The soft little head bumped against his chest, leaving Tan Sizhe stunned.
“What’s wrong?” Tan Sizhe bent down, intending to touch Ye Mingxuan, only for the other to float away with a mournful expression.
Thud. The bedroom door opened and closed. Tan Sizhe stood at the doorway, unable to decide whether to enter or retreat.
He didn’t know what had happened, only that Ye Mingxuan seemed a bit strange.
This strangeness persisted. During dinner, Tan Sizhe caught Ye Mingxuan staring at him out of the corner of his eye. When he looked over, Ye Mingxuan lowered his head to eat again.
Working in his study, he heard faint scratching at the door every few minutes. He walked over to open it, catching only a glimpse of the other person’s skirt fluttering in the breeze.
Tan Sizhe: “…”
He closed the door slightly, returned to his seat, and stared at the computer screen—though his attention remained fixed on the doorway.
Sure enough, soon after, rustling sounds came from the door again. Then, a pair of round, black eyes appeared, peering through the crack and blinking at him.
Tan Sizhe suppressed the urge to turn his head, knowing he’d run the moment he did.
For as long as he stared at the computer screen, the figure at the door stared back. Eventually, it must have grown tired of standing and left.
Tan Sizhe’s shoulders finally relaxed, and he finished his work.
Night enveloped the city as the moon climbed high among the branches. Ye Mingxuan had already slipped into bed.
When Tan Sizhe entered, Ye Mingxuan cautiously poked his head out to peek at him before retreating back under the covers, leaving only a crescent-shaped tuft of hair peeking out like the moon.
The blood coursing through his veins began to boil. Tan Sizhe walked over, climbed into bed, and pulled Ye Mingxuan out of the covers in one swift motion.
“Sir!” Ye Mingxuan’s eyes flashed with surprise before Tan Sizhe grabbed his chin and planted two firm kisses on his lips.
“Why were you peeking at me all day?”
Caught red-handed, Ye Mingxuan’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I wasn’t… Mmm…”
His lips parted as Tan Sizhe’s tongue swept through his mouth, tangling with his own. Glistening saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining the sheets with dark wet patches.
“Lying again.” Tan Sizhe bit his lower lip, pulled back the covers, cupped Ye Mingxuan’s full, rounded pregnant belly, and lowered his head to inhale its scent.
Ye Mingxuan was kissed into a daze, trying to push the man’s face away: “No, don’t…”
Tan Sizhe wasn’t about to listen. Ever since returning today, Ye Mingxuan had been teasing him, playing hard to get. Every glance from him felt like tiny hooks digging into Tan Sizhe’s heart, making it ache unbearably.
Ye Mingxuan’s ankle was captured in a large, warm hand. The scorching heat radiated up to his heaving chest, making his heart race even faster.
“Sir, please… don’t…”
Tan Sizhe’s nose lightly brushed against his cheek. “All this time, every time you said ‘don’t,’ which time didn’t you enjoy it?”
Ye Mingxuan flushed even deeper, his entire body seeming to smoke. His hands, which had been pushing against Tan Sizhe’s shoulders, suddenly froze.
Tan Sizhe lowered his head and saw moisture gathering in Ye Mingxuan’s eyes. Startled, he released him. “What’s wrong?”
Ye Mingxuan’s gaze met Tan Sizhe’s, and Tan Sizhe saw a flicker of sadness in those clear pupils.
“You really didn’t enjoy it?” Tan Sizhe felt a pang of doubt.
Had he really licked so enthusiastically, yet Ye Mingxuan hadn’t felt a shred of pleasure?
“…” Ye Mingxuan turned his face away. “It’s not about that.”
Tan Sizhe propped himself up on his elbows. “Then what is it?”
Ye Mingxuan’s eyes were bloodshot, his throat catching. “Nothing, sir. I’m just a bit tired. Could we skip it tonight…”
Ye Mingxuan turned sideways, facing away from him, closed his eyes, and nodded. “Mm.”
Tan Sizhe sat on the bed, reaching out to touch Ye Mingxuan’s shoulder before hesitating and pulling his hand back.
Ye Mingxuan had been acting strangely today, but Tan Sizhe had no idea what was wrong.
The room lights dimmed, plunging the surroundings into darkness. Ye Mingxuan felt the person behind him lie down. The empty bed was finally filled with that familiar scent. Ye Mingxuan fought the urge to burrow into the other’s embrace, biting his lip as he turned his back and fell asleep.
When Tan Sizhe had asked him earlier, he’d felt an overwhelming urge to confirm the thing that had been troubling him these past two days.
But he was afraid. Afraid Tan Sizhe would tell him it was all true, afraid to hear a truth he couldn’t bear.
Ye Mingxuan silently cursed himself for being a coward. He thought he had changed, but he hadn’t at all. He was still the same timid, weak Ye Mingxuan.
Everything before his eyes blurred. Ye Mingxuan covered his mouth, struggling to stifle any sound….
After lying down, Tan Sizhe waited as usual for the other to fall asleep and roll over. But today, he waited an hour and still nothing happened.
Couldn’t sleep? Tan Sizhe turned his head to look at Ye Mingxuan, who remained motionless, still facing away from him.
Tan Sizhe blinked lightly, grabbed Ye Mingxuan’s blanket, and pulled it up over him. He hesitated, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately chose to lie back down.
Only after a while, when even breathing came from beside him, did Tan Sizhe finally close his eyes and drift off.
He discovered a small, pale hand clutching his clothes tightly. Ye Mingxuan lay facing him, his brow slightly furrowed in restless sleep. The faint moonlight illuminated his forehead, glistening with fine beads of sweat.
Tan Sizhe’s heart tightened. He tested his temperature with the back of his hand—no fever. Likely just a nightmare.
He moved closer to Ye Mingxuan, patting his shoulder to soothe him back to sleep. Gradually, Ye Mingxuan’s frown softened, and he fell into a deep slumber.
Tan Sizhe took a tissue and gently wiped the sweat from Ye Mingxuan’s forehead and the tears from the corners of his eyes, watching him silently.
Tan Sizhe thought Ye Mingxuan would recover in a couple of days, but his condition only worsened.
He often drifted in and out of sight before Tan Sizhe, wanting to speak but holding back, then slumping his head and walking away. Occasionally he’d crouch on the balcony, like a little mushroom with dark clouds overhead, silently raining alone.
When Tan Sizhe asked him, he only said it was nothing.
“Dr. Cai,” Tan Sizhe dialed the doctor’s number, watching Ye Mingxuan’s small figure sitting on the lounge chair. “I’d like to ask about prenatal depression.”
“After pregnancy, due to physical changes and complications like gestational hypertension, eclampsia, or heart disease, expectant mothers may feel stressed and develop depression,” Dr. Cai explained. “But Mr. Ye’s last checkup showed everything normal. Could there be other reasons, perhaps related to emotional needs?”
” Take him out more often—go for walks, explore places, cultivate hobbies. Husbands need to provide ample emotional support to their pregnant partners. If necessary, consider taking Mr. Ye for psychological counseling.”
“Understood, thank you, Dr. Cai.”
Tan Sizhe hung up the phone.
Aunt Fu approached and whispered, “How is Mr. Mingxuan? Still feeling low?”
Tan Sizhe shook his head, his frown deep enough to trap a mosquito. These days had been trying for him too. “Aunt Fu, what happened with Mingxuan while I was away?”
“Nothing much. Everything was fine. I cooked whatever he wanted and even found some cartoons for him to watch.”
Tan Sizhe: “Then why…”
Aunt Fu gazed at Ye Mingxuan with concern, suddenly recalling: “I remember now. Mr. Mingxuan went out to see a performance on Saturday. He seemed off afterward, but I just thought he was tired.”
Tan Sizhe latched onto a crucial detail: “What kind of performance?”
Aunt Fu: “A concert. Mr. Mingxuan even left holding a bouquet of flowers. He seemed really happy before he went.”
Tan Sizhe nodded: “Got it. You can go back to your work now.”
Aunt Fu: “Alright. If you need anything, just call me.”
Tan Sizhe glanced at Ye Mingxuan, who seemed to have grown weary of sitting. He lay sprawled out on the wicker chair, eyes closed in rest.
A few birds fluttered past the window, chirping twice. Tan Sizhe walked into the study next door and called Bai Yu.
Bai Yu worked efficiently. Half an hour later, he called back: “Mingxuan went to the Phoenix-Worshipping Grand Theater. Ye Yufan was there that day too. Oh, and there was another person I mentioned to you before—Yu Sen. You should remember him.”
Those two again. Tan Sizhe was already in a foul mood. Ye Yufan must have clashed with Ye Mingxuan again, which explained why Ye Mingxuan was so down.
“Arrange some bodyguards. If Mingxuan runs into Ye Yufan again, let me know.”
“Got it. I’ll handle it immediately.”
“Hmm. Check when Qi Lin’s art exhibition is and get us two tickets.”
“Understood.”
Tan Sizhe hung up and headed toward the studio, hoping to find something that might interest Ye Mingxuan. Passing by Ye Mingxuan’s study, he noticed a drawer on the desk was half-open.
A corner of an exquisite black box peeked out. Tan Sizhe almost looked away, but the SEA BLUE logo was too dazzling to ignore.
Ye Mingxuan never bought luxury goods himself—everything he owned in that category had been purchased by Tan Sizhe. He’d never seen packaging like this before.
Tan Sizhe stepped inside and discovered it was a jewelry box, half-open with a black bracelet partially exposed. He instantly recognized it as a men’s bracelet.
Why would Ye Mingxuan hide a bracelet he didn’t recognize? Moreover, the box was open and the drawer left ajar—clearly, Ye Mingxuan had been taking the bracelet out frequently these past few days.
An answer formed in Tan Sizhe’s mind. The bracelet’s sudden appearance must be tied to Ye Mingxuan’s emotions. Otherwise, why would Ye Mingxuan show no interest in anything else these past days—even refusing to eat properly—yet cling to this bracelet?
He snapped a photo and sent it to Bai Yu, asking him to check Ye Mingxuan’s purchase records. Sure enough, Ye Mingxuan had bought it, and the date matched the day after the concert. But beyond that, there were no other clues.
Tan Sizhe studied it for ages without making head or tail of it. It wasn’t until he realized what he was doing that he couldn’t help but look down, letting out a helpless, self-mocking laugh.
The only person who could make him indulge in such childish detective games was Ye Mingxuan.
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