Fang Zichen slipped into a hazy dream—he was being swept away by a flood, drowning, barely able to breathe. He tried to swim upward but found his body impossibly heavy.
When he woke up, he realized his lower half was completely soaked.
He'd been through all kinds of storms—there was no way he'd wet the bed from a little nightmare.
He reached over and touched Zhao Ger...
Fang Zichen noticed Zhao Ger's brow furrowed, as if he was sleeping restlessly, letting out low moans.
He gently shook him: "Zhao Ger, Zhao Ger."
Still half-asleep, Zhao Ger mumbled: "Husband?"
Fang Zichen asked nervously: "Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"
Zhao Ger took a breath: "My stomach hurts a little." Then it dawned on him: "Why are my pants wet?"
Seeing a faint blush rise on his face, Fang Zichen chuckled, then got out of bed and put on his shoes: "You're probably about to give birth." Feeling a hand grab his sleeve, he turned back, kissed Zhao Ger, and reassured him: "Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll go get help."
"Mm!" Zhao Ger let go of him.
Fang Zichen kept a calm face, but his legs felt weak—like he was walking on cotton. He went straight to fetch Uncle Tang.
Since Zhao Ger's due date was around these days, the midwife had already been arranged well in advance, just in case the labor came at night. The midwife lived far from the Fang residence, and they couldn't afford delays, so at the end of the eight lunar month he'd already brought her to stay at the house.
Still not quite at ease, Fang Zichen sent Da Li to call for Li Yisheng as well. Needing more hands, he also had Aunt Jiang go to the shop to bring back Yang Ger and Yu Ger.
After calmly giving out all the orders, Fang Zichen returned to the room, crouched by the bed. By now, Zhao Ger's contractions were clearly intensifying, his face pale. Fang Zichen's heart clenched tight.
The midwife came in after washing her hands, and seeing him there, she immediately exclaimed: "Oh! Lord Fang, please leave quickly! The delivery room is unclean—you must go. Leave your fulang to this old woman, rest assured."
Having stayed at the Fang residence for several days, she knew Fang Zichen was a good man, so she spoke without hesitation.
"Husband," Zhao Ger gasped, feeling as though his body was splitting apart. Cold sweat poured down his face. He weakly raised his hand and gripped Fang Zichen's sleeve tightly.
"It's alright, don't be scared!" Fang Zichen took Zhao Ger's hand in his, gently brushed the stray hairs from his face, and soothed him: "Zhao Ger, don't be afraid. I'll be right outside waiting for you."
Zhao Ger's eyes suddenly reddened: "Alright."
Whether in the village or in the capital, men were never allowed into the delivery room.
Fang Zichen kissed him repeatedly: "When the midwife tells you to push, you push. When she says breathe, you breathe. It's really nothing—just think of it like squatting over a latrine. If it won't come out, push harder. I'll be right outside cheering you on, so don't be scared."
"Mm! I'm not scared anymore," Zhao Ger said.
But Fang Zichen choked up.
Zhao Ger wasn't scared—but he was.
He didn't dare show it, afraid of shaking morale. He rambled on for a while longer until the midwife urged him to leave. He kissed Zhao Ger one last time: "Zhao Ger, I love you. Promise me—don't make me a widower, alright? I can't go on without you."
Zhao Ger: "..."
Midwife: "..."
Probably not the best time for that kind of talk.
Uncle Tang came in carrying water and saw Fang Zichen still there. Earlier the midwife had told him to leave, and he'd said "just two more words." Now here he still was—those were some long two words.
Uncle Tang grabbed him and pulled him out.
Fang Zichen clung to Zhao Ger's hand, like a young lover being torn apart, crying out: "Zhao Ger... Zhao Ger!"
Zhao Ger burst out laughing.
Li Yisheng had just entered the inner courtyard when he heard the commotion—his heart leaped. Without a second thought, he abandoned his fulang and rushed inside.
The door slammed shut. Fang Zichen sniffled, and noticing Li Yisheng's red-rimmed eyes and rapid breathing, he spared a moment of concern.
"Brother, what's wrong with you?"
Li Yisheng: "..."
Li Yisheng's fulang arrived too, and the household sprang into motion—water was boiled, people hurried back and forth. Fang Zichen pressed himself against the door like a gecko, straining to catch every sound from inside.
If he really wanted to be in the delivery room, the midwife couldn't have stopped him. But Fang Zichen knew his own limits—he'd only get in the way and distract Zhao Ger. Childbirth was best left to the professionals. Zhao Ger was already suffering enough; he couldn't add to the chaos.
Basin after basin of bloody water was carried out. Fang Zichen was on edge the entire time, his eyes fixed on the room, terrified that if he looked away for even a moment, something would happen to Zhao Ger.
When Feng momo returned, she also went into the delivery room. Li Yisheng came over and pulled Fang Zichen aside: "Go sit down for a while! The baby won't come that fast."
And indeed it wasn't fast—the wait stretched all the way to evening.
When the first cry finally rang out, Fang Zichen's legs were already aching from standing so long. He barely managed to brace himself against the wall to keep from collapsing to his knees. The breath he'd been holding all afternoon finally escaped him.
Just a few short hours, yet it felt like a lifetime. He'd never known time could be so agonizing.
Li Yisheng got excited, grabbing Fang Zichen by the shoulders and shaking him: "It's here! It's here!"
"Don't get so worked up!" Fang Zichen frowned at him. "People might get the wrong idea."
Li Yisheng was about to say something when Fang Zichen pressed himself against the door again, squinting through the crack in the door.
Zhao Ger looked as if he'd just been pulled from the water—completely drained. Through the door, he saw that familiar silhouette pressed against it, shifting about, and a small smile crept onto his face.
His husband really had been with him the whole time.
The door was close, and he'd heard Li Yisheng's voice call out to Fang Zichen more than once, urging him to rest—the winter wind was biting cold. But Fang Zichen refused every time: "No, I need to stay with him."
He'd stood there all afternoon, that resolute, upright figure never wavering—like a statue. Zhao Ger's stomach pain was unbearable, but looking at Fang Zichen, his eyes suddenly burned with tears. He was no longer alone—this time, his husband was with him, waiting just outside. The thought surged through him, and the pain seemed to fade; he felt an inexhaustible strength.
The baby was positioned correctly, the birth canal had opened, and the midwife said it was time to push.
Throughout the pregnancy, they'd swum, walked, and Fang Zichen had cared for him in every way, keeping his body and mind in good condition. Now, following the midwife's instructions, Zhao Ger gritted his teeth and pushed. The midwife let out a surprised cry.
"Zhujun, I can see the baby—one more push."
Zhao Ger did as told, gripping the blanket and bearing down with all his might.
The baby came soon after.
Uncle Tang quickly scooped the baby up, examined him carefully, and smiled.
There was a small red mark on the baby's arm—it was a ger.
Zhao Ger's throat made a dry, raspy sound: "Is... is it a ger or..."
Uncle Tang brought the baby closer for him to see: "Zhujun, it's a young master."
Gers couldn't give birth to daughters. In wealthy families, gers were uniformly addressed as "young master" as well. But despite the title, most were raised like daughters—dressed in red and adorned with ornaments.
The second came right on the first's heels. No sooner had the first emerged than—before Zhao Ger even had to push, just breathing normally—the midwife cried out again: "And here comes the third young master!"
It went so smoothly it was almost unbelievable. The midwife was both delighted and a little disappointed she hadn't had more to do.
The second one was a little man.
Hearing that both had been delivered, Fang Zichen pushed the door open. The midwife and Uncle Tang had already washed and wrapped the babies, and they brought them over for him to see, showering him with praise.
"Lord, look quickly—both young masters are so handsome! Such fine features. This old woman has lived most of her life and has never seen such beautiful babies!"
"Yes, yes!"
Fang Zichen leaned in for a peek—and one look made him stop breathing entirely. He nearly passed out.
His two children looked a little—startling.
Back when monkeys were evolving, these two must have been at the very front of the pack. They'd evolved a bit too far—now they didn't even have any hair.
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