Chapter 71: Condition Part 3

They walked side by side, yet neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t until they got into the car that Fan Yaobai finally couldn’t hold back any longer.

“What was that smile of yours just now supposed to mean?”

“Hmm?” Lu Ting tilted her head in confusion and glanced at her. “What smile?”

Playing dumb?

Fan Yaobai grew even angrier.

She took a deep breath, forcing her emotions to settle.

“Do you want a child?”

She tried rephrasing it. “Chengcheng is so adorable—I suddenly want one too.”

Silence met her words, followed by the rumble of the engine starting.

The car pulled slowly out of the parking spot.

Lu Ting still offered no reply.

Fan Yaobai’s heart twisted painfully. She couldn’t conceal her sadness and turned to gaze out the window.

A sudden wave of desolation washed over her.

Lu Ting was far too calm.

That very calmness was what had drawn her in, yet at this moment, she simply couldn’t accept it.

Why won’t you answer?!

Fan Yaobai bit her lower lip, feeling a pang of self-pity.

The first person she’d ever truly fallen for apparently had no intention of giving her a straight response.

She propped her chin on her hand and bit her knuckle just hard enough to stifle the urge to press further.

“Do you want a child?”

The question came from Lu Ting just as Fan Yaobai teetered on the edge of despair.

Fan Yaobai whipped her head around. “And if I said yes?”

The car eased to a stop. Lu Ting turned to meet her eyes, her expression utterly earnest. “If you want a child, then we’ll have one.”

Fan Yaobai blinked in stunned silence.

“What?”

She was sure she’d misheard, but moments later, she laughed in confirmation that she hadn’t. “Tingting, what did you just say?”

“I said if you want a child, then we’ll have one.”

“Wouldn’t that mean we get married first?”

Fan Yaobai knew she was being greedy, but with the mood between them like this, she had to keep going.

They hadn’t been together long.

She wasn’t even certain how deeply Lu Ting cared for her.

Just a few months earlier, the very idea of marriage had felt distant to Fan Yaobai.

Truth be told, she’d never given it much thought before.

When she’d first gotten together with Lu Ting, her feelings hadn’t run that deep. Yet somewhere along the way, her entire heart had become tethered to the other woman.

She wanted to be by Lu Ting’s side every waking moment.

The intensity of it terrified her.

She had avoided it for a time, but avoidance solved nothing.

In the end, she’d surrendered.

She liked Lu Ting.

Liked her immensely.

She had never felt so certain of anything.

In that instant, she finally understood why Cheng Zhanya couldn’t let go of Lin Hanbing.

When your feelings ran that deep, how could you possibly walk away?

“Is this your proposal?”

Lu Ting’s voice carried that familiar, unruffled calm.

But Fan Yaobai, lost in her delight, didn’t catch it. She nodded eagerly, almost giddy.

“Yes—consider it my proposal.”

“Is that all right?”

The light turned green, and Lu Ting eased the car forward.

Seconds later, Fan Yaobai heard a soft chuckle from Lu Ting.

“I accept your proposal.”

“!”

Fan Yaobai froze, at a loss for words.

Lu Ting’s agreement had come so swiftly that it almost didn’t feel real.

Had she really just succeeded in proposing?

Incredulous, Fan Yaobai stared at Lu Ting’s profile.

…

On the seventh day, Cheng Zhanya was finally cleared to leave the hospital and return home.

Over that week of waiting, the Little One had grown and put on three pounds, her cheeks even softer and rounder now.

Chubby and pale, gathering all the affection in the world upon herself.

From the moment of her birth, the Little One had been showered with love from everyone, as if she spent her days immersed in a jar of honey.

By nearly one month old, she could make simple expressions and had picked up a naughty habit: grabbing anyone’s finger to suck on it.

Cheng Zhanya had withdrawn her hand several times, only to find it slick with her daughter’s saliva.

They still hadn’t settled on a name for Chengcheng. The plan was to draw lots at the hundred-day celebration—Cheng Chen and Lin Jingwen would each submit one, and whichever the Little One grabbed would become her name.

It seemed fair enough.

At least after the divorce, Cheng Chen hadn’t taken full control and silenced the Lin family.

New Year’s passed in high spirits.

More vibrant than any year before, likely because the two families were together for once.

As for remarriage, Lin Hanbing seemed in no rush.

This left Cheng Zhanya baffled.

During her pregnancy, Lin Hanbing had raised the topic of remarriage more than once, only for Cheng Zhanya to turn her down each time.

Now that Cheng Zhanya was the one bringing it up, Lin Hanbing was the one refusing?

No matter how she puzzled over it, Cheng Zhanya couldn’t make sense of the reversal.

Yet she held her tongue.

Once confinement ended, Lin Hanbing grew inexplicably busy. Time alone for the two of them became scarce.

Either the baby demanded attention, or Lin Hanbing was nowhere to be seen.

Day after day, it dragged on.

Finally, Cheng Zhanya reached her limit.

Life felt like it had rewound to a year ago. Irritation flared now and then, leaving her half-convinced that skipping remarriage might be for the best.

Bit by bit, she let the matter slip to the back of her mind.

The Little One was two months old now.

Lin Hanbing, in a rare moment of leisure, even offered to join her and the baby for some sun in the yard.

A precious chance—but somehow, Cheng Zhanya found she could no longer voice the question.

There was no point anymore.

They reclined on lounge chairs in the courtyard, wrapped in silence. It was so still they could hear the whisper of falling leaves.

From Lin Hanbing’s arms came the Little One’s occasional coos and gurgles.

Cheng Zhanya let out a heavy sigh.

The postpartum slump was inevitable, stirring a quiet sorrow.

She thought back to Lin Hanbing’s tender care before the birth, contrasted against this new reality of utter neglect. The more she dwelled on it, the more her heart ached.

She simply lay there, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

She couldn’t say why.

She just needed to cry—desperately so.

Something felt wrong with her, but she had no idea how to vent it.

She knew the outlet was right there, plain as day.

Lin Hanbing soon sensed Cheng Zhanya’s distress. Spotting the tears on her wife’s face, she paused in mild surprise.

Heart aching, she reached out to wipe them away gently. “Why the tears?”

Cheng Zhanya turned her face aside, irked by the touch—yet when she leaned away, a hollow ache bloomed inside her.

She craved more of Lin Hanbing’s attention.

But admitting it felt mortifying.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Lin Hanbing grasped the gravity of it then. She passed the Little One to the nanny, scooted closer, and drew Cheng Zhanya into a light embrace. She peppered soft kisses across her face. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Cheng Zhanya fought the urge to pull away, even as she yearned for more.

At last, she abandoned the struggle and buried her face in Lin Hanbing’s chest.

The tears flowed unchecked.

Lin Hanbing felt the dampness seep through to her collar, unmistakable even through layers of fabric.

She stroked Cheng Zhanya’s hair soothingly. “Yaya, has your hair grown out a bit?”

Cheng Zhanya offered no reply, utterly sunk in her turmoil.

Then, without warning, dizziness crashed over her, accompanied by a surge of nausea.

The sensation rang familiar.

Yet she couldn’t place it.

Before she could puzzle it out, consciousness slipped away.

Darkness swallowed her vision.

In that final instant, she faintly caught Lin Hanbing’s frantic cry.

Perfect.

She had no desire to face Lin Hanbing anyway.

Why the tears?

Was Lin Hanbing feigning ignorance, or did she truly not understand? Cheng Zhanya couldn’t fathom where it had all gone wrong—why life felt like it had looped back to before.

Had Lin Hanbing only proposed remarriage because of the pregnancy?

Now that the child was here…

Had she outlived her usefulness?

Cheng Zhanya had never known such utter despair. It was like a dream stretched endlessly long.

When she awoke, she lay in a hospital room.

A private one.

The stark white expanse held only her.

Panic flickered through Cheng Zhanya—she didn’t want to be alone.

Her body moved before her mind caught up.

She flung aside the covers and planted her bare feet on the frigid tile floor. Icy cold pierced upward, shuddering through her frame.

The door swung open.

There stood the familiar face: Lin Hanbing.

Their gazes locked; surprise still lingered openly in Lin Hanbing’s eyes.

“Why are you up? And without shoes?” Lin Hanbing’s brows furrowed as she scanned Cheng Zhanya from head to toe. Her voice brimmed with worry, though she tried to soften it.

The effort was obvious—Cheng Zhanya could tell.

“You’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

Lin Hanbing adjusted the patient gown, then bent swiftly and scooped her into her arms.

Cheng Zhanya let out a startled yelp.

Terrified of being dropped, she flung her arms around Lin Hanbing’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

Cheng Zhanya hissed under her breath, biting back harsher words.

“Don’t worry—I won’t drop you.” Amusement threaded through Lin Hanbing’s tone. “You’re too skinny.”

Lin Hanbing had been so consumed with work that she’d missed the changes in Cheng Zhanya’s body.

She’d failed her again.

Cheng Zhanya was suffering from postpartum depression.

All because of her neglect.

Thankfully, they’d caught it early. The symptoms were mild; with proper care, she could recover fully.

Skinny?

Cheng Zhanya blinked in astonishment.

Her belly hadn’t shrunk since the birth—it hung soft and floppy, like water-packed tofu that jiggled at the slightest pat.

Hideous.

She could barely stand the sight of it herself.

No wonder Lin Hanbing showed no desire for her after all this time.

Their daughter was more than two months old, yet they hadn’t shared a single intimate moment.

Of course not.

Her own body turned her stomach.

Let alone Lin Hanbing, who demanded perfection.

Having a child should have lightened her load, but instead, exhaustion weighed her down relentlessly.

Lin Hanbing settled her back in the bed.

Cheng Zhanya yanked the blanket over herself, burying completely beneath it.

Like an ostrich, hiding from the world.

She wanted to cry again.

But why?

She couldn’t even pinpoint a reason. Her mind swirled with bizarre, intrusive thoughts.

She had no clue what was wrong with her.

Or how to fix it.

Cheng Zhanya sank helplessly into the vicious cycle of her emotions, unable to break free.