POTINS 52

“What’s wrong?” Dad asked softly, as if he didn’t understand why his eyes had suddenly turned red.

“Nothing, just something got in my eye.” Wen Zhongyi’s throat was a little tight.

He blinked rapidly, but accidentally blinked out a tear. He curled his knuckle and gently wiped the corner of his eye, feigning calm as he said, “It feels much better now.”

Dad’s gaze lingered on Wen Zhongyi’s face for a moment. Then he freed one hand, pulled a tissue from his pocket, and handed it over. “Here, wipe it.”

There was still some paint on his fingertips. Wen Zhongyi murmured a thank-you and took the tissue to dry his tears.

He wanted to call him “Dad,” but was afraid it would be too sudden and scare him.

Wen Zhongyi looked up and asked, trying to sound as natural as possible, “Would you mind chatting with me for a bit?” Then he added, “If you’re not busy.”

“Of course.” Dad agreed without hesitation.

The puppy in his arms was restless and kept trying to wriggle free, barking a few times.

Dad patted its head and scolded, “Quiet down, don’t scare people.”

Wen Zhongyi clutched the tissue and said, “Let it down, I’m not afraid of dogs.”

Even so, Dad still tied the leash to the other side of the bench, keeping the dog from getting too close.

The puppy was snowy white, but extremely energetic. The moment its paws hit the ground, it started digging in the dirt behind the bench.

“It’s way too naughty.” Dad sat beside Wen Zhongyi, sighed with his hand to his forehead. “I’ve only had it for half a month and the house is already a wreck. My husband says he wants to give it away.”

Wen Zhongyi’s eyes were still a bit red, his voice slightly hoarse. “He probably didn’t mean it.”

“He didn’t.” Dad smiled. “He actually really likes the puppy. Just yesterday, he brought home a toy for it.”

Wen Zhongyi smiled too, but as he did, his chest tightened again. He pressed his lips together.

Dad had a light scent of jasmine clinging to his clothes. Even though he was wearing a blocker patch, the scent still seeped through the fabric.

Wen Zhongyi couldn’t help leaning a little closer.

Dad didn’t pull away. Instead, he caught a whiff of Wen Zhongyi’s scent and gently said, “Why aren’t you wearing a blocker? You need to protect yourself even more now that you’re pregnant. It’d be bad if you attracted some ill-intentioned alpha.”

Wen Zhongyi gave a soft “mm,” nose stinging.

“Come to my place first and put one on,” Dad said. “Or I’ll go get one and bring it back to you.”

He was always this considerate and gentle, even if he didn’t know Wen Zhongyi was his child.

Wen Zhongyi glanced toward the supermarket—Meng Chuan still hadn’t come out. He sniffled and said, “Could I go with you later? My partner went to the store. I’m waiting for him.”

Dad gave a small “oh,” noticed the ring on his finger, and smiled. Looking at Wen Zhongyi’s obvious baby bump, he asked, “How far along are you?”

“A little over eight months.” Wen Zhongyi touched his belly and added, “It’s a boy. His nickname is Liuyi.”

Dad raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Because the due date is on June 1st?”

Wen Zhongyi smiled. “Yes.”

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling gently on his shoulders. A breeze stirred Wen Zhongyi’s hair.

He reached up to tuck it behind his ear, and the motion pushed up his sleeve, revealing the writing on his arm.

Dad noticed and asked, “What’s that say?”

Wen Zhongyi was embarrassed to answer, but seeing Dad’s curious look, he reluctantly pulled up his sleeve and mumbled, “My partner wrote it…”

The ink was still dark. Wen Zhongyi had scrubbed at it in the shower last night, but couldn’t get it off.

After reading it, Dad burst out laughing.

Then, worried he might have embarrassed Wen Zhongyi, he quickly said, “It’s very cute. You two are clearly very close.”

“Thank you.” Wen Zhongyi felt a bit comforted and let his sleeve fall back down.

“His name’s Meng Chuan. What’s yours?” Dad suddenly asked.

Wen Zhongyi paused, then slowly answered, “Wen Zhongyi.”

“My husband’s surname is also Wen,” Dad said. “That’s a lovely name.”

Wen Zhongyi looked at him, his eyelashes lowering in a slow blink.

“When’s your birthday?” Dad asked again.

Wen Zhongyi gave the year, then added, “July 10th.”

“Oh.” Dad nodded thoughtfully. After a two-second pause, his eyes met Wen Zhongyi’s, as if studying something.

They were so absorbed in conversation they didn’t notice Meng Chuan approaching until he was almost right in front of them. Only then did Dad look up.

Meng Chuan froze when their eyes met. He instinctively glanced at Wen Zhongyi. Wen Zhongyi gave a small shake of his head.

“You’re Meng Chuan, right?” Dad smiled.

Meng Chuan was startled again. Wen Zhongyi gave him a helpless look and pointed to his own arm. Meng Chuan finally understood and nodded. “I am.”

He handed the warm water to Wen Zhongyi. Wen Zhongyi complained, “What took you so long?”

He’d already been thirsty, and after chatting so long, his throat was parched.

“The water dispenser was broken,” Meng Chuan said helplessly. “It took them forever to fix it, and I ended up going to another store to get water.”

“Okay.”

Wen Zhongyi was about to drink, then looked at Dad. Just as he was about to ask if he wanted some, Dad smiled and shook his head. “I’m not thirsty. Go ahead.”

His gaze toward Wen Zhongyi was warm and soft. Wen Zhongyi looked back, feeling tears prick his eyes again. He quickly lowered his head to drink.

After he finished, Dad invited them over to his house. Wen Zhongyi and Meng Chuan followed him.

The guards at the gate seemed to remember Wen Zhongyi. They looked at his face for a moment but said nothing and let them through.

The place inside hadn’t changed much. The flowers were still the same, and the trees were just as lush.

Every path and every corner was familiar to Wen Zhongyi.

Dad brought them into the villa and put the puppy down.

The moment it hit the floor, the dog shot onto the sofa, bouncing all over it.

Dad, still patient, scolded, “Get down—don’t dirty the sofa again.”

The puppy barked once at them, tail wagging, then ran off to the balcony.

Dad waved a hand in resignation. “Forget it, I give up.”

Wen Zhongyi couldn’t help smiling.

“Have a seat.” Dad gestured to a clean section of the sofa, then went to boil a pot of water.

Wen Zhongyi took off his coat indoors, leaving just a thin sweater, making his belly even more noticeable.

Dad mixed a glass of warm water to just the right temperature and handed it to him. “Did you two just get back to Sanka?”

Wen Zhongyi paused mid-movement and nodded.

“Where were you?” Dad sat beside him and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You must’ve been gone a long time, huh?”

Wen Zhongyi looked at him steadily, breath unconsciously softening. “Somewhere far away. We were there for more than half a year.”

“I see…” Dad murmured.

Wen Zhongyi was about to say more, but then saw Dad frown and look down. “But even so, why don’t I remember any of it?”

His brows knit as if struggling to recall something. In a sorrowful and bewildered tone, he said to himself, “How could I forget my own child?”

Wen Zhongyi’s heart clenched violently. He nearly dropped the glass—warm water spilled over the back of his hand.

Meng Chuan, equally shocked, snapped out of it and quickly grabbed some tissues to dry his hand.

Dad sat in silence for a long time, as if locked in battle with the blank space in his memory. In the end, he lost.

His eyes were red, tears brimming as he still managed a faint smile at Wen Zhongyi. “You know, your eyes look like mine. Your nose and mouth look like your father’s.”

From the first moment he saw him, he had known this was his child.

The resemblance was just too strong.

And the instinctive urge to protect him—Dad was certain this was his own flesh and blood.

In the time since his memory loss, he’d sometimes wondered why he had no children.

Doctors had told him during checkups that his womb had once nurtured life.

He’d thought maybe the baby was lost due to a miscarriage. That maybe his body had failed to protect a life, and the pain had been so deep he blocked out the memory.

He never imagined the child had grown up, found love, and was now about to have a child of his own.

Dad’s voice was thick with emotion, tears sliding from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a bad memory—it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Dad…” Wen Zhongyi hugged him tightly, overwhelmed with sorrow. His voice trembled. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.”

He had originally planned to take more time, to earn Dad’s trust before revealing the truth.

He’d even been ready to bring out the pocket watch, which he saw as the only proof—but to Dad, Wen Zhongyi himself was all the proof he needed.

Wen Zhongyi wanted to say something more to comfort him, but his throat felt like stuffed with cotton. All that came out were broken sobs.

In so many dreams of his father and dad, Wen Zhongyi had woken up in tears.

He never understood why the heavens had to be so cruel. The pain had nearly suffocated him, with no release or relief. But now, he finally understood—Dad’s love was the cure for everything.

He sat between Dad and Meng Chuan, wrapped in Dad’s arms. A warm hand settled on his shoulder—it was Meng Chuan, silently offering comfort.

Dad managed to stop crying and wiped Wen Zhongyi’s eyes. He held his hand and looked down at the baby bump, letting out a long sigh.

He seemed to be blaming himself for not being there to care for his pregnant child.

Wen Zhongyi saw his expression and softly said, “It hasn’t been too hard. I’ve been well taken care of.”

“That’s good,” Dad said, though he still looked a little down. He glanced at Meng Chuan, then back to Wen Zhongyi. “As long as you’re happy.”

The water had gone cold. Meng Chuan got up and refilled two cups.

Dad held Wen Zhongyi’s hand and asked him many questions, which he answered one by one.

He told Dad why they had disappeared from Sanka, how they came back, and what he suspected about the erased memories.

Dad was saddened. “No wonder I always felt like I’d forgotten something. Last autumn I knitted four scarves, but couldn’t remember who the other two were for. Turns out I didn’t get a chance to give them—you’d already vanished.”

Not only that, he’d never understood why he used 0710 as the password for certain things—like a bank card, or the seaside villa.

Even though he forgot, he’d always felt those four digits were important. He kept depositing money into that account and had someone regularly clean the villa.

Even if no one used the card, and the villa remained vacant.

“How long do you plan to stay here? When will you go back?” Dad asked carefully.

Wen Zhongyi looked at Meng Chuan, then replied softly, “We haven’t decided yet.”

He wanted to spend more time with his father and dad. But in the other world, Meng Chuan’s parents were still waiting—they couldn’t stay here forever.

Sensing his struggle, Meng Chuan said directly, “You don’t have to think so hard. Stay as long as you want. We have the stone—we can travel back and forth.”

Speaking of the stone, Meng Chuan looked at Dad and said, “Dad, I want to send the stone to the testing base to get it analyzed.”

Dad nodded. “Alright. When your father gets back, I’ll tell him.”

Wen Zhongyi chatted with Dad for a while longer, sharing stories from his childhood.

Just like when he helped Meng Chuan recover his memories, he described the past in detail.

But Dad wasn’t like Meng Chuan. The memories between him and Wen Zhongyi were far more complex and deeply woven into Wen Zhongyi’s entire life.

Soon it was noon. Dad went to prepare lunch and called Father to ask if he could come home to eat.

Whatever Father said, Dad wasn’t too pleased. “Why do you still have a meeting at noon? If you keep taking up your subordinates’ break time, they’re going to start complaining.”

He didn’t always treat Father with the same soft gentleness he gave others—there were more little tempers and flashes of willfulness. He finally said, “Come back for lunch. Someone very important is home.”

Father must have asked who the guest was.

Dad glanced at them and quietly corrected him, “Not a guest. Family.”