Chapter 70: Chengcheng Part 1

Amniotic fluid?

Cheng Zhanya frowned.

She was still a bit dazed. It took a moment before she recalled what amniotic fluid even was.

She must have gone numb from the pain.

“Am I giving birth?”

No sooner had the words left her lips than another ferocious wave of pain swept over her.

“Ugh—”

Her belly was in absolute turmoil.

The sensation was somewhat familiar, yet profoundly alien—she had never hurt like this before.

It was the kind of pain that made her feel like she was dying.

The night was quiet, with scarcely any cars on the road. Cheng Zhanya caught sight of her reflection in the car window.

Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, her features twisted together in a grimace that looked almost feral.

The sight startled her.

But the endless onslaught of pain had already stripped away her ability to think.

Lin Hanbing let out a soft hum.

It was quickly swallowed by Cheng Zhanya’s cries.

One agonized shout after another drilled into her ears, fierce and unrelenting, deafening her and making her heart clench like a vise.

She would never forget Cheng Zhanya writhing in pain in her arms, or the slick wetness her hand encountered when she reached out to comfort her.

Ever since learning of Cheng Zhanya’s pregnancy, Lin Hanbing had devoured books on prenatal care and postpartum recovery. She had even attended classes. But now, with the moment upon her, her mind was nothing but a vast, empty void.

They were still nearly two weeks from the due date. Lin Hanbing had never imagined Cheng Zhanya would go into labor early.

All her poise and control evaporated in an instant.

To hell with everything.

That brief ten-minute drive stretched on like a century.

Cheng Zhanya’s cries haunted her every second until the moment her wife was rushed into the delivery room, the family trailing behind. Only then did Lin Hanbing regain a sliver of her wits.

She glanced down at her hands and froze once more at the sight of the bloodstains.

Her palms, her collar, the hem of her shirt—all were marred with stark, splattered crimson. It was horrifying.

She was bleeding.

Bleeding so much…

Lin Hanbing’s heart twisted sharply. The image of Cheng Zhanya’s face drained white with agony made her own chest ache fiercely.

Giving birth had to hurt beyond imagination.

She balled her fists, her nails biting deep into her palms, but Lin Hanbing felt nothing. Her eyes remained locked on the tightly shut door, never wavering.

She had never put stock in superstitions, but now she found herself silently praying.

Seeing her daughter’s helpless state, Yu Shujing drew Lin Hanbing into a gentle embrace, patting her back softly as she had when she was a child.

Lin Hanbing had always been low-maintenance, especially after reaching adulthood—mature, thoughtful, and fiercely independent.

Yu Shujing had complete faith in her.

It had been ages since she had witnessed her daughter so utterly undone.

Her heart ached for Lin Hanbing, just as it worried over Cheng Zhanya in the delivery room.

But someone had to hold it together.

She glanced at Zhuang Wen, who leaned on her cane, then at her husband on the phone.

“Call Xiaoya’s parents. Tell them she’s in labor.”

No matter how angry the in-laws might be, they wouldn’t hold grudges now.

Lin Hanbing rested her chin on Yu Shujing’s shoulder, baring her vulnerability to her mother for the first time. She was terrified, adrift without direction.

Yu Shujing’s words jolted her back.

Cheng Zhanya’s premature labor was almost certainly triggered by the day’s events.

The divorce announcement had blindsided her. Cheng Zhanya couldn’t have anticipated it, and the shock had left her reeling, unable to cope.

It was Lin Hanbing’s fault.

She hadn’t noticed Cheng Zhanya’s distress…

No, she had noticed.

She had dismissed it as the usual fussing from Chengcheng.

In the end, she had failed her wife.

She had been right there, yet she hadn’t realized labor had begun.

Lin Jingwen finished his call. More reliable than his usual gentle demeanor, he said, “I’ve informed Xiaoya’s parents. They’re on their way.”

The four of them sat in heavy silence outside the delivery room, every gaze fixed on the glowing sign above the door.

Soon, Cheng Chen and Yang Meijing arrived, bringing a bleary-eyed Cheng Cainan.

Cheng Cainan was exhausted.

She had just logged off her game and nodded off when she was roused.

Everyone’s grim expressions snapped her awake.

“Hanbing-jie, how is she?”

Lin Hanbing paid no mind, her stare glued to the door without a single blink.

Lin Jingwen stepped up as family head, giving a concise, solemn recap of events.

“Was it because of lunch yesterday?” Yang Meijing’s face was etched with worry, a mix of self-blame and guilt churning inside her.

She regretted not staying longer.

If she had, her daughter might not have spiraled into anxious thoughts.

And might not have…

gone into early labor.

Yang Meijing wrung her hands, pacing restlessly before the door.

Cheng Chen merely frowned beside her, hands hanging at his sides, listening quietly.

Time seemed frozen.

No one spoke.

Cheng Cainan tugged at her clothes and joined her mother. “Mom, Dad, why don’t you sit down?”

Yang Meijing shook her head. Sitting was the last thing on her mind right now.

“Hanbing-jie.”

Cheng Cainan called out again.

Lin Hanbing hesitated but showed no other response. Her entire focus was on Cheng Zhanya.

Time dragged unbearably slow.

Every minute, every second was pure agony.

Lin Hanbing buried her face in her hands, yet her eyes never left the door, terrified of missing even an instant.

As though their prayers had been heard, the door swung open at last.

Lin Hanbing lurched to her feet, throat working as she struggled to swallow. She lacked even the strength to speak, simply watching the figure with bated breath.

A nurse in blue scrubs emerged, cradling the newborn. Even behind her mask, joy lit her features.

“Mother and daughter are both safe.”

The words broke the tension like a dam giving way.

Moments later, the bed was wheeled out. Cheng Zhanya lay atop it, utterly soaked in sweat, her hair plastered messily to her ashen face.

She was conscious but drained to the bone.

Lin Hanbing’s eyes brimmed red. She clasped Cheng Zhanya’s hand ever so gently, afraid even that might break her.

Cheng Zhanya seemed so fragile, on the verge of shattering.

“Yaya…”

Lin Hanbing’s voice quavered.

The lingering terror hadn’t fully ebbed. She lifted Cheng Zhanya’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “You were incredible,” she rasped.

Cheng Zhanya’s world was a blur; she couldn’t make out a thing, and her lower body felt strangely numb.

Yet the voice in her ear rang perfectly clear.

She lifted a hand to the face inches away and shook her head.

She couldn’t discern Lin Hanbing’s features, but she knew it was her.

An inexplicable calm settled over her before darkness claimed her once more. Faint sounds lingered at the edge of her awareness, though their meaning escaped her.

When she awoke again, night still cloaked the world in silence. Pain throbbed through every inch of Cheng Zhanya’s body; even opening her eyes felt Herculean.

It hurt so badly!

It was as if her entire body had been torn apart and pieced back together.

Cheng Zhanya winced, her gaze sweeping the room. Fragments of memory trickled in slowly.

Abruptly, her hand went to her belly.

The once-protruding swell was gone, reduced to a soft, slight pouch.

Cheng Zhanya went blank for a beat.

She had given birth?

In the dead of night, pain had gripped her inexplicably. Thinking it a dream, she hadn’t dwelled on it. Spotting the sleeping Lin Hanbing, she drifted off anew. Then the ache returned, hazy at first.

But it intensified!

So excruciating she cried out voicelessly.

Next came Lin Hanbing’s frantic voice amid chaotic motion, as though she were scooped up and bundled into the car…

The rest was a fog.

Where was the baby?

Where was her Chengcheng?

The room lay still. Her eyes dropped to Lin Hanbing, slumped asleep at the bedside.

Her hand was gripped fast in a warm—almost hot—hold.

Cheng Zhanya tried to speak, but her throat rasped like cracked earth; parting her lips tore with agony.

Not one part of her was painless.

Her body no longer felt like her own.

A faint whimper escaped Cheng Zhanya, rousing Lin Hanbing instantly.

“Yaya?”

“You’re awake at last.”

“You’ve slept a full day and night.”

To Lin Hanbing, those hours had spanned eternities of torment.

Thank heavens, she was back.

“Thank God,” Lin Hanbing choked out, murmuring it repeatedly like a lost child reunited with home.

She leaned down, peppering Cheng Zhanya’s face with kisses.

Utterly aggrieved, yet brimming with joy.

A walking contradiction.

Cheng Zhanya’s heart twinged suddenly.

For a fleeting moment, her body’s aches receded.

Her arms felt leaden; raising one was an ordeal. Laboriously, she pointed to her mouth.

Thirsty.

Lin Hanbing grasped it at once, swiftly fetching water and dabbing Cheng Zhanya’s lips with a soaked cotton swab.

Once, twice, until Cheng Zhanya turned away in mute refusal.

“Enough…”

Cheng Zhanya croaked.

Only then did she register the gravel in her voice, no doubt from days of silence.

She screwed up her face, mustering her strength after a pause. “Did I… give birth?”

Lin Hanbing’s face clouded with complexity. She held back her answer.

She wasn’t sure how to reply.

The baby girl hadn’t received so much as a glance from her since birth. Lin Hanbing’s world had narrowed to Cheng Zhanya alone.

She was still in the nursery, finishing checks.

Zhuang Wen, advanced in years, had departed that evening once Cheng Zhanya stabilized.

At thirty-eight weeks, the baby counted as full-term, despite arriving early.

Chengcheng was thriving.

Her cries outdid the other newborns; the nurses marveled that such volume came from a girl.

Tiny as she was.

Her skin flushed red, coated in vernix like a wriggling monkey plucked from the sea.

Yet this scrappy little bundle had put Cheng Zhanya through hell.

“What’s wrong?”

The long silence shot Cheng Zhanya’s heart into her throat. “Why won’t you answer?”

“Where’s Chengcheng?”

Panic seized her; she clutched Lin Hanbing’s hand, oblivious to the red welts her nails gouged into the soft skin.

“Cheng… Chengcheng… is she in trouble?”

Wild fears consumed Cheng Zhanya. She whispered in disbelief.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, swift and hot.

“It’s all my fault…”

Lin Hanbing came to herself, easing down the near-frantic Cheng Zhanya before she could bolt upright.

She opened her mouth to speak as the door swung open.

The nurse entered, cradling the freshly checked little one. Seeing Cheng Zhanya awake, she smiled. “You’re up?”

“Just in time. Baby should be waking up soon. Try nursing her.”

Cheng Zhanya’s eyes were fixed intently on the infant cradled in the nurse’s arms. The pink blanket swaddled the child so snugly that from her angle, she could barely catch a glimpse.