Reborn To Be The Imperial Consort [BL]-Chapter 67: Thalassotélos — IX

When the healer did a thorough checkup of Hu Lijing’s body, it was found that the reason no one had realised his pregnancy — even Hu Lijing himself — had been because it was a hidden pregnancy.

What did a hidden pregnancy even mean?

It was just a loose term to refer to the condition where a person’s womb is retroverted — aiming towards the rectum — and tipped backwards.

Hu Lijing didn’t really know what to say to that.

Was it because his transformation had been incomplete, flawed at that time? Perhaps.

"Why... Didn’t I experience the common symptoms of pregnancy?" He had asked.

The healer had looked at him, his gaze thoughtful as he replied. "Children are a thing of wonder, Clan Leader. Perhaps the child had sensed your desire to not have a kit... That is why it kept itself hidden...?"

Hu Lijing had felt something break within himself at that answer. At that time, acting on instinct, his hand found its way to his belly, pressing down on it with remorse.

And guilt. Because yes, Hu Lijing had never wanted a child with Long ZhenHai knowing exactly what sort of fate it would bring with itself.

—This was years ago. It had been nearly ten years since Hu Lijing had discovered himself pregnant. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to let Long ZhenHai know about it.

Not after the revelation he had made to the water-borne dragon about the fate that awaited them, should they unite.

But now that their union had happened a long ago, bearing a fruit he couldn’t bring himself to pluck in the bud. Now what?

Hu Lijing didn’t know.

Of course, even if he went out of his way to announce the impending disaster heralded by the budding of this little life in his womb, it would elicit two reactions.

First would be disbelief and mirth. No one would believe his so-called prophecy of the disaster. They would just laugh it off as the product of his delusions. Interpreting his words as Hu Lijing letting his divine strength get to his head.

Secondly, even if the whole realm chose to believe his words, to prepare for the disaster... The first thing all of them would do would be killing this little life in his womb.

Which Long ZhenHai would never tolerate. His wrath... It would be another disaster all together. Just thinking about it sent a cold shiver down Hu Lijing’s spine.

Safe to say, neither of the two reactions — obviously not discounting Long ZhenHai’s — were not good, much less favourable for Hu Lijing.

He could only pray in the depths of the nights he spent sleepless, holding his stomach while debating whether to let this kit in his womb live or to kill it before it could grow anymore.

If someone asked, he could always make up an excuse. Anyway it was but a small price to pay for the safety of this realm. If the sacrifice of his unborn child’s life could help him avert the destruction of the world as he knew it then Hu Lijing would gladly do it with his own two hands

—At least that was what Hu Lijing always told himself. But everytime he so much as tried to actually go through with the cruelty of infanticide, his body would resist his mind while his heart would ache — perhaps in an effort to implore for the child of disaster that had yet to come into this world and take its first breath — leaving him reeling.

In the end, his paternal — maternal, really — instincts triumphed over his fear of doom, over his any and every sense of duty towards the realm.

Hence, his pregnancy managed to survive past the 22nd year mark. At this point, despite not showing the most obvious signs of pregnancy — them being a bump — Hu Lijing was more than exhausted and couldn’t wait for the child to be born.

To him, the child was it. It was his child but would he ever be able to love it while dreading every second of his existence, waiting for, watching out for, the inevitable disaster to strike.

He had seen it in the stars, their alignment imparted to him all the secrets he was required to know.

The disaster was rapidly encroaching the realm, its sharp claws tearing through the path as they rushed and rushed forth. Its vestiges loomed, the horror it promised hanging above his head like an unsheathed sword.

Nothing he did would push it back, maybe — hopefully — delay it. Nothing.

It filled him with nothing but fear, at nights he couldn’t sleep — which were almost all of them — he would drown himself in the paranoid despair-filled anticipation.

He hated himself for it. When everyone in the clan was delighted for him, congratulating him at every turn, the nine-tailed fox resented his offspring.

He would never be a good father. He could see it. The bad childhood his child would have. He dreaded the mere thought of it. Of letting himself be so full of fear and paranoia that he would end up inflicting pain upon his child who deserved none of it.

What would its fault even be? Simply being his child? His child obviously did not deserve it.

Yet. Yet Hu Lijing could see himself doing just that.

And he hated himself for it more. For knowing exactly how wrong it would be but still doing it.

Moreover... Hu Lijing also knew that Long ZhenHai would be the most loving father to the child, he would be everything it would want in a parent.

But he still couldn’t find it in himself to tell Long ZhenHai of its existence in his womb. He was wrong. Hu Lijing was so, so wrong for hiding its existence from the dragon.

But he was doing it for the ultimate good, wasn’t he?

(How long was he going to justify his arbitrary actions? How long? How long? How long? How long was Hu Lijing going to keep Long ZhenHai segregated from the decision the dragon had every right to make alongside himself?

How long? How long? How long was he going to allow himself this willfulness?!

Hu Lijing didn’t know.)

He should be telling Long ZhenHai. He should have told Long ZhenHai about his pregnancy, their child, a long time ago — as soon as he himself found out, in fact — but he didn’t.

Just how low was Hu Lijing going to stoop?

The nine-tailed fox truly didn’t know.

The child was already enough of a headache, backache and every ache for him to be worrying over Long ZhenHai as well.

Thus, albeit reluctantly, Hu Lijing squashed every last bit of remorse and guilt he felt towards his beloved and focused solely on strengthening his clansmen in the preparation of the disaster—whatever it may be.

By the end of his pregnancy — if he were to carry full term — he wanted his people to be more than prepared for any and everything.

As he sat behind his desk, chin propped on his intertwined hands as he watched the training that was underway from the balcony that overlooked the training grounds, in spite of himself, his expression was pensive.

No matter how much he tried to act nonchalant or endeavoured to keep it under wraps, whenever he was lonely, he always had the niggling ominous premonition circling his mind. During those times, Hu Lijing allowed himself a moment or two of weakness.

Subconsciously, Hu Lijing found himself touching his — nearly flat — belly. As he watched the training, he mulled over his options in silence.

On one hand, every instinct in his body was screaming at him to tell Long ZhenHai about their child, every speck of his existence begging to go to the dragon, Hu Lijing knew better.

Or at least he hoped he did.

On the other hand, his mind was working overtime to plan out the worst cases and playing it out to him in his dreams, in his waking hours, basically every moment he found himself occupied, his mind would play a new worst case scenario.

As he shifted in his seat, leaning his weight on one side as his sore waist throbbed with pain, spine aching from the retroverted pregnancy, Hu Lijing shook his head, lamenting the fate that had yet to come.

It was one of his many vices, worrying over a future he had only seen in the stars, visualised nowhere but in his dreams alone.

Even if the said doom was perhaps years away.

Suddenly, from behind him came the noise of loud footsteps thumping against the floor. The haste in those footfalls had Hu Lijing frowning in worry as he slowly turned his head to look behind himself.

The nine-tailed fox twisted around, pointed fox ears twitching on his head as they pricked to hear the noise better, the rapid nature of those steps had his heart quickening as well.

Against his will, an ominous premonition reared its terrifying head in his heart, making it rise up to Hu Lijing’s throat.

As a defence mechanism, the claws of Hu Lijing’s hands drew out, the sharp tips slashing on the wooden table under his hand while he drummed his fingers on it in an attempt to quell the anxiety running haywire in his body.

Subconsciously, the nine-tailed fox spirit swallowed, heart in his throat as he kept his eyes trained on the door as the footsteps drew closer and more hurried as they neared him.

And before Hu Lijing knew it — mercifully — the door burst open, standing on the doorway was a young fox — Hu Lijing didn’t bother guessing his age — his face pale as though he had seen a ghost and sweat dripping down his eyebrows.

Leaning on the door frame under Hu Lijing’s gaze, the young fox spirit panted, legs giving out under him as he fell to the ground, his entire body trembling.

Hu Lijing found himself growing anxious by the minute as the young fox spirit shivered, retching in silence.

"What is the matter, young one?" He tried to keep his voice neutral as he swallowed sweat breaking out on his back while observing the fox spirit’s countenance.

"Clan Leader! Clan Leader!" The young fox called out, desperation seeping into the roots of his words as his head snapped up, ghastly pale face staring at him with pupils shrunken to the extreme. "Clan Leader— that— that oracle——!"

Hu Lijing’s heart fell to his feet, his heart stopped as he leaned towards the fox, brows knitting together.

"What—" he croaked, heart thumping against his ears "—what of the oracle, young one?"

"I don’t know Clan Leader!" The young fox spirit wept, sobbing loudly. "What did we— what did we even do— what did we do wrong?!"

Hu Lijing’s heart couldn’t grow any colder, really.

Shooting to his feet, the chair falling over behind him, he strode to the young fox spirit, falling to his knees as he seized the latter’s shoulder in his claws and shook him.

"What?" He snarled, eyes wide.

"The oracle! The oracle descended and ordered the extermination of our clan, Clan Leader! The last of our kind, the last drop of our blood!"