BSS CH 24

Prenatal Checkup

Liang Jingmin let out a muffled groan of pain, snapping Cheng Jing’s dazed eyes into focus.

He wanted to pull back, but it was too late—the blade was sharper than expected. As it sank in, fresh blood gushed out.

Cheng Jing stared blankly at the crimson streaks spreading before him, panic creeping into his pupils. His hands loosened, his mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. He trembled violently.

Liang Jingmin inhaled sharply but remained composed. He gripped the knife with his left hand, pulling it from his bloodied palm before letting it clatter to the floor.

Cheng Jing, breathing heavily, cupped Liang Jingmin’s face in alarm. “Are you okay?”

His trembling worsened, his body shaking so visibly that it was impossible to ignore.

Blood still flowed freely from Liang Jingmin’s injured palm, yet he reached out with his uninjured hand, pulling Cheng Jing into his arms, pressing his fear-stricken eyes against his chest.

Despite the cold sweat beading on his forehead from the pain, he murmured in a steady voice, “Don’t be scared, baby. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He paused, gently patting Cheng Jing’s shoulder as if soothing a child, then added with a faint smile, “Really, it doesn’t. Since when did you become so timid?”

Neither of them slept well that night. A doctor had to be called in early, sitting in the living room to clean and stitch Liang Jingmin’s wound.

Cheng Jing refused to sleep. Wrapped in a blanket, he sat silently to the side, watching—watching as the wound was reopened and stitched, bandaged carefully. He didn’t speak until the doctor had left, his voice low and muffled. “I’m sorry… I had a nightmare.”

Liang Jingmin’s voice was equally quiet. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, what’s the point of holding a knife while sleeping?”

Cheng Jing still seemed lost in thought. He shifted closer, speaking hesitantly. “Let me see your hand.”

“Haven’t you looked enough already?” Liang Jingmin frowned slightly, making no move to offer his hand.

Cheng Jing’s left hand hovered in the air, refusing to lower.

With a sigh, Liang Jingmin finally placed his right hand into Cheng Jing’s.

“You wouldn’t let me see your injuries before,” Cheng Jing muttered, his tone almost accusatory—the kind that would make subordinates in his company break into a cold sweat. But right now, he wasn’t afraid at all.

He wasn’t sure where this sudden confidence came from. Maybe it was the exhaustion of carrying the baby these past few months. Even if he hadn’t been strong before, he had learned to be, little by little.

“What injuries?” Cheng Jing feigned ignorance.

Liang Jingmin simply shook his head, choosing not to argue. In the stillness of the night, their emotions seemed to settle.

Cheng Jing lowered his gaze, studying the wound beneath the bandage. His eyes suddenly held a trace of sadness. He stared for a long time in silence.

Then, breaking the quiet, Liang Jingmin asked, “What did you dream about?”

“…I don’t remember,” Cheng Jing admitted, lifting his head. “Dreams fade after you wake up.”

“But maybe it was from a couple of months ago… That was a rough time,” he added, his voice thick with emotion.

Suddenly, his tone changed—like a child excitedly recounting something from school. “Back then, even drinking water would make me choke. I’d cough up blood, faint without warning… Every day felt worse than dying.”

Liang Jingmin felt a sharp pang in his heart.

His gaze drifted to Cheng Jing’s belly, which still wasn’t very pronounced. The pregnancy wasn’t far along, so the bump wasn’t obvious. But in that moment, Liang Jingmin’s eyes darkened, the light in them dimming just a little.

It wasn’t until Liang Jingmin let out a muffled groan of pain that Cheng Jing’s eyes finally focused.

He wanted to pull back, but it was too late—the knife was sharper than expected. As it sank in, fresh blood gushed out.

Cheng Jing stared blankly at the spreading red, panic creeping into his pupils. His hands trembled as he loosened his grip, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came. His whole body shook violently.

Liang Jingmin inhaled sharply but remained composed. With his left hand, he pulled the knife from his own bleeding palm and let it clatter to the floor.

Cheng Jing gasped for breath, grabbing Liang Jingmin’s face in a panic. “Are you okay?”

His shaking worsened, now visibly uncontrollable.

Blood continued to flow from Liang Jingmin’s palm, yet he used his left hand to pull Cheng Jing into an embrace, pressing his terrified face against his chest.

Sweat dampened his forehead from the pain, but his voice remained steady. “Don’t be scared, baby. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He paused briefly, then patted Cheng Jing’s shoulder gently, almost like soothing a child. With a faint smile, he added, “Really, it doesn’t hurt. Since when did you become so timid?”

That night, neither of them got any sleep. A doctor was called in early, sitting in the living room to clean and bandage Liang Jingmin’s wound.

Cheng Jing refused to sleep. Wrapped in a blanket, he sat silently by the side, watching as the doctor stitched up the gash in Liang Jingmin’s palm and wrapped it in gauze. He only spoke after the doctor left, his voice low and muffled. “I’m sorry… I had a nightmare.”

Liang Jingmin’s voice was soft. “It’s alright. This way, at least, the knife wasn’t useless.”

Cheng Jing still looked dazed. He scooted a little closer. “Let me see your hand.”

“You just spent all that time watching, and it still wasn’t enough?” Liang Jingmin frowned slightly but didn’t pull away.

Cheng Jing reached out, but his hand hesitated in midair.

With a sigh, Liang Jingmin placed his right hand in Cheng Jing’s palm.

“I wanted to see your injuries before, but you wouldn’t let me,” Cheng Jing muttered, as if questioning him. If it were one of Liang Jingmin’s employees, they’d probably be sweating under his scrutiny. But Cheng Jing wasn’t afraid.

He didn’t even know where this sudden boldness came from. Maybe it was because he had spent these past few months carrying a child, and even if he lacked confidence, that alone gave him a sliver of courage.

“What injuries?” Cheng Jing feigned ignorance.

Liang Jingmin shook his head, choosing not to argue. The tension between them seemed to soften as the night deepened.

Cheng Jing lowered his gaze, staring quietly at the gauze-wrapped wound. A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes. He stared for a long time.

Breaking the silence, Liang Jingmin finally asked, “What did you dream about?”

Cheng Jing looked up, trying to recall. After a moment, he simply said, “I don’t remember. It was just a dream—dreams always fade when you wake up.”

“But maybe it was from two months ago. That time was really hard to get through.” His voice was a little hoarse.

His tone suddenly turned light, almost childlike, as if he were recounting an interesting school memory. “Back then, even drinking water would make me choke. I coughed up so much blood that it was disgusting. I’d faint out of nowhere, completely unpredictable… It was worse than death.”

A sharp pain twisted in Liang Jingmin’s chest.

His eyes fell on Cheng Jing’s slightly rounded stomach. The bump wasn’t obvious yet, given how early it was, but even so, his gaze darkened.

How could someone as proud as him tolerate seeing the person he loved suffer like this, out of his sight? And how could he accept that Cheng Jing was carrying another man’s child?

Swallowing his pain, he forced himself to stay calm. He lifted his head, voice a little heavier. “Are you finally going to tell me why you agreed… to this?”

Cheng Jing sighed. “You’re really still asking why? Weren’t you the ones who forced me?”

“Liang Yulin made me sign the papers. I just agreed.”

He brushed past the topic lightly, as if he had long moved past the initial shock, treating it as nothing more than a straightforward decision. His voice was cold. “I owed you all. What else could I do?”

The way he said “you all” made it sound like he lumped Liang Jingmin and his brother, Liang Yulin, together.

But Liang Jingmin still didn’t understand. If it was just coercion, why would Cheng Jing agree to bear Liang Yulin’s child? He owed Liang Jingmin for a crime he didn’t commit—but what did he owe Liang Yulin?

A realization struck him like lightning.

Back when they reunited, Cheng Jing had indeed met Liang Yulin first.

They had been classmates in their youth. In everyone’s eyes, Cheng Jing had always been the untouchable, proud figure at the top of the mountain. He had never shown any affection toward Liang Jingmin. Even when he agreed to marry him…

Liang Jingmin didn’t dare think further.

For years, he had avoided dissecting these thoughts.

Cold, resolute, ruthless—this was how he lived his life. Liang Jingmin had never failed to get what he wanted. The moment he saw Cheng Jing again in that meeting room, he had decided to keep him by his side. And he had succeeded.

But… he and Liang Yulin did look somewhat alike. Could it be…

No. Cheng Jing had chosen him back then.

Then why had Liang Yulin brought up the bet again?

Cheng Jing had no idea what Liang Jingmin was thinking, nor what Liang Yulin had said to him. Seeing his silence, he frowned slightly. “I feel like you’ve asked me this before.”

He murmured, “Or maybe not… I can’t remember. It must’ve been a dream.”

Seeing him in this dazed state again, Liang Jingmin’s chest tightened. A nameless fire burned inside him, but he couldn’t take it out on the fragile Cheng Jing. He could only suppress it, his voice low. “Go to sleep, Cheng Jing. It’s late.”

…

Cheng Jing hadn’t slept at the villa in a long time, but unexpectedly, he slept well. Maybe Liang Jingmin’s expensive mattress was finally proving its worth.

When he finally forced himself out of bed, he was greeted by a surprising sight—Liang Jingmin, dressed in a full suit, cooking noodles in the kitchen.

Cheng Jing yawned, rubbed his eyes, and thought he must be seeing things.

Slowly, he stepped closer, only to realize Liang Jingmin had really made a bowl of scallion noodles, complete with two poached eggs.

He was speechless for a long time before finally blurting out, “Why are you cooking in a suit?”

His tone was familiar, as if they had gone back to the days before he left the villa. They used to clash often, but after spending so much time together, there was a sense of shared history.

Liang Jingmin picked up the pot, ready to pour the noodles into a bowl. “Step back, unless you want to wear it.”

After Cheng Jing had fallen asleep last night, Liang Jingmin had gone back to the office, held a biweekly meeting, then returned without even changing. He had wanted to press Cheng Jing for answers, but the topic was sensitive—related to that bet years ago, something Cheng Jing refused to talk about. So he had held back. Kept himself busy.

The noodles weren’t exactly pretty, but they smelled good.

Cheng Jing eagerly sat down and took a bite. To his surprise, they were delicious. He hadn’t had a proper meal in ages, and it was even rarer to eat something cooked by Liang Jingmin.

Liang Jingmin sat across from him, scrolling through work messages, occasionally glancing at Cheng Jing’s satisfied expression.

A moment later, Cheng Jing’s cheeks puffed as he kept eating, clearly full but still stuffing himself.

Liang Jingmin, watching, asked softly, “Is it good?”

Cheng Jing nodded.

And then, without warning, he turned and vomited everything up.

The doctor, speaking with a strange accent, smiled and said, “The heartbeat is strong. The baby is very healthy.”

Hearing the baby’s heartbeat, Cheng Jing found life itself to be a strange thing.

An unwanted child, forcibly placed in a body unfit for pregnancy, growing wildly, feeding off him.

Even though he had once resented and struggled to understand this, at that very moment—when he heard the heartbeat—his tense expression eased slightly. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he was smiling.

He was thin to the point of looking frail, yet when he heard the baby was healthy, it was as if something in him came back to life. The child inside him was draining him, consuming his strength, but at the same time, it was giving him a new reason to keep going.

Cheng Jing didn’t know if he loved or hated this child.

Maybe love and hate were always intertwined, impossible to separate—just like all these years, he could never truly tell if he loved or hated Liang Jingmin.

He looked up at Liang Jingmin, suddenly curious about his feelings toward this child. He wanted to know if, even for a fleeting moment, Liang Jingmin had felt the same as him—had begun to develop even the smallest attachment to this growing life. But all he saw was the grim expression on Liang Jingmin’s face.

Liang Jingmin wasn’t even looking at the ultrasound screen. Instead, his eyes were locked onto the scar on Cheng Jing’s abdomen, filled with unmistakable resentment.

Cheng Jing’s brief glimmer of hope dimmed instantly.

Of course, Liang Jingmin, like him, had never wanted this child. Their relationship was already crumbling, and now, with an unwanted pregnancy they couldn’t get rid of, it was nothing more than an unbearable burden.

Cheng Jing let out a bitter laugh at his own foolishness, grabbed a tissue to wipe off the gel from his stomach, carelessly tossed it into the trash, then stood up.

“Let’s go. I’ve seen enough.”