Chapter 64: A Fright

Cheng Zhanya hummed in agreement.

After a full day, it felt like they had fought a battle. She was exhausted and drowsy.

Even though she had slept deeply at noon, Cheng Zhanya was still incredibly sleepy by the time they headed home. She figured they were almost there and tried to hold out, planning to shower first and then crash—being woken up after falling asleep felt awful.

But in the end, she couldn’t resist.

She dozed off not long after the car started moving.

Seeing that Cheng Zhanya had just fallen asleep, Lin Hanbing pulled over steadily and slowly reclined the seat.

One of the phones stacked neatly on the center console lit up. Lin Hanbing glanced down—it was Cheng Zhanya’s phone.

The notifications weren’t hidden, so she spotted Fan Yaobai’s name right away.

The night was quiet, especially away from the city center. The suburban industrial area was peaceful enough that, with the window cracked open just a sliver, she could faintly hear crickets chirping.

It was winter, but the insect calls were still loud.

Lin Hanbing grabbed the neatly folded thin blanket from the back seat and gently draped it over Cheng Zhanya.

Sitting there in the car, Lin Hanbing checked her work messages on her phone before closing the app. The screen didn’t dim, and after a moment of silence, a notification popped up.

“Your favorite My Daily Life with My Wife has updated! Tap to check it out~”

It updated?

Lin Hanbing raised an eyebrow.

She glanced sideways at her sleeping wife, smiled, and tapped the notification.

She knew Cheng Zhanya had been drawing My Daily Life with My Wife lately, often holing up in the study. Lin Hanbing had thought it was just prep for catch-up chapters, but apparently, she’d gone ahead and posted it.

It was a short side story, uploaded that very morning.

The content depicted Cheng Zhanya’s daily life after getting pregnant, with her wife caring for her.

Every frame felt familiar. They were all the big and small moments from their recent days. With each new panel, the scenes from those times flooded back into her mind.

It must have taken a lot of effort these past few days—enough to explain today’s exhaustion.

The style was as lighthearted as ever. The simple, elegant artwork was soothing, and the added colors brought the story to life. Even after a six-month hiatus that left fans starving, they’d devoured it multiple times over.

The comments section was full of hot reviews asking about Cheng Zhanya’s return date.

Some guessed she’d stopped updating because of pregnancy and suddenly come back after giving birth, straight-up asking if the baby had arrived.

Cheng Zhanya’s replies were adorable.

—Return date TBD, babies—

—No, haven’t given birth yet—

She didn’t hide it, being totally upfront with her readers.

It was only natural.

Most fans responded with understanding.

The likes on her replies outnumbered the comments.

Then came a string of well-wishes.

Around noon, before her nap, she’d even found time to reply.

Babies?

The simple word steamed Lin Hanbing up all over again, making her eyes burn.

She knew it was just casual reader lingo—she’d used it plenty in replies before. Every time Lin Hanbing saw it, she’d tease Cheng Zhanya about it, until she caught on and stopped.

That was ages ago.

Way back.

Cheng Zhanya had just started serializing My Daily Life with My Wife online then. Her lines were still a bit stiff, not as fluid, but the story brimmed with passion every day.

Pure sweetness.

During her internship, when she’d burned out her stomach from exhaustion, coming home to her wife’s lovingly prepared dinners had been a highlight.

She wasn’t sure when things had changed.

Probably around her first night away from home.

Her wife got absorbed in creating, and Lin Hanbing started feeling like Cheng Zhanya didn’t need her as much. So she began taking more business trips, until the day of their divorce when she realized how badly she’d messed up.

Lin Hanbing gazed at Cheng Zhanya, a hint of warmth finally softening her eyes.

The streetlight seemed faulty, flickering on and off.

In the silent suburban industrial area, it looked downright eerie.

She checked the time, rolled up the window, and started the car again, driving slowly.

Cheng Zhanya stirred awake leisurely. She glanced down at the blanket covering her, then out the window, still a bit fuzzy-headed.

“Not home yet?”

Lin Hanbing murmured an affirmative, not mentioning they’d barely gotten started.

“Sleep some more?”

Cheng Zhanya shook her head.

She was still pretty tired, but she couldn’t afford to sleep again.

If she did, she wouldn’t be able to doze off after her shower, and she had work tomorrow—she needed to hit the hay early.

Freshly woken, she was still groggy.

With half-lidded eyes, the streetlights blurred past outside.

Night wore on.

The sidewalks bustled with people, neon signs drawing customers into shops—perfect for unwinding after a long day.

Cheng Zhanya’s gaze caught on a shop specializing in egg yolk pastries.

In the display window sat bunny-shaped ones, standing there all cute and dopey-eyed, as if begging someone to buy them.

Just one glance, and she was smitten.

By the time she told Lin Hanbing to pull over, they were already blocks away.

“What’s up? Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

Not really.

Just craving something.

Pregnancy had changed her tastes—and her personality, a little.

Or had it?

She still loved spicy food.

Her temperament had shifted, though—tempers flared more easily. With Lin Hanbing spoiling her rotten, Cheng Zhanya was getting bolder by the day.

It even felt a bit like being in love again.

Not bad at all.

A little mischief never hurt, and she wondered how far Lin Hanbing’s patience would stretch.

She pictured Lin Hanbing scurrying around to soothe her occasional outbursts.

Cheng Zhanya couldn’t help ducking her head with a soft chuckle.

The smile faded quickly.

Catching it, Lin Hanbing smiled too. “What do you want to eat?”

“I want egg yolk pastries,” Cheng Zhanya said. “The bunny-shaped ones.”

Lin Hanbing peered out the window, scanning every shop in sight.

No sign of the pastries Cheng Zhanya wanted.

“I’ll look,” she murmured.

“It’s back there. Let’s walk.”

Cheng Zhanya unbuckled her seatbelt and shoved the door open as she spoke.

The driver’s side faced the street. Lin Hanbing checked her mirrors, confirmed it was clear, and eased her door open.

No sooner had she shut it than a black motorcycle screamed past, nearly clipping her clothes. It whipped her hair into the air.

The rider looked like a twenty-something kid.

Reckless age.

Cheng Zhanya stood by the landscaping trees, cradling her swollen belly. The near-miss froze her breath, drained the color from her face, and left her lips trembling.

She didn’t dare imagine if Lin Hanbing had stepped out one more centimeter…

Her throat felt clogged. Cheng Zhanya opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Lin Hanbing hadn’t been fazed by the bike. But seeing Cheng Zhanya’s ashen face made her heart clench.

She hurried over, took Cheng Zhanya’s hand, and checked her up and down.

No injuries.

Just scared.

Lin Hanbing pulled her into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Cheng Zhanya startled with a hiccup.

Her eyes wide, she hadn’t snapped out of it yet.

Staring blankly, she slowly turned and buried her face in Lin Hanbing’s neck, like it was her safe harbor. Panic, fear, and terror poured from her eyes, easing only when she caught that familiar scent—proof she was still alive.

Her heart pounded.

Lin Hanbing’s did too.

She could hear it.

Despite the street noise—neon buzz, music, chatter—her heartbeat thundered clear as day.

It took a long while before Cheng Zhanya came back to herself.

She burst into frightened tears, unable to calm down. “Wah…”

Soft at first, muffled.

Then louder, uncontainable.

“You scared me to death!”

Cheng Zhanya sobbed, choking on gasps, barely breathing between them. Lin Hanbing worried she’d pass out.

She rubbed her back soothingly.

Onlookers shot them strange looks, whispering and pointing like Lin Hanbing was some monster.

She ignored them all. Right now, nothing mattered but Cheng Zhanya.

Once the tears subsided, Cheng Zhanya realized she’d lost it.

She looped her arms around Lin Hanbing’s waist, face mashed into her chest. Color crept back into her cheeks. “I’m not eating. I want to go home.”

“Alright, let’s go home.”

With the crying finally stopped, Lin Hanbing wanted nothing more than to pamper her—no room for jokes.

She stroked Cheng Zhanya’s hair softly. “Don’t be scared. Everything’s fine now.”

Cheng Zhanya still clutched Lin Hanbing’s collar, hiccuping steadily. After a moment, she nodded.

She never wanted to go through that again.

The despair of almost losing everything burned deep.

Death had just brushed past Lin Hanbing—and snatched away a piece of Cheng Zhanya’s soul with it.

Safely home at last, Cheng Zhanya’s tear tracks hadn’t fully dried, her face still pale but better than before.

“Yaya.” Lin Hanbing called softly.

No response, as if Cheng Zhanya couldn’t hear her.

She stood frozen in the entryway for ages, shoes still on.

Lin Hanbing’s heart ached.

She started to bend and help with the shoes, but Cheng Zhanya flinched, startled, then threw her arms around Lin Hanbing.

Sleepiness gone.

Her voice was flat and steady.

“Sister, I want you.”

She whispered it hotly in Lin Hanbing’s ear, hugging tighter, breaths ragged.

Never had she craved Lin Hanbing like this.

She wanted to be filled.

To etch that touch deeper into her memory. The words should have sounded lustful, but right then, they rang only with fear.

Lin Hanbing couldn’t move, trapped.

For the first time, she felt Cheng Zhanya’s strength—like some primal instinct locking her in place.

She could break free, but it’d hurt Cheng Zhanya.

Messy, desperate kisses followed. Lin Hanbing quickly took control, claiming her wife’s lips in a deep one.

Cheng Zhanya woke to pain.

A dull ache gripped her belly, tugging relentlessly like invisible hands inside. It dragged her from a sweet dream.

“Urgh—”

It hurt so much!

She cried out.

She tried to roll over for relief, but her huge belly made it impossible.

Her voice was soft, but it roused the lightly sleeping Lin Hanbing.

Lin Hanbing seemed worn out too, not listening closely. She assumed the baby was kicking again.

Eyes barely open, she laid a hand across Cheng Zhanya’s belly, rubbing gently.

“Be good, Chengcheng. Don’t fuss with your mom.”

“She’s exhausted.”

Her voice was husky with afterglow and sleepy haze.

After a night to settle her nerves, Cheng Zhanya’s emotions had long since stabilized.

But last night’s tossing and turning had left her short on sleep to begin with, and now her belly was tormenting her to the point where she wanted to murder someone.

This was especially true when Lin Hanbing told Little One to behave.

Cheng Zhanya couldn’t hold back. With great difficulty, she summoned the last of her strength and kicked Lin Hanbing hard in the thigh.

“Hm?”

Only then did Lin Hanbing open her eyes. In the dim glow from the nightstand, she saw Cheng Zhanya drenched in sweat.

Her sleepiness vanished in an instant, scared clean out of her.

She shot up in bed, throwing off the covers.

At some point, an unidentified stain had appeared on the gray bedsheet, and a faint metallic tang of blood lingered in the air.

Lin Hanbing frowned, plunged into several seconds of panic.

It took her less than a minute to regain her composure. She grabbed her phone, called the hospital first, then scooped Cheng Zhanya into her arms.

She didn’t care about anything else—she just had to get Cheng Zhanya to the hospital.

When she came back to herself, they were already there.

A patch of blood stained her deep blue pajamas, not obvious at first glance but still shocking up close.

It was all Cheng Zhanya’s blood.

She seemed to have lost so much.

The early winter morning was bitterly cold, cold enough to make people shiver. Some had already bundled up in down jackets.

Lin Hanbing wore only a thin nightshirt.

The wind blew over her, but she stood unmoving, as if she had lost all sensation.

The surgery room light blazed overhead, with Cheng Zhanya inside.

They were fighting to save her.

Everything remained unknown.

For once, Lin Hanbing’s mind was a total blank. She stared fixedly at the words above the surgery room door.

Red letters, glowing faintly.

She had never hated a light so much in that moment—it was truly piercing.

Click.

The surgery room light went dark.

Then the door swung open from within, and Lin Hanbing’s heart clenched into a knot.

She hadn’t felt this out of control in years—truth be told, she could hardly remember ever feeling it at all.

Today, she experienced it in full.

She stood rooted to the spot, lacking even the courage to lift her feet and approach the doctor.

She could only watch helplessly as the doctor walked toward her.

Hope mingled with dread as she awaited the verdict.

The outcome didn’t matter anymore.

She just needed Cheng Zhanya to live.

“The patient was under extreme mental stress, which triggered a stress response. Combined with intense sexual activity at such a time, it led to a threatened miscarriage.”

“Fortunately, the early prenatal care was solid. Both mother and child are fine now.”

The doctor’s mask was still on, his tone grave, though the gold-rimmed glasses softened his sharp demeanor a bit. “Occasional intimacy is good for bonding with your partner, but it should be moderate and not too vigorous.”

“Don’t let it happen again…”

She should have said no.

Cheng Zhanya hadn’t been thinking straight, but she herself had been perfectly calm.

What happened today could have been avoided, yet it had still occurred.

Thank goodness Cheng Zhanya was all right.

Little One was safe too.

Lin Hanbing’s mind filtered out everything else the doctor said after that, blocking out anything unpleasant.

Cheng Zhanya was wheeled out, the rolling wheels echoing loudly in that moment. Lin Hanbing snapped out of her daze like waking from a dream and hurried after the gurney.

“The patient needs rest. No visitors for the next three hours.”

The doctor called from behind.

Lin Hanbing didn’t hear a word.

Her eyes were fixed solely on Cheng Zhanya.

Her gaze followed her wife relentlessly until a door cut off her line of sight.

She stood before it, peering through the small window above.

There lay Cheng Zhanya, sunk in deep sleep.

So peaceful.

Yet she also seemed to be in pain.

Her brows had never relaxed, not once.

It must hurt so much, Lin Hanbing thought.