In the midst of a noisy dinner gathering, Yan Cheng, who had been lounging around casually, suddenly stood up. His usual nonchalant smile vanished as his jaw tightened, leaving his face devoid of expression. Although the air conditioning kept the room cool, sweat beaded on his forehead.
As he pushed his chair back, the movement caused an ear-piercing screech as the chair legs scraped against the floor. The noise interrupted the laughter and chatter, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
Yan Cheng finally snapped back to reality, squinting slightly and licking his lips nervously. He flared his nostrils and took two deep breaths, forcing down the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Fortunately, he retained his composure, his rationality intact. Covering his phone with one hand, he bent slightly and said, “Apologies, I need to excuse myself. My wife just called—she’s gone into labor, and I need to be at the hospital.”
He glanced toward one of his friends. “Chai Yue, keep an eye on things for me, alright? I’ll settle the bill later.”
Given the circumstances, no one tried to stop him. After exchanging a few polite words, they urged him to leave quickly.
“Go on, don’t worry,” Chai Yue replied briskly. As Yan Cheng left the room in a hurry, Chai Yue caught a glimpse of his tightly clenched right fist. The veins on the back of his hand bulged, hinting that his nails were digging into his palm.
Sharing a knowing glance with Luo Xiao, Chai Yue quickly followed after him. “Need a driver?” he offered. “You haven’t been drinking, but in your state, it might be hard to focus on driving.”
“No need,” Yan Cheng responded with a brief shake of his head. He frowned slightly before turning back and quickening his pace.
There was no trace of the joy an expectant father might typically feel. Instead, his face was clouded with anxious urgency. After hearing Chen Jinlin’s panicked, jumbled recount of events, a mix of worry, fear, and tension was written all over his face.
During Chen Jinyao’s pregnancy, Yan Cheng had read numerous books on childbirth. He knew how difficult first births could be. His mother had warned him gravely, echoing old sayings passed down through generations: “No matter how advanced medicine gets, childbirth is like walking through the gates of death.”
Hearing that, he had felt an indescribable anger toward his father, who seemed callous in comparison.
That night, the stars shimmered silently across the sky, while the capital buzzed with vibrant nightlife. A cool breeze brushed by, but it did nothing to calm Yan Cheng’s nerves. He loosened his tie casually, the motion helping him release the tension in his chest.
“Jinlin, let Dad and Mom, and my parents, know what’s happening,” he instructed.
Chen Jinlin, still holding her phone, nodded furiously like a pecking chicken. She didn’t realize she was still on the call and quickly agreed. But before she could finish saying “okay,” Yan Cheng’s frown deepened.
“Also, make sure you explain things clearly. Don’t mess up your words again.”
Typically, women are only moved to the delivery room after dilating five centimeters. However, since this was a private hospital, and both the Yan and Chen families had made prior arrangements, Chen Jinyao was transferred earlier.
The delivery room had two sections. The inner area was the actual delivery space, while the outer area served as a waiting room for women to endure contractions and pain before full dilation. Being moved didn’t mean the baby was ready to arrive.
To prevent exhaustion during childbirth, a nurse stayed by Chen Jinyao’s side, helping her stabilize before preparing for delivery. Later, they even encouraged her to eat something for energy.
Sweat beaded on Chen Jinyao’s forehead as she held a ginseng slice in her mouth. She realized her fear of pain was amplifying everything. Embarrassed, she felt flustered as the contractions grew stronger and more regular, overwhelming her composure.
Despite her usual calm and fearless demeanor, Chen Jinyao dreaded pain and couldn’t handle even the slightest discomfort.
The traffic delays only made things worse. By the time Yan Cheng arrived, Chen Jinyao’s water had already broken, and she was fully dilated. She was being moved into the inner delivery room. Her screams were stifled by the obstetrician’s firm command: “Save your energy.”
Watching from outside, Chen Jinlin paced nervously, muttering under her breath and biting her lip. Both mothers—Yan’s and Chen’s—arrived shortly after, each carrying chicken soup. Although concerned about Chen Jinyao’s ordeal, they quickly started chatting about the unborn child, immersed in discussions about their soon-to-be grandchild.
For the parents, their thoughts revolved more around the baby than the struggle inside the delivery room.
The long hallway was silent until hurried footsteps echoed, accompanied by the sound of labored breathing.
Yan Cheng arrived in a rush, drenched in sweat. His charming peach-blossom eyes lacked their usual frivolity, replaced by solemnity. He glanced toward the delivery room twice before bending over, fists still clenched, catching his breath.
“How’s your sister?” he asked Chen Jinlin, his voice hoarse.
Chen Jinlin shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. Her previously pale face had regained some color, but her nervousness lingered.
They exchanged a look of shared concern. After a moment, Chen Jinlin hesitated before saying, “Brother-in-law, I think you can accompany her. The nurse asked me earlier, but I was too scared. If I went in and saw everything, I might develop a fear of childbirth. So, I chose ignorance over fear.”
“Do you want to go in? If so, you should ask the nurse,” she added.
Yan Cheng stood silent for a long moment, his mind blank. Eventually, he gave a low, uncertain response.
The wait outside felt endless, and Yan Cheng grew increasingly agitated. Inside, a nurse approached Chen Jinyao and said, “Your husband is here. Do you want him to come in and accompany you?”
Another nurse entered and quickly chimed in with admiration. “Chen Jinyao, your husband specifically requested to join you.”
Chen Jinyao, drenched in sweat and panting heavily, glanced at the nurses after a particularly sharp wave of pain subsided.
“No,” she said weakly but firmly.
The nurses exchanged confused glances, both taken aback by her response.
Chen Jinyao managed a faint smile. “If he comes in, I’ll cry,” she explained. “If I see him, I’ll feel like I have someone to lean on. I’ll stop being strong, and instead, I’ll complain about the pain and wallow in my grievances. Then, I won’t even have the strength to push the baby out.”
At 11:39 p.m., the sound of a newborn’s cry echoed from the delivery room.
“That’s a strong, healthy boy,” Yan’s mother said with a beaming smile.
Yan Cheng barely registered her comment. All he wanted was to see Chen Jinyao.
The nurse soon emerged, congratulating the family. She turned to Yan Cheng with a smile. “Congratulations, it’s a boy! Seven pounds, two ounces, very healthy and strong.” She paused, noticing his anxious expression, and added reassuringly, “Don’t worry—both mother and child are safe.”
Yan Cheng let out a deep sigh of relief. The tension that had gripped him all evening finally eased. After thanking the nurse, he hesitated briefly before asking, almost timidly, “Can I see her now?”
The nurse politely declined. “Not yet. She’ll be moved to the recovery room shortly.”
Yan Cheng nodded dumbly, his usual composure utterly gone.
Yan’s mother gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “You’re a father now—act more steady!”
The newborn, like all babies, looked wrinkled and delicate. His eyes remained closed, his tiny fists clenched as he smacked his lips. Yet the family surrounded the incubator, marveling over him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.
“Such a handsome little guy,” someone exclaimed.
Finally, when Yan Cheng visited his son, he stared for a long moment before muttering, “So ugly.”
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