Jin Zhao brushed her fingertip across his cheek, the touch warm and soft.

Meng Yanxi’s Adam’s apple rolled helplessly twice. He felt a little embarrassed and wanted to lift his hand to quickly wipe away his tears, but both hands were holding the newborn milk dumpling.

The little one weighed six jin and six liang, tiny and small, soft all over. With one hand, he supported the baby’s head and neck; with the other, he supported his bottom. He had clearly practiced this posture for several months in advance, yet when it came time to actually do it, he still had to use all his strength.

He carefully held the baby horizontally against his chest. The newborn’s body heat pressed warmly against his chest, making him feel like his heart was about to melt. But at the same time, this posture also left him completely helpless about his own tears.

Moved and embarrassed at once, someone who cared deeply about saving face thus pulled out an outright lie: “I’m fine, sand got in—”

Fuck.

Even his voice carried a hoarse, nasal sound; there was no way he could sell even a bit of that lie.

Forget it. He gave up.

Jin Zhao struggled to hold back her laughter.

She had just given birth and was still hurting, wanting to laugh but not daring to. When she met Meng Yanxi’s reddened eyes, she actually felt a bit of tenderness toward him and took the initiative to finish the rest of his sentence for him: “I know, sand got in your eyes.”

Meng Yanxi: “……”

Meng Yanxi was actually pretty open-minded about things like this. Anyway, it wasn’t the first time he’d embarrassed himself in front of his wife; he’d done far more shameless things before.

Letting the tears hang on his face, he sniffed and asked Jin Zhao, “Does it hurt a lot?”

Jin Zhao: “It doesn’t hurt. Don’t cry.”

Meng Yanxi: “…Liar. You’re lying to me again.”

In the later stages of Jin Zhao’s pregnancy, Meng Yanxi had accompanied her to a full set of prenatal and postnatal classes, learning how to care for a newborn and seriously understanding the pain women go through in childbirth.

Holding the little dumpling, he bent down and kissed Jin Zhao’s brow, saying hoarsely, “We won’t have any more after this. We’ll just have this one little dumpling.”

Jin Zhao smelled the milky scent on the baby, interwoven with the faint cool fragrance of mountain pine mist on him. Her heart felt peaceful and gently soothed.

She raised her hand to press against his arm and said softly, “Let me see the baby.”

Meng Yanxi carefully placed the treasure by her side.

Whether it was because the parent filter was thick, or because the milk dumpling really knew how to choose good genes to inherit, Jin Zhao felt at first glance that her and Meng Yanxi’s baby was better-looking than other newborns. In her impression, most newborns were wrinkled, their skin still tinged with un-faded yellow. But the little dumpling seemed to come with its own soft glow—round and plump little cheeks, soft and sticky, eyelashes dense and long. Now that he was asleep, the lashes drooped down, casting faint shadows.

Jin Zhao couldn’t help but reach out with her fingertip to touch his little face. The little dumpling seemed to sense it in his dream, his long eyelashes fluttering lightly once.

Jin Zhao’s heart softened into a pool of water.

This was her and Meng Yanxi’s baby.

So vivid, so full of spirit—so much so that it felt as though the restrained, understated love she had held all these years had finally taken on a tangible, living form.

She wanted to kiss the baby, yet was afraid she shouldn’t. People always instinctively rely on others; during the later prenatal classes, because Meng Yanxi learned so seriously—years later once again displaying the strength of someone who ranked first in his grade by a landslide—she herself had learned only half-heartedly.

Meng Yanxi could often see through her at a glance, and said gently, “You can kiss him. I already did.”

Only then did Jin Zhao very lightly touch her lips to the little dumpling’s forehead.

The baby smelled so nice. She liked him so much that she couldn’t help kissing his little cheek again.

It made the corners of Meng Yanxi’s eyes heat up as he watched, and he almost cried again.

“Have you thought of the baby’s name?” Jin Zhao asked.

Meng Yanxi, this person—sometimes he could be domineering to an obvious degree, sometimes he was quite yielding. Since he’d already given the little dumpling this nickname, when the young couple discussed names later on, he very generously handed the right to choose the given name back to Jin Zhao.

Then of course Jin Zhao accepted it without being polite.

But naming a child was a brain-burning task, not exactly a pleasant job. She discussed several options with Meng Yanxi, but she herself wasn’t very satisfied, so in the end she simply let him think of it.

Who would’ve thought—this matter actually suited Meng Yanxi quite well. He already had a character he liked in mind. So much so that during this period, whenever Meng Huai and Meng Shixu casually discussed names with him, he politely declined them all.

For naming the child, he would only let Jin Zhao be involved.

He asked Jin Zhao, “Should the surname be Jin or Meng?”

Jin Zhao froze for a moment, then laughed. “You’re being this generous, President Meng?”

Meng Yanxi said, “Of course. I promised you, I wouldn’t fight you for it.”

The corners of Jin Zhao’s eyes suddenly felt sore.

Back then, she had been tangled up in it all by herself. Meng Yanxi hadn’t said anything, and in the end only joked that he wouldn’t fight her for it. Even she herself hadn’t taken it seriously, yet he had kept it solemnly in his heart all this time.

She thought for a moment and said, “Let’s use Meng.”

Meng Yanxi scraped her cheek lightly with his fingertip and said with a smile, “You don’t have to accommodate me. Whatever the surname, he’s still my son.”

This was what confident people were like.

Jin Zhao shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just genuinely like the surname Meng.”

“Mm, you said before that Meng has that feeling of ‘a jade-like gentleman on  the field paths, unmatched in this world,’” Meng Yanxi said without the slightest modesty. “Like me.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

She was certain she had never said the latter half. There was no way she would have told him it was like him and let him be this smug.

“Don’t tamper with my words,” she muttered.

Meng Yanxi once again made full use of his thick skin, pretending not to hear, and went on to ask, “How about calling him Meng Jue?”

Jin Zhao’s attention was immediately diverted. “Meng jue? Which jue?”

Meng Yanxi said, “The jue from Jinjue Town.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Although the little dumpling really had been conceived during those three days in Jinjue Town, using that kind of hint in the name still made Jin Zhao a bit annoyed at his lack of propriety.

She asked irritably, “Then in the future, when the little dumpling grows up and asks what his name means, how are you going to explain it to him?”

“What’s there to explain? Just tell the truth,” Meng Yanxi said, smiling as he gazed at her, deliberately dragging out the ending. “Say that Mommy had him in Jinjue Town.”

Jin Zhao was a bit unable to withstand him acting shameless like this. Just as she was about to make him change it, Meng Yanxi gently pinched her fingertip, his voice turning serious. “It was also in Jinjue Town that Daddy fell for Mommy at first sight.”

Jin Zhao’s gaze stirred lightly.

Her personality wasn’t the type to proactively ask Meng Yanxi when he started liking her. She didn’t ask, and he had never said it either—this was the first time Meng Yanxi told her about his heart being moved.

Ten years ago, in Jinjue Town—love at first sight.

And it had never stopped.

♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Jin Zhao didn’t stay at a postpartum care center. Meng Yanxi brought her back to his lakeside villa, hiring a dedicated nutritionist, a postpartum nanny, and a childcare nanny to attend to her around the clock.

Jin Zhao recovered quickly.

Although Meng Shixu had a few little calculations in his heart, he was, on the whole, an honest person. Thinking about how, because of Meng Yanxi’s double-dealing, he had found out about this matter so late, he felt more or less guilty toward Jin Zhao. Overnight, he prepared property and jewelry for Jin Zhao, counting it as compensation for the previous lapse in propriety, and also set up a trust fund for the little dumpling.

Even so, he still didn’t get to see his grandson in time. His son put on airs with him, saying, “There have been a lot of visitors lately. You need to make an appointment, Old Meng.”

Later, Meng Shixu learned from that leaky little cotton-padded jacket of his that, as it turned out, everyone in the Meng family except him had already gone to visit Jin Zhao and the little dumpling.

So angry he wanted to kick Meng Yanxi, Meng Shixu pointed at him and scolded, “How did I end up giving birth to such a grudge-holding son? Wasn’t it just a prenup I gave you? You didn’t even sign it!”

In fact, the matter of the prenuptial agreement wasn’t something only Meng Shixu kept in mind—Jin Zhao did too. Back then, she had even proactively suggested signing a prenup.

Meng Yanxi could banter without sincerity with Meng Shixu, but he was very bothered by Jin Zhao’s proactive suggestion. He was good at disguising it, though, covering it up with an irreverent smile. “That won’t do. If you marry me and don’t get any benefits at all, it makes me look heartless and unkind.”

Jin Zhao said seriously, “I don’t need you to give me benefits. I can work hard on my own.”

In the end, because Meng Yanxi didn’t agree, the signing never happened. But there was a kind of independence about Jin Zhao that made him uneasy—she seemed long accustomed to striving for whatever she wanted by herself, fighting for it herself.

Meng Yanxi could only place his hopes on the arrival of the little dumpling, hoping it would let her get used to relying on him more in everything.

At this moment, facing Meng Shixu, Meng Yanxi said solemnly, “Dad, let me tell you the truth. I’m not afraid of Jin Zhao wanting something from me. What I’m afraid of is her wanting nothing.”

Because Meng Yanxi had secretly played dirty, Meng Shixu, the grandfather, became the last one in the whole family to see the little dumpling, which made him quite angry. But all the pent-up frustration in his heart vanished completely the moment he saw the little dumpling.

A baby changes day by day. Half a month after discharge, he had grown out quite a bit and gotten much plumper too. His chubby little cheeks puffed into soft balls, his skin pink and moist, glowing with a milky sheen, with fine, soft fuzz on top. When a fingertip lightly touched him, the hand was filled with a soft, glutinous, springy feel.

His little arms and legs were round and plump as well, like tender lotus roots, curled into rolls of flesh, looking very full and succulent.

Such a cute baby—Meng Shixu felt his heart melt just looking at him. After washing his hands, he went to pick him up, but Meng Yanxi stopped him, smiling as he said, “Do you know how to hold him properly?”

Meng Shixu swatted his hand away and asked sternly, “If I don’t know how to hold him, did you and your sister raise yourselves?”

The little dumpling was as clever as his dad and extremely good at giving emotional feedback. Though such a tiny person, he already knew how to babble in Grandpa’s arms, making Meng Shixu laugh heartily like an old child, while the little dumpling himself giggled too.

Meng Shixu showed off to Meng Yanxi. “See? He laughs as soon as I tease him.”

Meng Yanxi bluntly tore it down. “It has nothing to do with you. He just likes to laugh—he laughs even if no one teases him.”

The little dumpling really did love to laugh. Sometimes he’d wake up hungry at night and not cry, just kick his legs and play in his little bed, laughing and giggling and waking up Mom and Dad.

Even with many professionals around, new parents would still be a bit flustered, but because of the little dumpling’s good-natured cleverness, a lot of the tension was eased.

Still, he was a baby after all, so of course he cried too.

For example, the first time he got vaccinated after the confinement period—this fair, glutinous milk dumpling had been happily playing with Daddy in Meng Yanxi’s arms. The nurse jabbed the needle in; he froze for a moment, then the next second burst into a loud wail, crying himself straight into a red, overheated little lobster.

Meng Yanxi felt so distressed it was like something was wringing his heart. He kissed and coaxed him over and over. Jin Zhao couldn’t get a hand in and found it a bit funny, so she secretly recorded a video from the side. Meng Yanxi noticed and shot her a reproachful look.

Jin Zhao had no choice but to put away her phone, take the baby from Meng Yanxi’s arms, and hold him herself to soothe him.

The little dumpling stopped crying very quickly. On the way back, Meng Yanxi watched the video Jin Zhao had recorded and also felt that his son crying looked a bit funny. But since he’d just reproached Jin Zhao, it wouldn’t do to be too obvious, so he deliberately coughed lightly and pretended to be serious.

Jin Zhao leaned over and asked softly while looking at the screen, “Don’t you think he looks a bit like a little lobster?”

Meng Yanxi struggled internally for a moment.

His son had been born fair and tender; when he cried, because he was exerting himself so hard, his tiny body had tensed up and turned pink all over.

“He does look a bit like a little lobster,” Meng Yanxi finally said, following his heart.

Little Dumpling: “?”