From the moment both families found out about Xinyi's pregnancy, the He household became a bustling warzone disguised as paradise.
Madam He arrived the very next morning, suitcase in hand, armed with supplements, pregnancy manuals, and a list of "thirty-seven foods for maternal vitality."
Madam Lin followed half an hour later—with tonics, silk pillows, and three boxes of bird's nest.
Zhiyuan had barely opened the door before the two women were already discussing soup recipes in the hallway.
"Fish soup every other day," Madam Lin declared.
"No, no, too cooling! Ginseng chicken soup," Madam He countered.
"Fish builds the child's brain!"
"Chicken strengthens the mother's qi!"
Zhiyuan rubbed his temples. "Why don't I just… make both?"
They both turned to him at once. "Good idea!"
And that was how the Vice President of He Group ended up standing in the kitchen, apron on, slicing ginger under the supervision of two very strict generals.
By the third day, he had memorized all the soups by heart and learned to anticipate his wife's whims before she spoke.
He was, in the words of Assistant Zhou, "a man reborn by motherhood."
At dawn, he was already in the kitchen—hair still tousled from sleep—slicing fruit and measuring honey while glancing occasionally toward the bedroom door.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Zhiyuan…" came the soft, sleepy call.
He turned, smile already tugging his lips. "What is it this time, love?"
Xinyi sat up in bed, hair messy, cheeks flushed from sleep. "I want… mango pudding."
He blinked. "At six in the morning?"
She nodded solemnly. "With whipped cream."
He stared for a long moment before sighing. "You know I love you too much to argue, right?"
"Mm," she hummed smugly, curling into the blanket. "That's why I married you."
He chuckled as he went to fetch his phone. "You realize your cravings have bankrupted three convenience stores already."
But an hour later, there he was — kneeling beside the sofa, tray in hand, presenting her favorite pudding like an offering to royalty.
Lin Xinyi lounged on the sofa, sunlight dancing on her hair, while He Zhiyuan knelt at her side with the tray.
"Whipped cream on top, just like you like," he murmured, eyes glinting mischievously.
"I expect nothing less, servant," she teased, patting the space beside her.
He sighed dramatically, lips quirking. "Yes, Your Highness," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His hands lingered, and she caught him with a grin.
She took the bowl from him, spooned a bite, and hummed in bliss. "Mmm. Perfect."
He leaned on the sofa beside her, chin propped on one hand. "Do I get a five-star rating, Your Majesty?"
Xinyi raised an eyebrow. "Four stars. You forgot the sprinkles."
He feigned shock. "Unforgivable."
She smirked. "Don't worry, servant. You can earn your fifth star with… overtime tonight."
Zhiyuan's lips curved, eyes glinting. "Overtime? In my own bedroom?"
"Mm." Her tone was mock-serious. "Extra hours. No complaints."
"None at all," he murmured, his voice low as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "Though this servant might ask for… a kiss as hazard pay."
Xinyi laughed, pushing him lightly. "Careful, the mothers might come over any minute."
"Let them catch me," he whispered, leaning close enough for his breath to brush her skin. "I'll just tell them it's part of prenatal care."
She blushed, half-scolding, half-delighted, and gave his cheek a quick peck before pulling away. "Eat your pudding, Doctor He."
He smiled, soft and utterly content. "Yes, Madam He."
Inside their little world, the city's hum disappeared. Secret marriage, playful teasing, and a love too warm to hide—this was theirs alone.
Of course, the peace never lasted long.
Every few hours, one of the mothers would appear—armed with vitamins, fruit bowls, or the latest piece of pregnancy advice from the internet.
"Don't sit too long!"
"Walk a little after meals!"
"Zhiyuan, why is she still on the sofa?"
"Zhiyuan, don't just stand there—bring her a cushion!"
By evening, he was half butler, half nurse, and full-time husband.
When his father dropped by, he found his son massaging Xinyi's feet while two mothers hovered in the background like proud coaches.
"Son," Mr. He said, trying not to laugh, "I didn't know you'd become so… domesticated."
Zhiyuan looked up with mock dignity. "It's called survival, Dad."
That night, after everyone had gone to bed and the house finally quieted, Xinyi lay in his arms beneath the soft pool of lamplight.
"Zhiyuan," she murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Do you ever feel… overwhelmed?"
He looked down at her, eyes warm. "Only when you're not next to me."
She smiled faintly, though a shadow of worry crossed her eyes. "I just… don't want to trouble you. Everyone's fussing over me, and you're the one actually doing everything."
He kissed her forehead, voice low and steady. "You're not trouble, Xinyi. You're our everything. Every time you call me in the middle of the night for something ridiculous—like pickled peaches or instant noodles—I just think…"
"What?" she asked softly.
"That I must've done something right in my last life to deserve this one."
Her eyes stung. "You sap."
He chuckled and kissed her gently. "My sap loves you."
She buried her face in his chest, whispering, "Our hero, huh?"
He smiled against her hair. "Always."
The next morning, he was up before the sun again — slippers dragging, hair messy — sneaking out of bed to fulfill another late-night craving she'd mumbled half-asleep: "Strawberry milk… please."
By the time he returned, she was awake and laughing softly, watching him juggle cups and spoons with sleepy precision.
He blinked at her. "Why are you awake?"
"I was admiring my husband," she teased. "You look very heroic with milk stains."
Zhiyuan groaned, but a helpless smile tugged at his mouth. "I'll remember this when you're up at 3 A.M. again."
"Mm. You'll still come running."
He didn't even deny it. "Yeah. I will."
Because for all the chaos, all the exhaustion, and all the teasing from their mothers—He Zhiyuan wouldn't have traded a single second of it.
Every craving, every sleepless night, every whispered "thank you" from Xinyi was a reminder of the tiny miracle they had made together.
And as he looked down at her, curled peacefully against him, he thought: If this was forever… then forever was exactly enough.