Li Mobing’s face flushed red when Wanwan said his bottom was “blooming” and offered to help soothe it, no matter how thick-skinned he was.
“Stop!” he shouted, pressing the blanket tightly over himself and glaring at Li Moyi.
“Third Brother, quickly take the little sister away!”
Li Moyi’s rare smile appeared—though a little cold, it was unusual for him to show it.
“The little sister is just concerned for you. Second Brother, why be so formal?”
After all, Li Mobing usually plotted tricks against Li Moyi. Now that he finally had a chance, Li Moyi wouldn’t miss the opportunity for a little revenge. If he obeyed, something would feel off.
Li Mobing’s wound already ached, and the tension made his handsome features twist in pain.
“Please… Third Brother, have mercy,” he said through gritted teeth.
“The voice is too soft. I can’t hear you.” Li Moyi plucked at his ear, then sat on the chair, unmoving, clearly intent on finishing his playful revenge.
Li Mobing rolled his eyes, completely drained of strength and strategies.
He took a deep breath and turned to Wanwan.
“Little sister, Second Brother isn’t in pain, no need to soothe him. Go play with Third Brother, okay?”
“But you’re sweating!” Wanwan touched the tip of his nose, brushing away a droplet of sweat with her tiny finger.
Considering his discomfort, she suggested, “Should I lift your blanket for you?”
“Eh… don’t!” Li Mobing panicked, almost curling up.
The slight movement caused a sharp pain, and his eyes rimmed with blood as he bit down to endure it.
He pleaded with Li Moyi again: “Third Brother, quickly take the little sister away. Don’t let her see the wound.”
Li Moyi finally saw the sense in it. He stood up just before Wanwan could lift the blanket herself and carried her away.
“Forget him. Pride comes before suffering,” he muttered.
Li Mobing finally exhaled, then smirked.
“Fine… consider it a repayment. Third Brother, for that matter back then… I owe you.”
His expression suddenly dimmed, the soft haze of sorrow covering his peach-blossom eyes.
“Third Brother, I’m sorry.”
Li Moyi was momentarily stunned, staring at Li Mobing lying in bed.
So all these years, he had carried a sense of guilt toward him.
Wanwan didn’t understand their conversation, tilting her head back and forth, curiously watching the two brothers.
Li Moyi’s voice deepened as he spoke: “The one who was wrong is the eldest aunt. In my heart, you have always been Second Brother.”
“Li Mobing, you don’t owe me anything,” he added.
After speaking, Li Moyi left a bottle of medicine on the table and carried Wanwan out, saving Li Mobing a little dignity in front of his little sister.
Wanwan rested on his shoulder, glancing at Li Mobing’s expression with a slight frown.
“Third Brother, Second Brother’s bottom hurts so much he cried!”
Li Moyi couldn’t help smiling at her innocence, lips curling upward.
“That’s not allowed! Do you still want to see his bare bottom? Shame on you!”
Wanwan froze for three seconds, then quickly covered her eyes.
“Shy… okay, I won’t look.”
Li Moyi patted her little head in approval.
“But Third Brother, will Second Brother’s bottom really bloom? What color will it be?”
Li Moyi facepalmed gently on her head.
“Chatterbox… I haven’t seen it. How would I know?”
Wanwan, covering her tapped little forehead, thought maybe it would bloom in rainbow colors like the flowers Grandma had bought.
…
Since Old Madam Li bought Wanwan the rare flowers, she had taken personal care of them, watering and fertilizing daily.
She even had a removable sunshade installed in the courtyard. In the morning, when sunlight was mild, she would lift it; at noon, she would lower it to protect the flowers from scorching.
After a few days, the flowers adapted to the new environment, blooming brilliantly, reflecting Old Madam Li’s meticulous care.
That day, Old Madam Li woke before dawn, muttering about noisy birds. When she opened the door, she found the courtyard full of flowers, many pecked apart by wild birds!
“Oh no, my flowers…” she cried, heartbroken, running into the yard.
…
“Wanwan, wake up! Quick!”
“Get up! There are flower thieves! Grandma is crying!”
“The cursed pheasants! Not only did they eat the flowers, they destroyed the nests I worked so hard to make!”
Several small swallows chirped frantically at the window.
Wanwan woke with a start, rolled up, and ran to open the window.
“Where are only you? What about Little Yellow and Little White?”
Little Yellow was a singing oriole, Little White a peaceful dove temporarily staying at home.
The swallows said: “Little Yellow and Little White were fighting. Too many of them, we all got hurt.”
Seeing blood on their wings, Wanwan ran back to the bed and tapped Li Moyi with urgency.
“Third Brother, wake up! Let’s chase away the bad guys!”
Li Moyi furrowed his brow. “Bad guys?”
“They’re hurting the flowers!” Wanwan climbed onto the bed, quickly pulling her clothes over her head, too anxious to even finish.
Li Moyi, familiar with her uncanny ability to anticipate trouble, understood the situation: Old Madam Li would be heartbroken if the flowers were destroyed.
He carried Wanwan to the courtyard and saw flocks of birds swirling overhead, wings flapping, “flap-flap” sounds everywhere.
They fought with the resident birds for territory, their cries mixing with falling petals, broken leaves, and feathers, while the distressed Old Madam ran among the flowers.
With Wanwan present, several messenger swallows joined the scene. High above, a massive sea eagle hovered.
Seeing it, Old Madam Li’s cries rose in panic.
“Alas, my poor flowers! Who can help me?”
“Grandma, don’t cry. Wanwan is here.” The little girl, standing at her feet, handed her a handkerchief with the seriousness of a little adult.
Old Madam Li looked at her determined little face and felt hope bloom instantly.
“Wanwan, can you chase these birds away?”
Wanwan nodded solemnly, hopping into the flower beds. Amid the flying petals, her small face was serious, hands on her hips, and in a baby voice she shouted:
“If you cause trouble again, Qingqing will eat you all!”
Above, the sea eagle flapped its massive wings, echoing her words. Its sharp cry pierced through the clouds, slicing through the morning mist like a drawn sword, making even the grass shiver.