Time in the Jingshui Bay apartment seemed stretched and softened, steeped in a silent understanding.
Shen Yunmian's late pregnancy was spent under Yu Sheng's almost meticulous care.
The spacious living room became her temporary activity area, covered with soft carpets and pregnancy pillows, the air filled with a faint calming fragrance and the fresh scent of fruit.
The door to Yu Sheng's study was always slightly ajar, never fully closed.
While handling emails or video meetings, she would occasionally glance up, her gaze slipping through the gap in the door to the figure in the living room—either resting quietly or slowly walking with the nutritionist's support.
Shen Yunmian became exceptionally quiet, easily tired. She often lay on her side on the sofa, one hand unconsciously stroking her prominently swollen abdomen, her gaze gentle, a peaceful smile on her lips.
Sunlight streamed through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over her.
Yu Sheng's gaze would sometimes linger on such a scene for a moment. The rhythm of her fingers tapping the desk would unconsciously slow, and a barely perceptible softness would pass through her otherwise cold features.
This silent warmth stirred Shen Yunmian's heart more than any words.
She greedily absorbed this regained tenderness, her heart filled with immense happiness, yet she dared not show it, afraid of disturbing this hard-won balance.
The change came in the dead of night.
Shen Yunmian was awakened by a wave of intense and regular contraction pain.
Unlike the previous false contractions, this pain was fierce and persistent, as if an invisible hand were gripping and twisting inside her abdomen.
She let out a muffled groan, instantly awake, cold sweat pouring down.
Fear surged along with the pain—she feared history repeating itself, feared losing again.
"Sheng Sheng…" She held back from screaming, but her voice trembled uncontrollably as she gently pushed Yu Sheng beside her.
Almost the moment she touched her, Yu Sheng opened her eyes.
Her sleep had always been light, especially in the later stages of Shen Yunmian's pregnancy.
In the darkness, she quickly sat up and switched on the bedside lamp with a click.
The warm yellow light dispelled the darkness, illuminating Shen Yunmian's pale, pain-stricken face and the cold sweat on her forehead.
"Is it time?" Yu Sheng's voice carried tightly suppressed tension.
Shen Yunmian bit her lower lip and nodded with difficulty as another wave of pain made her curl up.
Yu Sheng immediately got up, first calling the hospital's standby hotline. Her words were concise: "This is Yu Sheng. We're about to deliver. We'll arrive in about twenty minutes. Please prepare."
Then she contacted the driver.
After hanging up, she returned to the bedside, bending down to support Shen Yunmian's trembling shoulders. Her voice was low but carried a strange, soothing power. "Breathe deeply. Follow my rhythm. Inhale… exhale… that's it. Don't be afraid. I'm here."
On the way to the hospital, the night was heavy.
Inside the car, Shen Yunmian tightly gripped Yu Sheng's hand, her nails nearly digging into her flesh.
The intense contractions came one after another, blurring her consciousness. She could only rely on instinct to cling to the only support beside her.
Yu Sheng let her hold on. With her other hand, she steadily held her phone, maintaining communication with the hospital. Only her tightly pressed lips and the fleeting anxiety in her eyes when they passed over Shen Yunmian's pained face betrayed her inner turmoil.
—
Inside the delivery room, the lights were bright, and the air was filled with the scent of disinfectant.
The intense pain surged like waves, shattering Shen Yunmian's consciousness.
Her vision blurred. In her ears were the steady beeping of instruments, the encouraging voices of the medical staff, and her own uncontrollable groans and cries.
Amid the chaos and extreme pain, the only clear sensation was a hand tightly holding hers the entire time.
That hand was slightly cool, yet exceptionally steady, conveying silent strength.
"Push, we can see the head—keep going!" The midwife's voice seemed to come from far away.
Shen Yunmian's unfocused gaze struggled to concentrate. Following the hand gripping hers, she looked to her side.
Yu Sheng stood beside the delivery bed, dressed in sterile clothing and wearing a mask, only her eyes visible.
Those usually cold eyes were now filled with complex emotions—obvious tension, deep concern, and a kind of attention and worry Shen Yunmian had not seen in a long time.
As if drawing her final strength from it, Shen Yunmian used all her energy and let out a hoarse cry.
Immediately after, a loud, vigorous wail cut through all the tension and oppression in the delivery room.
The world fell silent in an instant.
The pain receded like a tide, leaving only exhaustion and an indescribable emptiness.
Shen Yunmian lay limp on the bed, gasping for breath, tears mixed with sweat pouring uncontrollably.
"It's a girl, very healthy—congratulations!" The nurse brought the cleaned baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, to Shen Yunmian.
Small, red, like a newborn kitten, eyes closed, yet crying loudly with raw vitality.
Shen Yunmian trembled as she lifted her weak arms, carefully placing the soft little body into her embrace.
When her daughter's warmth seeped through the blanket to her chest, when that tiny weight truly rested in her arms, an overwhelming surge of emotion and joy flooded her.
All the pain, fear, long waiting, and suffering became insignificant in that moment.
"Baby… my baby…" she choked, gently rubbing her cheek against her daughter's delicate face, her voice hoarse but filled with love.
She lifted her head, tears blurring her vision, and looked at Yu Sheng.
Yu Sheng still stood where she was, as if wanting to step closer but hesitating. She leaned forward slightly, then finally extended a finger, moving extremely slowly and carefully, using the back of it to lightly touch the baby's tiny waving fist.
The touch was as light as a feather.
Perhaps sensing the unfamiliar contact, the baby stopped crying. Her small fist moved—and unintentionally grasped Yu Sheng's fingertip.
At that moment, Yu Sheng's body trembled almost imperceptibly.
She lowered her gaze, staring at the tiny, soft hand holding her finger. Beneath the mask, the corner of her lips seemed to lift ever so slightly, forming a fleeting, gentle curve.
That scene was deeply etched into Shen Yunmian's heart.
Watching the way Yu Sheng looked at their daughter—the softness in her eyes she had never seen before—made Shen Yunmian's already overflowing tears break through again.
In those tears were joy, emotion, and a profound sense of relief after enduring hardship.
By the time they were transferred to the postpartum VIP ward, dawn had already begun to break.
After the noise and tension, only a warm quiet remained in the room.
Shen Yunmian was utterly exhausted, her whole body feeling like it had fallen apart, yet her mind remained in a strangely excited and tender state.
Yu Sheng had changed into clean casual clothes, washing away the fatigue and traces of the delivery room.
She sat on the sofa not far from the bed, handling accumulated messages on her phone, though clearly distracted, her gaze drifting from time to time toward the baby on the bed.
Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft, dappled shadows across the polished floor, forming a peaceful and beautiful scene.
After a long silence, Yu Sheng looked up at Shen Yunmian and broke the quiet, her voice slightly softer than usual. "Have you decided on a name?"
Shen Yunmian lifted her gaze from her daughter's little face and looked at Yu Sheng.
Her eyes were as gentle as spring water, yet carried an unprecedented firmness.
She gently patted the baby in her arms and spoke softly but clearly, "We agreed before—the baby will take your surname." She paused, meeting Yu Sheng's gaze, and softly said the name she had turned over in her heart countless times. "Weiwan… is that okay?"
"Yu Weiwan…"
Yu Sheng repeated the name in a low voice, the syllables rolling slowly across her lips.
Weiwan—"not too late."
The name was like a stone dropped into still water, instantly stirring ripples.
It almost laid bare the namer's feelings, condensing lingering longing and deep connection into those two characters.
Yu Sheng lifted her eyes and looked at Shen Yunmian with complicated emotion.
Shen Yunmian was also looking at her. There was no longer any avoidance or reluctance in her eyes—only openness, tenderness, and a trace of careful expectation.
The ward was so quiet that faint birdsong could be heard outside.
Sunlight flowed gently, wrapping the three of them in warmth.
A few seconds of silence stretched like an eternity.
At last, Yu Sheng gave a slight nod. Her gaze returned to their daughter's sleeping face, her tone calm, without much emotion, yet carrying quiet affirmation. "Alright. Let's call her Weiwan."
Shen Yunmian was overjoyed. Lowering her head, she gently rubbed her nose against her daughter's soft cheek, her voice choked with happiness. "Weiwan, did you hear that? Mommy agreed—you have a name now, Yu Weiwan…"
The extreme exhaustion after childbirth washed over her. Leaning against the headboard, she had little strength left, yet her mind remained excited, a lingering smile still on her lips.
Yu Sheng stood up and walked to the bedside, adjusting the pillow behind Shen Yunmian so she could lie more comfortably.
"Get some sleep," she said, her voice softer and deeper than usual.
Shen Yunmian's long lashes trembled like butterfly wings, but she had no intention of sleeping. She murmured softly, "Sheng Sheng… thank you… for being willing to accept me again."
Yu Sheng didn't respond to that. She simply stood silently by the bed, her gaze resting on Shen Yunmian's face.
The sunlight outside grew warmer, softening the cold aura around her.
After a long moment, she seemed to hesitate slightly before saying, as if implying something, "Everything will get better."
At that instant, Shen Yunmian suddenly felt like crying.
Just then, a nurse knocked lightly and entered, reminding them that the newborn needed to be taken for routine checks and vaccinations.
Yu Sheng stood up. "Get some rest. I'll take Weiwan for her shots."
Though extremely reluctant, Shen Yunmian carefully handed the soft little bundle in her arms over to her.
Yu Sheng's movements were hesitant, extremely unfamiliar—even a bit clumsy with nervousness. She extended her arms and very slowly lifted her daughter, still carrying the faint scent of milk.
Lowering her head, she looked at the baby in her arms with intense focus. After a moment, a long-unseen smile appeared, and she softly said, "Weiwan… my baby is so beautiful."
Shen Yunmian quietly watched this scene, her heart filled to the brim with a vast and peaceful happiness, almost overflowing.
Tears slipped down silently once more—but this time, they were sweet.
At this moment, there were no grand promises, no vows of reconciliation, not even a clear picture of the future. Yet the quiet, almost sacred scene before her made her feel more grounded than any words ever could.
There was still a long road ahead.
Shen Yunmian said softly in her heart, her gaze lingering tenderly on Yu Sheng as she watched her carry their daughter out of the room.
She believed that time, and this little life, would slowly melt all the barriers and ice between them.
One day, Sheng Sheng would be willing… to open her heart and fall in love with her again.
To let their love take root and grow once more.
—
T/N: In Chinese, the given name Weiwan (微晚) is a play on words because it sounds exactly like Wei Wan (未晚), which means "not too late" in English.
This is the end of the story. As always, if you want to support the author, go to jjwxc.net; and if you spot any typos, please let me know.