Du Heng took out some soybeans that had been soaked overnight, brought out the clear oil, and prepared to fry some salt-and-pepper soybeans.
The soaked beans were drained and put into the oil to fry. As soon as they hit the heat, they crackled loudly. Once they split open and cooked through, they were scooped out and fried again. After the second fry, they were perfectly crispy.
Sprinkled with fine salt and simple seasoning, they became a delicious snack.
Drawn by the aroma, Qin Xiaoman slipped into the kitchen. Seeing a small basin of salt-and-pepper soybeans, he grabbed a handful while they were still hot.
Freshly fried, they were extremely crisp—much more fragrant than the dry-roasted ones sold in the county.
Anything fried in clear oil was hard not to love. It did use a lot of oil, but since it was their own and not store-bought, they were more generous with it.
“So good. I’ll draw some wine to go with it.”
Du Heng didn’t stop him. Recently, while he had been studying, Qin Xiaoman had been working alone in the fields. Du Heng felt his energy wasn’t as good as before—he seemed tired—so he deliberately made him some snacks.
Qin Xiaoman set a plate of soybeans on the table, took the bamboo wine container, and went to draw wine. When he opened the wine jar, he found it was nearly empty.
He smacked his lips and muttered a curse about drunkards—obviously referring to the villagers.
He was usually in the fields or the mountains during the day and rarely stayed at home, so he’d thought no one was buying much wine. Turns out people had been coming during the daytime.
One or two liang at a time—it added up quickly. Two whole jars had already been sold.
Du Heng brought breakfast over and smiled. “The men in the village secretly take out their private savings to buy a little wine. It sells fast. I’m planning to brew some more and store it. Making some money from it wouldn’t be bad either.”
Qin Xiaoman agreed wholeheartedly. As long as the house always had wine, he would never be without his share.
After breakfast, Qin Xiaoman grabbed a handful of the golden, crispy soybeans, slung a hoe over his shoulder, and carried a small back basket as he headed up the mountain. Winter was, after all, the best season for digging winter bamboo shoots.
After tidying up the house and feeding the livestock, Du Heng brought a brazier of charcoal into the room and continued reading.
Today even Huzi refused to stay home, trotting right at Qin Xiaoman’s heels and insisting on following him up the mountain. With the cold weather, even dogs were afraid of the chill and usually curled up under the stove without moving. Today was unusual.
Xiaoman hadn’t wanted to bring the mutt along, but the stubborn dog refused to be driven back. Thinking that the mountains were lonely anyway, Xiaoman let it be.
Du Heng had barely finished writing a couple of essays when it was nearly noon. The fog outside had thinned somewhat. Xiaoman wasn’t coming back for lunch, so Du Heng planned to just eat a little something simple himself.
He went into the kitchen and had just gotten the fire going, planning to toss a couple of long sweet potatoes into the stove so they’d be ready to eat when Xiaoman got home, when the sound of barking came from outside.
Huzi ran into the kitchen wagging his tail, rubbing against Du Heng’s calves.
Du Heng crouched down and rubbed Huzi’s head. It was damp—no surprise if the dog had run back from outside—but he said, “Didn’t you go up the mountain with Xiaoman? Why did you come back by yourself? Cold already?”
The dog jumped around, barked a couple of times, then turned and ran toward the door. After a few steps it looked back, saw Du Heng still holding firewood and not following, and hurriedly barked at him again.
Du Heng frowned. Something felt off. He stood up and followed the dog outside.
“Where are you taking me?”
Huzi ran fast. Du Heng chased after him and, not long after, saw Xiaoman slowly making his way back. He was carrying the small back basket, with only three or four bamboo shoots inside, his head lowered, walking sluggishly.
From a distance alone, he looked unwell, as if he might collapse at any moment.
Du Heng’s heart jumped. He hurried forward and supported him. “What’s wrong?”
Qin Xiaoman looked at Du Heng and shook his head. “I don’t know if I drank too much wine this morning. Once I got up the mountain, I felt dizzy and uncomfortable. I didn’t work long before heading back.”
Du Heng reached out and felt Xiaoman’s forehead. It was warm, but not hot. “Are you getting sick? The weather’s changing and getting cold, and you worked so hard in the fall—maybe your body can’t take it and you’re run down. Don’t keep working. Let’s go home and rest.”
Xiaoman didn’t argue. His arms and legs felt weak, so leaning on Du Heng, the two of them went home together.
Du Heng helped Xiaoman into the room to rest, heated some water to soak his feet, and then tucked him back into bed.
He’d clearly slept enough before getting up that morning, but now, with his feet warmed and wrapped up in the quilt, drowsiness quickly crept back in. Still, he was a little worried. He reached out and grabbed Du Heng’s sleeve. “Husband… I’m not going to die, am I?”
“What nonsense are you talking?” Du Heng said softly. “You’re perfectly fine—how could you die? You’re still so young.”
He gently smoothed Xiaoman’s hair. “Not to mention, feeling sleepy in winter is normal. People eat grains and inevitably get aches and pains now and then—that’s ordinary. If you don’t keep your mind relaxed, you’ll really make yourself sick.”
“Go to sleep if you’re tired. If you wake up and still feel unwell, I’ll go get a doctor, alright?”
Qin Xiaoman nodded obediently for once and held onto Du Heng’s hand. “Then don’t go far. I don’t want to wake up and not find you.”
“Alright. I’ll stay home.”
Du Heng sat by the bed for quite a while. Xiaoman’s face looked a little pale, and Du Heng felt unsettled. Only after Xiaoman’s breathing evened out did he gently put his hand back under the quilt.
Something still felt strange. Xiaoman had always been healthy and lively. He hadn’t had a fever or caught a chill—so why had he suddenly become so weak?
Then again, maybe this was just how illness began. After resting, the symptoms might fully emerge, and then they’d know whether it was just seasonal cold exposure.
But if it wasn’t… Du Heng’s brow twitched. Could it be…?
They’d been married nearly a year. In the heat of newlywed passion, they hadn’t exactly been restrained.
During the busy autumn harvest, they’d been less frequent than before, but still—there had been times. Maybe it really was what he was thinking.
He’d heard villagers say that when a male spouse was expecting, it wasn’t easy to tell at first. The reactions weren’t as obvious as with women. Because of that, young male spouses carrying their first child often miscarried.
With no experience and little awareness, they didn’t know how to take care—working too hard, getting exhausted, or falling and bleeding before they even realized.
The more Du Heng thought about it, the more worried he became. Xiaoman’s symptoms really did resemble that. Alongside the worry, there was also a faint sense of anticipation.
Huzi hopped around inside the house. Du Heng called him outside, tossed a steamed sweet potato into his bowl, and watched the dog’s tail wag like a fan as soon as he saw food.
“Eat up. You did great today.”
Du Heng went back into the kitchen. Since Xiaoman had returned home, it would be better to cook a proper lunch so they could eat together when he woke up.
Thinking that Xiaoman might be carrying a child, his gaze drifted to the hen pecking around in the yard.
The yellow-feathered hen hadn’t laid eggs in a long time. They’d kept her penned up for days, and still nothing. It was time to improve their diet.
Before long, he collected a bowl of chicken blood. With water already boiling, a free-range black hen was soon plucked clean and laid bare in a basin.
Du Heng put away the feathers and opened the chicken. Near the belly were two thick lumps of fat—perfect for making soup or stir-frying, rich and fragrant.
After cleaning the offal, he grabbed some chilies and young ginger from the pickle jar and stir-fried a plate of crisp chicken giblets—perfect with rice.
One chicken could easily make at least three dishes: the blood for soup, the offal for a stir-fry, and the meat itself—best stewed into a nourishing broth.
He didn’t cook all three right away. First, Du Heng set the chicken to stew.
The few winter bamboo shoots Xiaoman had brought back would have been great for stewing with the chicken, making a wonderfully fresh soup. But since this was meant for recuperation, Du Heng felt that wasn’t nourishing enough.
He dug out the dangshen and angelica he’d gathered in the mountains, along with some wild goji berries. He planned to stew the black chicken with medicinal herbs, to draw out its full restorative effect.
When Xiaoman woke up, it was already afternoon. He didn’t know the exact time, but one glance at the light outside the window told him it was getting late.
No matter how reluctant he was to leave the warm bed, he still had to get up. After sleeping for a while, he felt a bit more energized. Before he even stepped outside, he caught the rich aroma of chicken. When he went out and saw Du Heng adding goji berries to the pot, he realized his sense of smell hadn’t been playing tricks on him.
“Did I sleep straight through to the New Year or what? Why are you even stewing chicken soup?!”
Seeing him up, Du Heng hurried over to help him sit by the stove, ladled out a bowl of chicken soup, and handed it to him.
Looking at the steaming, fragrant soup—with two pieces of medicinal herbs floating inside—Xiaoman felt tempted, but more than that, he felt uneasy.
With a troubled expression, he said, “Tell me the truth. Am I really not going to live much longer?”
“What nonsense are you talking?” Du Heng replied. “I just saw that you’ve been weak lately. That chicken hadn’t laid eggs in ages anyway, so with winter here, I slaughtered it to help you build yourself back up. Eat without worrying.”
Qin Xiaoman pressed his lips together and carefully took the bowl. He scooped up a spoonful of soup and tasted it. The rich, savory flavor instantly eased his worries.
Watching him eat so happily, Du Heng’s lips curved slightly. He tested the black chicken with his chopsticks, saw that it was cooked through, and fished out a drumstick he’d saved especially for Xiaoman, placing it in his bowl.
After watching him take several bites, Du Heng ventured cautiously, “I’ve noticed you’ve been sleeping a lot lately, and your body does seem different from before. I thought it over carefully—could you be expecting a baby?”
Xiaoman had been happily gnawing on the drumstick. At those words, the meat suddenly lost all flavor. “Really?”
Seeing the delight on his face, Du Heng laughed helplessly. “I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know for sure. How about we ask Doctor Cui to take a look?”
At that, Qin Xiaoman hesitated. He was a little afraid Doctor Cui might find some incurable illness. But avoiding the doctor wasn’t wise, and he also truly wanted to know whether he was carrying a child. So he said, “Let’s go after we eat.”
Seeing him agree, Du Heng smiled and patted his head. “Alright.”
In winter, a hot meal of stewed chicken was pure comfort. The two of them each drank two large bowls of soup, warmth spreading through their bodies. They ate nearly half the chicken before heading over to the Cui household.
“He’s not home?”
They’d gone with anxious hearts, but unfortunately Doctor Cui wasn’t there. Qin Xiaoman wilted a little. “Then when will he be back?”
“He went to the county seat to buy medicine. Could be tonight, could be tomorrow—hard to say.”
Cui Qiuyue looked at the couple with some regret. “He only left not long ago. If you’d come earlier, you might have caught him.”
Qin Xiaoman lightly slapped his own mouth, silently scolding himself for being greedy and lingering over the food instead of coming sooner.
“You two came looking for my father—was it to get medicine or for an exam? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Hearing Cui Qiuyue ask, Qin Xiaoman’s brows twitched. He remembered she’d helped him before.
“It’s nothing serious. If Doctor Cui isn’t here, that’s fine. Qiuyue, could you check my pulse and see if I’m pregnant?”
Seeing the male spouse roll up his sleeves all the way in one swift motion, Cui Qiuyue let out a dry laugh. “Again?”
Du Heng’s eyes widened. He looked at the two of them in surprise. “Again?”
What did she mean, again? Had he come to check for pregnancy before?
Wasn’t he Xiaoman’s first—and only—man?
Qin Xiaoman quickly grabbed Du Heng’s hand and explained, “Back when we’d just gotten married, I asked once. You forgot?!”
Du Heng suddenly realized, then relaxed, letting out a breath. That had scared him.
“Sorry to trouble you, Miss Qiuyue.”
Seeing that the couple had come together and had been married for so long, Cui Qiuyue figured they weren’t joking. She said, “I’ve never really examined anyone before. Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“It’s just taking a pulse. It won’t cost me a piece of flesh.”
“…Alright.”
Once she agreed, Xiaoman quickly followed her inside, while Du Heng waited by the door.
The winter wind made the courtyard chilly. Du Heng rubbed his hands together. His heart was restless with anticipation, so he didn’t really feel the cold, but he still kept himself busy to ease the tension.
Before long, Xiaoman came back out. Before Du Heng could ask anything, Xiaoman spoke first: “Well, that old hen was slaughtered for nothing.”
Seeing him droop like a rabbit with flattened ears, Du Heng stepped forward and took his hand. Even though he already knew the answer, he still asked, “Nothing?”
Qin Xiaoman shook his head in disappointment. “Just seasonal drowsiness from the cold.”
Du Heng also felt a faint sense of letdown, but seeing Xiaoman like this, he comforted him anyway. “We’ll have a child someday. It’s fine—we’re not in a rush.”
Qin Xiaoman hugged his arm, leaning against it, and sighed. “Let’s go home.”
Though it had been a false alarm, Du Heng still made good food for Xiaoman. Children mattered, but a spouse mattered more. Xiaoman truly had been a bit weak since winter set in. Their family wasn’t so poor that they couldn’t afford meat—if his body needed nourishment, then it needed nourishment. Hoarding money only to ruin one’s health wasn’t worth it.
That night, Du Heng stir-fried the chicken giblets to eat with rice. The next day, he used the freshest tender radish greens to make a blood curd soup. For those two days, he didn’t let Xiaoman go out to plow or do heavy labor.
The improvement in Xiaoman’s complexion was visible to the naked eye.
On market day, Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman went together to the county seat, planning to sell a few winter bamboo shoots and buy cloth to make two sets of winter clothes.
The ox cart was icy cold. Qin Xiaoman was feeling sensitive to the cold, so not only was he dressed more warmly than usual, he also wrapped the rabbit-fur scarf Du Heng had bought him last year around his neck, burying even his chin in the soft fur.
Du Heng drove the ox, tucking Xiaoman’s hands under his own arm to warm them as the two headed out of the village.
“Wait!”
They had just reached the main road out of the village when someone shouted. Du Heng pulled the ox to a stop and saw it was Li Laowu—recently married—and Qin Xiaozhu.
By coincidence, Qin Xiaozhu was also wearing a rabbit-fur scarf today.
“You’re heading to the county seat, right? We’re going too. Could you give us a ride?”
Du Heng smiled and said to Li Laowu, “Come on up.”
Li Laowu reached under Qin Xiaozhu’s arms as if lifting a child, trying to hoist him onto the flatbed. He’d barely gotten his arms around him when Qin Xiaozhu shot him a glare, and Li Laowu immediately switched to supporting him instead.
Once they were on the ox cart, the two of them sat on the flatbed in the back. Qin Xiaozhu hooked his arm around Li Laowu’s and tucked himself close against him.
Li Laowu was broad and burly, almost completely shielding Qin Xiaozhu, and naturally blocking the wind as well.
Though the young couple didn’t say a word to each other, it was obvious how affectionate they were.
The two younger cousins didn’t get along and didn’t speak either, each leaning against their own husband. Instead, Li Laowu and Du Heng chatted off and on.
“Your family’s ox cart wasn’t in use today, Brother Li Five?” Du Heng asked.
Li Laowu replied, “Both carts were taken out by my older brother to haul goods. The two of us walked out planning to hire a cart, and got lucky running into you two right away.”
Du Heng gave a hum of acknowledgment. Around this time, landlords were probably busy reclaiming fields and crops from the tenant farmers under them, so it was nothing unusual for a household’s livestock to be stretched thin.
“Heading to the county to look around, or to take care of business?” Du Heng asked.
“Well, now that we’re married, I’ve been drifting around outside all these years without really tending the fields. I’m afraid I wouldn’t manage them well anyway, so I figured I might as well keep doing a bit of small business.”
Li Laowu continued, “I talked it over with my family, and I’m planning to rent a shop in the county and do business there. Once we settle down, I won’t be running around outside anymore. In winter, when things are slow, I’ll go look and see if there are any suitable storefronts.”
The Li family had a solid foundation—not only a lot of land, but several brothers as well, truly a thriving household.
The sons were all capable in their own ways, and opening a shop in the county was a pretty good path.
Thinking about it, Du Heng couldn’t help feeling a bit envious. For a family like the Lis, opening a shop was easy enough: first, they had money on hand; second, they had connections backing them. Anyone with ill intentions wouldn’t dare stir up trouble lightly.
But Du Heng knew himself well enough. He couldn’t devote all his energy to business. There were too few people in his household—he had land to manage, and he still needed to study. Where would he find that much time and energy?
Doing a little trading on the side to earn pocket money was fine, but he couldn’t be like Li Laowu.
Between business and an official career, he had long since chosen the latter.
As the two men talked about this, Qin Xiaozhu poked his head out and glanced at Qin Xiaoman, as if to say, Look how great my family is—why aren’t you saying anything?
Qin Xiaoman had been listening, but feeling lazy and uninterested in bickering with Qin Xiaozhu, he simply kept his mouth shut.
“What are you going into the city for today with Du Heng?” Qin Xiaozhu finally spoke up. “Selling winter bamboo shoots?”
“Buying cloth to make winter clothes. My husband’s going to sit for the Tongsheng exam after the New Year,” Qin Xiaoman answered, not wanting to fall behind after all.
Qin Xiaozhu snorted. “The Tongsheng exam isn’t easy. Your family’s autumn harvest was pretty good this year—why not spend some money and donate one for Du Heng?”
“What’s the point of donating one? That’d just be wasting silver.”
“If you don’t have silver, I could barely lend you a little.”
“Who wants to borrow from you? How much private money could you possibly have—probably not even enough for a fraction of the Tongsheng fee.”
“I don’t have any, but my husband has plenty of money!”
“Even if you have money, I wouldn’t borrow it. My husband can pass on his own—he’ll be a high official someday!”
The cousins’ bickering didn’t draw any response from Du Heng or Li Laowu. It was harmless squabbling; no matter what was said, it wouldn’t affect the friendship between the two men.
Listening to them argue like children, both Du Heng and Li Laowu found it a little amusing. But when the talk reached that point, both men wiped the smiles from their faces and, in perfect unison, quickly reached out to cover their husbands’ mouths.
The ger, at least, argued boldly and righteously. The two men, meanwhile, felt quietly guilty.
When they reached the county, Li Laowu took Qin Xiaozhu off to handle their business, while Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman went to sell the winter bamboo shoots.
There weren’t many winter bamboo shoots this year, and there were fewer vendors hawking them in the county than in previous years. When goods were scarce, prices naturally rose, and there were actually more people eager to buy.
The two had just stopped the ox cart and taken out the bamboo shoots when, before they even started calling out, a middle-aged man came over and bought all of them at once. No one knew whether he was a cook from a restaurant buying ingredients, or a market vendor purchasing them to resell.
Selling everything together, even at a slightly lower price, was still better than standing out in the street shouting in the cold.
After selling the bamboo shoots, the two headed straight for the cloth shop—the same one where they’d bought fabric for their wedding clothes.
In winter, the shop was full of thick, plush fabrics. Just looking at them made you feel warm, though the prices made your heart go cold.
They casually asked about two bolts that weren’t especially eye-catching, just thick and sturdy, and each one already cost two to three hundred cash—shockingly expensive.
But expensive or not, they still had to buy them. Qin Xiaoman bought two bolts of quilted cloth in a common, old blue color. Even so, it cost more than five hundred cash.
Still, it was enough to make two outfits for Du Heng. Qin Xiaoman figured he could also get one outfit for himself out of the scraps, which would work out just right.
Du Heng set the bundled cloth onto the ox cart. The two planned to make another trip to the bookshop to buy paper and ink. Driving the ox cart forward, they hadn’t yet spotted the bookshop when a medical clinic caught Du Heng’s eye first.
He glanced at Qin Xiaoman beside him, his brow shifting slightly. “Why don’t we stop by the clinic and have a look? We’re already right here.”
Qin Xiaoman raised an eyebrow. “You’re still thinking about it?”
“I’m not dwelling on it,” Du Heng said. “I just think you haven’t fully recovered these past couple of days. Seeing a doctor would put my mind at ease.”
Qin Xiaoman paused for a moment. He muttered that doctors in the county were expensive, that just walking in and getting a few words of diagnosis would cost quite a bit, but his body was already moving as he climbed down from the cart.
Seeing this, Du Heng quickly grabbed the ox and walked it forward. When Qin Xiaoman reached the clinic entrance, he hesitated again. Lips pressed together, hands clasped behind his back, he watched Du Heng tying up the ox—looking just like a child who wouldn’t dare enter a shop alone until a parent came over.
“Why didn’t you go in first?” Du Heng asked.
After tying the ox, Du Heng dusted off his hands and walked over, looking at the ger who was still waiting.
“It’s nothing. I was waiting for you to go in with me.”
Du Heng’s brow moved slightly. He reached out and took Qin Xiaoman’s somewhat uneasy hand. Given all the upheavals their family had gone through, he was probably a little afraid of seeing a doctor.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s nothing.”
He smoothed a hand along Qin Xiaoman’s back and led him into the clinic.
“Are you here to pick up medicine, or for a consultation?”
As soon as they stepped inside, a medicine boy came forward to ask.
“My husband would like to have his pulse checked,” Du Heng said.
The medicine boy glanced at Qin Xiaoman. “This way, please.”
Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman were led to an elderly physician, who was in the middle of writing up a pulse record. Hearing that it was a pulse consultation, he didn’t even look up. “Sit down.”
Qin Xiaoman looked at Du Heng, took a small breath, and sat. He rolled up his sleeve and rested his arm on the diagnostic table.
The old doctor cleared his throat softly, then reached out and felt Qin Xiaoman’s pulse.
“A little over a month. The pulse is not very steady. With the change of seasons and the cold weather, keep warm and get plenty of rest.”
Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman listened to the doctor’s practiced tone and, for a moment, didn’t understand what he meant. They stared blankly and spoke at the same time.
“A little over a month?”
“I’ve been sick for over a month?!”
The old doctor shot them a puzzled look. “Aren’t you a married couple? Didn’t you come to have the pulse checked to see how the child is doing?”
“Yes—we are,” Du Heng snapped back to his senses and hurriedly asked, “Doctor, do you mean my husband is one month pregnant?”
“So you didn’t know there was a pregnancy?” the doctor said.
Qin Xiaoman still hadn’t fully processed it. Now that the doctor was being this clear, how could he not understand? He anxiously pressed on. “Then the weakness and fatigue I’ve had lately, and always wanting to sleep—is that because of the child? Not because I’m ill?”
“First, pregnancy itself causes those symptoms. Second, the fetus hasn’t settled firmly yet, and you’ve been working too hard day to day, which has depleted your body. That’s why the symptoms are especially obvious. There’s no other illness. I’ll prescribe some medicine to stabilize the pregnancy and help you nourish your body. Otherwise, this child won’t be easy to keep.”
They had only just fallen into joy, their smiles barely warming their faces, when the doctor’s words made them instantly tense.
“Then please, Doctor, give us more guidance,” Du Heng said. “This is our first child.”
The old doctor replied, “There’s nothing special about caring for a pregnancy—just the usual things. If you live out in the countryside, don’t overexert yourself, and keep your spirits relaxed. Take the medicine I prescribe on time.”
Qin Xiaoman answered softly, then asked again, “Then… can we still have marital relations?”
Du Heng gave an awkward cough.
“You can,” the doctor said, “but only after the pregnancy has stabilized.”
Qin Xiaoman withdrew his arm and touched his belly in disbelief. “So there really is a child? But a few days ago when I saw a doctor, he took my pulse and said there wasn’t.”
As he wrote out the prescription, the old doctor said, “The pregnancy is still early, and the pulse is somewhat weak. If the doctor’s skills were shallow, it’s normal not to be able to detect it. Where did you have it checked?”
Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman both looked a little uncomfortable. They didn’t have the nerve to say it was someone who hadn’t even finished training and could hardly be called a doctor. They only said, “A village herbalist.”
“That explains it. In the future, try to come to a large clinic in the county. The physicians there have been practicing for decades and are very experienced.”
“We understand.”
The old doctor pushed the finished prescription forward. “Go get the medicine.”
Du Heng picked up the prescription and carefully helped Qin Xiaoman to his feet. The two of them went straight to the medicine counter.
Following the prescription, the medicine boy pulled open one drawer here, another cabinet there. Before long, he had packed seven or eight bundles of medicine, tied together into a hefty load.
“Eight hundred fifty cash.”
“So expensive!” Qin Xiaoman’s eyes went wide at once.
“They’re all high-quality herbs for nourishing the body and stabilizing the pregnancy. Naturally, they cost more,” the medicine boy said, clearly used to this reaction. “So do you want them or not? If not, you can go back and ask Physician Zhang to revise the prescription.”
“No need to trouble him,” Du Heng said quickly. “We’ll take all of it.”
As he took out the money, he soothed Qin Xiaoman. “The doctor said your pulse isn’t stable. If you don’t take good care of yourself and the child is lost, what then?”
Qin Xiaoman suddenly understood. Though it was their first child, he didn’t want anything to happen to it. “Then we’ll take them all. All of them.”
After leaving the clinic, both of them felt a weight in their hearts—not a heavy, oppressive weight, but the kind that comes with having gained something substantial.
Th-this meant they were going to be parents.
Du Heng felt both happy and a little uneasy. He’d been careless before; fortunately, they’d come to the clinic today. Otherwise, muddling along like that, they might not have known there’d been a child at all until it was lost.
There were worries, of course, but happiness outweighed everything else. They’d always wanted a child, and now that it had finally come, how could they not be joyful?
“Slowly. Slowly.”
When they’d entered the clinic, they’d already been cautious; coming out, they were even more so.
Qin Xiaoman touched his flat belly—so flat he could barely feel that a new life was inside—one hand bracing his waist, already looking every bit like someone awaiting birth.
Du Heng supported him just as carefully, afraid he might bump or knock into something.
The two of them settled into their roles with surprising speed.
Passersby even thought the ger was gravely ill, seeing how unsteady the couple walked together.