A Match Made in Heaven (Part 2)

The Azure Lion looked around and discovered a vacant Divine Throne deep within the Taoist Temple.

Only the most important Taoist temples had a main hall, and only they possessed a Divine Throne. That throne remained eternally vacant because it belonged to Haotian—it was the seat of Haotian.

It walked over to Sang Sang's side, gently bit her clothes, and carefully lifted her onto the Divine Throne. It then tore down several curtains and draped them over her body to keep her warm.

Even the most devout believer, upon seeing Sang Sang at this moment—covered in blood and about to give birth—would not think she was Haotian. Yet, the Azure Lion firmly believed that she was indeed Haotian, the only true Buddha.

The Azure Lion was highly satisfied with its own steadfastness and loyalty. Thinking of the Big Black Horse that had previously abandoned its master and fled, it grew even more furious at its disloyalty and pitied its incompetence, thinking that if an opportunity arose in the future, it must sneak a bite out of it.

Sang Sang lay exhausted and weak upon the Divine Throne. Intense waves of pain rippled through her abdomen, her face growing paler by the moment, and sweat poured down her cheeks. She did not even have the strength to raise her hand.

Seeing her state, the Azure Lion grew highly anxious. It paced nervously around the Divine Throne, its tail occasionally sweeping against the walls, reducing the solemn and sacred murals of heavenly maidens and divine generals to dust.

Suddenly, a commotion echoed outside the temple once more. It was unclear if the fleeing priests and deacons had gathered people to return. The Azure Lion stared warily at the temple doors. If anyone else dared to disturb its master while she was giving birth, it would not wait for any orders and would directly bite them to death.

*Clack, clack, clack, clack.* The crisp sound of horse hooves rang out!

The Big Black Horse galloped into the hall. Atop its back sat a plump, middle-aged woman. Her face was even paler than Sang Sang's, and her hands tightly gripped the front of the saddle, looking as though she might faint at any moment.

This middle-aged woman was a midwife.

She had never imagined that in her life she would be kidnapped by a horse, nor had she ever expected to see an Azure Lion as tall as half a temple. Furthermore, she could never have anticipated that one day she would help someone give birth inside a Taoist temple, and least of all, that the pregnant woman would have a sword impaling her abdomen, covered in blood like a specter.

Looking back on it later, she was fortunate to have delivered countless babies in her life and witnessed all manner of bloody, deformed, and grotesque scenes. Otherwise, she would have certainly fainted. Of course, she would have preferred to have fainted much earlier.

...

...

Sang Sang lay upon the Divine Throne. After drinking a dose of powdered medicine, her spirits improved slightly. She opened her eyes, looked at the middle-aged woman busying herself outside the curtain, and asked weakly, "When will it be born?"

It was already dusk, and a long time had passed since the pain began. The midwife had shouted encouragement next to Sang Sang until her throat was hoarse, yet the child had still not been born.

Sang Sang was drenched in sweat, the curtain beneath her was soaked, and her messy hair clung to her pale cheeks, making her look incredibly pitiful. Fortunately, her gaze showed no signs of scattering.

The middle-aged woman walked to the front of the Divine Throne. Looking at the bloody sword in her abdomen, her voice trembled as she said, "It is always like this the first time. Try a bit harder in a moment, perhaps it will come out?"

Sang Sang detected the uncertainty in her tone. She frowned slightly, somewhat displeased, and wanted to say something, but found her strength rapidly fading. She had no choice but to close her eyes and continue resting, preparing for the next attempt.

The middle-aged woman naturally wanted to leave, especially after judging that this woman was facing a difficult delivery, with a high probability of obstructed labor. Half an hour ago, she had tried to sneak away, but upon seeing that majestic, colossal Azure Lion bite off the upper torsos of three divine cavalrymen, she had very obediently returned.

...

...

Still, the child was not born.

Looking at Sang Sang's pale face, the middle-aged woman suddenly felt a touch of pity. She leaned in close and said, "We must use some measures. If it truly is obstructed labor, it will be two lives for one."

Sang Sang looked at her and said weakly, "What measures?"

A look of pride appeared on the middle-aged woman's face as she said, "Rest assured, my methods have saved countless plump babies. There will absolutely be no issue."

She retrieved her tool box from the Big Black Horse's saddle, took out a pair of round-headed forceps, lifted the curtain covering Sang Sang, and prepared to look between her legs.

Sang Sang said coldly, "Do not look."

The middle-aged woman froze, then smiled bitterly, "My dear lady, you haven't let me look from the very beginning... If I don't look, how can I help you deliver? We are both women, and you are about to become a mother. What is there to be shy about?"

Sang Sang looked at her, calmly and indisputably stating, "Do not look."

The middle-aged woman looked at the forceps in her hand and sighed, "To be honest, this method was passed down from Chang'an City. But no matter how good it is, one must see to use it."

"Do not use that."

Sang Sang's gaze shifted from the iron forceps in her hand to the sword in her own abdomen.

Looking at the sword, she frowned slightly and remained silent for a long time. Her chest heaved slightly as she gathered all the remaining strength in her body for one final moment, then reached out to grasp the hilt.

The sword was the Drunkard's Sword in the Flask. It had been washed with the strongest alcohol, and aside from her own blood, it was clean and free of dust.

She grasped the hilt and pulled downward.

With a sharp tearing sound, the blade ripped through her flesh. Fresh blood gushed out like a river breaching a dam.

The middle-aged woman's eyes rolled back, and she was on the verge of fainting.

With a pale face, Sang Sang's voice was weak and halting, yet incredibly firm: "Do not faint!"

...

...

The cry of a newborn echoed through the temple. It rose and fell, not particularly pleasant to hear, and rather noisy.

To Sang Sang, it was indeed so, and the same went for the Big Black Horse and the Azure Lion. Her attention was primarily focused on the wound on her abdomen, while the attention of the Big Black Horse and the Azure Lion was entirely focused on her.

As for the middle-aged midwife, after delivering the baby from the bloody wound and using immense willpower to perform a basic cleaning, she finally could not withstand the madness of this birth and fainted.

Sang Sang wanted to heal the wound on her abdomen, but found her remaining strength too weak to do so. Thus, she first used a needle to stitch it up, then used the last bit of transparent light, like fireflies, in her palm to rub over it. Throughout the process, she fainted several times, but continued upon waking. It was painful to the extreme, yet she remained expressionless.

The horrifying wound was finally stitched up. The last bit of transparent light had played a decisive role. Once the fresh blood was wiped away, only the traces of the thread could be seen, while the shape of the wound was completely invisible.

Sang Sang was exhausted, but somewhat satisfied, feeling she had performed very well.

Of course, she had performed very well as a human.

Suddenly, she recalled a very small matter from many years ago.

Back then, before leaving Weicheng for Chang'an City, she had felt her needlework was not good, at least incomparable to the young ladies of Chang'an City. Ning Que seemed to think so too.

She thought that in the future, he would no longer be able to say such things.

Thinking of these small matters and past events distracted her mind, easing her pain and fatigue. Only then did she remember that she seemed to have forgotten something. Looking to her side, she frowned.

She looked disgusted or displeased, but in truth, she was somewhat bewildered.

Right beside her, very close, lay two newborns.

The two newborns had their eyes closed and were very clean, though they could not be described as "carved from jade."

The problem was, why were there two?

She was the omniscient Haotian; how could she not have known she was carrying twins?

Ning Que had asked her in the wooden cabin in the snow field whether it was a boy or a girl. She had said she did not know, and that was the truth, because she was highly resistant to the fact of her pregnancy and had never bothered to sense it.

Giving birth was bewildering enough; giving birth to two at once was even more so.

What should she do next?

Her face was pale, and her gaze was somewhat panicked.

She looked down from the Divine Throne and found the middle-aged midwife had long since fainted, or rather, was sleeping like the dead. She was actually snoring at this moment; her heart was truly large enough.

She lifted the legs of the two newborns to check, confirming that one was a boy and the other was a girl.

Her movements were somewhat clumsy, even appearing rough.

The Azure Lion lowered its head, not daring to look. The Big Black Horse helplessly stamped its front hoof, used its mouth to tear a piece of the curtain, placed it on the Divine Throne, and draped it over the two newborns.

Years ago, when the plump aunt gave birth, she had indeed wrapped the baby very tightly. Perhaps they feared the cold right after birth?

With great difficulty, Sang Sang propped herself up, using the curtain to wrap the two newborns. However, her wrapping was highly disorganized, not resembling a baby wrap at all, but rather looking like she was wrapping objects—such as a box of rouge.

She held a baby in each arm, her posture inevitably somewhat stiff.

Right at that moment, the baby boy suddenly opened his mouth and cried loudly. As if infected, the baby girl held in her right arm also began to cry, just like before, their voices rising and falling.

She frowned slightly, somewhat displeased and irritated.

"Do not cry."

She looked at the two newborns in her arms and said expressionlessly.

She possessed no divine power now, but in her words and bearing, she was still as majestic as the vast sea, solemn to the extreme.

But how could newborns who had just entered the world perceive any majesty?

A newborn calf does not fear tigers; the children of Haotian, having just been born, naturally feared nothing.

The cries of the newborns echoed through the temple.

Sang Sang was somewhat annoyed and panicked.

She suddenly closed her eyes, her slender brows furrowing tightly, furrowing very hard, wanting to use this method to recall memories from a very long time ago.

Finally, she succeeded in remembering.

At that time, rain had finally fallen on the Hebei Province. She had still been a newborn, lying quietly in Ning Que's arms. Back then, his arms had also been very small, but lying within them had been incredibly comfortable.

Recalling how Ning Que had held her back then, her hands gradually lost their stiffness, becoming much softer and curving slightly. The two newborns clearly felt more comfortable as well, and their cries gradually subsided.

There were still some things to do.

She remembered that back then, Ning Que had somehow obtained rice flour, feeding her spoonful by spoonful with his mouth.

Newborns had to eat rice flour. If there was no rice flour, they had to nurse, or vice versa.

She opened her eyes, removed her blood-stained clothes, and began to nurse her children.

The Big Black Horse and the Azure Lion had long since stepped aside, quietly guarding the temple doors.

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