Seeing that his true nature was exposed, Xiaohao decided to stop feigning and laid everything bare, hoping to avoid future entanglement with such matters.

“All right, I’ll tell you the truth. Xing’er is a Ghost Infant. A Ghost Infant must drink blood to grow; without it, he won’t develop. Furthermore, he has escaped the cycle of reincarnation to arrive in this world, and the midwife must return to fill the void he fled. Everyone has their own destiny, and this is Xing’er’s fate; you cannot change it.” As he spoke, Xiaohao reached out to take Xing’er.

To his surprise, Yingzi dodged the hands reaching for her, and with tear tracks lining her face, she screamed hysterically at him, “Didn’t you say it could be cured? You only drank Mother’s blood back then, and after you grew up, Father hired someone to cure you, and you stopped drinking blood!”

At these words, Xiaohao was struck speechless. The nonsensical excuses he had spun back then were purely to appease Yingzi, yet they had now become his fatal vulnerability. How could he explain it to her now? Should he admit he was lying then? Or should he claim there really was a cure? No matter what he said, he couldn't patch up the original lie; neither path was viable. Perhaps silence was the only way forward.

So, Xiaohao fell silent, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, pacing back and forth in the room. He neither spoke nor showed anger, attempting to quell the conflict through a cold shoulder.

When he was a child, there was a time when the mere thought of his father made Xiaohao grit his teeth with hatred. He couldn't understand why his father could be so heartless as to leave him and his mother alone in the Yuanying Villa, forcing him to endure his mother's frenzied outbursts directed at him. Now, he finally understood: reconciling the conflict between life and death was an incredibly difficult task, especially when that conflict was playing out between his own son and his wife.

Seeing his persistent silence, Yingzi grasped the situation with seven or eight parts certainty—she knew his earlier words had been pure fabrication. Still, she couldn't accept being kept in the dark like this, so she pressed further: “If Xing’er only drinks my blood to grow, will he still drink other people’s blood in the future? Will he start killing people without reason?”

The question was too sharp, directly pointing to the ancient feud between humans and the departed spirits. Xiaohao acted as if he hadn't heard, turned, and walked out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. Yingzi was left alone, clutching Xing’er and weeping in the room.

His lack of reply was an answer in itself, and Yingzi collapsed. Looking at Xing’er sleeping peacefully in her arms, she contemplated abandoning him and fleeing, but then realized that leaving would solve nothing. Li Xiaohao would simply find someone else to feed the child; perhaps more people would be harmed, and the child’s bloodthirsty nature would become even more unchecked. Advance or retreat, neither could avert the tragic outcome. Then, she thought of death, of taking Xing’er with her to the underworld. Yet, every time her hand moved toward the neck beneath the small face, an unbearable ache shot through her heart. This was natural; which mother could bring herself to strike her own child? Just thinking of the hardship of ten months of pregnancy, even if she had given birth to a monster, a mother would not easily abandon her child.

Just as Yingzi was utterly bewildered and caught between impossibilities, a series of sharp bang-bang-bang sounds came from the window. She turned and saw Damao crouched on the windowsill, methodically tapping the glass with his small fist. Wiping a tear, she walked over and slid the window open. Damao hopped straight in from the sill, scurried to the door, and beckoned to Yingzi with a wave of his hand, signaling her to follow.