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The SUV skidded to a precise halt in front of Shanghai Mei Hua Fu Er Hospital. As the emergency doors slid open, Dr. Liu emerged alongside two nurses, their movements practiced, efficient. A waiting wheelchair stood ready.
Behind the wheel of the eight-seater BYD Yangwang U8, Yu Tu was hyper-focused, adrenaline surging through him like a pre-launch countdown. The vehicle lurched forward, aligning exactly with the wheelchair’s edge. It was a flawless trajectory, millimeter precision. A calculation, perfect in theory.
“YU TU!” A panicked chorus erupted from Pei Pei, Xiao Zhu, and both sets of parents gasping in unison.
His foot slammed on the brake. Tires groaned and silence thickened in the cabin. Precision was his forte, but perhaps this wasn’t the moment for aerospace-level accuracy.
Jing Jing turned, amusement flickering in her tired eyes. Only she knew he hadn’t misjudged the distance.
“I can still walk, you know,” she teased, lips curling. “You didn’t need to land me quite so precisely.”
Slowly, he exhaled, unclenching his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Precision had always served him well. This time, though, he might have overdone it.
The nurses moved swiftly, opening the door as Pei Pei rushed in, half-panicked, half-thrilled, fussing over Jing Jing.
“Alright, calm down, let’s not treat this like a space mission,” she murmured, rolling her eyes before shifting into the wheelchair. “Though, I must admit, the landing was impressive.”
Yu Tu stepped out, smoothing the front of his jacket, masking his nerves in that composed, calculating presence. But when Jing Jing’s fingers curled around his wrist, his heartbeat faltered. She didn’t need precision. She needed him. And that was something no calculation could quantify.
The hallway outside the labor ward pulsed with hurried footsteps, the rhythmic beeping of monitors filling the air. Nurses moved swiftly, guiding Jing Jing’s wheelchair toward the delivery room, but she didn’t move.
Her fingers clung to Yu Tu’s hand. She wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t let go. His grip was steady, grounding her against the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull her under.
Then, a sharp tightening, it was different from anything she had ever felt before. Jing Jing sucked in a breath, body tensing.
“Jing Jing, you have to let go,” Pei Pei whispered, her voice gentle but urgent.
She shook her head. Her fingers tightened around his. “No.”
Dr. Liu observed carefully. “First contraction?”
Jing Jing exhaled slowly and nodded. It was happening.
Yu Tu swallowed, his composed exterior faltering, uncertainty flickering in his deep eyes. He knew the rules, he knew he wouldn’t be allowed inside. But logic didn’t make letting go any easier.
“I’ll be right here,” he murmured, squeezing her hand, pressing the words into her skin like an unshakable promise. “Just beyond that door.”
Jing Jing clung to him. “Stay close.”
“I will.”
A nurse stepped forward, she was patient, yet firm. One hand offered reassurance as it clasped Jing Jing’s fingers. The other gently pried Yu Tu’s grip away.
His fingers reluctantly loosened, his touch lingering a heartbeat too long, as if holding onto something slipping beyond his reach. The warmth of her hand faded, replaced by the cool certainty of the nurses guiding her forward.
Jing Jing turned back, her gaze locking onto him until the doors slid shut. And Yu Tu stood there with hands empty, heart full, waiting.
He stood near the delivery room doors, his hands clenched, and his breath were shallow. The quiet hum of the hospital contrasted sharply with the storm raging inside him, a battle of nerves he had never fought before.
His parents hovered close, murmuring soft reassurances. “It’ll be fine, son.”
“Just breathe.”
Then came Pei Pei, Xiao Zhu, and the others, each echoing the same advice.
“Yu Tu, breathe.”
“Remember to breathe.”
“Slow, deep breaths.”
For a man accustomed to precision, calculations, and measured responses, Yu Tu had never been told to inhale this much in his life.
Guan Zai leaned against the wall, poorly concealing his amusement. He glanced at Yu Tu, lips twitching. “At this rate, you might be the one giving birth with the way everyone’s telling you to breathe.”
A sharp tsk cut through the air as Shen Jing shot him a warning glare. “Enough, Guan Zai. Behave.”
Guan Zai raised his hands in mock surrender. Not that it mattered. Yu Tu barely registered any of it, his entire world had narrowed to the doors before him, and waiting for the moment Dr. Liu would step through. Only then would he be able to finally release the breath he had been holding.
He sank into a chair, stiff, barely aware of the rhythmic pacing of his own breath. His thoughts blurred, not with rocket trajectories or orbital mechanics, but with time, probability, and the uncertainty of childbirth.
Pei Pei nudged Xiao Zhu, voice low. “We could be here for hours. This might take a while. Maybe we should grab food for everyone.”
Xiao Zhu’s phone chimed. She glanced down. “Madam Ling and Zhai Liang are already on their way with food.”
Behind the delivery room doors, Jing Jing had barely settled into the rhythm of her breathing when the contractions surged fast, sharp, unrelenting.
Dr. Liu frowned slightly, checking the monitors. “You’re progressing quickly.”
Sweat gathered at Jing Jing’s temples as she gritted her teeth. She had read about long labors, hours of waiting, of slow, agonizing buildup. But this? This was happening too fast.
An hour later, an intense contraction wracked her body, pulling a strangled gasp from her lips. She clenched the sheets, breath uneven.
Dr. Liu checked her progress, then looked up. “You’re already at eight centimeters.”
Jing Jing barely processed the words. The haze of labor blurred everything, except one thought. Yu Tu. He was just beyond those doors, probably mentally cycling through every worst-case scenario.
She reached out, grabbing Dr. Liu’s wrist, voice strained but firm. “Can you … can you tell Yu Tu? He should know how far along I am.”
Dr. Liu offered a reassuring smile. “Of course. I’ll send a nurse. He’s probably driving himself crazy out there.”
The nurse stepped into the waiting room moments later, finding Yu Tu stiff and silent, hands curled into fists.
“Mr. Yu, your wife is at eight centimeters. She’s progressing faster than expected, it won’t be long now.”
The tension in Yu Tu’s shoulders eased just slightly, but his mind spun even faster. Two more centimeters. How much longer?
The nurse disappeared behind the delivery room doors, and just like that, the atmosphere in the waiting room shifted.
Pei Pei straightened. Xiao Zhu blinked. Guan Zai, mid-sentence, abruptly fell silent. Even the experienced mothers hesitated, as if questioning whether they had heard correctly.
“Eight? Already?” Jing Jing’s mother echoed, eyebrows furrowing.
“That’s … very fast,” Yu Tu’s mother added cautiously.
“Wait, wait. Did they induce her labor?” Madam Ling asked, half in shock.
“That’s what I was thinking!” Pei Pei chimed in. “No way had she got to eight that quickly without something speeding things up.”
Guan Zai smirked. “Or maybe Jing Jing is just that efficient. You know she doesn’t like wasting time.”
Zhai Liang elbowed him in the arm. “This isn’t a business meeting, Guan Zai. It’s childbirth!”
Yu Tu barely registered their exchange. His mind was cycling through scenarios, recalculating everything. Until he knew for certain that Jing Jing and the baby were okay. Two more centimeters. How long until the doors open?
Shen Jing, ever practical, crossed her arms. “Regardless of how fast this is happening, she’s doing well. That’s what matters.”
Her words struck something in him.
If something were wrong, Dr. Liu would have come herself. That was protocol. If there was a complication, an urgent decision, an emergency procedure, Jing Jing would need me. But it was just the nurse. Which meant Jing Jing is fine. Our baby is fine.
Yu Tu exhaled slowly, forcing himself to accept the logic. Yet his fingers curled tighter into his palms, his body refusing to follow suit.
He would believe it when the doors opened again, with news of his child.
For the next hour, the waiting room remained thick with unspoken nerves, conversations simmering just beneath the surface. Yu Tu barely registered them, his eyes locked onto the delivery room doors, his mind cycling through calculations.
Two more centimeters. How much longer until …
Suddenly, the waiting room doors swung open, and two masked figures stepped in, moving with quiet confidence.
Xiao Zhu’s gaze snapped up, instincts kicking in. This was a private waiting area reserved for close family and friends. Not for strangers. Not for people wearing masks as if they had something to hide. She squared her shoulders, stepping forward with firm authority. “I’m sorry, but this is a private waiting room. Reporters aren’t allowed here.”
At her words, every head turned, assessing the newcomers with sudden scrutiny.
The two figures exchanged a glance.
With an almost theatrical flourish, Chen Xue pulled down her mask, revealing herself with a knowing grin.
"Do we really look like paparazzi?" she asked, voice dripping with effortless charm.
Pei Pei gasped, excitement flashing in her eyes. "Chen Xue!"
Xiao Zhu, blinked twice in sudden recognition. "Chen Xue?!" Her gaze darted to the man beside her. "And this ... this is your celebrity husband?"
Chen Xue’s grin widened, bright, smug, and utterly unbothered. "No. I’m his celebrity wife."
Xiao Zhu glanced at the clock. 4:15 PM. "Your flight just landed. How did you get here so fast?"
“I changed to an earlier flight.”
Before the excitement could escalate, Madam Ling who was always sharp, always perceptive, stood and cut straight to the real concern. Her gaze narrowed. "Did anyone follow you two?"
Chen Xue’s husband sighed, adjusting his mask with the air of a man well-versed in this routine. "No, Madam Ling. We were careful. Masked, discreet, took a side entrance. No paparazzi."
Madam Ling studied them for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching for any cracks in their strategy. At last, she nodded, visibly relieved.
Just as the tension in the room began to settle, Chen Xue strode over to Yu Tu, amusement dancing in her eyes. “How is the mother of my godson doing?”
Before Yu Tu could respond, Pei Pei interjected. “Jing Jing is about to give birth to my goddaughter. The nurse said she was at eight centimeters about an hour ago.”
Chen Xue blinked. “She is? Eight centimeters?” Then, realizing the number meant nothing to her, she hesitated. “Wait … does that mean Jing Jing is good?”
Yu Tu chuckled, realizing Chen Xue had no real grasp of dilation for she hadn’t had kids yet. He was relieved she didn’t ask for a detailed explanation. Instead, he offered a reassuring smile.
“Yes. She’s good. But she’s at the most intense stage now. Once she reaches ten centimeters, the pushing begins.”
Every head turned to Yu Tu, eyes wide with surprise.
Guan Zai leaned forward, brows raised. “Wait, did you learn that from Lamaze classes?”
Zhai Liang chuckled. “I’m just impressed you actually paid attention.”
Yu Tu smirked, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression. “It was one of the questions Jing Jing quizzed me on at the beginning of her pregnancy.”
Inside the delivery room, the clock read 16:37:55 when Dr. Liu’s steady, firm and reassuring voice rang out. “Jing Jing, you’re fully dilated. It’s time to push.”
Jing Jing barely registered the words through the haze of exhaustion and pain. Sweat clung to her forehead, her breaths labored yet determined. Dr. Liu’s voice guided her. “Deep breaths. Push when you feel the urge.”
She clenched her teeth, gripping the bed rails as the contractions surged, unbearable yet purposeful. Time blurred. Minutes stretched into eternity.
The entire atmosphere was thick with anticipation, every breath carrying weight. Jing Jing gritted her teeth, pushing through the relentless waves of pain, sweat clinging to her forehead as exhaustion pulled at her limbs.
Dr. Liu’s voice remained steady, guiding her through each push. “You’re doing great, Jing Jing. Just a little more.”
Her muscles burned, her grip tight on the bed rails, but she didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. She pushed again, harder this time, desperate for relief, for an end to the pain, for the moment she’d been waiting for.
Then, suddenly, there it was. A piercing, unmistakable cry.
Jing Jing gasped, tears spilling freely as relief, love, and sheer disbelief crashed over her all at once.
Dr. Liu glanced at the clock. 17:00:00 PM.
“It’s a boy.”
The nurse wasted no time, carefully lifting the newborn and placing him directly against Jing Jing’s chest, he was tiny, fragile, and real. His skin was still slick with amniotic fluid and traces of vernix, warm against her trembling body.
The second his tiny frame touched hers, his cries softened. Small fingers curled instinctively, searching. Seeking. Jing Jing exhaled shakily, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close.
She swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Yu Tu, he’s here.”
Dr. Liu smiled and quietly excused herself, stepping out into the waiting area.
Yu Tu, unaware of the moment that had just unfolded, barely registered the doctor’s approach until she stopped before him. With a warm, knowing expression, she spoke the words.
“Congratulations, Mr. Yu. Your son was born at exactly five o’clock. He weighs seven pounds and 9 ounces. Mother and son are both doing well!”
Silence followed, a single heartbeat where time seemed suspended. Then, everything sank in.
The words struck like a force beyond gravity itself. For the first time all afternoon, Yu Tu exhaled, a long, slow, shaking breath. The tension drained from his body, but the weight in his chest remained. He swallowed hard. I have a son. Jing Jing has delivered our son.
Dr. Liu gestured toward the open doors. “Come meet your son.”
Yu Tu stepped forward, his movements mechanical, his heart hammering against his ribs. Inside, the world seemed to blur; until his eyes landed on her. Jing Jing, exhausted but glowing, cradled their newborn against her chest. Tiny fingers curled against her hospital gown, skin still flushed from birth. My son.
His breath hitched. The calculations, the probabilities, the science; none of those had prepared him for this sight.
Jing Jing turned her head, a tired smile tugging at her lips. “Yu Tu, come meet Tianci.” (天赐)
It took him a full heartbeat to remember how to move. Then, with measured steps, he crossed the room, lowering himself beside her, hands trembling as they reached forward.
Carefully, gently, he touched the baby’s tiny hand. The warmth was real and tangible. A new force entirely, one he could never calculate, only feel. “Hi, Tianci,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
The baby stirred slightly, and Yu Tu felt something deep inside him shift. He had spent his life defining the stars, mapping their paths, but here, this moment was something uncharted.
Jing Jing watched him, eyes soft with understanding. She didn’t need to say anything. He was already lost in their newborn son, in the quiet, overwhelming reality of it all.
Half an hour later, the delivery room doors creaked open, and every head in the waiting area snapped toward Yu Tu. His expression was steady, composed, though the faintest trace of exhaustion lingered in his features. He didn’t waste time. “Jing Jing wants some time to settle before seeing everyone. Right now, she only wants to see our mothers.”
As the nurse escorted the two mothers inside, the group exchanged glances, nodding in understanding.
Pei Pei wasted no time. “Okay, so when can we see the baby?”
“She’ll see everyone once they move her to the private room.” Yu Tu chuckled at the thought. “She says she needs to look presentable.”
Chen Xue hummed knowingly. “Ah. The actress instincts never fade.”
Xiao Zhu threw up her hands. “So that means at least a couple of hours?”
Yu Tu chuckled. “Well, I told her not to bother with the strategic make-up. So, maybe after you all have dinner, she and the baby will be taken to the room.”
Guan Zai clapped him on the back. “Congrats, new dad. How does it feel to meet your son for the first time?”
Yu Tu paused, his gaze softening, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through. “He opened his eyes when he saw me.” The words landed gently, quiet but profound. “Not just opened his eyes.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “He smiled at me.”
Guan Zai scoffed. “Impossible. Newborns don’t know how to smile yet.”
Zhai Liang snorted. “Trust him to believe his son has already developed advanced emotional intelligence.”
Yu Tu gave a slow, deliberate shrug. “What can I say? He recognizes me.”
Pei Pei rolled her eyes. “And here I was expecting you to be a rational father.”
Chen Xue leaned in, amused. “Let me guess, he has your looks too?”
Yu Tu’s smirk deepened. “Obviously.”
Madam Ling chimed in, quick and sharp. “Then I’m making him a star. I couldn’t get the father to sign, but at least I can now try to get the son.”
The room erupted into laughter, the tension melting into easy banter once more. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain, Yu Tu and Jing Jing’s lives had officially changed.
The private hospital suite was finally filled with familiar warmth. Bouquets of fresh lilies, roses, and baby’s breath lined the counter, filling the room with a delicate, floral fragrance. Their soft petals gleamed under the gentle lighting, a perfect contrast to the vibrant helium balloons floating near the window, each one boasting cheerful messages of Welcome Baby! And Congratulations!
A plush blanket rested beside the hospital bassinet, embroidered with Tianci’s name, a thoughtful gift from his grandparents.
Jing Jing breathed in the scent of lilies, adjusting Tianci in her arms. The aroma mixed with the faint, powdery warmth of her newborn’s skin, a smell she knew she’d never forget.
Yu Tu smirked as he glanced around. “They really went all out.”
Then, the door swung open, revealing two pairs of eager grandparents joined by the others.
Yu Tu’s mother stepped in first, eyes glistening as she took in the sight of her grandson. She inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her heart. “Ah, what a beautiful baby.”
Jing Jing’s mother wasn’t far behind, quickly wiping at the corners of her eyes before leaning in. “He looks so much like you, Yu Tu.”
Jing JIng scoffed. “No. He looks like me.”
The room erupted into laughter.
Jing Jing shot Yu Tu an amused glance. “We’ll revisit that debate in a few years,” she teased, then carefully passed Tianci to him, watching as he gently settled their son into the bassinet.
Yu Tu’s father stepped closer, observing Tianci with quiet reverence for the first time. He clasped his hands behind his back before finally speaking, his voice low with emotion. “A strong build. Healthy. That’s all that matters.”
Jing Jing’s father smiled proudly. “And well-loved already.”
“Dad, why don’t you pick him up?” Jing Jing suggested.
Madam Ling sniffed dramatically. “Oh, love is just the beginning! We’ll groom him for greatness.”
Yu Tu’s mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Let’s start with letting him sleep before we plan his future, shall we?”
The grandparents took turns carefully holding Tianci, their movements gentle, reverent, a quiet acknowledgment of the new generation in their arms.
Yu Tu watched the exchange, his expression unreadable, until Jing Jing nudged him, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is our son. Thank you for making my dream come true.”
Yu Tu met her gaze, then shifted his eyes back to their son. The weight of the moment settled in completely. “Thank you for giving me a second chance,” he whispered back.
And in that moment, surrounded by family, friends, laughter, and overwhelming love; everything felt exactly right.
Two days later, the SUV rolled to a stop in front of Hong Qiao Golf Villa, the familiar sight of home bringing a deep sense of relief. Jing Jing let out a soft sigh, cradling Tianci as Yu Tu stepped out to open her door. The crisp autumn air carried a faint floral scent, mingling with the distant hum of Shanghai’s late morning traffic.
Just as they made their way inside, the delivery crew maneuvered a large package through the doorway.
Zhai Liang whistled as he spotted the elegant crib taking shape before them. “Wait a minute! You designed this?” He leaned closer, eyes wide with admiration. “Yu Tu, you’re sitting on a goldmine here.”
Yu Tu arched a brow. “It’s a crib.”
“No, it’s art.” Zhai Liang slapped the polished frame. “Look at this craftsmanship! This isn’t just furniture, it’s an engineering masterpiece. You should market this.”
Yu Tu exhaled, amused. “You want me to start a crib business?”
“Why not?” Zhai Liang gestured grandly. “Yu Tu Baby Designs. I can already see the tagline, ‘Astronomically Secure for Your Little Star.’”
“Zhai Liang, it is called Jade Rabbit Crib.” Jing Jing chuckled, shifting Tianci to her other arm. “Yu Tu, he has a point. The thought you put into this crib is more than just basic engineering.”
Yu Tu shook his head. “Approach my father-in-law if you want a business venture. He’s the actual businessman in the family.”
Zhai Liang grinned, undeterred. “Done. I’ll pitch the idea to him.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Just wait, in five years, your name will be stamped on half the nurseries in China.”
“Ooo … looks like I’d better get that Adult-size rabbit onesie ready!” Jing Jing mused.
Yu Tu smirked, swatting Zhai Liang away. “I’d rather focus on one nursery for now.” Turning to his wife. “The only onesies you need to get ready are the ones for Tianci!”
As laughter filled the villa, the crib was finally set up in Tianci’s room, a perfect fit, designed with care, built to last. No matter what business ideas came or went, this one had been made for someone truly special.
That night, the nursery was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Jing Jing sat in the rocking chair, Tianci nestled in her arms, his tiny breaths steady and warm against her skin.
Her gaze drifted to the stack of baby pillows that had overtaken the room. They were gifts from the shower her son had crashed in spectacular fashion. A chuckle escaped her lips as she traced a fingertip over the embroidered designs.
She cradled Tianci closer, her voice a tender whisper.
“Yu Tianci, do you know how blessed you are?” she mused, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Look at all these pillows, but let Mommy tell you a story. There once was a baby, a gift from Heaven.” Her voice dipped into quiet reverence. “When He was born, His mother had no pillow to lay His head on, not even a proper bed. But you know what? He grew up to be the Glory of the world.”
She stroked her son’s tiny hand, watching as his fingers curled instinctively.
“And now, He has blessed you to be our glory, just like Daddy is Mommy’s glory.”
A presence stirred at the doorway.
Yu Tu had been standing there, silent, listening. His heart tightening at the raw honesty and love in her voice. Slowly, he stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper.
“And Mommy is Daddy’s glory.”
Jing Jing turned, her eyes misty, overflowing with love and joy. Without hesitation, she passed Tianci into her husband's waiting arms.
Yu Tu held their son carefully, reverently. Then, in a single, steady motion, he lifted him up, high and proud, as if offering him to the Heavens above. His voice was deep, certain, carrying a promise, a declaration.
“Yes, you are our Glory.”
The nursery filled with quiet warmth, the air thick with love, with meaning, with certainty. And in that moment, the world outside faded away; because here, in this space, in this moment of their life, everything was perfectly complete for the Glory Couple.
