There were still a few boxes left at home, and Zhōu Shíyì planned to finish them before not buying any more.
Zhōng Yì realized that the restraint they had once agreed upon was never followed during the busiest and most stressful times of the project.
Instead, he strictly adhered to it during the period when they were preparing for pregnancy.
After returning from their honeymoon, he no longer held her while sleeping; each of them used their own pillow.
But in the middle of the night, she would unconsciously turn and snuggle into his arms.
Zhōu Shíyì would pick her up and place her back in her spot again.
Half-asleep, Zhōng Yì would hold him tightly, leaving him no choice but to hold her as they slept.
Two or three times every few days, it was especially agonizing.
That night, the two of them were working overtime in the study. After finishing her work, Zhōng Yì turned to look at the person beside her.
Zhōu Shíyì was resting his chin on his hand, staring intently at the laptop screen, his expression slightly serious.
Zhōng Yì couldn’t help but worry, “What’s wrong?”
The man didn’t respond.
It was rare for him not to hear her speak.
Zhōng Yì thought maybe Kuncheng Motors had encountered some tricky problem. She kicked off her feet and slid her chair over to him.
“Is the Supercharging Network progressing—” smoothly?
Before she could finish, she stopped herself, noticing the search box on his screen showed: “How to increase the chance of having twins with different genders?”
She burst out laughing softly, resting her forehead on his shoulder, surprised he would look up such a thing.
“Do you really believe what you read? Having twins with different genders isn’t something humans can control.”
Zhōu Shíyì chuckled, “How could I not know that?”
He explained it wasn’t his own search: “I just looked up which parent’s genes determine twins with different genders.
Big data just pushed out so many articles, and I clicked on one by chance.”
Zhōng Yì said, “The number of babies is decided by the mother, and the gender by the father.”
She took the mouse from his hand and closed the page. “Children and parents are connected by fate.
Just like the second set of wedding photos we took in Christmas Town—the condom broke and leaked inside.
It was past midnight, and the town’s pharmacy was already closed.
The next morning, after waking up and freshening up, the two of them wordlessly went to get their coats.
Zhōu Shíyì handed her a scarf. “It’s snowing outside. It’s cold. The pharmacy is about four or five hundred meters away.”
Turns out he had already checked the pharmacy’s location.
She couldn’t help but recall when he asked when the project would end, and connect it to his loss of control the night before—maybe he really intended to break up.
She had been torn, reluctant, but after accepting the scarf he handed her, she no longer hesitated.
When feelings reach this point, they shouldn’t tie each other down with a child.
The snow wasn’t heavy, and the two of them walked in silence to the pharmacy.
Soft snowflakes settled on her long hair and on the shoulder of his coat.
Before entering, Zhōu Shíyì stopped and looked at her.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect the condom to break. I haven’t taken you home yet, we haven’t had any ceremonies, and I won’t use having a child to solve our problems.”
He paused.
“But taking this medicine is harmful to the body.”
She realized she had misunderstood him; he didn’t not want a child.
Like her, he was torn and reluctant.
In the end, the two of them didn’t enter the pharmacy.
Perhaps they were destined to be apart for three years. The next month, her period arrived as scheduled.
Zhōng Yì said, “See, that time in Christmas Town, I was in my dangerous period but didn’t get pregnant—that’s fate.”
She hugged him, letting him know he didn’t have to worry about twins anymore. “I’m just like everyone else in the family, casually admiring my cousin’s twins without thinking much.”
But Zhōu Shíyì’s focus was on the fact that it had been her dangerous period.
Zhōng Yì released him. “I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow is the real road test, and I still have to collect data.”
“Go ahead and sleep. Don’t wait for me.”
Zhōu Shíyì had an overseas video call in an hour.
Zhōng Yì closed her computer and gave him a hug before leaving, accidentally knocking his suit off the back of the chair.
She picked up the suit and took it back to the bedroom with her.
Before putting the suit in the laundry basket, she emptied all the pockets.
Among her things, there was a piece of paper.
Opening it, it was the due date she had calculated on the plane.
She hadn’t expected him to bring it off the plane and carry it with him all along.
That phrase, “Love her well,” had not faded away with the first wedding.
***
In the study, during a meeting break, Zhōu Shíyì called Zhan Liang to schedule a doctor’s appointment for the next morning.
Ten minutes later, Zhan Liang replied: the appointment was set for 8 a.m., not affecting the 10:30 a.m. senior meeting.
Zhan Liang wondered why the boss suddenly needed a check-up but didn’t ask further.
What he couldn’t ask, Du asked for him after the video call ended.
Tonight’s video meeting mainly discussed policy obstacles encountered during the overseas Supercharging Network construction and how to respond.
Du suggested, “Mr. Zhōu has been deeply involved in the European and American markets for years and has acquired a fleet. His connections might help Kuncheng solve the problems.”
Zhōu Shíyì thought for a moment: “I’ll talk to Mr. Zhōu tomorrow.”
“I’ll come along too,” Du looked over tomorrow’s schedule. “There’s a senior meeting at 10:30 a.m. How about 8 a.m.?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “Afternoon. I have a check-up at 8.”
Since getting older, Du has become especially conscientious about health check-ups and remembered there were still three months until the next company check.
He was concerned about Zhōu Shíyì’s health and asked, “Mr. Zhōu, are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “No, I’m planning to have a child and want to check if I’m fit.”
Even though Du was used to the boss’s straightforward style, hearing such private matters openly was a little surprising.
He paused before responding, “Good. A check-up is responsibility toward your partner and the child.”
It was because of Zhōng Yì’s line, “I was in my dangerous period and didn’t get pregnant,” that Zhōu Shíyì immediately decided to get checked.
Just because one time didn’t happen didn’t mean there was a problem. He wanted to rule out that possibility first.
His only hope for the child was for it to be healthy. No need to be smarter or better than himself or Zhōng Yì.
And for the child to be healthy, the father had to be healthy first.
The next day, before dawn, Zhōng Yì woke up.
Today was the real road test. Without waiting for Zhōu Shíyì to eat breakfast, she packed one for him and rushed to the test route.
Zhōu Shíyì arrived at the hospital before eight. The private doctor consultant was already waiting in the office.
“Give me another copy of the pre-pregnancy precautions.”
He emphasized, “For me.
Not for Zhōng Yì.”
The check-up results came out at noon.
Zhōu Shíyì was just setting his phone to silent to take a nap when the email notification sounded.
Immediately after, Zhan Liang called to inform him the results were ready.
Zhōu Shíyì opened the email and carefully flipped through the pages—everything was normal.
He didn’t tell Zhōng Yì about the check-up, only forwarding the diet-related parts of the pre-pregnancy advice to the housekeeper.
A week later, Zhōng Yì found out.
That day, he was working in the chip building office, and she took a break to see him.
She leaned against him, sipping warm water, having given up her overly sweet red bean latte.
“Why do you have time to come over today?”
“Afraid you’d miss me.”
Zhōu Shíyì signed some documents while replying, “I do.”
She had been out early and home late all week, and sometimes when he had engagements, she was already asleep when he returned.
After signing and closing the files, Zhōng Yì lowered her head, moving closer to his cheek. “Did you get a check-up?”
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t deny it. “Did Jiang Bo tell you? You shouldn’t know.”
Zhōng Yì told the truth, “I made an appointment with your private doctor consultant to reserve time for my own check-up. He said you went last week.”
“When did you have your check-up? I’ll go with you.”
Zhōng Yì: “This morning. No problems with my health.” She felt at ease.
She also learned from the doctor that Zhōu Shíyì had requested a detailed pre-pregnancy precaution list.
“You’re even more serious about preparing than I am.”
Zhōu Shíyì looked at her: “It’s not that complicated.”
Just some restraint and discipline are enough.
Zhōng Yì kissed his cheek and said no more. “I’m going back to work.”
Perhaps it was fate not aligning with having a child yet.
By October, she still hadn’t conceived.
Zhōu Shíyì no longer paid too much attention to whether she would get pregnant and simply enjoyed their intimacy without barriers.
Zhōng Yì didn’t take a break during the National Day holiday.
It wasn’t until after all the road tests in the Beicheng Suburb and data collection were completed that she finally took three days off at the end of the month.
Zhōu Shíyì was working as usual at Kuncheng Headquarters, not going to the temporary office in the park.
Zhōng Yì slept until she woke naturally and had lunch plans with Zhōng Zhuóhuá.
Since the Windmill Village wedding, she had been busy adjusting parameters and collecting data, only coming home two or three times.
They booked a quiet corner at a Cantonese restaurant.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá, knowing that her daughter and son-in-law were preparing for pregnancy, advised her to relax: “Go with the flow. Like an exam, being too nervous affects your performance.”
Zhōng Yì laughed, “Mom, you can’t compare it to that.”
“Anyway, it’s the same idea. When I was young with your dad, we were careful, but one slip and I got pregnant with you,” Zhōng Zhuóhuá said, feeding her peeled shrimp, sighing, “I didn’t expect I’d soon be a grandmother. I still feel young.”
Zhōng Yì said, “You can be the second grandma. I heard grandparents tend to spoil grandchildren too much. Don’t let the kids draw worse than me.”
Zhōng Zhuóhuá wiped her hands and laughed, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “I’d never be like your dad!”
After lunch, Zhōng Zhuóhuá had activities in the afternoon and parted ways with her daughter downstairs.
Kuncheng Tower was nearby, and she walked over leisurely.
The warm afternoon sun bathed her, a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time.
At Kuncheng, Zhan Liang asked if the boss had taken a nap.
Zhōng Yì told him to get busy and went in to check.
Zhōu Shíyì had just finished washing up and changed into pajamas but hadn’t lain down yet.
“You usually don’t sleep until after one, right?” Zhōng Yì glanced at the clock: 12:35. “Today’s early.”
Zhōu Shíyì: “No meetings this morning, ate early.”
“Want to take a nap with me?”
He closed the door to the rest room.
Zhōng Yì pointed at her dress: “I don’t have pajamas.”
Zhōu Shíyì grabbed a clean bath towel for her: “No need for pajamas, just wrap yourself.”
At first, all was peaceful; they each used their own pillow, leaving space between them.
But in a different place, Zhōng Yì couldn’t fall asleep. She rested her foot on Zhōu Shíyì’s body, seeking familiarity.
She thought she was only putting her foot on his leg, but didn’t expect he would react.
Maybe before he wouldn’t, but now, with only two or three times a week, it was hard to satisfy.
Zhōu Shíyì’s heated body pressed down on hers.
By her ear, the man’s breath became short and heavy.
Mixed with the moist scent of hormones, it overwhelmed her.
His long, strong hands, breathing heavy or light, the smooth muscles of his shoulders and neck, the beads of water in his hair—all utterly enticing.
In a daze, she thought of when they first got together.
Back then, at their home in Boston.
The two of them clung to each other for half a day without parting.
“Baby.”
Zhōu Shíyì reached his limit and lowered his head to kiss her.
“What were you thinking about?” His voice was tinged with a sexy huskiness.
Zhōng Yì vaguely thought they were back in the Boston home, but with the rising heat, she knew this moment was in his office’s rest room.
“Thinking about our first time together.”
She paused before answering.
Zhōu Shíyì grabbed his phone from the bedside table; it was nearly 2 a.m.
In the afternoon, executives might come looking for him. He kissed the person in his arms again: “You keep sleeping.”
Before getting up, he looked around for something to cover himself with.
Within reach, there was only the bath towel and his clothes.
This wasn’t home, so instead of the towel, he grabbed his white shirt.
He got up and put the shirt on.
There was a spare shirt in the wardrobe. Zhōu Shíyì picked up a black one, then suddenly thought better of it and put it back.
The people in the president’s office were all sharp; he chose the white shirt to go shower.
That shirt, stained with marks, Zhōng Yì had packed into her canvas bag to take home and wash.
Most of Zhōu Shíyì’s shirts and suits had been sat on by Zhōng Yì. Sometimes, he even wore shirts she had sat on, but that white shirt with his marks—even after cleaning—he didn’t want to wear again.
Zhōng Yì teased him, “Why do you still reject yourself?”
Zhōu Shíyì couldn’t explain.
He just couldn’t wear it anymore.
But hers, he could swallow completely.
Neither of them paid attention anymore to which days were dangerous or safe.
Until mid-November, Zhōng Yì’s period was four days late and still hadn’t arrived.