He saw his parents and Chi Yao sitting on the sofa when he entered. As soon as Fu Rong’s mother noticed her son holding the baby, she intended to go over and take their Fu family grandchild.

But before she could, a figure passed by and took the baby from Fu Rong’s arms—it was Chi Yao.

“This is your matter,” Chi Yao said, his eyes indicating that Fu Rong should handle it quickly.

Fu Rong nodded. “The baby might wake up soon, stay with him.”

Of course, Chi Yao would stay with his baby. He took the child upstairs, leaving the living room to Fu Rong and his parents.

Chi Yao went to the nursery room, where the maid had brought some things for the baby. Meanwhile, Fu Rong sat across from his parents. There was a cup of tea in front of him, which Chi Yao had taken two sips from. By the time Fu Rong drank it, the tea was cold, but it felt warm as it went down his throat.

“The child is mine, but he’s even more Chi Yao’s. I don’t care what you’ve said to him. You’re welcome to visit the baby whenever you want, but he belongs to Chi Yao. He carries Chi Yao’s last name now and will always carry his last name—there won’t be another,” Fu Rong said, his tone cold and unwavering.

He rarely spoke to his parents like this. It was as if the two people sitting across from him weren’t his parents but outsiders who were trying to disrupt his relationship with Chi Yao.

“Fu Rong! How can you talk to us like that? Do you still consider us your parents?” Fu Rong’s father stood up abruptly, his gaze sharp and intense.

“Of course, you’re still my parents, but you came here without even informing me. Do you still consider me your son?” Fu Rong replied, his expression icily stern, not backing down at all. His demeanor gave his parents the impression that, if things continued this way, Fu Rong might even sever ties with them—for the sake of an outsider.

His mother, fuming, moved to slap Fu Rong, but his father held her back.

His father, slightly more composed, asked again, “Is the child really yours?”

“Yes, we share the same bloodline.”

His father squinted, having noticed the way Chi Yao had looked at the baby earlier. Chi Yao’s expression had been even more gentle than Fu Rong’s. Just moments before, he’d been cold, but the instant he held the baby, his demeanor softened, making it seem as if Chi Yao were the child’s real father.

Yet, Fu Rong insisted that the child was his. Something didn’t feel right to his father.

But one thing was clear: the baby wasn’t going back to the Fu family today. Still, since the child was Fu Rong’s, his father believed it was just a matter of time. They would have to trust their son.

Before leaving, his father said to Fu Rong, “You’ve always handled things carefully. Even if you truly like him, make sure he likes you back. Confirm it.”

Here, “he” referred to Chi Yao.

Fu Rong nodded, recognizing that his father’s attitude had softened. He watched as his parents leave. They didn’t stay for lunch, clearly sensing they weren’t welcome in this household.

Once they were gone, Fu Rong headed upstairs. Chi Yao was by the baby’s crib, watching their child sleep peacefully. Fu Rong walked up behind him and placed his hand over Chi Yao’s.

“I’m sorry,” Fu Rong said, apologizing on behalf of his parents. Chi Yao turned around, then suddenly kissed him.

The kiss abrupt, mindful that the baby was sleeping nearby. Although the baby was asleep, he could wake at any moment.

Fu Rong thought the kiss was over for good, but as they left the nursery, Chi Yao grabbed him by the hand. Fu Rong stared at Chi Yao’s slender, elegant hand. He’d seen Chi Yao’s body before, although that was before he knew Chi Yao’s true identity. Every detail from that night was etched in his memory.

Fu Rong had desires for Chi Yao, feelings not just of the heart but of the body as well.

He wasn’t entirely abstinent. In fact, Chi Yao’s presence had shattered all his former self-control. Chi Yao had no idea how much Fu Rong restrained himself, not wanting to show Chi Yao his completely unrestrained side.

Chi Yao led Fu Rong into the bedroom. Fu Rong’s expression was dazed, as if he didn’t know what was about to happen.

How could he not know?

They had already been intimate before.

Chi Yao pushed Fu Rong onto the bed by his shoulders, and he sat down on the edge, looking up at the man in front of him. On the surface, there was no sign that this man had ever been pregnant.

Sometimes, Fu Rong marveled at the fact that Chi Yao had given birth, had birthed their child.

What had he done in a past life to deserve such fortune in this one, to have both Chi Yao and the baby?

Fu Rong wrapped his arms around Chi Yao’s body, resting his face against it. He didn’t need to see it to know that on the side of Chi Yao’s abdomen, there was a long scar—a scar from when Chi Yao had lain on the operating table, cut open by a surgeon’s knife.

Chi Yao had endured so much pain for their child. Though he never spoke about it, Fu Rong knew everything.

With the weight of the baby inside him, Chi Yao had walked cautiously, especially during the later stages of pregnancy, when he could neither run nor jump. It was as if his whole body was constrained.

Yet Chi Yao had never complained, never expressed discomfort. To him, the baby was a gift from heaven.

And to Fu Rong, both Chi Yao and the baby were heaven’s gifts.

“Thank you, Chi Yao,” Fu Rong said in a muffled voice, expressing his gratitude for the chance Chi Yao had given him.

Fu Rong’s eyes gradually reddened. This was the same man who had shed a tear when he’d seen the blood from Chi Yao’s surgery.

In this moment, he couldn’t explain why, but Fu Rong felt a strange sensation, as if he had once lost Chi Yao and the baby. That’s why he was grateful to Chi Yao and, at the same time, thankful to the heavens.

Chi Yao lifted Fu Rong’s face from his chest and looked down at him. This man, the heartthrob in everyone’s eyes, was completely different from Chi Yao. Due to Chi Yao’s strange and temperamental personality, even though he had money, not many people truly liked or cared about him.

But now, this so-called heartthrob was completely infatuated with him.

Chi Yao had never cared about others’ opinions before, and he still didn’t now. However, seeing someone as talented and handsome as Fu Rong falling in love with him gave Chi Yao a sense of pride.

After all, he was just an ordinary person, with all the normal desires and emotions.

Chi Yao straddled Fu Rong’s lap, his long legs draping over him. He lowered his head, his smile reaching deep into his eyes.

“Do you want this?” Chi Yao’s slender fingers toyed with the buttons on Fu Rong’s shirt. Under Fu Rong’s gaze, Chi Yao undid one of the buttons.

“It seems like you got a tattoo, right here?”

Chi Yao’s long fingers trailed down Fu Rong’s shoulder and stopped at his shoulder blade.

Chi Yao had once had a butterfly tattoo on his own back, which he later removed. But Fu Rong liked it so much that, not wanting Chi Yao to endure the pain of getting another tattoo, he decided to get one himself as a tribute to Chi Yao. He even went to the same tattoo shop Chi Yao had used, though his design was slightly different: the butterfly wings on Fu Rong’s back were larger and darker.

Fu Rong nodded. “Yeah, it’s right there. Do you want to see it?”

Chi Yao chuckled, “Of course I do.”

Chi Yao undid the rest of Fu Rong’s buttons and slid his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. Fu Rong’s entire upper body was now exposed, showcasing his powerful, beautiful physique, which could only be described as alluring—his muscles well-defined and his lines sharp. Just looking at him was incredibly tempting.

Chi Yao admired him for a while, then leaned forward to get a better look at the tattoo on Fu Rong’s back. Still seated on Fu Rong’s lap, he hadn’t moved behind him.

From this angle, the tattoo wasn’t entirely visible, but Chi Yao could still make out the outline. It was beautiful, inked on Fu Rong’s shoulder blade—dark butterfly wings that seemed to symbolize the depths of Fu Rong’s soul. Though he appeared bright and calm on the outside, Chi Yao knew there was a deep darkness in Fu Rong. He had seen that intense, shadowy gaze directed at him on more than one occasion.

People are like that, even the most pure-hearted people have dark sides. But most can control it.

Fu Rong controlled his well. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be standing in front of Chi Yao now.

Chi Yao lowered his lips to Fu Rong’s shoulder, then slowly raised his gaze to meet Fu Rong’s, whose eyes seemed like mountains collapsing within.

“I want it now. It’s been over a year, hasn’t it?” Chi Yao wasn’t sure about the exact time. The last time they were together, they hadn’t gone all the way because Fu Rong had been too careful, not wanting to hurt Chi Yao. He had always held back.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore.”

Chi Yao could hardly believe he’d once covered his eyes with a blindfold. He now remembered how much pleasure it had brought him—the kind that made even his soul tremble with delight.

Chi Yao ran his fingers through Fu Rong’s soft hair, as gentle as Fu Rong’s feelings for him.

Chi Yao let out a soft laugh and whispered in Fu Rong’s ear, “Do you want a daughter?”

Fu Rong stiffened, his sharp eyes locking onto Chi Yao’s.

“On second thought, one is enough. I don’t want to go through another surgery and get another scar on my stomach. I’m actually quite afraid of pain.”

Chi Yao’s voice was light as he smiled.

Fu Rong grabbed Chi Yao’s hand. “There won’t be a second time.”

“Are you prepared?” Chi Yao didn’t have anything ready. If there were any accidents, he joked, he might end up getting angry.

Fu Rong pulled Chi Yao into his arms, holding him tightly. His voice dropped, becoming hoarse.

“I’ve already been to the hospital.”

Chi Yao looked a bit confused.

Before Fu Rong could explain further, Chi Yao suddenly understood why Fu Rong had gone to the hospital.

“Oh, really? That’s fine then.” Chi Yao hadn’t expected Fu Rong to be so thorough in his preparations.

Now that everything was in place, Chi Yao pushed Fu Rong down onto the bed, placing his hand on Fu Rong’s firm abs, feeling the contours.

“Leave it to me, alright?” Chi Yao had always been this way—he liked to be in control, to have everything in his hands.

“Alright.”

Fu Rong didn’t mind. As long as Chi Yao was happy, he didn’t care if he had to be the one yielding. He loved this person, and he was willing to give him everything—even his life.

Fu Rong’s eyes reddened slightly, as if he were about to cry.

Chi Yao laughed softly, running the back of his hand across Fu Rong’s face.

“No need to be so emotional, hmm?”

Fu Rong caught Chi Yao’s hand and kissed his fingertips.

“Don’t leave me.” Don’t you or the baby ever leave me.

Chi Yao gazed into Fu Rong’s eyes, momentarily dazed. It felt like a scene from his previous life. Though Fu Rong hadn’t spoken it aloud, his eyes said it all—he didn’t want Chi Yao and the baby to ever leave him.

Chi Yao leaned down, embracing Fu Rong as he whispered, “Alright.”

In that moment, Fu Rong felt as though his deepest wish, one that had spanned two lifetimes, had finally been fulfilled.

What happened next was completely under Chi Yao’s control. His gaze was filled with arrogance and satisfaction as he commanded everything about Fu Rong—his body and his soul.