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Meng Yao tucks a blanket around Song-er’s sleeping face. The baby peaceably allows it, despite the pinched expression etched into his forehead—so burdened already with the responsibilities of being newly born. Poor little sparrow. Meng Yao smiles to see it.
Outside, the first snowfall of the season turns the skies a bright and gentle gray. Meng Yao stands at the entrance of the jingshi, swaying back and forth with the baby in his arms. Hopefully no curious disciples are sneaking through the grounds surrounding their bed chambers, as they are occasionally wont to do; his robes are too loosely draped around him for ease of feeding the baby, and he’d rather not give some green fledgling a show. Despite his improper state, it's not yet so cold that the feeling of the morning breeze doesn’t soothe him.
A snowflake drifts down and lands on Song-er’s nose. His face scrunches up with discomfort. Meng Yao laughs, holds him close and kisses his peach-soft cheek.
“There’s a good boy. Sweet xiao-bao.”
“A-Yao, what are you doing outside?”
Meng Yao looks up and sees his husband approaching. He’s wrapped in abundant gray furs, looking much too warm for so mild a winter’s day. Likely just finished with morning instruction and hoping to have caught his spouse and child resting indoors. More’s the pity, Meng Yao thinks with a quirk to his lips, I am very bad at staying put.
“I wanted to show Song-er the snow,” Meng Yao says, patting the baby’s bottom for emphasis. Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows pinch together into an almost identical impression of his tiny progeny bundled in Meng Yao’s arms. Meng Yao can’t stop himself from giggling.
Nie Mingjue ignores his husband's laughter to come close. “But it’s cold out, and he’s still too small.”
His large hand reaches up to cradle the top of Song-er’s head with a palm. Song-er looks almost comically miniature next to his sire, despite being quite a healthy, well-fed baby. Mingjue leans down and bops noses with him. Song-er’s eyes shoot open.
“Aiya, Mingjue, you’ve woken him,” Meng Yao scolds without any real heat. Song-er’s face smooths out to something less like displeasure and more like absent curiosity. His eyes blink slowly, tracking his sire’s face.
Nie Mingjue looks delighted to have disturbed his own son. He leans forward again to boop noses with him. When he pulls away, Song-er reveals his toothless gums and attempts to bite.
Nie Mingjue chuckles. “Oh no you don’t, pup. You’re several years too young to have a go at your old man.”
He rubs Song-er’s forehead with a thumb and laughs heartily as the baby goes cross-eyed trying to look at what's being done to him. Meng Yao eventually takes pity and bats Nie Mingjue’s hand away. “Alright, alright. Behave.”
“Tell him that!” Nie Mingjue replies. He leans down again, but this time to blow a loud raspberry onto Song-er's covered belly.
Song-er squeals, then starts trying to move his little limbs under the blanket, supposedly to confront his father with fisticuffs.
“My goodness, just rile each other up all day why don’t you.” Meng Yao sighs, shifting the baby against his chest so that Song-er is too well-cuddled to keep trying to escape. Nie Mingjue only grins and presses a ticklish kiss on Meng Yao’s lips.
“Let’s go inside.”
After he manages to herd his spouse and child back into the well-heated confines of the jingshi, Nie Mingjue looks visibly pleased that they’re no longer exposed to outdoor elements. He gestures for Meng Yao to wait for him in their nest. A warm bath is poised in the corner for his use, so Nie Mingjue quickly disrobes and makes his way over to it.
Meng Yao settles into the piles of blankets that smell soothingly of him and his husband. He can hear the wet splashing sounds of Nie Mingjue’s body displacing water onto the slotted floorboards of the jingshi. He glances up and spies Nie Mingjue looking deeply content, sinking into the tub with his eyes closed.
“Take your time, Da-ge. I still need to feed Song-er.”
Nie Mingjue hums.
Meng Yao unwinds the layers of blankets away from Song-er so he’s not suffocated by the warmth of the jingshi. He pulls his robe down the side of one shoulder and slips his arm out of the sleeve until it folds under his ribs and exposes one side of his chest. His breast is small, but made full and shapely with the weight of milk—perfectly sized to feed a hungry pup. He arranges Song-er’s head toward his breast and waits for the baby to latch on. Song-er eagerly opens his gummy mouth and takes quickly to suckling at his mother’s nipple, staring straight into Meng Yao’s eyes as he nurses. It never stops being beautiful, the sight of his baby taking nourishment from his body. Was this what his mother had felt so many years ago? The unrelenting desire to protect, to ensure a future for her child void of suffering and want? She’d be so pleased to see him now, a mother himself and wanting for nothing whatsoever but the happiness of his family. Meng Yao allows the rush of affectionate pheromones to envelope him as he cups the back of Song-er’s little head.
“A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue says suddenly from the tub. Meng Yao looks up.
His lips are curled into an open, tender smile. He leans his chin into the cradle of his hand as he stares at his husband and child, graciously inhaling the scent that Meng Yao is wafting his way. “I just wanted to say your name.”
Meng Yao blushes. How ridiculous, to be married with a pup and still flirting like this. He gives Nie Mingjue a suspicious look in return and shakes his head fondly.
He looks back down at Song-er’s face. His tiny eyelashes slowly flutter open and closed, fighting against sleep to keep looking at his mother. Oh, sweet baby. It’s alright. You can rest. Meng Yao strokes the sparse hair at his son’s head and smiles.