Chapter 35: Breaking the News

Lin Hanbing was insistent, but Cheng Zhanya was worn out. From the morning check-up to the rushed lunch, she no longer had the energy to argue.

The car door slid open. Cheng Zhanya hesitated for a moment before bending down and climbing in.

The passenger seat felt like her personal throne. The two women sat with perfectly natural expressions, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Yaya, your seatbelt.”

“Oh.” Cheng Zhanya responded flatly.

Little Airhead.

Lin Hanbing’s lips curved in a faint smile.

She had half a mind to lean over and fasten it for her but held back, fearing rejection. A verbal reminder would have to do.

The car eased forward.

Lin Hanbing pulled down the sun visor and switched on the air conditioning. Light, upbeat music filled the cabin, lazy and carefree.

Cheng Zhanya shifted in her seat, her eyelids growing heavy. Sleepiness crept in.

She tilted her head toward the window. The scenery flashing by had a hypnotic quality, lulling her even deeper into drowsiness.

In her haze, she recalled the last time they had left the Main Residence. Lin Hanbing had snuck into the back seat for a stolen kiss. Cheng Zhanya’s eyes snapped open, her shoulder twitching involuntarily.

“What’s wrong?”

Lin Hanbing spared her a quick glance, her voice soft.

“Nothing.” Cheng Zhanya shook her head and covered her mouth for a yawn.

“Tired? Why don’t you nap for a bit?”

“I’m fine.” They’d be home soon enough, and her own bed was the best place to crash.

“Is work wearing you out?” Lin Hanbing kept her eyes on the road ahead, her tone gentle. “You’ve lost so much weight.”

Cheng Zhanya had no interest in discussing her job with her ex-wife, so she let the comment slide.

If pressed, the real culprit for her weight loss was the little bundle growing in her belly.

She stared out the window, silently willing the car to hurry home.

Exhaustion weighed on her like a blanket.

Her fingers, resting in her lap, twitched ever so slightly. She longed to touch her abdomen but fought the urge.

Now that she had acknowledged the child’s existence, it held an inexplicable pull.

A magnetic force, urging her to reach out and explore.

She glanced down.

Lin Hanbing drove at a leisurely pace. Nearly half an hour passed before they reached the neighborhood gate. Cheng Zhanya murmured a thanks and pushed the door open to step out.

“Yaya.”

“Hm?”

Cheng Zhanya turned, puzzlement in her eyes.

The entrance lacked any greenery, and the afternoon sun blazed mercilessly. She shaded her brow with one hand.

“Never mind. Go on ahead.” Lin Hanbing said, “See you.”

“…”

Cheng Zhanya gave a slight nod and hurried into the neighborhood without a backward glance.

Lin Hanbing switched off the music.

Her gaze darkened as she fixed it on Cheng Zhanya’s retreating figure. Only when it vanished from sight did she look away, her lashes lowering.

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened.

She suppressed the ache, but her heart still stung.

She loved Cheng Zhanya—no question about it.

Yet her former wife, once her bedfellow, seemed happier post-divorce than Lin Hanbing had feared.

Self-reflection set in. Had she ever wronged her?

Workaholic—that was her defining trait.

The more she dwelled on it, the clearer the neglect of the past two years became.

She had even ditched Cheng Zhanya’s birthday after promising to celebrate, all because of one phone call. What a failure she was. No wonder Cheng Zhanya had been hurt.

She pressed her hands harshly to her face. Her makeup had smeared, looking wretched.

After a long moment, she started the car again.

Cheng Zhanya dragged herself home, bone-tired. She exchanged a brief greeting with Fan Yaobai before retreating to her room. Not even Fan Jiujiu could coax her into playtime, though the cat rubbed against her legs insistently, seeking attention.

She dreamed.

Endless white void, nothing to see. Only a faint rustling echoed in her ears.

Terror.

That single word captured it.

She wandered aimlessly. No one came to her rescue. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

She screamed with all her might—silently. Despair deepened.

Then, arms enveloped her.

Warm as springtime, carrying a familiar scent that soothed her soul.

Instinctively, she whispered, full of dependence, “Hanbing…”

Cheng Zhanya bolted upright in bed, soaked in sweat.

A white streak slashed the windowpane. Lightning cracked the sky, thunder booming deafeningly afterward, heart-stopping.

The day had sweltered under the sun, but night brought a sudden downpour, rain lashing the glass.

She gulped air, chest heaving, still rattled.

Clutching her forehead, her eyes wide with fear, fingers quivering.

The dream’s details faded into fragments upon waking, but its emotional grip lingered.

It was seven o’clock.

She wiped sweat from her brow and eased out of bed.

The living room TV droned on. Fan Yaobai bustled in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Cheng Zhanya approached. “Need a hand?”

“No need. It’s almost ready.”

Fan Yaobai didn’t turn, her voice even.

Cheng Zhanya grabbed a bottle of soda water from the fridge and took a sip. The chill hit just right.

She had barely settled on the couch when Fan Jiujiu leaped up, nearly landing on her belly. Cheng Zhanya blocked it with her hand, whispering a sharp, “Don’t pounce.”

The cat, oblivious to her words, meowed twice in protest at being thwarted.

Cheng Zhanya stroked its silky back gently. So soft, so soothing.

Rain drummed steadily now, the thunder silenced.

The TV aired a formulaic family melodrama, dated in style. Cheng Zhanya doubted Fan Yaobai enjoyed such fare, so she grabbed the remote to switch channels. Then a girl appeared on screen.

Young, maybe seventeen or eighteen.

Twin braids, white blouse, navy knee-length skirt—the school uniform of a bygone era.

She stood at the hospital entrance. Eyes that should sparkle with youth brimmed instead with bewilderment and dread. She stared up at the “Hospital” sign for ages.

The filmmakers captured her turmoil masterfully: hesitation, fear, utter hopelessness laid bare.

The girl entered and received a diagnosis: early pregnancy.

Free love wasn’t the norm in the eighties; arranged marriages ruled. A schoolgirl pregnant? Her life was over.

Predictably, she wailed, crumbling completely.

Once the tears subsided, she chose to keep the baby. Not for grand reasons—it was her child, too.

Cheng Zhanya lacked that girl’s courage.

She couldn’t face single motherhood.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Fan Yaobai’s voice cut through her reverie.

Cheng Zhanya acknowledged it and changed the channel without another glance.

At the table, she accepted the bowl of soup Fan Yaobai ladled for her.

Mushroom and meat broth, savory and sweet.

Fan Yaobai sat and asked, “How’s the old lady doing?”

Cheng Zhanya paused briefly before nodding. “She can’t handle stress.”

“What stressed her into the hospital?”

“She learned about my divorce from Lin Hanbing.”

“How’d she find out?” Fan Yaobai prodded her vegetables. “Did she say anything?”

“Yeah.”

Cheng Zhanya ate slowly. Suddenly, the TV scene resurfaced in her mind, weighing on her features.

She needed her friend’s backing.

“Baibai,” she said softly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s nice…” Fan Yaobai froze mid-motion. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Cheng Zhanya repeated it. “Lin Hanbing’s.”

“Obviously.”

Everyone knew it had to be Lin Hanbing’s. Who else?

“I want to get rid of it.”