"Listen—she's crying!" "Again? Midwife, quick! Bring the linen." "Don't crowd her. Give the mother space." "Hold my hand," the new mother said, voice thin. "Tell me if she—" "She's here," the midwife said, smiling as she scooped the damp bundle. "A bright one. Look." "Heavens, her fingers curl already," an elder said. "Blessings on Zhen Guo House." "Name her after the river," another elder suggested. "May she bring smooth currents." "Quiet," said the head midwife, and the hall fell into a busy hush. Cloth rustled. The baby let out a high, surprised wail and then, improbably, stopped. "She's smiling," someone whispered. "Smiling?" The steward laughed. "At that age—" "Don't mock," the matron said, soft. "It's a good sign. Keep the fire steady." "Midwife, show the clan seal," the steward snapped, half joking. "We must record every auspicious start." "Auspicious enough to feed the house for a year," a young cousin joked. Laughter rolled like small coins. The birthing hall smelled of tea and warmed oil; the banners of Zhen Guo hung heavy on carved posts. "She calmed the room," the mother said, voice shaky but clear. "I'm… I'm glad." "Good," the elder said. "We will host a tea tomorrow. The child will be presented at the east parlor. Let every household servant speak a blessing." "Blessings spoken in good time," said the matron. "Right now, clean the linen. The baby rests." "Bring me the soft cotton. The child needs warmth," the