Meng Yanxi didn’t know what other people’s pregnancy dreams were like; anyway, between him and Jin Zhao, he was the one who had the pregnancy dream.

It wasn’t one of those folk legends about a green dragon or a soaring serpent—just a little dumpling.

White and glutinous, very plump and delicious, making one want nothing more than to take a bite. Its pair of eyes were round and full, like black grapes—like him, and like Jin Zhao. The calculating, scheming look of having eight hundred tricks up its sleeve was like him; the clean, clear look was like her.

After waking up, Meng Yanxi immediately took Jin Zhao to the hospital.

At that time it wasn’t even a full month yet. No matter how prepared Jin Zhao might have been, she wouldn’t have thought of that. She even thought something was wrong with Meng Yanxi and nervously asked him where he felt unwell.

Meng Yanxi drove, saying thoughtfully, “I had a dream.”

Jin Zhao: “?”

Do rich people really take such good care of themselves? Just casually having a dream and they’re off to the hospital.

Jin Zhao thought for a moment and said sincerely, “If you really have too much money to spend, in a situation like this, shouldn’t you go ask a master?”

After all, hospitals don’t interpret dreams.

Meng Yanxi ignored her.

In the end, when they arrived at the hospital, she herself was the one taken into the obstetrics and gynecology department.

The head of the obstetrics and gynecology department was already waiting inside, smiling as he greeted Meng Yanxi. Jin Zhao didn’t even know why she felt shy, but her face flushed with embarrassment all at once.

While the two waited for the results, Jin Zhao muttered softly, “Who’s like you? Other people will think I’m in such a hurry—coming for a checkup when it hasn’t even been a month.”

Meng Yanxi sat beside her, pulled her hand over and held it in his palm, his thumb gently rubbing against her. He still had that thoughtful expression as he said, “I dreamed of it.”

Jin Zhao: “Dreamed of what?”

Meng Yanxi looked at her with pitch-black eyes. “Our child.”

Jin Zhao’s heart grew warm, giving a light thump.

“A pregnancy dream?” She thought for a moment and said, “But online, isn’t it usually the mother who has the pregnancy dream?”

Meng Yanxi’s expression looked a bit numb as he asked in return, “Can you handle it?”

Jin Zhao: “What?”

Meng Yanxi tugged at the corner of his lips. “Tonight you have to dream of one million, tomorrow night you have to dream of thirty million—if the baby waits for you to dream of it, does it have to line up for a time slot first?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Such a good face—what a pity it came with that mouth.

Jin Zhao was still a little curious about the content of the dream. After all, she herself hadn’t dreamed of anything at all. It was quite strange—by rights, if anyone were to dream, it should be the mother first. Not to mention their blood connection; after all, it was she who wanted it, she who was expecting it.

“What was your dream like?” she asked.

Meng Yanxi’s fingers rubbed against her. “A glutinous rice dumpling, white and tender, very plump and delicious, making one want to take a bite.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

What kind of outrageous description was that.

Jin Zhao: “A pregnancy dream is supposed to be very abstract, right? Vague and ambiguous—you can explain it however you want. If it doesn’t come true, you can still say it was just a dream.”

Meng Yanxi: “Mm. Mine was very specific.”

This man seemed to be born with a kind of lofty confidence—even when it came to things as mysterious and unfathomable as this.

Meng Yanxi fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Lingling, how about calling the baby’s nickname Little Dumpling? To commemorate the fate of the baby’s first meeting with Daddy.”

Jin Zhao was utterly speechless. How did a dream turn into a hospital visit and then into naming a child? Could President Meng, who was always so cold and decisive, please not suddenly become this sensitive?

Jin Zhao felt she could hardly bear to look at him. She brushed it off casually. “Let’s talk about it after the results come out.”

The results came out: three weeks pregnant.

She was actually pregnant.

Jin Zhao felt a little dazed—she didn’t know whether it was the shock of the news itself, or the added effect of Meng Yanxi’s dream.

Meng Yanxi was overjoyed; the delight in his eyes was impossible to hide. Still in the doctor’s office, he hugged her and spun her around. He looked so chūnibyō, like a teenager, with none of his usual steadiness in sight.

Jin Zhao quickly glanced at the obstetrics and gynecology department head nearby, her face red as she patted his shoulder. “Put me down, now.”

But this man’s confidence was off the charts. “Don’t worry, I work out every day. My arm strength is great—I won’t drop you or Little Dumpling.”

Jin Zhao: talking to a cow.

Meng Yanxi was a little unhinged. Before they’d even left the hospital, he was already calculating what to buy and where to put it—and where to put it was another problem altogether. The child naturally couldn’t be born in the school’s temporary transitional housing, and Shanshui City wasn’t big enough. He had several villas under his name, and as he drove, he calculated where they should move.

He asked Jin Zhao what kind of layout she liked—garden or no garden? How big a garden? What style did she like? Did she prefer being by the river or by the lake?

Meng Yanxi looked like he’d never talked this much in his life, chattering nonstop, like a little bee.

Compared to President Meng the little bee, Jin Zhao was calm to the point of being steady.

Her phone suddenly rang. Jin Zhao lowered her head to look.

Voice call, from the department secretary of the college.

Jin Zhao’s heart went “thump” all of a sudden. In the span of a single second, she pulled herself out of Little Dumpling and Bee Meng, and her mind had already run through eight hundred times whether she had forgotten to go to class today.

A university teacher’s life is rigidly controlled by the two words “teaching accident.” Just last month, there had been an incident where a teacher forgot they had class and left students waiting, and it was publicly criticized by the whole school. During that period, every time you opened the OA system, it was that teacher’s name.

Just thinking about it made Jin Zhao’s scalp go numb. She answered the call, trembling.

The department secretary’s voice was always brisk and energetic. “Hello, Teacher Jin, have you seen the messages in the group?”

Jin Zhao felt a chill in her heart. For some reason, she spoke with very little confidence. “I haven’t had time to look yet. What’s wrong?”

Meng Yanxi turned his head to look at her.

Secretary: “Next month is the CET-4 and CET-6 exams. The Academic Affairs Office asked each college to submit the list of invigilators. You haven’t filled out the online form in the group yet, so I wanted to ask what’s going on. Should I put your name down?”

So it was about arranging invigilation. The heart Jin Zhao had been holding halfway up immediately dropped back down, and she let out a long breath of relief.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice it and missed the message.” Hearing that the secretary’s tone still sounded negotiable, Jin Zhao immediately asked another question with a bit of hopeful luck. “Is it possible not to put my name down?”

Last year’s graduate entrance exam invigilation had nearly taken half her life.

On the exam floor, she reviewed the first half of her life and envisioned the second half, even planned out exactly how she would spend the thirty million if she really won it—all while only twenty minutes had passed.

Too painful to look back on.

But the department secretary was only being polite on the surface. She refused outright, all business: “No.”

Jin Zhao: “……” Then why did you even ask?

What difference does it make whether I fill it out or not?

Secretary: “In principle, unless there are special circumstances such as pregnancy, being over the age limit, resignation, and so on, all faculty and staff are required to participate in this invigilation.”

Beside her, the sharp-eared man immediately cleared his throat lightly.

Jin Zhao of course knew which keyword he’d caught. Her ears instantly grew hot.

Fortunately, he still had some sense of propriety and didn’t directly speak up like last time, introducing himself as Teacher Jin’s boyfriend.

Jin Zhao replied vaguely, “Alright, I’ll fill it in right away.”

Just after ending the call, Meng Yanxi tapped the steering wheel with a long finger and said, half-arrogant, half-composed, “Why do you have so much invigilation? Graduate exams, then CET-4 and CET-6.”

Jin Zhao knew why he brought up the graduate exams.

Last year, she’d been assigned to invigilate the graduate entrance exam too. Back then, he’d said he could help. Considering that their relationship at the time was still relatively innocent, she hadn’t thought too deeply about it.

But looking back now, he had clearly meant something by it.

Meng Yanxi: “You’re welcome, Teacher Jin.”

Jin Zhao: “……” As expected.

If this man had a tail, it would be sticking straight up into the sky by now.

Jin Zhao didn’t like invigilation. In the past, lacking any legitimate reason and being a young teacher—chosen by fate to be a worker bee—she had no choice. Now she truly did have a reason, yet when she clicked into the group’s online document, she hesitated.

This document was just like filling out voluntary makeup classes back in her student days. At a glance, in the column “Can you participate in CET-4 and CET-6 invigilation,” almost every entry was “Yes.” There were only two “No”s. In the remarks column, the two red-highlighted characters “pregnant” were strikingly conspicuous.

Jin Zhao stared at those two characters for a long time, then quickly filled in “Yes” in her own row under “Whether to participate in CET-4 and CET-6 invigilation.”

Meng Yanxi turned his head to look at her, his gaze deep and dark.

Jin Zhao exited the group document.

She didn’t regret it—there were just some things she hadn’t thought through yet.

At least for now, she wasn’t ready to fill in the red-highlighted word “pregnant” in an online form visible to everyone in the college.

In early June, all of Jin Zhao’s classes wrapped up.

It was the season when the silk trees bloomed, another graduation season.

Meng Zhuxi was graduating. This girl was quite likable. Back then, Jin Zhao had casually spoken up for her once, and she’d kept it in her heart. Before graduating, she even specially brought her flowers.

“Thank you, Sister Jin Zhao! If it weren’t for you, maybe I’d be graduating now with a disciplinary record.”

That was an exaggeration. Even without her, with Meng Yanxi around, it wouldn’t have come to the point of his precious little sister leaving school with a disciplinary mark. Still, Meng Zhuxi’s form of address surprised her.

Meng Zhuxi said with a bright smile, “Sister Jin Zhao, do you remember me? When we were little, my brother took me with him to learn dance with you.”

Jin Zhao smiled and said, “Of course I remember.”

Back then she was already sixteen or seventeen. The one who shouldn’t remember should have been Meng Zhuxi instead—eight or nine years old, the age when it’s easy to forget things.

Meng Zhuxi said, “The moment I saw you, I felt you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. I even thought I was like my brother—thinking every beauty looks familiar.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Meng Yanxi was really miserable, having such a number-one anti-fan of a little sister—no matter what, she had to drag him down a notch.

Meng Zhuxi continued, “It wasn’t until last month, when I saw my brother alone in his room staring blankly at a dress, that I suddenly remembered—you’re the Jin Zhao-jiejie from back then!”

Jin Zhao’s brow twitched. “A dress?”

Meng Zhuxi nodded. “Mm! A silk dress with feather embellishments! You wore it—I saw the video on my brother’s phone. Back then, at the campus arts festival, you wore that dress and danced Luo Shen.”

Something stirred in Jin Zhao’s heart.

Did he still keep that dress? And the video—he had even recorded a video?

Meng Zhuxi’s expression fell again, and she sighed softly. “It’s a pity I was young and didn’t know any better back then. Once, when I secretly played with my brother’s phone, I accidentally deleted that video. My brother was so angry his face turned green. If my dad hadn’t been there, I really suspect he would’ve beaten me up.”

Jin Zhao: “Deleted?”

Meng Zhuxi nodded. “Yeah, deleted. After that, my brother tried so many ways and looked for so many people, but he still couldn’t recover it.”

As mischievous as Meng Zhuxi could be, she had always been someone with clear likes and dislikes. Thinking back now on the foolish things she’d done when she was young, she felt a bit guilty too.

If only she hadn’t deleted Meng Yanxi’s video back then.

To this day, she still remembered how downcast Meng Yanxi had been during that period, as if he had lost some precious treasure—completely distraught, his soul seemingly gone.