Sakurako followed the trail of blood outside the study door. She took a deep breath, reaching for the handle, only to find the door slightly ajar. She cautiously pushed it open just a crack, her eyes widening as she peered inside.

There lay the midwife, limbs splayed, leaning back against the rattan chair, her head tilted backward. A diagonal gash marred her neck, from which blood bubbled and poured, signifying that all life had departed. Xiaohao knelt beside the chair, holding Xing'er, letting him instinctively latch onto the midwife’s arm to suckle the flowing blood. Hearing the slight noise at the door, he started to turn, but as soon as Xing'er was pulled from the midwife’s arm, the baby began to wail uncontrollably. Trapped, Xiaohao could only maintain his posture, abandoning any thought of investigating who was outside.

The scene was utterly horrific. Sakurako clutched her chest, backed away two steps, spun around, and fled down the hallway back to her own room. She locked the door, leaning against it, breathless.

After a moment, a heavy knocking sounded from behind the door. Sakurako bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry aloud. She slid down the door to the floor, unsure of what to do next.

The knocking persisted for two or three minutes. When there was still no response from within, a voice called out, “Sakura, open the door. It’s me.”

Sakurako knew Xiaohao stood on the other side, but the image she had witnessed was seared too deeply into her memory to be erased. It made it impossible for her to reconcile the man standing there with the kind, gentle husband she thought she knew. She wondered if she had been hallucinating, or perhaps dreaming. If it were just a delusion, that would be better than ending up in hell, even if it meant an asylum. As she thought this, the knocking grew louder, more frantic, shaking the very foundations, seemingly determined to smash the door down. Yet, Sakurako only covered her ears, sitting rooted to the floor, as if the outside world—even the sky falling—had nothing to do with her; she sought only her own isolation.

However, once aboard a sinking ship, escape proves difficult, and Xiaohao was not one to tolerate such theatrics. He kicked the door open, bursting in angrily while clutching Xing'er, wearing an expression demanding immediate answers.

“I’ve been knocking forever, why won’t you open up?” Xiaohao’s eyes were bloodshot, and he challenged her with a look that revealed the savage true nature beneath.

Sakurako remained curled up, covering her ears, pretending not to hear or see, acting as if Xiaohao wasn't even standing before her, as if the door hadn't been kicked in at all, utterly absorbed in her own silent world.

Seeing her complete disregard, Xiaohao’s rage intensified. Still holding Xing'er in one arm, he freed the other, grabbing her by the neck and hoisting her up. His eyes, blazing with a bloody intensity, tightened into a grip that threatened to snap her neck. Tears welled in Sakurako’s eyes as she stared blankly at him, her heart shattered by grief. She bitterly regretted not taking the midwife’s warning seriously, leading to the innocent death of another person.

Just as the parents stood poised for a deadly confrontation, Xing'er began to cry without warning. The loud wail echoed through the villa’s walls, stirring Sakurako’s maternal instinct and melting the ice that was forming around Xiaohao’s heart. Sakurako struggled free from his grasp, jumped down, and gathered Xing'er into a tight embrace, her tears falling steadily onto the baby’s swaddling clothes.

Seeing Sakurako weep, Xiaohao’s fury softened. He restrained his temper and reverted to his usual manner, his voice tinged with gentleness as he asked, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you just now?”

“The person who deserves an apology is not me. The midwife was so kind to us, working so hard to deliver Xing'er…” Sakurako sobbed, cutting herself short mid-sentence. She gently pressed her face against Xing'er’s chubby cheek, her expression a mingling of deep sadness and profound affection.