"This isn’t your fault," Shuyin said fiercely, cupping Yuyan’s face with both hands. "Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. You have a good heart, and that’s beautiful. But these children..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "These children have been hurt in ways that make them dangerous, even when they don’t mean to be. They need help we can’t give them here."

She looked around at the mansion that had suddenly become a powder keg of potential violence. "The others need professionals. Need locked doors and padded rooms and people trained to handle episodes like this."

She stood, wincing at the movement, and looked at Yu Shou. "Help Ting Fei coordinate the transfers. Prioritize the oldest children and anyone who’s shown violent tendencies. I want armed security here until the last child is gone, and I want you to personally ensure that Yuyan and Chen Xiao stay in the east wing away from all of it."

"Yes, ma’am," Yu Shou said, relief and guilt warring in his expression as he hurried to comply.

Shuyin turned back to Lu Yuze and Yuyan, her anger finally draining away to leave exhaustion and residual fear. "Take her to our room," she said quietly. "Stay with her. I’ll handle the logistics of getting these children into proper care."

Lu Yuze stood with Yuyan still in his arms, the twelve-year-old clinging to him like she had when she was much younger. "You’re sure about this?" he asked Shuyin. "Moving two hundred children in a few hours is....."

"I am absolutely certain," Shuyin interrupted, her voice carrying steel beneath the weariness. "Our daughter’s safety comes first. Always. Everything else is secondary."

The words hung in the air, our daughter, not his daughter or my stepdaughter, but theirs together. The commitment they’d made that morning in the penthouse was already reshaping how they saw their family, their responsibilities, their priorities.

Lu Yuze nodded, understanding and agreement in his eyes, and carried Yuyan away toward the east wing. Shuyin watched them go, then turned to face the chaos of the guest wings, the boy still crumpled against the wall, the sounds of other children stirring and crying and calling out from various rooms.

This was supposed to be a rescue, she thought bitterly. I wanted to save them all. But sometimes saving someone meant recognizing when you weren’t equipped to provide what they needed. Sometimes love meant letting go and trusting professionals who had the training and facilities to actually help.

She took a deep breath, pushed down the lingering soreness from the night before and the emotional turmoil of the morning, and stepped forward to begin the monumental task of relocating two hundred traumatized children before the day was done.

Her body ached. Her heart hurt for children she couldn’t save the way she’d wanted to. But her daughter was safe, and that was all that mattered in the end.

But before Shuyin could take more than a few steps toward organizing the transfers, the doors of the guest rooms began opening. Children emerged one by one, then in groups, drawn by the commotion and Yuyan’s screams. They filled the corridor with small bodies and frightened faces, and when they saw Shuyin standing there with her scales still shimmering and her expression hard with protective fury, many of them began to cry.

The three little girls Yuyan had spoken with earlier, the ones who’d been sold by their parents, clutched each other and started sobbing. The eight-year-old who’d spoken so bravely before now looked terrified, her voice breaking as she pleaded, "Please don’t send us to a children’s home! Please! That’s where some of us came from before! That’s where our parents sold us from!"

Other voices joined hers, a chorus of fear and desperation rising from children who’d already been betrayed too many times.

"The children’s home people sold us to the bad people!" a young boy cried, maybe seven years old, tears streaming down his face. "They took money and gave us away! Please don’t send us back there!"

"We’ll be good!" another child sobbed. "We’ll stay quiet! We won’t cause trouble! Just don’t send us to those places!"

The teenage girl Yuyan had sat with, the one who’d said fair didn’t exist, stepped forward with her chin raised despite the tears on her face. "Half of us were sold by children’s homes and orphanages," she said, her voice shaking but clear. "They’re supposed to protect children, but they sold us instead. For money. We can’t go back to places like that. We can’t."

Shuyin felt her rage beginning to crack, her protective fury giving way to something more complex. She looked at the sea of frightened faces, at children ranging from tiny to nearly adult, all of them traumatized and terrified and begging not to be sent to the very places that were supposed to help them.

Her scales began to recede slowly, the jasmine scent banking from supernatural fury to something gentler. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think past the immediate anger, past the image of Yuyan being attacked, past the instinct to simply remove all threats from her home.

These weren’t threats. They were children. Broken, scared children who’d been failed by every system meant to protect them.

"Everyone stop," Shuyin said, her voice still carrying command but no longer that terrifying roar. "Stop crying. Stop begging. Just... stop for a moment and listen to me."

The children quieted somewhat, though many continued to cry silently, their bodies tense with fear of what she’d say next.

Shuyin looked at them, really looked at each frightened face, and felt her heart break in a different way than it had when she’d seen Yuyan being hurt. "You’re right," she said quietly. "I can’t send you to children’s homes. Not if those are the places that sold you. That would be..." she paused, searching for words, "...that would make me no better than the people who hurt you in the first place."

Hope flickered across some faces, though many still looked too scared to believe her.