Silent protest

Time passed under the seemingly meticulous care, and Lin Xueyin's belly had already taken on a noticeable curve. But she was becoming increasingly haggard at a visible rate.

The morning sickness didn't lessen over time, but instead became more severe due to her mood. She ate very little and often left most of the exquisite meals uneaten.

His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes that wouldn't go away. His cheeks, which had been gradually becoming plump, had sunken again. He looked like a flower that had lost its moisture and nourishment, withering quietly in a corner where no one could see.

The doctor frowned every time he examined her and reported to Song Zhiyuan in a tactful manner, "Comrade Song, Comrade Lin Xueyin's physical indicators are not ideal. This is mainly due to severe nutritional deficiency and persistent low mood, which is very harmful to both the fetus and the mother.

It would be best to find a way to make her feel better and eat more."

Song Zhiyuan stood in front of the hospital bed, looking at the woman who was curled up with her back to him, her breathing weak. For the first time, he clearly felt a sense of anxiety that was out of control.

He provided the best medical conditions, the most refined diet, and the most stringent protection, and he thought that was enough. He was used to giving orders and others acting according to his will, but he never thought that a person's heart could not be filled and soothed by orders and material things.

Her silence, her thinness, and the barely perceptible trembling when he approached her were all like a silent but fierce protest. In her own way, she was resisting everything that was imposed on her.

That night, Lin Xueyin woke from another nightmare, sweat dripping from her face and her heart pounding. In the darkness, she felt the place beside her sink—since some time, Song Zhiyuan would occasionally stay in the outer room of the ward suite.

She didn't move, still lying stiffly, pretending to be asleep.

In the darkness, she heard him get up, then the sound of pouring water. His footsteps approached the bed, but he didn't turn on the light.

The warm wall of the cup gently touched her lips.

"Drink some water." His voice sounded particularly low in the silent night, even with a hint of hoarseness that she had never heard before?

Lin Xueyin kept her mouth shut and refused to cooperate.

Song Zhiyuan's hand froze in mid-air. In the darkness, the two of them faced each other silently. He could hear her suppressed, subtle gasps and feel the tense resistance of her body.

After a long while, he put down the cup, but did not leave immediately. He sat down beside the bed.

The only sounds left in the ward were the intertwined breathing of two people, one steady and restrained, the other slightly disordered.

"Lin Xueyin." He suddenly called her by her full name. His voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated the darkness. "I know you hate me."

Lin Xueyin's body trembled almost imperceptibly.

"That night in the warehouse, I forced you." He continued, his tone calm as if he was stating a fact that had nothing to do with him, but every word was like a hammer, hitting Lin Xueyin's heart, making her almost unable to breathe. He had never admitted it so bluntly before.

"Transferring you from North City and using trickery to marry you were all my decisions." He paused, as if trying to organize his words. This sounded a little strange to him, who was used to giving orders. "I didn't ask for your opinion because, in my opinion, it wasn't necessary."

His honesty borders on cruelty.

"But," he changed the subject, his voice carrying an indescribable heaviness, "this child is an accident, but it's also a fact."

In the darkness, his hand slowly and awkwardly covered her hand on her lower abdomen.

His palm was broad, warm, and covered with calluses, a stark contrast to her cold, trembling hands. Lin Xueyin tried to pull back as if burned, but he gently held her hand.

"I, Song Zhiyuan, always only care about the results, not the process. I used the wrong approach with you." His voice was low and slow, as if every word was carefully considered.

"I'm used to being in control, thinking that's the fastest and most effective way. But I forgot that you're a living person, not an object."

Lin Xueyin's tears silently fell, soaking the pillow. She had never thought that she would hear words like "wrong" from this strong and cold man.

"It may be too late to say this now." He stroked her cold fingers with a clumsy tenderness that was inconsistent with his character.

"But I want you to understand that from now on, you are my wife, Song Zhiyuan, and the baby in your belly is my child. This will never change."

"You can continue to hate me and blame me." His tone became firm again, carrying his inherent strength, but it seemed that something was different. "But you can't gamble your body with your child. This is my bottom line."

He leaned down, his warm breath brushing against her ear, his voice low and clear, carrying an unquestionable declaration and... a barely perceptible, almost pleading meaning?

"Live well and give birth to the baby. After that...we'll talk about what you want."

After saying these words, he let go of her hand, stood up and left the inner room.

In the darkness, Lin Xueyin still maintained a curled-up posture, but her tears flowed even more violently.

Hate him? Yes, she hated his domineering attitude and hated him for ruining her peaceful life.

Of course, she blamed him for not even giving her the right to choose.

However, when he laid everything out so bluntly, admitted his "mistakes", when he tried to comfort her in an almost clumsy way, when he put forward "staying alive" as the bottom line, a tiny crack seemed to be opened in her strong defenses.

He's not completely heartless, he's just... used to seeing the world his way.

And that phrase, "After that... we'll talk about what you want to do," was like a glimmer of light in the darkness, faint but real. Did it mean that after the child was born, she might... still have a slight chance to fight for her own life?

That night, Lin Xueyin couldn't sleep.

Song Zhiyuan's blunt yet honest words echoed repeatedly in her mind. Fear and resentment still existed, but a more complex emotion, mixed with a faint glimmer of hope, began to quietly grow.

The next morning, when the nurse brought breakfast, she was surprised to find that although Lin Xueyin was still silent, she took the initiative to pick up the spoon and drank the bowl of millet porridge in small sips.

Standing outside the ward and watching this scene through the glass window, Song Zhiyuan's jawline, which had been tense for several days, finally relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly.

He knew that the ice had not melted, but at least cracks had appeared.

And he has enough patience to wait for the day when the ice and snow melt.