POTINS 40

The final snowfall of the year lingered all the way until New Year’s Eve.

Zhou Lu had been calling since morning, urging them to come home.

Wen Zhongyi was getting dressed when Meng Chuan answered the phone, saying, “Right away, right away, we’re just finishing up.”

When he hung up, Wen Zhongyi spoke up. “Zip me up.”

There was a small zipper at the back of his collar. When zipped, the collar stood upright, leaving only a sliver of his pale, slender jawline visible—it made him look especially elegant.

Meng Chuan went over to zip it up, deliberately brushing his fingers against Wen Zhongyi’s gland, which earned him a reflexive jab from Wen Zhongyi.

“Pervert,” Wen Zhongyi said.

Meng Chuan clutched his ribs with a hiss. “You’re stronger than you look.”

This was Wen Zhongyi’s first time celebrating the New Year in this world. The customs were very different from Sanka.

Red fu (good fortune, blessing, or happiness.) characters had been pasted all over the house, and Meng Chuan had even hung two red lanterns on the balcony.

Yesterday, they had gone shopping together for new clothes. Since Meng Chuan said red was the most festive color for the New Year, Wen Zhongyi chose a wine-red top.

He rarely wore such bold colors and had stood in front of the mall mirror turning side to side, asking Meng Chuan, “Does this really look good?”

“It looks great,” Meng Chuan said without hesitation, leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed. “You look good in anything.”

The shop assistant overheard and glanced curiously between the two of them.

As Meng Chuan helped straighten Wen Zhongyi’s collar, he leaned in and whispered something that made Wen Zhongyi flush and stomp on his foot to shut him up.

By the time Zhou Lu called a second time, they had finally finished getting ready to leave.

Snow still covered the roads, and the car moved slowly.

Wen Zhongyi had a blanket over his lap. Looking out the window at the snow and passersby, he felt a little dazed. A whole year had passed.

So much had happened this year that looking back felt like peering into another lifetime.

Meng Chuan drove unhurriedly, his hand drifting from the gearshift to Wen Zhongyi’s knee. He gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Cold?”

Wen Zhongyi turned his gaze from the window to Meng Chuan’s face. “Not cold.”

Meng Chuan had regained a few more memories—not many, just some scattered fragments.

Sometimes when Wen Zhongyi told stories, Meng Chuan could pick up the thread and continue with a few lines of his own.

The progress was slow, but it was progress.

When they arrived at the villa, Zhou Lu was already waiting outside.

As they entered, both of them said, “Happy New Year, Mom and Dad!”

Zhou Lu beamed. “Ah, happy New Year to you too!”

Meng Chuan was carrying two boxes. Zhou Lu called him out for being idle.

She pulled Wen Zhongyi to sit with her on the couch. Although she had just brought him things the week before, she acted as though they hadn’t seen each other in half a year, fussing over him with concern.

Lunch was cooked by Meng Jun, whose culinary skills rivaled a chef’s. The table was filled with a grand feast.

With the whole family gathered, chatting and eating, it felt especially lively.

After the meal, Zhou Lu brought out two red scarves—hand-knit by her. One for each of her sons.

Meng Chuan raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, I get one too?”

“I bought too much yarn. Would be a waste not to use it,” Zhou Lu said.

Meng Chuan scoffed, knowing she was just being deliberately casual, and teased her for playing favorites.

In the afternoon, Wen Zhongyi and Meng Chuan napped upstairs and woke around three.

Zhou Lu was mixing meat filling, and Meng Jun was kneading dough.

Wen Zhongyi had never made dumplings before and didn’t know how to fold them, so Meng Chuan took his hands and taught him. The two of them sat close together. While the elders weren’t paying attention, Meng Chuan quickly stole a kiss on Wen Zhongyi’s cheek.

But of course, nothing escaped the parents’ eyes. Zhou Lu exchanged a knowing smile with Meng Jun but didn’t say a word.

That evening, Wen Zhongyi watched some television, which Meng Chuan declared boring, though Wen Zhongyi found it amusing enough.

Still, no program could compete with the sparkler sticks in Meng Chuan’s hand. Wen Zhongyi was successfully tempted, he bundled up and went out to the front yard to play with fireworks.

He held two sparklers, and as they crackled and flared, orange-yellow light reflected in his eyes, making his pupils gleam faintly.

The smoke was a bit irritating, so Meng Chuan only let him light two.

Wen Zhongyi felt unsatisfied. “What about the rest?”

Meng Chuan grinned. “I’ll play with the rest for you.”

“No way,” Wen Zhongyi shot back immediately. “You’re not allowed either.”

Like children, the two started bickering again. Zhou Lu couldn’t help laughing when she heard them.

Their family didn’t have any strict New Year’s customs—eat when hungry, sleep when tired.

After the dumplings were served, Zhou Lu and Meng Jun each brought out a red envelope, heavy with cash, and gave one to Wen Zhongyi and one to Meng Chuan.

Wen Zhongyi tried to decline, but Meng Chuan held down his hand. “It’s lucky money. Just take it.”

After one final round of New Year greetings, Wen Zhongyi and Meng Chuan went upstairs.

That night, Wen Zhongyi had trouble falling asleep.

It was the most special New Year’s he had ever had—not in Sanka, but in a different world, with Meng Chuan and his parents by his side.

He was happy, but also a little wistful.

Still, he was learning to accept this kind of imperfect happiness.

_____

On the first day of the new year, Ji Shu and his sister came to visit and were startled to see Wen Zhongyi there.

Once he understood what was going on, Ji Shu pinned Meng Chuan to the couch and pounded on him. “You kept something this big from me? Do I even count as your brother anymore?!”

“I was wrong, I was wrong…” Meng Chuan whined, sprawled on the couch, reaching toward Wen Zhongyi. “Honey, help me!”

Ji Shu visibly jolted at the word honey, and Meng Chuan seized the chance to escape, hiding behind Wen Zhongyi.

Wen Zhongyi was chatting with Ji Ying, who had just calculated the baby’s due date—Children’s Day, June 1st.

Meng Chuan mused aloud, “Why don’t we call the baby Liuyi, then?” (“6/1,” or June 1st.)

All his earlier suggestions like “Dou Dou,” “Qiu Qiu,” or “Pi Pi” had been rejected by Wen Zhongyi as names more suited for dogs.

Embarrassed by his lack of imagination, Meng Chuan had angrily flipped through dictionaries for three days without success.

Wen Zhongyi thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “Let’s go with Liuyi.”

Even before being born, little Liuyi had already received so much love.

Meng Chuan set up a nursery at home, fully stocked with everything a baby might need. The grandparents, uncles, and aunts all sent gifts.

He even bought a fetal heart monitor and constantly wanted to listen to it on Wen Zhongyi’s belly.

That steady heartbeat was the most beautiful sound in the world. The first time Wen Zhongyi heard it, it felt like the whole world had gone silent, leaving only that clear, powerful thump-thump. His breathing slowed instinctively, and his heart warmed.

Meng Chuan rested his hand on Wen Zhongyi’s belly and said to little Liu Yi inside, “You have to be good, don’t give Mama a hard time, okay?”

Wen Zhongyi corrected him, “It’s Dad.”

“Alright, Dad it is,” Meng Chuan said.

After returning to school, Yang Jiaran rushed over to see Wen Zhongyi. Seeing his noticeably rounded belly, he exclaimed, “He’s growing so fast!”

Wen Zhongyi smiled. “Yeah, almost five months now.”

“Oh my god, can I touch?”

After getting his permission, Yang Jiaran gently placed his palm on his lower belly and sighed sincerely, “He feels so well-behaved.”

Wen Zhongyi hadn’t felt distinct fetal movement yet. The child had been quiet inside him, indeed very well-behaved.

When it came time for the monthly checkup, Meng Chuan happened to be going on a business trip. He postponed it by two days just to accompany Wen Zhongyi to the hospital before leaving.

Ever since Huanyu secured that major contract, Meng Chuan’s ambition had skyrocketed. Believing that “a man earns money to support his family,” he proactively handed over all his bank cards to Wen Zhongyi and tried for the Nth time to persuade him:

“Just quit that crappy job already. It’s not like we need the money, I just don’t want you overexerting yourself. If you’re bored at home, hang out with that Yang guy. Once I’m done with this busy stretch, I’ll keep you company properly, alright?”

After much hesitation, Wen Zhongyi reluctantly agreed to resign.

Mostly because his five-month belly had become very obvious. Even loose clothes couldn’t fully hide how much his waistline had grown—at least two sizes up. Several coworkers had already asked if he’d gained weight.

And as the pregnancy progressed, Wen Zhongyi had started to experience occasional lower back aches. He really wasn’t suited for a job that required long hours standing anymore.

Before leaving, Meng Chuan gave him a back rub and massaged his legs. Then, clinging to him, he kissed him all over and murmured into his neck, “…I don’t want to go.”

Wen Zhongyi was left breathless by his kisses, his lips swollen, black hair splayed across the white sheets. He snapped irritably, “Get off me. Aren’t you catching a flight?”

“Just one more minute…”

Meng Chuan nuzzled down his neck, hands slipping under his clothes. Wen Zhongyi frowned—probably about to scold him—but thinking about how Meng Chuan would be gone for four or five days, he held back.

“I’ll miss you,” Meng Chuan finally said, placing a soft kiss on his eyes. “You’ll miss me too, right?”

“Nope,” Wen Zhongyi replied coldly, eyes closed. “Now get lost.”

“Still so stubborn,” Meng Chuan chuckled.

Time was already cutting it close. Wen Zhongyi sat at the edge of the bed watching as Meng Chuan scrambled to throw himself together.

“Your tie’s crooked,” he reminded.

Meng Chuan had no time to care about the tie anymore and grabbed his suitcase. Wen Zhongyi stood up, straightened the tie for him, and asked, “You’ll be back next Wednesday, right?”

“I will. Definitely before my susceptibility period starts,” Meng Chuan said, grabbing Wen Zhongyi’s hand for one last kiss. “I’m off! Bye!”

With a loud bang, the door shut behind him as he hurried off.

Wen Zhongyi turned around and looked at the now-empty living room, letting out a soft sigh.

Just like during previous trips, Meng Chuan kept in touch whenever he had time—texts, calls—though he wasn’t physically there, it never felt like he was far.

While Meng Chuan was gone, Yang Jiaran often came over to keep him company, and Zhou Lu regularly delivered meals.

But perhaps due to pregnancy hormones, Wen Zhongyi’s emotions had become more sensitive than usual. He’d sometimes feel inexplicably down.

He wished Meng Chuan would come back soon and not leave him alone at home.

On Tuesday night, they video-called. Meng Chuan said he’d be back the next afternoon.

Wen Zhongyi’s mood lifted instantly. He even played the fetal heartbeat recorded on the monitor and said, “Liuyi’s thinking of you.”

The next day, after lunch, Wen Zhongyi wandered around the living room. He checked the time, picked up his phone, and ordered delivery.

But somehow, that didn’t feel like enough. After some thought, he decided to go out and buy a few things.

He put on a thick coat and scarf. Even though spring was approaching, the weather here was still bitterly cold with no sign of warming up.

After going downstairs, Wen Zhongyi walked cautiously along the roadside.

He was bundled up from head to toe, eyes scanning the pavement carefully for fear of slipping.

The mall wasn’t far. Just as he was about to step off the curb, he heard the sound of children running and shouting behind him.

As he turned his head, a poodle came dashing toward him, barking loudly.

Startled, Wen Zhongyi instinctively stepped back—right onto the edge of the landscaping strip. He wobbled and nearly fell in.

A little boy caught up from behind, picked up the leash, and pulled the barking dog aside. Gasping for breath, he said, “I’m sorry, big brother! He ran too fast, I couldn’t hold on. He didn’t bite you, did he?”

Wen Zhongyi steadied himself, brow tightly furrowed, and shook his head silently.

The boy looked at his expression and nervously added, “Did he scare you?”

He apologized several more times in a row. Wen Zhongyi didn’t want to scold a child, so he waved him off.

Still shaken, his heart hadn’t settled. He stood by the roadside, cold sweat gathering on his temples.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but he felt a flutter in his belly, along with a faint sinking sensation. He wasn’t sure if it was fetal movement or something else, but it made him anxious. He decided to go to the hospital.

Holding his belly, Wen Zhongyi took a couple of steps forward. Seeing no taxis nearby, he was about to call a ride when a black sedan pulled up in front of him.

The window rolled down to reveal Jiang Ye’s face. He smiled and greeted him, “Hello again.”

Though Wen Zhongyi really didn’t want anything to do with him, the situation was urgent. He had no choice but to get in Jiang Ye’s car.

Jiang Ye glanced at Wen Zhongyi, who was bundled up tightly, and asked with some curiosity, “Why are you dressed so heavily?”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t answer, only said, “Can you drive faster?”

Even with half his face hidden behind a scarf, it was obvious that his expression didn’t look good.

“Are you feeling unwell somewhere?” Jiang Ye asked.

Wen Zhongyi still didn’t respond.

Jiang Ye smiled faintly with good temper, didn’t press further, and slightly increased the speed, quickly driving into the private hospital.

Wen Zhongyi unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He didn’t let Jiang Ye follow and said with pursed lips, “Just wait for me here.”

“Are you sure you can go alone?” Jiang Ye raised an eyebrow.

“I can.” Wen Zhongyi pushed open the car door, then turned back and added, “Wait in the car. Don’t follow me.”

Jiang Ye shrugged. “Alright.”

His gaze followed Wen Zhongyi’s slightly bulky figure as he walked into the outpatient building.

Jiang Ye unbuckled his seatbelt, hesitated with his hand on the wheel for a moment, then let go and leaned back into the seat.

He recalled a conversation he’d had with his brother a few days ago.

Jiang Ming had asked how things were going with Wen Zhongyi. Jiang Ye answered honestly, “In his eyes, I’ve gone from friend to bad guy. I don’t even know what Meng Chuan said to him.”

Jiang Ming couldn’t understand why chasing someone had to be so complicated. He frowned and said, “It’s a problem a dose of drug could solve—why go through all this trouble?”

“You don’t get it, bro.” Jiang Ye laughed. “I enjoy the hunt. If it’s just handed to me, what’s the fun in that?”

Jiang Ming really didn’t get it. He’d had countless bed partners—some willing, some not. To him, they were all just tools for venting desire. There was no difference in his eyes.

The two had grown up in a twisted household. Jiang Ye was the more normal one between them.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you so interested in someone,” Jiang Ming said. “If I were you, I’d just snatch him from Meng Chuan and lock him up somewhere no one could find.”

Jiang Ye joked, “Then Meng Chuan might tear you apart with his bare hands.”

Jiang Ming snorted, “I’m not afraid of him.”

Inside the OB-GYN department, Wen Zhongyi found the doctor who’d been doing his prenatal checkups.

After listening to his condition, the doctor gave him a thorough examination and said, “There’s nothing wrong with the baby. Just relax and get some rest. Don’t be so tense.”

Wen Zhongyi finally let out a breath of relief, thanked the doctor, got dressed, and went back outside.

Jiang Ye had been waiting in the car the whole time. Though Wen Zhongyi hadn’t shown him much kindness lately, he sincerely said, “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks,” Jiang Ye replied. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Wen Zhongyi said.

Jiang Ye turned the car around and drove out of the hospital, asking where to next. Wen Zhongyi said, “Home.”

“You look like you’ve put on some weight,” Jiang Ye commented casually.

Wen Zhongyi’s eyes stayed on the car ahead. “Not really.”

Just as he said that, his phone rang—it was Meng Chuan calling.

“I just landed. I’ll be home soon,” Meng Chuan’s voice was full of excitement. “What are you doing?”

Since Jiang Ye was still next to him, Wen Zhongyi didn’t elaborate. “I’m outside.”

“Outside doing what? Are you with that guy?”

By “that guy,” he meant Yang Jiaran. Wen Zhongyi couldn’t explain over the phone, so he vaguely replied, “I’ll tell you when you get home.”

He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

As they passed a flower shop, Wen Zhongyi asked if they could stop.

Jiang Ye turned the wheel toward it, half-smiling. “Getting flowers for Meng Chuan?”

“Mm,” Wen Zhongyi replied, opening the door and heading inside.

Jiang Ye followed, hands in his pockets, and asked with interest, “What kind of flowers are you getting him?”

Wen Zhongyi glanced over the arrangements and pointed to a bouquet of pale purple roses. “That one.”

The bouquet was large and a bit prickly to hold, so he placed it in the back seat.

The faint floral fragrance filled the car. Jiang Ye grew quiet as he drove Wen Zhongyi to the entrance of his residential complex.

As he parked, Jiang Ye glanced at the rearview mirror out of habit. Whatever he saw caused his eyes to pause and his lips to curl into a subtle smirk.

He got out first, opened the back door, and handed the bouquet to Wen Zhongyi with a smile.

To an outsider, it looked just like Jiang Ye was giving Wen Zhongyi flowers.

Wen Zhongyi didn’t notice anything wrong. He hugged the bouquet and said, “Thanks for the ride.”

“No need,” Jiang Ye said. “You’ve got something under your eye.”

“What?” Wen Zhongyi blinked.

Jiang Ye suddenly reached out and casually wiped under his eye—it was some stray pollen.

Wen Zhongyi didn’t react in time and frowned slightly.

Jiang Ye curved his lips, waved, and said, “Guess I’ll get going. Looking forward to next time.”

He got back in the car, randomly honked the horn, and stuck his hand out the window to wave before driving away.

The sky was already dark. Streetlights flicked on all at once, their warm yellow glow spilling over Wen Zhongyi.

He lowered his head and sniffed the bouquet, and the thought of Meng Chuan returning soon brought a smile to his face.

Just as he was about to scan his face and enter the building, a sudden honk sounded behind him.

He instinctively turned around—Meng Chuan was getting out of a car.

The door slammed shut. Meng Chuan looked thoroughly annoyed, his coat flaring behind him with each step, carrying sharp cold air and a strong bitter coffee scent of his pheromones as he walked up to Wen Zhongyi.

Wen Zhongyi blinked, then smiled gently. “When did you park there? Why didn’t you call me just now?”

Meng Chuan didn’t reply. His gaze moved from Wen Zhongyi’s face to the bouquet in his arms. The fingers hanging at his side clenched tightly, as though holding something back.

“…Why did you lie to me?”

“What?” Wen Zhongyi was caught off guard. “What did I lie about?”

“You were clearly with Jiang Ye, but didn’t tell me,” Meng Chuan said.

“I wanted to explain after you got home,” Wen Zhongyi replied patiently. “He was sitting right next to me. I couldn’t explain everything clearly on the phone.”

“What can’t be explained in front of him?” Meng Chuan’s lips were tight. “I told you not to be around him anymore.”

His pheromone scent was so intense it made Wen Zhongyi frown. “Is your susceptibility period starting?”

“Yes,” Meng Chuan said, growing more upset as Wen Zhongyi continued holding the flowers. “Don’t change the subject. I want your explanation. Why were you in his car? Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you accept flowers from him?”

His voice rose with each question. Wen Zhongyi’s smile faded, and after holding back for a moment, he said, “Let’s talk inside.”

Meng Chuan followed him into the elevator, still fuming. “He even touched your face. I really want to cut his hand off!”

“You’re giving me a headache with all this yelling,” Wen Zhongyi said, annoyed.

Meng Chuan pouted, “I’m not even allowed to say a word?”

“Shut up.”

“…Fine.”

Ding—the elevator doors opened. Wen Zhongyi stepped out with the flowers and unlocked the door with his fingerprint. Inside, he noticed Meng Chuan was still standing outside.

Meng Chuan stood there in the shadows, nearly six-foot-three and glaring at the flowers. “I don’t want to see that bouquet .”

“…I’m this close to hitting you with it,” Wen Zhongyi muttered, restraining himself. “Come inside, don’t make a scene.”

“I won’t.” Meng Chuan raised his chin. “It’s either that bouquet or me. We can’t both be here.”

Wen Zhongyi lost all patience. “Then get out.”

He made to close the door. At the last second, Meng Chuan forced his way inside.

They stood in the entryway, locked in a staring contest. Meng Chuan hesitated, considering whether to grab the damned flowers and chuck them out the door.

Wen Zhongyi’s cold voice broke the silence. “Who told you that bouquet was from Jiang Ye?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Meng Chuan huffed, chest heaving with jealousy. “If I hadn’t been on the phone with a client, I’d have run over and punched him!”

Wen Zhongyi stared at him in disbelief. “Where’s your brain? Did you leave it at the airport?”

Meng Chuan stomped his foot. “Now you’re insulting me? You’re so mean!”

“Do I look like someone who just accepts flowers from other people?” Wen Zhongyi snapped. “I bought that bouquet myself!”

“…You… bought it?”

Wen Zhongyi shot him a glare. “Obviously.”

Meng Chuan looked at him, then at the flowers. His heart swelled, eyes wide as he murmured, “…Who’s it for, then?”

Before he could blink, the entire bouquet of blooming purple roses was thrown into his arms. He stumbled a step back into the wall.

Wen Zhongyi stood close, his face haloed by the light, with a helpless smile in his eyes.

“It’s for the pig.”