God of War didn’t seem bad.

Even though, for the most part, Qiu Ling was his child only in name, he still felt guilty about being useless. At this important juncture, he had nothing to offer and even if he did, he wasn’t sure if he could leave here. After all, Jinde and their child were still here and needed him as well. All in all, it was simply one big mess.

Leng Jin Yu reached out and brushed back Jinde’s hair, his eyes downcast. He could only wait now. Everything that could be tried had been tried. If even Tian’s interference didn’t work … he had to face the cruel truth.

He sighed and then simply pulled Jinde into his arms, closing his own eyes. He had no idea if his presence had any effect but maybe somewhere deep down, Jinde would feel at least a hint of comfort. He had no way to tell so he could only hope for this in his heart. At the very least this way, Jinde might not feel all alone.

Unbeknown to Leng Jin Yu, Tian’s magic had already taken effect. He actually hadn’t done much. At most, you might call it sending a reminder. As for what kind of reminder it was, well, he went with what he suspected would have the biggest impact based on his own experience.

Jinde wasn’t sure whether he was asleep or awake. The last few days had all been like this: hovering between a state of unconsciousness and awareness. Sometimes, images would flit by like memories he unearthed from deep in his heart or like a dream that wanted to distract him from the reality he did not want to face. Most of the time though, everything was shrouded in darkness.

In this state, he could neither see nor hear. At most, a few sounds would make it to his ear but they were dull as if coming from far, far away. He didn’t mind it. Anyway, he had no desire to know what people might be telling him or what he might pick up on if he allowed himself to listen closely. It was better this way. If he really paid attention, it would only be painful. He was still vaguely aware of that point.

Right now, his surroundings were completely silent. He felt a faint warmth around him but that was all he perceived of the world outside. Frankly, he was satisfied with this. If it continued in this way … it wouldn’t be too bad.

Jinde drifted in this state until a discordant sound from the distance rang out. His golden brows twitched in his sleep. He didn’t want to listen but the sound nudged some millennia-old memory, some deep-seated feeling that unconsciously made him pay attention.

His mind unwittingly focused on that sound and it became clearer when it rang out again. It sounded as if somebody was crying. They were heart-rending, soul-wrenching sobs of deep sadness that seemed to never want to end.

Jinde’s mind stirred and seemed to float in that direction, unable to bear this sound. Finally, a spot of light seemed to appear in the distance, a vague figure visible within. He couldn’t make out much but he could say for sure that this was not an adult. No, the one crying in that spot of light was a child. Realizing this, Jinde could not bring himself to turn away, his consciousness inevitably flying over to see what was going on.