Archive of Our Own

They had been trying for two years to get pregnant. It began the night of their first anniversary, when something unspoken passed between them, want threaded through tenderness, the kind that left them breathless. The decision came without words, only a shared look, the quiet certainty that they wanted this, that there was no better time than now, that they wanted each other, in every possible way. When they set the birth control aside, it felt like stepping past a line they’d never cross back over. Every touch after that held a sharper edge, an ache that was part love, part longing, part fierce hope. What they wanted wasn’t just a child, it was to feel their lives knit together so completely that nothing could come between them

At first, it was easy, they had fun. Their friends liked to tease that every day meant every day. After all, Wei Ying had earned a bit of a reputation back in college during an era of gleeful experimentation. And really, god forbid you enjoyed being kinky with your own partner in your own living room, how was Wei Ying supposed to know Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng would just invite themselves over?

Around that time, Lan Zhan had been promoted to lead composer with the city orchestra, giving them the financial stability to seriously plan for the future. Wei Ying, now a tenured professor of philosophy at their alma mater, Gusu University, was equally settled.

Comfortable in their careers and domestic life, they figured there was no better time to bring a little one into the world. Except it didn’t happen as quickly as they’d hoped. The first six months of trying were still fun, they were having some of the best sex of their lives and assumed things would naturally fall into place.

But when the one-year mark came and went, just after their second wedding anniversary, Wei Ying couldn’t help feeling a creeping guilt, as though something must be wrong with him. Surely it couldn’t be his beautiful, amazing laogong, Lan Zhan.

When Wei Ying finally admitted his guilt one night, tearfully, on the couch, it broke Lan Zhan’s heart to know he blamed himself. Lan Zhan gathered him close, murmuring soft, steady reassurances: they would figure this out together. When Lan Zhan gently suggested taking a break from trying, worried about how the pressure was wearing on him, Wei Ying nearly banished him to the couch.
But of course, he relented with a sniff. “Cuddling a pillow isn’t the same as my handsome laogong,” he muttered, dragging Lan Zhan back into his arms.

The following weekend they went to the clinic. The doctor confirmed that everything was perfectly in order and advised patience, plus a reminder for Wei Ying to prioritize sleep and eat well.

Lan Zhan promptly made it his personal mission to dote on him. He packed healthy lunches, indulged Wei Ying’s cravings in moderation, and even sent vitamin-rich smoothies to his office when grading marathons kept him late.

Their third wedding anniversary arrived in a blur. They celebrated with a weeklong getaway at a villa in Cancun, where the days were filled with sun, sand, and fresh fruit, and the nights with laughter and sex on nearly every surface. Wei Ying’s personal favorite was a steamy session in the villa’s outdoor shower.

When they returned home, he felt calmer than he had in years. Sunshine and uninterrupted time with Lan Zhan had soothed his anxieties, leaving him more confident than ever that when the timing was right, their little one would come.

Going back to work after a vacation was something most people dreaded, but Wei Ying felt downright eager to return to the classroom. A brand new school year meant fresh faces, fresh debates, and the promise of another lively semester.

The trip to Mexico had been nine blissful days of sun, swimming, fresh fruit, and getting absolutely ruined by his husband, and somehow the craving for both fruit and Lan Zhan followed him home to Seattle. Luckily, fruit season in the Pacific Northwest lingered late. Raspberries, cherries, strawberries, peaches, and his particular favorite, blueberries, were all ripe well into September. His fridge at home and the mini-fridge in his office were both fully stocked for whenever the urge struck.

Something about their sweetness made his mouth water just thinking about them. Once, he nearly wept when his office assistant announced they’d “cleaned the fridge,” practically chewing their arm off when he couldn’t find the container of blueberries Lan Zhan had packed for him, only to flush bright red when he discovered them hiding behind some hummus and a bottle of peach iced tea.

He didn’t think much of it when a grad student’s tuna sandwich nearly cost him his lunch. But when the same sandwich kept appearing day after day, and he finally did lose both his lunch and his precious berries to the porcelain gods, even Wei Ying had to admit: maybe something was up.

At home, Wei Ying’s craving to be near Lan Zhan only grew, leaving him uncharacteristically clingy. One evening, Lan Zhan even teased that he’d turned into a koala overnight. At night, Wei Ying slept like the dead, often snoozing through his alarm and missing their cherished breakfast together.

As summer slid into autumn and then winter, his habits didn’t change. He continued to sleep like a bear and devour fruit in every imaginable form. His newest obsession was stewed apples topped with cinnamon granola and a scoop of vanilla yogurt, an indulgence so perfect he refused to go to bed without it.

One evening, Lan Zhan found him eating it with tears streaming down his face. At first, he was alarmed, but after Wei Ying’s teary, heartfelt explanation of just how good it was, Lan Zhan learned not to worry. Even though Lan Zhan hadn’t done anything different from the countless times he’d made the same dish before. Teary, hopelessly endearing Wei Ying crying over stewed apples, Lan Zhan could only shake his head and pull him close.

Lan Zhan didn’t notice at first that Wei Ying had started sneaking his clothes out of the house.
Not until one gray February afternoon, when Wei Ying fluttered in from a torrential downpour wearing Lan Zhan’s spare raincoat, his sweater, and a pair of trousers, rolled neatly at the ankle in a way that was, admittedly, infuriatingly stylish, did the quiet, unspoken truth finally surface.

Lan Zhan raised a brow, voice calm and low. “Baobei, you’re wearing my clothes to work now?”

“They’re… so comfortable, Lan Zhan. I don’t know why I didn’t before,” Wei Ying murmured, words spilling out a little too quickly, a nervous laugh hiding behind them.

“Mn.” The quiet hum was skeptical, patient, but not unkind.

Wei Ying let out a soft groan, pressing his damp hair against Lan Zhan’s neck. “Ugh, fine,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “They’re… the only things that fit me right now.”

Lan Zhan felt the confession like a warmth against his chest, fragile and tender, almost trembling. The faint press of Wei Ying’s lips to his skin, the way his body curled into him, the whispered softness of his words, it all carried an honesty that needed no spectacle. Lan Zhan’s hands moved of their own accord, settling lightly at Wei Ying’s waist, holding him steady without a word.

The first Thursday of spring was unseasonably warm. Lan Zhan had even cracked open his office window, letting a cool breeze carry in the sound of birdsong. A beam of sunlight warmed his desk as he drafted a message to his laogong, a gentle reminder to stay hydrated in the heat, when his phone lit up with an incoming call from the very person he was about to text.

Smiling at the pleasant coincidence, he answered warmly.
“Hi, honey, I was just about to—”

“Hello, is this Lan Zhan?” The voice on the other end was not Wei Ying’s.

Lan Zhan’s smile faltered. “Yes. Where’s Wei Ying?”

“This is Wen Yuan,” the young man said quickly. Lan Zhan recognized the name, Wei Ying’s bright, earnest grad student, the one fascinated by cultivation and reincarnation in Chinese literature.
“Mr. Lan, you need to come right away. Mr. Wei collapsed in the corridor. He’s weak and feverish. The ambulance is on its way, they’re taking him to Gusu Regional Hospital.”

Lan Zhan’s heart plummeted. Wei Ying had always been healthy, the picture of restless vitality. Other than an emergency appendectomy in high school, a story he only half-joked about, he’d never been hospitalized. Lan Zhan’s mind flashed through sterile white walls, the smell of antiseptic, the image of his husband pale and fragile, and for a breathless moment it felt as though the floor itself had vanished beneath him.

Lan Zhan barely remembered the drive to the hospital. If a ticket for running a red light arrived later, so be it. The love of his life had collapsed, and he wasn’t there. His inner Formula One driver took over, corners blurred, lights streaked by, only the thought of Wei Ying unconscious somewhere guiding every breath.

He threw the car into park, probably illegally, and bolted. His heart hammered as he sprinted for the emergency entrance, lungs burning, the sterile scent of disinfectant already in the air.

“Wei Ying—my husband, Wei Ying!” he blurted at the reception desk, breathless. “He…he collapsed. An ambulance brought him here. Where is he?”

The woman behind the counter offered a practiced, sympathetic look. “He arrived five minutes ago. The doctor is examining him now. Please take a seat, we’ll bring you back as soon as we can.”

“Please,” Lan Zhan rasped, leaning forward. “Is there any way I can be with him?”

“Sir, I understand this is stressful and you want to see your spouse,” she said gently. “The care team is still running tests and stabilizing the patient. We’ll let you know the moment it’s possible.”

Time warped as he sat in the waiting area. The quiet hum of the lobby only sharpened the edge of his fear. Stabilizing the patient, the words echoed until they hollowed him out. In sickness and in health and until death do they part, they had promised each other. But not yet. Not like this. He could not, would not, live without Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan knew people called him cold, blunt, unreadable. They weren’t wrong. But Wei Ying was the reason he woke each morning. One smile, those bright dimples flashing, was enough to scatter the dark. His laugh outshone any music Lan Zhan had ever composed, putting an entire career to shame. Their home, their life, the future they dreamed of, his chest ached at the thought of it all. None of it mattered if Wei Ying wasn’t there.

“—sir? Sir, can you hear me? Sir?”

“Mn?” Lan Zhan startled, lifting his head.

“The doctor has finished the tests. The patient is resting now, you can go back to his room. Third door on the right.”

“Th-thank you.” He was already on his feet, heart thundering as he hurried down the hall.

He didn’t pause at the doorway, didn’t take a steadying breath. Wei Ying mattered more than oxygen; he was oxygen.

Inside, the lights were dim. Lan Zhan squirted sanitizer into his palms before pushing aside the curtain. There lay Wei Ying, bright, exuberant, larger than life, now impossibly small against crisp white hospital linens.

Lan Zhan’s knees nearly gave out. He crossed the room in three silent steps and reached for him, brushing stray strands of hair from his forehead, tracing gentle paths down his brows and along his arms until he could clasp his hands. The warmth of Wei Ying’s skin seeped into his own trembling fingers.

He knew he should let him sleep. But the need to feel, to know, overrode everything.
“Wei Ying…” he whispered, desperate for any sign, any movement that meant his world was still intact.

“Laogong… honey, wake up for me. Let me see your eyes.”

Lan Zhan’s voice pulled him from the edge of sleep. Gray eyes blinked open to meet molten gold, and Wei Ying broke apart. His brows knit as hot tears welled and spilled down his cheeks. He reached blindly, clutching at Lan Zhan’s shoulders, IV be damned, holding on as if letting go would mean losing everything. After the scariest hours of his life, the only person he wanted was finally here. Of course he wasn’t going to let go.

He sobbed so hard against Lan Zhan’s shoulder he thought he might pass out all over again.

“Wei Ying… honey, relax,” Lan Zhan murmured, voice low and steady. “You’re alright. Take deep breaths. Everything’s okay. I’m here now.”

“We’ll—we’ll be alright,” Wei Ying hiccupped.

“Yes, we’re going to be okay. Just breathe for me, baobei.”

“No…” Wei Ying pulled back enough to meet his eyes, a shaky smile trembling on his lips. “We’ll be alright.”

Lan Zhan frowned in confusion. “Wei Ying, I—”

Wei Ying slid a warm palm to his own stomach, gaze locking with Lan Zhan’s. Tears pooled but his eyes shone.

“Lan Zhan… we’ll be alright. I’m—” he drew a breath that hitched,“I’m pregnant.”

Golden eyes widened. Lan Zhan’s gaze darted from Wei Ying’s face to the hand over his stomach, back and forth in disbelief before he surged forward, wrapping Wei Ying in a fierce embrace.

“Wei Ying,” he whispered against his ear, voice trembling, “is it true? Please… don’t lie. Not about this.”

Wet lips met in searing heat, mouths licking and biting like they’d been starved for years and this was their only salvation. Slick tongues chased and teased, a reckless, breathless challenge, until a sharp knock on the door cut through the haze, snapping them apart.

Both were still panting when a tall woman in deep-blue scrubs and a white coat stepped in. Her olive-toned skin glowed warm in the dim light, dark hair drawn back into a sleek braid trailing down her spine. She carried a faint scent of jasmine, and Lan Zhan, still catching his breath, found himself liking her instantly.

“Hi, Mr. Wei. It’s good to see you feeling better. I assume this is your spouse?”
Her tone was professional but kind. “Hello, I’m Dr. Imogen Hanna, one of the emergency physicians.”

Her handshake was firm and sure, and from that alone Lan Zhan felt a flicker of trust.

“Mr. Wei, I have your test results. If it’s alright, I’d like to go over them with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Wei Ying said, voice still a little rough.

Lan Zhan perched carefully on the edge of the bed, fingers tightening around Wei Ying’s hand, a silent promise: I’m here. You’re safe. We’ll be alright.

“As you know, our preliminary tests confirmed that you’re pregnant,” Dr. Hanna began. “Looking further at your bloodwork, the cause of your collapse earlier this afternoon was likely an iron deficiency. Because your iron is so low, I suspect you may be further along in your pregnancy than expected. I’ll prescribe iron supplements and prenatal vitamins to support fetal development. I’d also recommend taking a week off work to avoid further complications and ensure your body is supporting the baby properly. If it’s alright, I’d like to perform an ultrasound to check on the baby, would that be okay, Mr. Wei?”

Overwhelmed, Wei Ying simply nodded, once to the doctor, once at Lan Zhan, as if to confirm that they were hearing this together.

The doctor instructed him to raise his sweater to his chest and unbutton his trousers, Lan Zhan’s trousers, before warning him of the cool gel. She passed the wand gently over his stomach, moving carefully until it rested just below his navel. Pressing a few buttons, she angled the screen toward the pair.

Wei Ying’s eyes were already stinging with unshed tears as he stared at the screen, heart hammering, hands gripping Lan Zhan’s tight. He and Lan Zhan waited, breath caught, together.

Wei Ying, and by extension, Lan Zhan, had seen Yanli-jie’s first few ultrasound images before, so they were expecting the familiar grain-of-rice stage. What they weren’t expecting was the fully formed shape of a baby, limbs and all, moving across the screen.

Wei Ying didn’t feel a thing. He didn’t even look pregnant, at most, he might’ve eaten a big lunch and dinner.

“Just as I suspected,” Dr. Hanna said. “The baby is measuring around 28 weeks. The reason you don’t have the classic bump is because you have a retroverted uterus, angled toward your back rather than out toward your belly button. It might take a few more weeks before you see it or feel kicks, especially with your strong abdominal muscles, so patience is key. Now, dads! Would we like to know the baby’s sex?”

Their watery eyes met, silently questioning each other. Lan Zhan, as always, was ready to support whatever Wei Ying decided, his hand already over his husband’s, steadying.

“I—we, we want to wait,” Wei Ying said, voice trembling. “Could we…possibly have some pictures? It’s a lot to process…”

“Of course,” Dr. Hanna replied warmly. “I’ll get those sorted right away. I’ll come back in about 30 minutes to do another blood test to check your iron and hydration levels. If everything looks good, we can send you home to get a proper night’s rest. I’d recommend seeing your GP in about a week to check on these levels again after you’ve started your prescription, just to make sure everything’s working properly.”

“Because you’re only just learning about the baby, I’d highly recommend getting in touch with an OB/GYN now that you’re in your second trimester, if you have one. It would also be a good idea to have a rough outline of a birth plan you can discuss as your pregnancy progresses. That was a lot of information, do you have any questions for me, dads?”

“I—we don’t have an obstetrician,” Wei Ying admitted, voice trembling. “I’ve mostly just seen my GP for regular checkups. Do you have any recommendations?”

Sensing how overwhelmed Wei Ying was by the reality of pregnancy, Lan Zhan leaned forward in his chair, grasping his husband’s hands in both of his to ground him.

Lan Zhan couldn’t even focus on the doctor. His gaze was fixed entirely on Wei Ying, the soon-to-be father of their baby. Even with his shirt rucked up to his chin and the ultrasound gel still smeared on his stomach, he looked ethereal, more radiant than Lan Zhan had ever seen him. This life, the one they’d longed for so desperately, was finally inside him. Tears slipped freely down Lan Zhan’s cheeks, and he let them fall without shame.

He didn’t know love could feel this intense, this overwhelming. Pressing endless kisses to the back of Wei Ying’s hand, he let the moment wash over him.

When the door clicked, signaling the doctor’s departure, Lan Zhan drew Wei Ying into a tender embrace, mindful of the tiny life between them. He held him close as Wei Ying sobbed, both of them caught in the heady, intoxicating mix of relief, joy, and love. Finally, they were having a baby.

Once the ultrasound gel was wiped away and it was just Wei Ying’s bare skin, Lan Zhan kissed it too, gentle, reverent. A silent message for their baby: Hello, little one. I see you. I love you, and I can’t wait to meet you.

That warm, fuzzy bubble of love and relief followed them all the way home. Sensing that Wei Ying needed time to process the afternoon’s events, Lan Zhan set off to make dinner while Wei Ying washed away the hospital grime.

By the time the oven dinged, signaling the casserole was ready, Lan Zhan padded toward the en-suite. He paused in the doorway to watch Wei Ying stepping out of the shower, hair dripping down his back.

Wei Ying stood before the mirror, bare and still glistening, pressing his hands against his stomach, hoping for a glimpse of the life growing inside him. No luck, not from the front, not from the side. He let out a soft sigh, grabbed the towel from the warming rack, and wrapped it around his waist before moving to the cabinet to apply moisturizer and leave-in conditioner.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan! You scared me! You can’t just sneak up on pregnant people like that! So cruel!”

Lan Zhan chuckled softly. “Sorry, baby. I was just looking… I can’t believe you’re pregnant.”

Lan Zhan stepped behind Wei Ying, close enough to pepper gentle kisses along his shoulders and the back of his neck. Wei Ying grasped his wrists, guiding his hands to rest over his stomach.

“I can’t believe they’ve been in there for so long and we didn’t even know,” Wei Ying murmured. “Surely, if it were my child, they’d have a flair for dramatics, but maybe they’re just calm, like their baba.”

Lan Zhan’s palms settled firmly on his husband’s waist, holding him with reverent care. He tucked his chin over Wei Ying’s shoulder, watching the subtle rise and fall of the area where their baby rested.

“Good baby… be nice to your diedie,” he whispered.

The sentiment caused the tiniest tension to ripple in the air, a slight twitch of Wei Ying’s brow, imperceptible to most but immediately noticed by Lan Zhan. After countless years together, he knew better than to press in these moments; it was best to let Wei Ying bring it up when he felt ready.

Lan Zhan pressed one last soft kiss to the side of his husband’s face. Then, retreating toward the door, he called softly,“Dinner is ready when you are, my love.”

Wei Ying returned to work the following Monday, reluctantly abandoning the long weekend of bed rest strictly mandated by his husband. He moaned and groaned with each step, but secretly preened under the special attention now that he was pregnant with their child. Each morning, he lingered in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, searching for any sign of change in his bump. He silently cursed his past self for being so diligent with core workouts, because damn it, he wanted to see their baby, wanted that precious swell, the undeniable proof that he was carrying something theirs.

The day was pleasantly uneventful, which Wei Ying appreciated. He had a philosophy lecture at 10 a.m. and noon for first-years, followed by office hours in the afternoon. His graduate assistant, Wen Yuan, brought him a green smoothie with a note: “Hope you feel better. Please don’t collapse again.” Wei Ying was touched, though he suspected Lan Zhan had had a hand in it, the smoothie was practically overflowing with spinach.

When Wen Yuan brought up his collapse on Thursday, Wei Ying brushed it off as a simple iron dip. Technically true, but not the full story.

That night, the pair talked quietly before falling asleep, discussing how and when to tell family and colleagues. They agreed to wait a little longer, letting themselves adjust to reality first. The baby remained snug and hidden in Wei Ying’s womb, a secret source of joy and comfort, but they both knew their families would be over the moon when the news finally arrived.

Over the week, Wei Ying found himself absentmindedly resting a hand on his stomach, waiting patiently for any small movement. More often than not, he would be smiling, and when anyone asked why, he simply said, “Just because.”

It was thrilling to hold a secret like this, something only he and Lan Zhan shared. But with their weekly calls to their respective siblings, keeping it contained was growing harder. Lan Zhan nearly let it slip to his brother once but quickly recovered, coughing and pretending that he had choked on some dust.

That Friday, after Wei Ying’s doctor confirmed his iron levels were stabilizing, Lan Zhan surprised him in the car with a small gift. 

For as long as he could remember, Wei Ying had known his husband to be undeniably in love with rabbits. Lan Zhan had even owned one as a child, and the picture of five-year-old Lan Zhan holding that bunny still hung in their entryway, “Lan Zhan, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies. You’re so adorable,” Wei Ying had teased.

Wei Ying carefully pulled the small item from the bag: a newborn-sized onesie in the softest shade of blue, complete with a hood that had bunny ears and a fuzzy tail. He loses it. Pressing his face into the fabric, he tried to hide his tears, somewhat embarrassed to be crying over a piece of clothing, but he couldn’t stop. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks into the soft fabric, shoulders shaking with sobs of joy and love.

“Wei Ying, I can return it if you don’t like it…” Lan Zhan offered softly.

“NO! D-Don’t take it!” Wei Ying blurted, tears spilling again. “I’m just crying because it’s so adorable, and I love it so much. I can’t believe they’re going to be here so soon to wear it!”

Two weeks after learning they were expecting, they had their first appointment with the obstetrician clinic Dr. Hanna had recommended from the emergency room.

Wei Ying sat on the crinkly paper of the exam table, nerves simmering for reasons he couldn’t name. A few taps on the door announced someone entering… and it was Dr. Hanna?

“Dr. Hanna? I thought you were in emergency medicine,” Wei Ying said, blinking in confusion.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my twin,” she said with a small smile. “My name is Dr. Eden Hanna. I’m an obstetrician and gynecologist specializing in both female and male reproductive health.”

“Well… that definitely clears things up,” Wei Ying said, laughing nervously.

Following Dr. Eden Hanna’s advice, they had come prepared with a rough birth plan. Googling had been overwhelming, but the research strongly suggested that the person delivering should trust their instincts while also considering medical guidance and comfort.

Wei Ying had always dreamed of a water birth. The thought of a home birth made him nervous, what if an emergency happened and medical help wasn’t immediately available?

Dr. Hanna was nothing but supportive, providing stacks of pamphlets and information about labor and delivery. At home Wei Ying was sure he would find Lan Zhan studying every page as if he were preparing for an exam, and his heart swelled with love for the other man.

When the doctor suggested doing an ultrasound, Wei Ying leaned back willingly, lifting his shirt to reveal the small pudge on his lower stomach, a bump that hadn’t been there two weeks ago. He was still achingly eager for it to grow, but optimistic that with all the nourishing food Lan Zhan made, it would only get bigger as the pregnancy progressed.

The cold gel made him squirm, but Lan Zhan’s warm hand in his steadied him. Wei Ying watched the doctor’s face as she guided the wand over his stomach, pressing a few buttons on the machine. Soon, a fast, rhythmic beating filled the room.

“Is that—?” Wei Ying began, breathless.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor said, smiling. “Perfect range for this gestational period.”

“Lan Zhan!!” Wei Ying exclaimed, eyes glistening.

His husband’s larger hand squeezed his, and Wei Ying felt his heart overflow with love for this unknown little angel growing inside him.

The doctor paused before showing them the screen. “Would you like to know the baby’s sex?” she asked gently.

“We—we want it to be a surprise!” Wei Ying said, heart hammering in his chest.

She flipped the screen toward them, revealing the grainy image of their baby, no private parts visible, just the tiny form curled up in Wei Ying’s womb. Seeing the little heart beat and the way their tiny fists curled and uncurled made Wei Ying’s eyes sting with hot tears. He was already so in love with this little person that he couldn’t imagine how he would feel once they were here.

He glanced at Lan Zhan and noticed a tear sliding down his cheek as well, his husband equally overcome by the sight of their baby.

Dr. Hanna smiled warmly at the two men, recognizing that their emotional response, seeing their baby for only the second time, was entirely justified.

“Because of your retroverted uterus,” she began, “as you know, the baby has been growing toward your spine rather than out toward your belly button. This may mean you experience what people call ‘back labor,’ where most of the pain is concentrated in your spine. As the baby continues to grow, they may push more toward your abdomen, so we’ll monitor that over the coming weeks.”

“Also, because of this growth pattern, you probably haven’t felt much movement yet,” she continued. “That’s very common for folks with a retroverted uterus. You should start to notice little kicks soon. At first, it might feel like tiny popcorn popping in your stomach, don’t be alarmed. It’s just your baby saying hello, Daddy!”

“I saw in your chart that you had a low iron episode a few weeks ago,” Dr. Hanna had said earlier. “I encourage you to continue your regimen of prenatal vitamins and an iron-rich diet. Just keep in mind your energy levels, and if anything feels off, don’t hesitate to come in, it’s better safe than sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, curled together on the couch with a blanket draped over their legs, watching an episode of Our Flag Means Death, Wei Ying finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lan Zhan immediately shifted, tilting his body to face him fully, hands resting lightly on Wei Ying’s hips, eyes warm and steady, giving him the space and attention he needed.

“You know I’m a man, right?” Wei Ying murmured, voice quivering, almost afraid to meet Lan Zhan’s gaze.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied softly, uncertain where this was headed but entirely patient, his thumb brushing tiny circles over Wei Ying’s side.

“I’m a man… granted, a pregnant man,” Wei Ying continued, voice trembling, tears threatening. “Lan Zhan… I can’t wait to be their parent, but I’ve always… seen myself as mama. Is that weird? I don’t see myself as a woman—I just want baobei to have a mama and a baba. Is that too much?”

He buried his face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, ashamed and shy, as if confessing a secret too big for words.

“Oh, honey…” Lan Zhan whispered, tilting Wei Ying’s chin up gently so their eyes could meet, cradling him closer. “No. That’s not weird at all. Our angel is so lucky. Lucky to have you as their mama, to be loved by both of us. You being you—that’s exactly what they need. Don’t doubt that, sweetheart. Ever.”

And then Wei Ying let himself collapse into the warmth and safety of Lan Zhan’s arms. He sobbed, ugly, loud, and unrestrained, his tears soaking into Lan Zhan’s shirt, his body trembling with relief, love, and the ache of finally being seen. Lan Zhan held him tight, whispering soft reassurances into his hair, rocking him gently, letting him know he was wholly, unconditionally loved.

For the first time, Wei Ying felt the edges of his fear melt away, leaving only the quiet, fierce certainty that he could be the mama he longed to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t even three weeks later when he felt it. Wei Ying was standing in the lunchroom at work, waiting for his lasagna to finish heating in the microwave, when the tiniest flutter danced beneath his navel. At first, he didn’t think much of it, Lan Zhan had just sent him a funny video, but then it happened again, slightly stronger this time. He gasped, nearly dropping his phone, and pressed both palms to his stomach, hoping for another sign. He poked the spot gently, and felt the lightest tap back.

“Oh, bunny… hello! It’s your mama. That’s it, keep kicking!” he whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears.

For a moment, he forgot all about the lasagna, until Wen Yuan walked in.

“Uhhh… Mr. Wei, are you alright? I think your food’s done in the microwave, you don’t have to cry about it…”

Wei Ying jolted out of his bubble, hastily wiping his eyes. He grabbed his lasagna and made a beeline for his office, bursting to share the news with his husband.

The little one must have been worn out by the few taps that afternoon, because no matter how gently Wei Ying tried to encourage them again, they remained quiet. He swallowed back tears, knowing how much Lan Zhan would love to feel this first movement. Reassuring himself, and imagining his husband’s patience, he murmured, “Soon enough, they’ll be kicking up a storm. Don’t worry if you don’t feel anything now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They attended regular appointments with Dr. Hanna, who reassured them that everything was progressing “perfectly.” Wei Ying had gained seven pounds since the last visit, and his stomach was beginning to show the smallest, sweetest bump. He had picked up the habit of pulling his shirts tight over it just to see the little swell.

Lan Zhan had finally felt kicks one evening while they were laying together in the bath. The baby nudged right against his palm, and Lan Zhan’s eyes had softened with awe and love.

Feeling that their little one was making themselves known, they decided there was no better time to tell their families. 

They invited Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, and Nie Huisang for brunch at a quaint spot just around the corner from their apartment. The café was cozy, with mismatched cups, worn furniture, and, according to Wei Ying, the best breakfast plate he’d ever had (sorry, laogong).

Once everyone was seated, a waitress took their orders. When she finished, she repeated them back, and added casually, “Would you like your bun warmed?”

“Yeah, in the oven if possible,” Wei Ying replied.

No one seemed to catch on.

Even when the bun arrived, steaming from the oven, nobody realized anything. The suspense pressed on Wei Ying until, after a lull in conversation, he couldn’t hold it any longer.

“I’m pregnant,” he blurted, voice trembling with excitement. “Lan Zhan and I are pregnant, we’re having a baby!”

The reaction they had hoped for, and more, washed over them. Hugs and congratulations flowed freely, and Jiang Yanli even teared up. Wei Ying teased her, half-joking, “Stop, or else my own waterworks will kick in!”

When they pulled out the latest ultrasound scan to show a fully developed baby, none of their family could quite wrap their heads around the fact that the two of them would be welcoming a little one in less than two months. Questioning glances kept flicking to Wei Ying’s stomach, suspicion lingering that he might be pulling yet another prank.

Wei Ying just laughed softly, shaking his head, and began explaining the situation, sharing their joy and excitement while everyone listened, slowly letting the reality, and the anticipation, sink in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Ying carried quite small for the remainder of his pregnancy, which left him with an unprecedented worry that their baby wasn’t receiving all the nutrients they needed to grow. Even at his 37-week appointment, Dr. Hanna noted that the baby was measuring small for their gestational age, estimating a weight of only five pounds. The news gnawed at Wei Ying, especially since the baby never showed intense moments of activity. The fear that something might be wrong lingered at the back of his mind, and he often waited until they were lying in bed at night to voice these worries to his husband.

Dr. Hanna reassured them that, aside from the lower weight, the baby looked perfectly healthy and encouraged them to continue preparing for labor, which was just around the corner.

Outside of appointments, they were showered with gifts from their families. Lan Zhan’s gege had practically furnished their entire nursery from their gift registry, and they were both immensely grateful. The arrival of the first niece or nephew among their friends had everyone buzzing with excitement to meet the little one.

Their spare bedroom had been transformed almost overnight into the nursery of Wei Ying’s dreams. Soft greens and creams contrasted beautifully with dark wood furniture, evoking the feeling of a serene forest. Wei Ying even surprised Lan Zhan with delicate touches of rabbits throughout the room: rabbit-themed books, a plush waiting patiently in the crib, and a plethora of rabbit-themed onesies and blankets washed and neatly folded in the drawers, all ready to welcome their baby.

While Wei Ying had mentally prepared to carry the pregnancy to 40 weeks, but their little angel seemed to have other plans. On the day he reached 38 weeks, a deep ache began to radiate through his back, shaking him to his core. He had felt a few Braxton Hicks contractions in the past weeks, but nothing like this, nothing like the relentless, squeezing pressure wrapping through his spine and into his abdomen.

He tried to convince himself it was just a back strain from yoga a few mornings ago, but deep down, he knew the truth. The pain only intensified as the day went on, and by the time he returned home, he collapsed onto the couch in tears, exhausted and raw from hours of relentless discomfort. Lan Zhan hovered nearby, clearly at a loss, his heart aching to see his husband suffer.

Wei Ying’s body shook as he sobbed into a throw pillow, his t-shirt stretched taut over the small swell of his stomach, moving with each heaving breath. The pain radiated from his spine, coiling around his abdomen like a vice.

“Lan Zhan… I don’t feel good. It hurts so much… p-please make it stop,” he whimpered.

“Wei Ying… I think we need to go to the hospital,” Lan Zhan said gently but firmly, brushing away his husband’s tears.

Wei Ying nodded reluctantly. The trek to the car nearly broke him, each step a symphony of groans and whimpers. Lan Zhan was half carrying him, each movement carefully measured, his worry palpable, his love unwavering.

Once he’s finally settled in the passenger seat, Wei Ying sobbed into the door, curling into himself as Lan Zhan carefully wraps the seatbelt around his frame.

The journey is harrowing. Wei Ying whimpers pitifully, pain wracking his body, yet Lan Zhan keeps his focus on the road, braking and accelerating as gently as possible. Thirty minutes feels like a lifetime to Wei Ying, each passing second stretching unbearably. He clutches Lan Zhan’s hand and the door handle, eyes closed, breathing as evenly as he can through each punishing wave of pain.

Thankfully, the emergency room entrance is empty. Wei Ying barely has time to let go of the door handle before another contraction hits. Lan Zhan is already running back to the car with a nurse, pushing a wheelchair, his face taut with worry.

The next thing Wei Ying knows, he’s lying in a quiet room. The steady beeps of a heart monitor hum softly in the background, a small disturbance to the otherwise calm space. Lan Zhan slumps in the chair by the bed, exhausted and rumpled. His work shirt is wrinkled beyond saving, strands of dark hair sticking out in odd directions, smooth in others, evidence of hands running through it in anxious attempts to soothe his nerves.

The pain has eased, at least for now, not nearly as intense as in the car. Wei Ying allows himself a shaky breath, grateful to be off the road, grateful for Lan Zhan, for this moment of quiet.

“Laogong… honey, wake up.”

“Oh—my A-Ying, how are you feeling?” Lan Zhan’s voice is gentle, but his eyes betray the exhaustion from the long day.

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as before… has the doctor come by? Do you know what’s happening?”

“They haven’t said much yet,” Lan Zhan murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from Wei Ying’s face. “Probably just waiting for you to wake up. Let me go check with the nurse and see what she can tell us.”

Wei Ying nodded weakly, still lying back against the pillows, fingers tracing the edge of the blanket as if it could anchor him. His chest felt tight, nerves jangling with the unasked questions he couldn’t seem to voice.

Lan Zhan rose quietly, moving with his usual careful precision, and leaned down to press a dry kiss to Wei Ying’s lips before slipping from the room. The soft click of the door left Wei Ying alone with his thoughts, every second stretching impossibly long.

Before he could gather himself, or even fully comprehend what was happening, Dr. Hanna appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand, calm and practiced, flanked by Lan Zhan, who had returned as if tethered to his side.

“Hello, Wei Ying,” Dr. Hanna said warmly, though her eyes flicked briefly to the monitors. “Great to see you again. Are you ready to have this baby?”

Wei Ying froze, a fresh wave of panic tightening his throat. Ready? He hadn’t even had a chance to think about that. The floor seemed to tilt beneath him, his hands trembling as the realization hit: the baby was coming, today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Ying swallows hard, the gravity of the moment crashing over him. Dr. Hanna wasn’t wrong, back labor was every bit as painful as she’d warned. Each contraction left him wilting against the sheets, clutching at the rails, muscles taut, jaw clenched. His dream of a serene water birth slipped further away as the intensity became unbearable after five hours, and he practically begged for an epidural.

The pain was searing, every nerve screaming, each fiber of his being alight with it. Labor had been progressing perfectly, but the agony far exceeded anything Wei Ying thought he could endure. He gasped, trying to steady his trembling hands, wishing, desperately, for the relief he had imagined an epidural would bring.

When the anesthesiologist arrived, he swallowed against the tremor in his chest. “We can give you something to help, Wei Ying, but… you’re already too far dilated. The epidural isn’t safe at this stage.”

Hours slipped by in a haze of relentless pain, each contraction sharper than the last, each breath ragged and uneven. His body trembled, muscles screaming under the strain, and still the waves came, one after another, unyielding and merciless.

A voice cut through the fog, startling in its clarity: “Wei Ying… you’re fully dilated. Ten centimeters. It’s time to push.”

The words barely registered at first. Wei Ying’s entire body shook, raw and exhausted, each nerve ablaze with agony. His chest heaved violently with each gasp, sweat slicked his skin, and his nails tore into the sheets as if they could anchor him to something solid. Every inch of him felt stretched, burning, trembling, and yet somehow, somewhere beneath it all, a spark of desperate determination flickered, he had to bring their baby into the world.

He glances at Lan Zhan, who kneels beside the bed, hand firmly clasping his, eyes dark with worry but shining with unwavering love. “You can do this, A-Ying. I’m right here. Every push, I’m right here.”

Wei Ying swallows a sob, summoning every shred of strength left in his body. He exhales, tightening his core, and begins to push. The first attempt leaves him shaking and trembling; the baby moves only a fraction. Each surge of pain tears through him, each contraction leaving him gasping for air.

Minutes seem to stretch impossibly long. Every push frays his nerves further, a relentless crescendo of agony that leaves him feeling unmoored. His back aches as though it’s splitting in two, the pain searing along the length of his spine and into his pelvis. He’s never been so aware of every inch of his body, every fiber straining, every heartbeat thundering in his chest.

Lan Zhan murmurs encouragement into his ear, soft and grounding. “Breathe, A-Ying. You’re doing so well… Our baby is almost here.”

Wei Ying’s hands dig into the sheets, into Lan Zhan’s, and he grits his teeth, forcing another push. The baby moves, slowly inching forward, the friction and stretch a cruel reminder of how small and delicate their angel is. Pain sears, sweat drips into his eyes, and still he pushes, listening to Lan Zhan’s voice, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“Almost there… big push, A-Ying…”

Exhaustion crashes over him like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow him whole. Every muscle screams in protest; his legs shake uncontrollably, his arms tremble as though they could give out at any second. But he clenches his jaw, lets out a raw, shuddering exhale, summoning every last shred of strength to guide their angel down, to bring life into the world. Every contraction is a battle, every push a war of endurance. Lan Zhan’s hand holding his knee up and back, the other gently supporting his neck as he bears down, anchor him to reality, grounding him, reminding him he is not alone.

The baby crowns, impossibly slow, and Wei Ying feels each millimeter as both exquisite agony and unbearable awe. His mind fractures under the onslaught: pain, fear, anticipation, love, all colliding, every nerve alight with fire.

The nurses keep a close eye on the monitors, murmuring gentle encouragement with each push. Lan Zhan remains at his side, his quiet, steady presence like an anchor amid the storm of pain. He brushes a damp strand of hair from Wei Ying’s forehead, pressing his lips to his neck. “You’re doing so well, A-Ying… just a little longer.”

Each push takes everything Wei Ying has, the air from his lungs, the strength in his limbs, and the contractions stack so closely together that his body hardly gets a moment to recover. His energy wanes with each surge, and he feels panic creeping in. His grip slackens slightly on the sheets, and Lan Zhan notices immediately.

“Honey… deep breaths. Calm… you can do this,” Lan Zhan whispers, pressing his hand firmly over Wei Ying’s. “Don’t overwork yourself. You’re doing amazing.”

Dr. Hanna enters the room in a flurry, followed by nurses Wei Ying hasn’t seen before. “Hi friends! I see we’re pushing, exciting stuff! Let me see how you’re going, Wei Ying,” she says with a warm, steadying smile.

Another contraction hits, and the baby moves further through the birth canal, but it zaps every ounce of Wei Ying’s strength. His chest heaves, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, and his body trembles with exhaustion.

“I-I’m so tired… I can’t do it… it’s too much… w-what do I do?” His voice cracks, trembling, trying to keep the panic from spilling over completely.

Dr. Hanna is beside him, voice calm but firm. “Wei Ying, it’s okay to feel tired. That’s normal, this is intense. Listen to me: breathe with me, just one deep breath at a time. You are not alone. Lan Zhan is right here, your body knows what to do, and we’ll guide you through every push. Just trust yourself and your strength. You’ve got this.”

Wei Ying nods, teeth gritted, palms squeezing the sheets. Another contraction rolls in, and he pushes with everything left in him. His body burns, his back feels like it’s being split in two, but he can feel the baby inching forward. One push. Then another. 

“Wei Ying… you need to push the baby out in the next two minutes,” Dr. Hanna’s voice cuts through the haze of pain. “From the baby’s heartbeat, they’re on the verge of distress. You need to push with everything you’ve got, or we may have to rush you into emergency surgery.”

Wei Ying groans, every nerve screaming. The thought of failing, of their baby being in danger, makes his chest tighten, and his body trembles with fatigue. Lan Zhan leans close, pressing a hand to his temple, murmuring, “Focus on me, A-Ying. You are strong. You’ve got this. Every push is taking us closer to them. I’m right here.”

The next contraction hits like a wave. Wei Ying digs his hands into the sheets, flexing every muscle he has left. His face flushes crimson as he bears down, sweat dripping into his eyes.

“Good, good! That’s it, Wei Ying,” Dr. Hanna encourages, her tone sharp but calm. “The head is right there. Another one just like that!”

He pushes again, every fiber of his being trembling from the strain, his back alight with pain. A ring of fire and lightning shocks him through his lower body, making him yell out. Still, he focuses on nothing else but bringing their baby safely into the world.

“That’s it, honey! The head is out, you’re so close!” Lan Zhan whispers, pressing his forehead to Wei Ying’s temple, letting him feel the steady presence of love and encouragement amidst the storm of agony.

Wei Ying whimpers, exhausted beyond measure, but he finds the last reserves of his strength. With a final, desperate push, his body trembles violently as their little one slips free, a rush of warmth and fluids into Dr. Hanna’s waiting hands.

The room holds its breath. 

But the silence that follows is wrong.

There should have been a cry. A wail. Something, anything to break the heavy pause.

He feels the slick release, the sudden hollow where life had been moments ago. Then a sharp tug at the cord, too quick, and the clean snip of scissors barely reaches him before the weight that should have been placed on his chest is gone, whisked away across the room.

No warm, wet body curled against him. No tiny, fragile cry to anchor him in the moment. Only the rustle of gloves, the soft, clipped voices of the nurses and doctor murmuring in urgent, low tones that made his gut coil and twist.

His chest felt impossibly empty, exposed in a way he had never imagined, as though a vital part of himself had been ripped from him before he even had a chance to grasp it. His hands hovered, trembling, as if he could somehow reach through the space and bring them back. Everything inside him burned, grief, awe, fear, and a raw, aching helplessness that left him breathless and trembling.

Wei Ying tries not to panic, why aren’t they crying? His baby. They should be making their presence known, loud and dramatic. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. “Why aren’t they crying?” His voice cracked, legs still shaking, body raw, buzzing. He pushed up on trembling elbows, trying to see. “Why—why isn’t—”

“Hey, mama,” one of the nurses said quickly, kindly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s here, she’s okay. Just having a little trouble catching her breath, that’s all. We’re helping her now.”

Wei Ying could just barely see the tiny pink bundle surrounded by hands, nurses moving gently but quickly, someone clearing her airway, someone else adjusting a tiny oxygen mask. Her. The word pierced through the haze of pain and exhaustion like a flare, a girl, they have a girl. For a dizzy, breathless heartbeat, wonder bloomed in his chest, wild and bright, chasing away everything else. A daughter. Their daughter. But the joy tangled instantly with terror, sharp and cold, because he still couldn’t see her face, couldn’t hear a single sound. The silence pressed against his ears until all he could do was strain forward, heart pounding, desperate for proof that she was really there, that she was breathing.

“No—no no no—” His voice cracked into a sob. “Lan Zhan—Lan Zhan—”

“I’m here.” Lan Zhan was already beside him, already holding his hand, gripping it tightly. He looked calm, but his jaw was tight. His other hand came to brush the sweat-matted hair from Wei Ying’s forehead, then cupped his cheek. “She is being helped. Listen. You are not alone.”

Wei Ying tried to breathe, but it felt impossible. His chest ached. His arms reached out, empty. “She’s so small, Lan Zhan, so small, she was moving inside me just now and now I can’t—I can’t hold her—”

“She will be held soon,” Lan Zhan promised. “They are helping her breathe. She is strong. She will be with you soon.”

“She didn’t even cry,” Wei Ying whispered. “Shouldn’t she have cried?”

“She made a little squeak,” a nurse, Marlie, piped up softly. She was older, warm-eyed and unhurried as she moved to Wei Ying’s side. “Not loud, but she let us know she was here. Some babies are just slow to transition. That’s all this is, she just needs a little support. She’s doing better already, sweetheart.”

Wei Ying’s lips trembled. “I didn’t—I didn’t get to hold her—”

“You will,” Marlie promised. “Soon. We’re going to keep her close, and you’ll hold her skin-to-skin as soon as she’s ready. We’re just being extra careful, that’s all.”

Lan Zhan leaned in, tears brimming his eyes and pressed his forehead to Wei Ying’s. So proud of his Wei Ying for delivering their miracle.“She knows your voice. She heard it for months. She will come back to it. You did so well. You brought her into the world. Now let them help her the rest of the way.”

Wei Ying clung to his hand, cried into the crook of Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He didn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, shaky and snotty and grieving for something that wasn’t even lost. But he couldn’t stop. His baby had been here for less than a minute and already, the world had taken her away.

The nurses moved gently around them, voices low but urgent. Dr. Hanna’s calm tone reached through the fog. “Wei Ying, I need you to push once more for the placenta, all right? Just one more.”

He could barely nod. His whole body trembled, spent, aching, raw. The next contraction burned through him, a deep, dragging pain that made him cry out into Lan Zhan’s shoulder. The release was smaller this time, heavier and duller, but still enough to make him flinch when it passed.

Lan Zhan’s hand smoothed damp hair from his face, whispering praise that barely reached through the haze. Wei Ying felt tender and hollow, every muscle trembling, his skin slick and overly sensitive. When it was finally over, all he could do was collapse back against the pillow, clutching Lan Zhan’s hand like a lifeline, trying to breathe through the ache that lingered everywhere.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then…

“There she is,” another nurse said brightly, smiling toward the far side of the room. “Good girl, little one. That’s it.”

A thin, high, wobbly cry rang out, and Wei Ying broke. He let out a sob so sharp it made his whole body jolt. Lan Zhan kissed his wet cheek, cupped the back of his neck, and let him cry it all out.

“She’s crying,” Wei Ying gasped. “She’s crying, Lan Zhan—our baby—”

“She is,” Lan Zhan whispered, voice breaking just enough. “She is strong. She is coming back to us.”

A few minutes later, Marlie, gloved and smiling, approached the bed with a warm, bundled form in her arms. “Someone’s ready to meet her parents now.”

Wei Ying reached for her like he was drowning. They helped settle her onto his bare chest, all wires and tape and a little oxygen tube still tucked gently into her nostrils, but warm. Breathing. Here. He was quick to cover her bare body with the soft blanket they provided, making sure no cold air touched her precious skin.

She was impossibly soft and round, cheeks like ripe peaches, her tiny belly pressed against his sternum, and her legs drawn up in a loose curl, frog-like and unsteady. Her skin was silken and paper-thin, glowing with a flushed pink that seemed too delicate for the world. Her lips worked in tiny, quivering motions, and her bird-light fists curled tight but harmless against his chest. Damp wisps of hair clung to his skin as her head, small as his palm, nestled into the hollow beneath his collarbone. She was feather-light in his arms, yet so full and whole, every inch of her impossibly new.

“Oh my goodness, she’s so small,” Wei Ying whispered, voice cracked and reverent, pressing gentle kisses to her crown. “She’s so perfect.”

Lan Zhan wrapped his arms around them both, cheek resting against Wei Ying’s temple. “Yes,” he said, and his voice was low and full. “Yes. She is perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Ying couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Minutes, maybe. An hour? Everything swam in and out of focus, like the light was coming through water. His arms were locked around her, his tiny daughter, barely the weight of a folded towel, curled to his chest like a second heartbeat. His grip had never wavered.

His body throbbed with every breath. His skin felt too tight, every nerve frayed and open. His legs were heavy, his belly empty, and there was a strange cold sweat along his spine that wouldn’t dry. He felt half-alive, half-somewhere-else.

But his little bunny was warm and sleeping on his chest, and nothing could take that from him. Her shock of dark hair was drying, sticking up in places that made his heart clench, full of love. The tiny oxygen tubes in her nostrils only made her look even smaller, impossibly small, in his arms.

She was here. Their daughter. Pink and flushed and impossibly perfect, her mouth still working in sleepy little suckles against his bare skin, making the tiniest, almost imperceptible snuffles and soft murmurs that made Wei Ying’s chest ache all over again. Her eyes weren’t even open yet, but she was already communicating in her own precious way.

Wei Ying couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe properly around the wonder pressing against him. One trembling hand curved protectively over her back, just beneath her scrunched-up shoulder blades, the other gripping the side of the hospital bed as if to anchor himself to the moment. Every little snuff, every soft little squeak of contentment, made him feel like his heart might burst. This tiny life, theirs, was finally here.

She was still slick with birth, still warm and a little sticky, but he didn’t care. He had never cared less about anything in his life. This was his baby. Their baby. And she was on his chest. Where she belonged.

And then…

A new nurse, one he hadn’t seen before, briskly entered the room after a few sharp knocks. 

“Alright, papa,” she said with a smile, approaching briskly with gloved hands. “Time to let us check baby’s vitals, get her weighed and measured properly. We’ll bring her right back, promise.”

Before Wei Ying could even register it, she was reaching over, hands out. His body jolted with panic, instinctive and feral. He flinched, curling more tightly around his daughter.

“No—!” Wei Ying’s voice caught in his throat. It was a strangled, broken thing. “Wait—just—don’t—” His arms reflexively curled around his daughter, but his body was still weak, spent, everything was sore and flooded with hormones. His thoughts felt like they were moving through fog.

The nurse didn’t mean harm. She didn’t notice the way his eyes glazed, the way his fingers whitened on the edge of the blanket.

The nurse hesitated but didn’t stop, explaining kindly, reasonably, “We just need to check her vitals quickly, make sure everything’s okay—”

Wei Ying’s whole body stiffened, protective and trembling. He couldn’t form words, couldn’t explain that he’d only just gotten her, that the thought of letting her go made something inside him unravel. All he could do was hold tighter.

His mouth opened, but no words came. He shook his head in tiny, frantic movements, wide eyes brimming. His lower lip trembled. His skin felt suddenly too thin, his chest too exposed, his baby too far away, even with her still against him. Don’t take her, he tried to say. She just got here. But all that came out was a whimper, wet, helpless, and small.

Lan Zhan emerged from the bathroom, hands still damp from washing, and froze for a heartbeat at the sight of his husband’s tense frame. Every line of Wei Ying’s body spoke of raw, unfiltered grief and fear, and the quivering, helpless whimper hanging in the air tugged at Lan Zhan’s chest. He stepped between them without raising his voice, without even looking angry. He simply existed, tall and immovable, a quiet wall of protectiveness.

“Stop.”

The room chilled.

The nurse froze mid-motion. A breathless hush fell.

She looked up, startled. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“He is not ready,” Lan Zhan said calmly. “She stays with him.”

The nurse hesitated. “We do need her measurements and postnatal vitals logged soon-”

“Later,” Lan Zhan said, not unkind but with finality. “She stays.”

There was something in his eyes that brooked no argument. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just absolute. Wei Ying let out a shaky breath, a noise like a whimper, his eyes filling again as he clung to the tiny bundle in his arms.

Lan Zhan turned slightly, enough to place a gentle hand on Wei Ying’s hair, smoothing it back. “You’re safe,” he said softly. “She’s not going anywhere. Not unless you say so.”

Wei Ying tried to nod. He couldn’t. He just buried his nose in her sweet, soft scalp, breathing her in like it could tether him to the earth.

The nurse, wisely, nodded. “Of course. I’ll come back in a little while.”

Wei Ying’s breath shuddered out of him. His grip on their daughter eased just slightly, the panic subsiding beneath the sound of Lan Zhan’s footsteps crossing the room.

Lan Zhan was beside him in a heartbeat. He reached down and cupped Wei Ying’s cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.

She left.

The room stilled again, and Lan Zhan sat beside the bed, close but not crowding. One hand still rested against Wei Ying’s head, the other lightly curled around his arm where it cradled their newborn.

Wei Ying finally found a noise in his throat, something small and wounded and grateful all at once. He nuzzled into Lan Zhan’s touch, his body sinking back into the mattress.

“Don’t let anyone take her,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not yet.”

“I won’t,” Lan Zhan said. “She belongs here.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Wei Ying’s temple, then one to the soft crown of their daughter’s damp little head. “With you.”

Wei Ying exhaled, broken and grateful, barely above a whisper.

“My bunny…”

“She is yours,” Lan Zhan murmured. “You brought her here. No one will take her from you.”

And with that, Wei Ying finally let himself tremble. Not from pain, but from the rawness of it all, the love, the fear, the undoing. He clutched his daughter close and let Lan Zhan’s presence hold the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wei Ying was trembling before she even latched.

He sat propped up in the hospital bed, body stiff with soreness, every joint aching like it belonged to someone else. A fresh wave of cramps rolled through his lower belly, sharp and breath-stealing, but he hardly noticed. His entire world had narrowed to the tiny bundle in his arms, his little bunny, squirming restlessly against his chest, mouth rooting clumsily.

She was so small against his chest, bundled in nothing but a soft muslin blanket and a preemie diaper, her cheek still warm and damp, her limbs all floppiness and newborn weight. A tiny clear oxygen tube curved gently over her upper lip, giving her a faint hiss with every little breath, but it didn’t diminish her presence, if anything, it made her seem even more fragile and miraculous. Her little nose was scrunched, her lips puckered and smacking, and she was clearly hunting, determined and wiggling despite her size.

“She’s rooting,” the lactation specialist, Oliver, said with a soft smile. “Let’s see if she’s ready to eat.”

Oliver had helped them settle into position and organize her breathing tube so it wasn’t all tangled, belly to belly, her nose level with the nipple. Her mouth opened wide. He held his breath. But even with his instruction, Wei Ying felt exposed, tender and new, like his body had been turned inside out.

But instead of latching, she bobbled forward and missed.

She squeaked, a frustrated little sound, and tried again, this time smearing her cheek against his skin instead. Her mouth opened again, a tiny gasp of effort, but she didn’t catch properly.

But Wei Ying still looked down, panicked, as his nipple brushed her cheek and she turned her head away with a frustrated little grunt.

“No, no, bunny, it’s right here,” he murmured, voice shaking with nerves. “Mama’s got you… Come on, you can do it, sweetheart.”

He tried again, shifting her closer, cradling the back of her head just like the nurse had shown him. Her mouth bobbed uselessly, lips pursed, nose scrunched. Another tiny cry, soft, birdlike, escaped her, and it tore through Wei Ying like a blade.

“She’s trying,” he said, his voice watery. “She’s really trying…”

“She is,” Oliver says. “Newborns are smart. Sometimes it takes a few tries, especially when they’re so little. She just needs a little help.”

Lan Zhan’s hand came to rest on Wei Ying’s shoulder, warm and grounding.

“She will find you,” he said gently. “She’s strong. Like you.”

Wei Ying nodded, blinking fast. “She’s just so small, Lan Zhan. What if I’m doing it wrong?”

His arms were aching already from holding her so still. His chest burned from tension. His nipple felt sore, clumsy, the milk slow to come in, and for a terrible second he thought he wouldn’t be able to feed her at all.

“Maybe—maybe she’s too little,” he said brokenly, voice catching.

“She is not,” Lan Zhan said gently. “She will learn. You both will.”

Wei Ying blinked up at him, throat tight. Lan Zhan leaned in, brushing hair from his damp temple, then looked down at their daughter, gaze soft.

“Try again, my love,” Lan Zhan murmured. “She knows your voice. She’s listening.”

Wei Ying looked down at their daughter, flushed pink, nose wrinkled, lips open in that instinctive little gape. Her mouth brushed his skin again, then slipped off.

Another little cry, frustrated and thin.

Wei Ying’s eyes filled again. “I don’t want her to be upset,” he whispered.

Wei Ying swallowed thickly and took a shaky breath. He repositioned, kissed her forehead. “Come on, bunny,” he whispered, almost a lullaby. “Mama’s right here. You can do this. Just a little try for me, okay?”

“There you go, little peach,” he whispered. “You’re so close. You’ve got this. Mama’s right here.”

And this time…

Her mouth opened wide, wide enough. Her chin dipped. And she latched.

It wasn’t perfect, a little shallow, a little awkward, but it was real. Wei Ying gasped, the sensation strange and tugging and sudden.

She suckled.

Then paused.

Then suckled again.

His breath hitched. He looked down at her, stunned.

“She’s doing it,” he whispered. “Lan Zhan—she’s—she’s doing it.”

“She is,” Lan Zhan said, his voice thick with wonder. “She’s feeding.”

Wei Ying looked down at her: his tiny daughter, her face turned into his skin, her hands curled like little petals beneath her chin. Her breathing evened out. Her eyelids fluttered. And the sound, soft little hm-hm noises, half swallows, half sighs, filled the quiet room.

Oliver smiled, checking her position and nodding. “She’s latched. She’s learning your rhythm. And you’re doing beautifully.”

“Hi,” he whispered to her, barely audible. “You found me. I knew you would.”

She gave one more soft, snuffly suckle, and a content little hum against his chest.

Wei Ying let his head fall back against the pillows, relief rushing through him like warmth. He looked down at the tiny bundle at his chest, her fist curled near her chin, her mouth steadily working.

“My clever little bunny,” he whispered, tears finally spilling over. “Look at you go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They named her Lan Mei Tao, meaning “Beautiful Peach”—a little bundle of softness and warmth, whose round cheeks and gentle presence seemed to hold all the sweetness of spring. Already, they couldn’t imagine a world without her.

That first night she slept almost straight through, only waking once to nurse again. Clumsy as he still felt, Wei Ying managed to get her latched more quickly than the first time, the soft light of the room just enough to guide him. He counted it as a success. After a gentle burp and with Lan Zhan carefully handling her first diaper change, they settled for the night, Lan Mei Tao resting in her clear bassinet while her parents lay spooned close together in the small hospital bed, watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest.

In the early hours before dawn, she stirred awake, bright-eyed and alert. Wei Ying drew back the curtain, holding her against his chest, and together mother and daughter watched the slow bloom of sunrise. The soft glow touched her cheeks, painting her in gold. She blinked against the light, lashes fluttering, then let out a small squeak as her round fists stretched wide before curling back to rest against Wei Ying’s collarbone. Her legs kicked once in a clumsy sprawl, toes flexing before she stilled again, wide-eyed and curious.

When her tiny mouth began to root, Wei Ying shifted without hesitation, baring himself with an ease born of devotion rather than modesty. He guided her close, patient and tender, until she latched. The quiet sound of her suckling filled the hush of the room, her soft cheek pressed into the curve of his breast, her body curled in perfect trust against him. Wei Ying’s shoulders loosened as he gazed down at her, utterly unguarded, a small smile breaking through the sleep-rumpled lines of his face.

From his place behind them, Lan Zhan lifted the camera with painstaking care, capturing the moment without disturbing it. Wei Ying was flushed and puffy-eyed, hair messy from sleep, and yet Lan Zhan thought he had never been more beautiful. His love for him exceeded what he had ever believed himself capable of. Wei Ying’s strength in bringing their daughter into the world, through the intensity, the pain, the sheer endurance of it all, had given them the most precious gift. Lan Zhan knew he could never repay it, never equal it. He owed him everything. And he was impossibly, wholly in love.

Later, when they decided to dress her for the first time after being given the all clear to go home, Wei Ying had to hold himself back from dissolving completely. Lan Zhan reached into their hospital bag and pulled out the little blue bunny onesie he had surprised Wei Ying with, back when the pregnancy was still new and everything felt like a dream.

But when he unfolded it, the truth was obvious: even newborn size swallowed her. The torso alone seemed long enough to cover her whole body. Wei Ying’s throat closed, tears stinging his eyes before he could stop them.

They gently guided her tiny arms through the sleeves, but the fabric dangled far past her hands, pooling like she was playing dress-up. The hood with floppy bunny ears slid down over her head until it covered her entire face, only the faintest outline of her round cheeks visible beneath.

Wei Ying let out a wet laugh, tears spilling freely as he pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “Lan Zhan—she gets the cuteness from you, I swear,” he choked, eyes shining.

Lan Zhan’s steady hands adjusted the hood, though it was still hopelessly large. He glanced at Wei Ying with soft amusement, thumb brushing away the tears on his cheeks.

Wei Ying laughed again, the sound cracking with emotion. “She’s so precious, and so silly. She looks like she’s been swallowed whole.” He bent to kiss the top of her hidden little head, then sighed. “Alright. She’ll just have to be a naked diaper baby until we figure something else out.”

Lan Zhan nodded, and together they freed her from the enormous outfit. Wei Ying wrapped her snugly in the soft rabbit swaddle instead, tucking her in close and warm. She let out a tiny squeak, fists wriggling free to press against her chin, and Wei Ying’s heart squeezed so hard it hurt.

A gentle knock broke the moment, and in came Marlie, the sweet nurse who had reassured him through the panic of waiting to hear her cry for the first time. She carried a small basket, and Wei Ying only realized it was filled with clothes when she set it carefully at the end of the bed.

“Congratulations, mama,” Marlie said softly as she stepped inside, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Wei Ying cradling Lan Mei Tao. 

“May I see the little angel tucked in your chest?” her voice low and reverent, a soft smile brushing her lips. “Hello, little one… breathing all on your own now. Look at you, what a big girl…” She crouched slightly, leaning closer to peer at their tiny daughter, as if afraid to break the fragile perfection in front of her.  “Most parents aren’t prepared for how small preemies can be. Luckily, the ward has some donated preemie clothes, washed and ready for little ones.”

Wei Ying felt a flush of pride and bashfulness as Marlie continued, “Honestly, she’s one of the cutest babies I’ve seen in my twenty years as a labor nurse. You should both be so proud.”

Tears sprang to Wei Ying’s eyes, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her soft hair. Lan Zhan, equally choked with emotion, reached forward to clasp the nurse’s hands. “Thank you… truly,” he said, voice low and full. “Thank you for everything.”

Encouraged, Marlie carefully lifted a tiny, pale-blue onesie from the basket. “Would you like to try this on her?” she asked. Wei Ying’s hands trembled as he gently unwrapped Lan Mei Tao from the swaddle. Her skin was impossibly soft, so small it seemed fragile under his fingertips, and he marveled at every delicate detail, the curve of her tiny fingers, the faint wisps of hair on her head, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Lan Zhan guided her tiny arms through the miniature sleeves and legs, moving with slow, careful precision. Wei Ying let out a soft laugh, the sound catching in his throat and giving way to a choked sob. The onesie was minuscule, yet it fit her perfectly, hugging her tiny body like it had been made just for her.

“She’s… she’s perfect,” Wei Ying whispered, tears sliding freely down his cheeks. He leaned down, brushing his lips softly over the fine wisps of hair at her crown, pressing gentle kisses there as if he could seal every ounce of love and protection into each one. Lan Zhan leaned in beside him, pressing a warm kiss to Wei Ying’s temple, his voice quiet, trembling with awe. “Guess she’ll need a little extra time to grow into the other one, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Wei Ying inhaled the soft, new-baby scent lingering against his skin, heart swelling so fully it felt like it might burst. He held her closer, feeling the fragile warmth of her body beneath his fingers, utterly captivated by the tiny miracle resting in their hands.

Eventually, it was time to leave. Being pushed by Marlie, Wei Ying sat in the wheelchair, still tender and sore, watching with wet eyes as Lan Zhan carried Lan Mei Tao in her car seat. She looked tiny in the carrier, a fragile bundle of warmth and life, and Wei Ying’s chest clenched, a rush of love and desire tightening around his heart.

Lan Zhan’s careful steps, the way he held her with quiet reverence, made Wei Ying’s pulse stutter. Every time he met Lan Zhan’s gaze, he felt it, a silent, overwhelming vow forming deep inside him. If Lan Zhan looked like this now, holding their daughter with such strength and tenderness, Wei Ying would give him every baby he ever wanted.

Finally tucked in the car, Lan Mei Tao and Wei Ying in the back, the faint scent of new blankets and baby powder filling the space, but all Wei Ying could feel was the thrum of life beside him. Lan Zhan meets his eyes in the rear view mirror, an electric, unspoken bond between them, a quiet reassurance and confirmation, they were ready for whatever came next, as a family.