Chapter 64: Prenatal Anxiety
Jiang Rong remembered the last time He Siming had thought that his reproductive cavity opening might cause massive bleeding. Back then, He Siming had also silently cried in the living room until his eyes were red.
He kissed He Siming on the lips, their soft lips brushing lightly.
“You need to trust the doctors. Old Liu is a very authoritative expert. I’ve looked into his achievements—he can use acupuncture to help stop bleeding. I think it’s very safe.”
Never in his life had He Siming felt as miserable as he did today. Just thinking about a knife cutting into Jiang Rong’s belly, about all that blood, made his heart ache so badly he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Choking back sobs, he pulled Jiang Rong tightly into his arms.
“But I’m just worried. They don’t understand your body well enough.”
Every prenatal checkup at the hospital seemed to add a new source of anxiety.
Jiang Rong comforted him gently.
“But the fact that I could get pregnant after being with you shows that our body structures are largely the same—there are only slight differences. It’s not as serious as you imagine. In other aspects, I’m the same as you.”
He Siming fell silent.
Jiang Rong knew that no matter how he comforted him now, it wouldn’t help much. His different body structure was the biggest surgical risk, and the last fainting episode had really frightened him.
He softly stroked He Siming’s back and said, “He Siming, how about we get out of the car and take a walk?”
He Siming steadied his emotions.
“It’s a bit hot outside.”
He Siming’s anxiety stemmed from himself. Verbal reassurance from Jiang Rong didn’t help much. The only thing Jiang Rong could do was help him step out of his emotional spiral and stop fixating.
“It’s not even thirty degrees,” Jiang Rong said. “Let’s just walk around for a bit. I’m mainly hungry.”
He Siming replied, “Alright then. If the baby can’t go hungry, you definitely can’t either.”
Jiang Rong smiled. Most people would say that no matter what, you can’t let the baby go hungry—but He Siming said it the other way around. It showed how much Jiang Rong mattered to him, so much that even the slightest harm made him terrified. Jiang Rong finally understood what it felt like to be loved and cared for—both sour and sweet at the same time.
At first, his feelings for He Siming had been born of necessity, mixed with guilt. Later came trust and reliance. And now, he realized, he probably liked him very much—really very much.
The place where they had parked was right next to a street.
Nearby stood a temple with bustling incense offerings, a small scenic spot in its own right. The street benefited from the temple’s popularity and was lined with restaurants and little shops.
As soon as Jiang Rong got out of the car, he kept holding He Siming’s hand.
Jiang Rong’s hand was warm and comforting, melting away the trembling in He Siming’s hand that fear had caused.
The Jiang Rong of the past wouldn’t have dared to walk hand in hand with him in public. But now, he didn’t mind holding his hand in front of others.
He Siming liked this confident Jiang Rong—open, no longer hiding his feelings. At least in front of him, Jiang Rong was transparent, warm, and fully trusting.
There was a saying that love is mutual, and at this moment, it took on a tangible form.
Their fingers interlaced. Jiang Rong simply looked up at him and smiled faintly.
He Siming’s emotions returned to normal. He knew what mattered most right now.
“What do you want to eat? I heard there’s a really good halal hand-pulled noodle place here. Want to try it?”
Jiang Rong was rarely this eager—he could already smell it.
“Of course! Hurry, hurry—I’m really hungry.”
“Walk slower,” He Siming reminded him. “The road’s uneven.”
The ground was paved with old stone slabs, not very even, with small pits here and there. He Siming was genuinely worried, but at least he was still holding Jiang Rong’s hand.
They passed many snack stalls. Jiang Rong wanted to eat almost everything, and as long as it was within reason, He Siming let him buy it.
The noodle shop was only a hundred meters away, but within those hundred meters were several snack stalls. By the time they reached the restaurant, both of them were carrying a lot of food—still-hot takoyaki, sizzling grilled squid releasing fragrant steam, Northeast-style grilled cold noodles, shredded potato pancakes. Anything that smelled good, Jiang Rong didn’t let it pass.
Jiang Rong had a great appetite—he could eat even more.
Even though he ate a lot and never gained weight, He Siming still had to keep an eye on him. Small, frequent meals were fine, but he couldn’t eat a whole day’s worth in one sitting.
All of He Siming’s attention was focused on Jiang Rong.
After finishing the halal noodles, Jiang Rong was still reluctant to leave. He was truly full and truly satisfied, but he needed to digest.
There was another street nearby, mostly selling drinks and cultural-creative products.
Jiang Rong was very receptive to this world’s traditional culture. Whenever he saw cute little items, he wanted to buy them. After walking around, his hands were full—small ornaments, adorable cups, blue-and-white porcelain-style tableware, double-sided embroidery, lucky cats. If he liked it, he bought it.
They finally stopped at a shop that specialized in refrigerator magnets.
This was the only shop He Siming didn’t let him linger in.
“Don’t buy fridge magnets,” He Siming said.
“Are they not pretty?” Jiang Rong asked.
“I’ll custom-make a set for you later, okay?”
“Okay,” Jiang Rong agreed. “We bought so many things today—I’m already very satisfied. We’ll come back next time.”
He hadn’t been out for several days. Today felt like being let out for fresh air—pure happiness, especially with He Siming accompanying him. His mood was excellent.
When Jiang Rong was happy, He Siming felt happy too just watching his innocent smile. For the moment, he managed to hide the anxiety about the surgery.
When they passed the temple entrance, they went inside and lit three sticks of incense.
He Siming knelt on the cushion for a long time, praying earnestly. Jiang Rong stood beside him, his heart melting into a pool of spring water.
Inside the temple stood a bodhi tree.
Every year, its fallen leaves were picked up by devout believers and taken home.
At this time of year, of course, there were no precious fallen leaves left, which made Jiang Rong feel a bit regretful.
However, he picked up a camphor tree leaf with a special texture, fiery red in color, with the veins in the center forming a soft, cloud-like pattern.
“Look,” Jiang Rong said, “what does this look like to you?”
He Siming had looked through the monthly ultrasound images countless times.
“It looks like you and me holding a little baby.”
Jiang Rong beamed.
“Here—take it. Let it be the first family photo of the three of us.”
“Mm.” He Siming once again put away the leaf Jiang Rong gave him. He liked the meaning behind this leaf. Maybe the gods had really heard his prayers—Jiang Rong had to be safe, and the baby had to be born smoothly, without making Dad suffer.
He still kept the first ginkgo leaf Jiang Rong had ever given him. Later, Jiang Rong had given him other leaves and petals, and he had carefully saved every one.
That night, after Jiang Rong replenished his pheromones, he was utterly exhausted and fell asleep right away.
He Siming adjusted the waist pillow for him. He himself wasn’t sleepy at all.
He knew he was very anxious—completely unable to sleep—but he didn’t want to wake Jiang Rong. He quietly got up, walked into the living room, and turned on the desk lamp.
Jiang Rong woke up in the night to use the bathroom and found no one beside him. The bedroom door was ajar, and he saw the desk lamp still on outside.
He was very sleepy. With the dim light, he couldn’t see clearly whether He Siming was reading or using the computer.
Standing at the doorway, rubbing his eyes, he asked,
“He Siming, aren’t you sleeping? You have class tomorrow—go to bed early, okay?”
“I’ll be right there,” He Siming replied.
After Jiang Rong finished using the bathroom, He Siming returned to bed. This time, Jiang Rong fell asleep leaning against his chest.
But over the next few days, Jiang Rong noticed that He Siming kept staying up late at night, turning on the desk lamp and doing who knows what. Fortunately, he wasn’t staying up all night, so Jiang Rong didn’t force him to sleep together. He assumed He Siming was reading papers or something—just light late nights.
Most importantly, he didn’t seem as anxious during the day.
Until one morning, Jiang Rong woke up and saw vivid refrigerator magnets on top of the fridge.
They weren’t the common styles you could find anywhere, but unique pieces—one-of-a-kind, belonging only to the memories shared by him and He Siming.
They were all the leaves and petals Jiang Rong had given He Siming. He had turned every single one into lifelike refrigerator magnets. Each leaf was perfectly preserved, and even the petals that had lost their original color were restored. He Siming had given them new life.
Jiang Rong stood in front of the fridge for a long time, unable to come back to himself.
He picked up the magnets one by one, admiring them over and over. How were they made? Every piece was exquisitely crafted.
How could he do everything? There were little surprises he created everywhere in daily life.
Could it be that the past few nights he’d stayed up late with the lamp on, he’d been secretly turning all the leaves and petals into fridge magnets?
So this was how he’d been easing his own anxiety—hoping it would help, even a little.
Jiang Rong loved these magnets so much he couldn’t put them down. He looked at them again and again, wanting to treasure every single one.
He Siming had even arranged them all into the shape of a heart.
Jiang Rong recorded everything on his phone, taking several photos as proof, and for the first time, shared their relationship on his Moments.
Usually, he just recorded daily life. This time, he was willing to show it to everyone.
He realized he now had that same urge He Siming had—to show off to the whole world. He thought this was probably what love looked like at its most beautiful.
Of course, he also hoped that these small things might help ease He Siming’s anxiety.
[These aren’t just decorations. I really love them. Thank you.]
He Siming replied: ?????? ???
Yao Shule: Looks great! You didn’t make these yourself, did you?
Li Yizhou: The sour stench of love.
Ding Yan: 666666!
Xu Mingqin: What are these? Are the leaves clean? Were they disinfected?
Lin Nana: Wow—Rongrong is in love?
Class Monitor: Why did you take leave? When are you coming back to school? Do the next group assignment with me!
Lin Nana: @He Siming, God He, did you reply with the wrong emojis? You’re OOC!
Whether he was OOC or not, He Siming knew it himself.
He could also imagine whether Jiang Rong had blushed when he posted that Moments update.
As the fetus grew month by month, He Siming found it increasingly impossible to stop imagining Jiang Rong entering the operating room. His mind kept conjuring various outcomes while waiting outside. He didn’t dare imagine them—didn’t even dare sleep. Every time he slept, he dreamed of scenes drenched in blood.
Even though he accompanied Jiang Rong to sleep every night, his sleep quality was truly terrible.
One night, he dreamed of Jiang Rong standing in front of him, clutching the wound on his abdomen, face deathly pale, asking him for a hug. For two nights in a row, he woke up in the middle of the night just to touch Jiang Rong’s still-safe belly.
Making the fridge magnets had always been something he was preparing—originally meant as a surprise for Jiang Rong. It had indeed surprised him, and the process itself had helped ease a bit of his anxiety.
He knew that his current state was very wrong.
After finishing all the magnets, he went early in the morning to find Xu Mingzhuo.
As a doctor, Xu Mingzhuo talked him through it for half an hour, but the effect was minimal. The moment he mentioned Jiang Rong’s surgical arrangements, He Siming’s breathing sped up.
He was deeply troubled.
“Uncle, how can I improve this anxiety? I don’t want to disturb Jiang Rong’s rest, but I really can’t sleep at night. Even when I do fall asleep, I have nightmares. I’m even afraid that if I don’t sleep well, I might snap at him. My state is really bad.”
Xu Mingzhuo had never seen his usually calm, unflappable nephew turn into this because of someone.
Naturally, he took the issue seriously.
“You have prenatal anxiety disorder. Jiang Rong is fine—it’s you who’s overly tense.”
“Yes,” He Siming admitted. “I’m afraid something will happen to him.”
“Don’t you trust the doctors?” Xu Mingzhuo asked.
He Siming clutched his head.
“It’s not about trusting or not trusting doctors. I’m just really scared. He’s different from others.”
He could calculate the probability of accidents. The more precise his calculations, the more impossible it became for him to vent his emotions.
“How is Jiang Rong now?” Xu Mingzhuo asked. “How’s his mood? Does he know about your situation?”
“He tells me nothing will happen and tells me not to worry.”
“You need to trust him,” Xu Mingzhuo said. “He’s the one closest to the baby. Only if you rest well can you take good care of him and the baby.”
“I don’t want to pass my negativity on to him.”
“Jiang Rong is very smart,” Xu Mingzhuo said. “Tell him about your anxiety. Face this problem together. Heart problems need heart medicine.”
“But he—”
“He is your best psychologist,” Xu Mingzhuo interrupted. “Try telling him your anxiety and solve it together. If that still doesn’t work, I’ll find you a therapist.”
“I’ll try,” He Siming said.
But he didn’t know how to bring it up. He didn’t want Jiang Rong to worry.
On the other side, Jiang Rong had long known that ever since the doctor mentioned possible surgical complications, He Siming’s anxiety had grown increasingly severe.
Recently, Jiang Rong had also been reading psychology books from this world. Only when he needed them did he realize how lacking his knowledge was—his understanding of psychology was still not deep enough.
He Siming’s anxiety stemmed from Jiang Rong himself, yet no matter what Jiang Rong did, it seemed to trigger that anxiety. As a result, Jiang Rong didn’t dare say too much, afraid of touching a nerve.
Yes—he could still ask others for help.
Why was He Siming anxious? Because he lacked a sense of security. And why did he lack that? It most likely came from his family of origin.
His parents had been away most of the year, so he’d received very little parental companionship.
Ding Yan had once said that He Siming used to not care about anything—because he’d never had anything. Now that he had something, something unique, he was afraid of losing it.
If roles were reversed, Jiang Rong would also hope that during his most difficult times, there would be family and friends behind him to support him.
As for He Siming’s friends, the only one Jiang Rong knew was Ding Yan—but Ding Yan was too clumsy for this kind of thing. That left only He Siming’s family.
He Siming’s uncle was a doctor—and also one of the sources of his anxiety.
Jiang Rong opened WeChat and saw that He Siming’s mother had liked his Moments post. At least that showed she was paying attention to them.
Maybe these parents, though career-driven, would still show up when their son was in trouble.
He had to try.
As someone who wasn’t very good at chatting with elders, Jiang Rong took the initiative to contact Xu Mingqin.
Jiang Rong: Auntie, are you free recently? There’s something extremely important that needs your and Uncle’s help.
Xu Mingqin: What is it?
Jiang Rong: He Siming has been very anxious lately. Could you and Uncle come back to the capital for a visit?
Xu Mingqin: Yes.
Jiang Rong: Thank you, Auntie.
Xu Mingqin: No need to thank me. He’s my son—I should be thanking you.
Without He Siming knowing, Xu Mingqin contacted her husband, who was constantly flying around for work.
Xu Mingqin: Our son is sick. Come back to the capital immediately!
The two of them rushed back overnight.
The next morning, just after He Siming woke up, his mother called him.
He Siming had slept fairly well the night before. After replenishing Jiang Rong’s pheromones, they’d needed more than usual, and he’d slept three hours longer than in recent days. His mental state was decent.
He quickly took his phone to the living room, gently closing the bedroom door behind him so as not to disturb Jiang Rong.
It was rare for his mother to call him early in the morning.
“Mom? Why are you calling me?”
“I came back to the capital with your dad last night,” Xu Mingqin said. “We’ll stay a few days. Can you bring Jiang Rong over for lunch today?”
“I got it. I’ll tell him.”
“Give your dad a surprise,” she added.
“A surprise?” He Siming asked.
“He still doesn’t know Jiang Rong is a boy. Don’t tell him in advance—treat everyone equally.”
He Siming’s mind had been so chaotic lately that he’d forgotten about this. He was also surprised that his mother was joking with him.
He smiled.
“Alright.”
Jiang Rong had woken up while He Siming was on the phone. Seeing him standing in the morning light talking to his mother, he noticed that He Siming looked less tense. His own worries finally eased a little.
Parents, no matter when, could always be their child’s support.
Jiang Rong lowered his gaze to his belly.
He wondered what this little one would be like after being born.
At noon, to accommodate Jiang Rong and avoid making him travel far, He Siming’s parents chose a high-end restaurant near the school.
When Jiang Rong appeared, He Zhixian—who dominated the business world—was completely stunned.
With a glint of pride in his eyes, He Siming introduced him to his father.
“Dad, this is Jiang Rong. He’s a boy.”
“Hello, Uncle,” Jiang Rong said politely.
He Zhixian froze for a long moment, his expression cracking.
“H-Hello… hello.” After catching his breath, he looked at his wife. “You didn’t already know this, did you?”
“Of course,” Xu Mingqin said calmly. She’d already grown quite close to Jiang Rong, shedding her usual cold, powerful-businesswoman aura.
She beckoned Jiang Rong over.
“Jiang Rong, sit here. How have you been lately? Is your appetite good? When’s the due date? Was the plan I gave you last time useful?”
“My appetite’s very good,” Jiang Rong answered one by one, his voice gentle and his smile just right. “The due date is mid-July. The plan was very useful—I practice yoga every day now, and He Siming practices with me.”
He Siming and He Zhixian discussed what dishes to order.
He Zhixian noticed that his son, sitting beside him, had matured a lot. Looking closely, his face appeared more resolute, marked by the growth of manhood.
From Xu Mingqin, he’d learned about He Siming’s prenatal anxiety.
He wanted to help.
“Son, congratulations—you’re about to become a father.”
Jiang Rong and Xu Mingqin both turned to look at him at the same time.
Jiang Rong frowned slightly. Uncle, please—don’t bring up the very thing you shouldn’t right now!
