Chapter 202 Make Your Own Decision
"The situation has stabilized for now."
The doctor nodded, but his eyes held a warning, "But the next period is crucial. There can be no more stimulation, whether emotional or physical. If the pregnant woman is in a bad mood, anxious, depressed, or fearful, these can affect the fetus's development through hormones and even trigger another contraction. Her family must pay close attention to her emotions and not let her bear it alone."
"I understand, we will be careful."
Song Yazhi answered calmly, her voice without any inflection, like a deep well, showing no ripples.
She nodded gently, her attitude respectful, as if every word had been carefully considered.
The doctor glanced at her, feeling inexplicably strange.
She has been practicing medicine for over ten years, treating countless pregnant women and new mothers, and has also met all sorts of family members.
There was an anxious, crying husband, a mother with tears streaming down her face, and parents-in-law who were so nervous they could hardly sit still.
But a mother-in-law like Song Yazhi, who remained expressionless and spoke in a calm, almost indifferent tone when her daughter-in-law almost miscarried, is truly rare.
There seemed to be something else hidden in those eyes.
Fang Wanyu stood to the side, sensing the subtle atmosphere. After hesitating for a moment, she leaned closer and whispered, "Auntie, should we tell Brother Maidong right away? After all, it's about the child. If he knows, he might be able to find a way to ask for leave and come back."
"He's on a mission and we can't contact him."
Song Yazhi waved her hand gently, her movements swift and decisive, as if she had already thought of the answer. "Besides, military discipline is strict, and you can't just ask for leave for something like this. Let's wait until tonight. I'll have the communications officer leave a note at the regimental headquarters so he knows, and that won't affect his work."
Fang Wanyu listened, nodded, and said nothing more.
Looking at Song Yazhi's cold face, she felt a mix of indescribable emotions welling up inside her.
The two exchanged a glance, and in that instant their eyes met, it was as if they had reached a silent consensus—some things don't need to be said aloud; they understand each other implicitly.
Song Yazhi was actually relieved.
The tension that had been building all afternoon finally eased.
She leaned against the wall, her fingertips gently stroking her cuffs, her eyes slightly lowered.
In that instant, a dark thought flashed through her mind, like a snake silently crawling out in the night:
If Qiao Wanyin really loses her baby, will her son stop protecting her?
Does that mean we can separate?
The thought flashed through her mind so quickly that she was startled and had to suppress it.
But that secret expectation, like a seed, quietly took root in my heart.
In the ward, Qiao Wanyin slowly opened her eyes.
The effects of the anesthesia are wearing off, and consciousness is gradually returning.
The overhead incandescent light was so bright that it made her eyes sting. She subconsciously squinted, trying to adjust to the glaring light.
My breathing was still weak, and it felt like a stone was pressing on my chest.
She slowly raised her hand and gently placed it on her lower abdomen. Her fingertips touched the thin sheet and felt a dull, aching pain, as if someone was gently twisting inside.
Is the child still alive?
"woke up?"
Song Yazhi spoke coldly, her voice as if it had been pulled from an ice cellar, devoid of any warmth.
She sat in a chair in the corner of the ward, her back ramrod straight, her gaze indifferently fixed on the frail figure on the bed.
Qiao Wanyin turned her head to the side, her movements slow and laborious, as if even this simple action had exhausted all her strength.
As her vision cleared, she saw her mother-in-law sitting beside her, holding a gleaming silver fruit knife and peeling an apple.
The peel was peeled off in circles, thin and intact, hanging down to her fingertips like a coiled snake, quietly curled up at the edge of her palm, exuding an eerie silence.
"Mom...is the child...alright?"
She spoke with difficulty, her voice dry as if sandpaper were being rubbed, her throat aching as if it had been burned, each word trembling with suppressed emotion.
"It's alright for now."
Song Yazhi finally placed the knife on the bedside table, the metal striking the porcelain surface with a soft "ding".
She looked up at her daughter-in-law, her tone still reproachful, "The doctor said that if she gets any more stress, things could get complicated. The pregnancy is unstable, and emotional fluctuations are the worst thing you can do."
She slowly placed her hand on her swollen belly, her fingertips trembling slightly, as if confirming something.
When her fingertips touched that soft curve, her heart skipped a beat—thankfully, it was still beating.
That tiny, fragile life was nestled quietly inside her body.
Before, I didn't know I was pregnant, but now that I do, the urge to be a mother has surged up inside me, like a stream thawing in spring, quiet yet unstoppable.
She suddenly realized that this child was no longer just an accident, but a part of her life, something she was willing to protect with everything she had.
She then realized that she was actually terrified of losing the child.
The fear didn't erupt suddenly, but seeped into her bones little by little. From the helplessness when she had a persistent high fever last night to the suffocation when she heard the baby's weak heartbeat, every moment felt like a knife was ripping her heart out.
Qiao Wanyin closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly, and tears quietly slid down from the corners of her eyes, seeping into the pillow along her temples, leaving a dark wet stain.
She didn't cry out loud, but those silent tears were more heartbreaking than any wailing.
People say that you are most vulnerable when you are sick, and it seems that this is true.
When the body collapses, the mind's defenses also crumble.
Even the strongest person can become sensitive and vulnerable in a hospital bed. A little care can bring tears to their eyes, and a single cold word can push them into despair.
"Don't be too sad."
Song Yazhi suddenly changed her tone, as if the coldness in her voice had been melted away by something invisible, becoming a little softer.
She paused for a moment before continuing, "When Maidong comes back, I will have a good talk with him. Ultimately, it's up to him to make the decision about your marital relationship."
Three days later, when Fu Li'an, looking travel-worn, pushed open the ward door, Qiao Wanyin was dozing off on the bed.
The sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on her pale face and making her skin appear almost translucent.
Her breathing was shallow, and her brow was slightly furrowed, as if she couldn't find peace even in her dreams.
He stood by the bed, looking at his wife's pale face and the bluish marks under her eyes, and felt a pang of pain in his heart, as if he had been hit hard with a blunt object.
He reached out, wanting to touch her hair, but stopped in mid-air and finally landed gently on the edge of the bed.
"Mom, how did Wanyin become like this?"
Fu Li'an asked his mother behind him in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Song Yazhi's eyes stung, and her eyes instantly reddened.
She gently tugged at her son's sleeve, signaling him to go outside to talk.
The mother and son walked out of the ward one after the other. Only after they reached the end of the corridor and confirmed that the ward door was closed did she speak: "Ah Dong, you're finally back. I've been so worried these past few days. I've been staying here every day, unable to eat, afraid that she might do something rash and lose the baby."
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