Lu Qin felt the words sounded familiar. Yes, he was hearing this for the second time.
Last time, when Pei Rong went to Country M and they lost contact for a few days, he couldn’t help but call Pei Rong. In a moment of lust-driven madness, he admitted his abstinence had failed and asked to reset the frequency back to once every two days.
Pei Rong had coldly and ruthlessly spoken these exact words back then.
Lu Qin realized that no matter how pleasant or unpleasant the words Pei Rong had spoken were—even if they were curses like wishing him impotence—three years later, he could still recall the exact tone of every single word. It was as if they had been etched onto a vinyl record, playing back gently on a phonograph.
So he generously accompanied his wife down memory lane, speaking with gravity: “Since you’re pregnant, let’s change it to once every two days from now on.”
Back then, he had requested to switch from once a month to once every two days. Now, from multiple times a day anytime and anywhere, he was compromising down to once every two days.
In comparison, though there was no qualitative change, the quantitative change was enormous.
Pei Rong pushed Lu Qin away: “Are you taking this lightly?”
Though his intention wasn’t to make Lu Qin worry, was it a bit excessive to still be thinking about once every two days at a time like this? Did he really think he was a pro after doing it once or twice?
Lu Qin pushed aside the indescribable worry and fear, responding with steadiness and ease: “You’ve already said I’m impotent. Can’t I at least enjoy saying it?”
He gently pulled Pei Rong into his embrace and coaxed, “With me here, don’t worry about anything, don’t overthink anything. Are you hungry now? How’s your appetite? What would you like to eat?”
Pei Rong had been nervously pretending for two days to have a poor appetite. But as soon as Lu Qin asked, he felt his stomach growl: “Boiled fish.”
Lu Qin called his secretary to prepare the ingredients. He propped two pillows upright, helped Pei Rong sit up against them, and sat himself on the edge of the bed. He took out the pregnancy test report and carefully read it over.
Pei Rong rested his hand on his lower abdomen, his gaze lowered, feeling somewhat uneasy.
A perfectly normal man like him, pretending to be pregnant here out of some misguided notion—if word got out, people would laugh their heads off.
There was no turning back once the arrow was released. Maybe he wouldn’t wait three months; he could just make Lu Qin abstain for one month. After a month, he’d say Jiang Yan had sent him the wrong pregnancy test image from three years ago.
As he watched Lu Qin’s serious and solemn profile, he couldn’t help but wonder: If this were three years ago, would Lu Qin’s expression have been the same?
He admitted it wasn’t just Lu Qin who felt regret—he himself was curious too.
Maybe living with Dundun for so long had given him a curiosity that a slacker like him shouldn’t have.
Or maybe being with Lu Qin for so long had given him a boldness that a slacker like him shouldn’t have.
Lu Qin put away the pregnancy test report, took Pei Rong’s hand, and as his eyes fell on his clothes, a thought crossed his mind.
Recalling their earlier conversation, he suddenly blurted out: “That phone call I made to you three years ago… was that the day you found out you were pregnant?”
Then, the sudden irritability and coldness from the great beauty found its explanation. Back then, President Lu still carried some of the arrogance typical of a CEO. Upon hearing the words "maybe you should take some impotence pills," he couldn’t simply brush it off with a laugh like he could now. At the time, he only thought that his "every other day" requests had annoyed Pei Rong, who retaliated with sharp words.
The more Lu Qin thought about it, the more his brow furrowed. Anyone who knew Pei Rong understood he wasn’t one to lose his temper easily. Even when Pei Dundun caused trouble, Pei Rong would remain unflappable, tolerating whatever behavior could be forgiven.
Pei Rong: "Yes."
Lu Qin’s throat tightened. He wanted to say, "I’m sorry, I didn’t know"—that he wasn’t just obsessing over bedroom matters, but that he had actually called because he missed Pei Rong.
Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind: Pei Rong crumpling the prenatal checkup form, his eyes dark and inscrutable.
It was his own words and actions that had been so appalling. When Pei Rong was anxiously seeking a solution, Lu Qin hadn’t provided enough support, making Pei Rong feel that handling it alone would be smoother.
Lu Qin had no defense. All he could offer now was a belated answer: "Three years ago or three years later, my reaction to this matter wouldn’t have changed."
He might have been immature in other things, but on important matters, he was never ambiguous.
Pei Rong looked at him and broke into a radiant smile. "I believe you."
The secretary knocked on the door to say the ingredients were ready.
"You lie down and rest for a while," Lu Qin said, drawing the curtains before heading out to cook.
"Lu Qin," Pei Rong called out. "I’m not ready to tell anyone about this yet."
Lu Qin: "I know."
As the two soundproof doors closed firmly behind him, Lu Qin’s mask of calm composure shattered. He stood still for a moment, steadying himself, then called Gao Qin: "Immediately schedule an appointment with a trustworthy, top-tier obstetrics specialist—domestic or international. Arrange an anonymous meeting for tonight or tomorrow, and keep it from Pei Rong."
The information was overwhelming. Secretary Gao was stunned for a second before replying, "Understood."
Lu Qin gripped his phone tightly, closing his eyes briefly. He had told Pei Rong to leave things to him, so now he had to race against time to understand all risks and unknowns, and devise the best possible plan.
Even if it came at a cost, he would never—ever—let Pei Rong take such a risk again.
That scar was so long, so very long. Every time he kissed it, Lu Qin felt a pang of dread.
He couldn’t bear the thought of another cut in the same place.
Twenty minutes later, the boiled fish arrived at the table.
Pei Rong took a bite and felt that Chef Lu's skills were slightly off today—there wasn't enough salt.
Lu Qin remained expressionless. "Boiled fish is heavy on oil and salt, which puts a strain on the stomach. You should be more careful now."
Pei Rong continued eating while scrolling through his phone.
Lu Qin asked, "What are you looking at?"
Pei Rong flashed his phone screen. "Zhou Hang sent me two new scripts. Just casually seeing if there are any suitable small roles."
Lu Qin frowned. "I've heard that the first three months of pregnancy are unstable. Film sets are chaotic, and getting into character with intense emotional fluctuations isn’t good for your health."
Judging by his tone, no film set would dare take Pei Rong in now.
Pei Rong raised an eyebrow. "You didn't say that last time I was pregnant. You dragged me to the company and forced me to sign a contract."
Lu Qin's imposing aura instantly deflated.
Pei Rong picked up a piece of fish that tasted a bit bland. "You also forced me to drink red wine."
Lu Qin was mortified.
Fortunately, he had only given him a single sip of wine.
Lu Qin felt grateful for the first time for his own lack of self-control—he had only dared to give him one sip before fleeing in panic, afraid that staying any longer would expose himself.
Pei Rong comforted him, "The little one in my belly is tough."
He had been quite active during the first three months last time, and nothing had happened.
Hearing this, Lu Qin stood up, walked to his office drawer, and took out a peace talisman.
"When I went to the temple, I also got one for you."
While Madame Jiang and Pei Rong took the one-and-a-half-year-old reincarnated Buddhist child to see the koi and turtles, Lu Qin noticed a place selling talismans and bought a peace charm.
Thanks to Dundun’s presence, they didn’t charge him.
At the time, he had thought, "Well, since I’m already here," and after getting the talisman, he had simply tossed it into a drawer.
Now, President Lu was willing to use any means possible to pray for Pei Rong’s safety.
Pei Rong teased him, "Tsk, are you sure you didn’t get in the wrong line?"
"What?"
"Nowadays, temples offer blessings for marriage, safety, career, and even children. You didn’t accidentally line up at the Child-Granting Guanyin statue, did you?"
Lu Qin declared confidently, "No way."
Pei Rong unfolded the blessing charm and took a look, planning to slip it into his ID card case. After all, it was a token of Lu Qin’s good intentions.
Then, he spotted eight traditional Chinese characters on the charm: Peaceful household, thriving family.
It wasn’t written so sloppily and wildly that he couldn’t recognize it.
Oh well, it’s close enough.
Lu Qin said, "I’ll go buy another one next time—for good health and long life."
