“Oh no. Nonononononononono.”

Mom’s worried chant was enough to bring me to full awareness. Song… no, she wasn’t breathing!

This didn’t happen often, but I’d seen it a time or two, usually in the few non-cultivators among our communities. It was never a good sign.

But it didn’t mean she was dead yet. And I’d prepared a reserve, knowing this could happen.

Mom’s cultivation base was strong, and she was already pouring qi into Song now that she’d mostly recovered it. Mine… wasn’t as deep. But I’d reached Expert through wood cultivation, and had trained in fire because it was annoying when my best friend could do things I couldn’t.

So I could help, weak as I was. And taking mom’s suggestion, pulled on her other ancient potted tree for extra power.

I hated doing that. Those trees were grown and shaped using wood cultivation over literal centuries, and were irreplaceable. I’d always admired them, and had learned a great deal of my cultivation tending them as an Adept.

Now, they were only so much dead wood and dried mast, and it would take actual hundreds of years to replace them, because the Tortoise King had destroyed the art. Apparently he liked collecting the things, but couldn’t take care of them at all and executed anyone who he blamed for “letting them die.” Honestly glad I never had the honor of meeting him.

My own cultivation base back at full power, I proceeded to throw it into Song. It was like throwing a drop of water into the void. She wasn’t haemorrhaging qi, thankfully, but there was so little in her that even vast amounts of power meant nothing in recharging her.

It didn’t stop me. I used Dad’s lessons on water cultivation, drawing from the vast unending presence within the ocean. From Mom, I drew on the endurance and potential of earth. Auntie Kaoru taught me of the energy and drive of flame, and it fueled my determination as the flames of the world flowed through me. I would force Song to live, even if it left me at death’s door. Roots and veins, one being the other in my mind, sunk deep into my friend as my cultivation became hers for a time. The void began to fill, and four steady beats that had briefly stilled brought both my mother and I a sense of relief.

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Song’s eyes opened, and then went cross-eyed with pain. I kept pouring qi into her, as mom coached her through the birthing. Three daughters, like her mother. That wouldn’t be confusing at all.

I wanted to pass out on top of Song, as spent as she was. Our cultivations were connected, and that had taken all we’d both had.

“Tomorrow, wood training. Never again.”

“Tomorrow, bed rest,” my mom corrected. “You two are all but dead, and I’m just grateful to have such a strong and determined assistant.”

The door opened, and our man walked in. We were exhausted, sweaty, naked, disheveled, and by the smell I think at least one of us had soiled our beds sometime in all of that. It’s not uncommon, and I’m too tired to notice or care which of us “won” that lottery.

But I’m amazed that he could kiss us both, and call us the two most beautiful women he’d ever met in that moment. I could only smile, and cry.

Things passed in a blur after that. I’d passed out, woken up to crying babies and leaking breasts, nursed alongside Song with our mothers to teach us, none of us fully awake but Mom. We all went back to bed, and repeated the process. Sleep, nurse, eat, cultivate enough to bring energy up. I didn’t even know my kids’ names yet, just calling them One, Two, and Three. Didn’t even know which was which.

Song almost suggested just naming them “first son, second son, and third son,” but then realized that was the kind of bad idea her mother sometimes had and said she’d never push on that subject again.

It took us nearly a month to recover, and would take us two or three months more to get back to full strength. Meanwhile, I had the pleasure of getting to know my little sisters and brother as I fed them alongside my own boys, and Song did the same for her sisters alongside her own girls.

Felt a little weird, but not altogether bad. Mom was trying to make me uncomfortable with the situation to drive the point home, I could tell. Kaoru was just weeping with joy that she hadn’t lost her little girl or any of her granddaughters.

End of the day, I think the close call we’d had drove the lesson home for all of us on healthy mating practices.

I’d be sure that Bai, Bao, and Fen learned the lesson early, and doubly sure that their sisters did.

Never. Again.