Fuchi's small hand was kneaded over and over in Xavier Fostern’s grasp. After a long while, the car engine started again, and they headed back to the old house.

As soon as they arrived home, they heard the sound of Xiaoniangao’s crying. Ye Jing was in the hall, cradling the baby. Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers had already gone to bed.

Cecilia hurried inside and saw poor Xiaoniangao sobbing pitifully. “What’s wrong, baby? Mommy’s home now.”

At the sound of her voice, Xiaoniangao’s crying paused. He turned his teary, wide eyes toward her. Cecilia bent to take off her shoes, and Xavier Fostern set her slippers by her feet.

Xiaoniangao hiccupped from crying, looking at his mother with those big, watery eyes.

Ye Jing sighed in relief, glanced at Cecilia, and smiled. “Xu Yan and I have been trying to calm him for a while, but he wouldn’t stop. He’s sleepy and looking for you.”

Cecilia smiled and went to wash her hands. Only after coming out did she take Xiaoniangao from Ye Jing’s arms.

“Aww, is our little Xiaoniangao sleepy? Do you want Mommy to cuddle you to sleep? Grandma Rivers was so nice to you—how come you’re still crying?”

Xiaoniangao looked at his mother, listening even though he couldn’t understand her words. But now that Mommy was back, the tears stopped. He snuggled his little head against her shoulder, sticking his little butt out to everyone else. All he wanted was Mommy—only she could lull him to sleep.

Cecilia chuckled and said to Ye Jing, “Mom, you and Aunt Xu go ahead and sleep. Well ten—uh, we’ll head back to our room.”

“Alright. You two tidy up and get some rest, too,” Ye Jing responded.

With Xavier Fostern’s arm around her, the little family of three went upstairs to their room.

Cecilia set Xiaoniangao on the bed. “Wait a second, baby. Mommy’s going to change clothes and then hold you.”

Worried that her clothes from outside might not be clean, Cecilia quickly changed into loungewear before picking up her son again.

“Such a little crybaby, always crying,” Xavier Fostern grumbled at his son, only for Xiaoniangao to give his dad a furious little kick.

“Zhiyen, don’t bully him. He’s still so little,” Cecilia scolded with a smile. Sometimes, she felt as if there were two kids at home now—one big, one small.

After feeding Xiaoniangao, the baby fell asleep halfway through his milk, his long eyelashes—so much like Cecilia’s—brushing down like tiny brushes. His mouth went slack, and he drifted off.

Xavier Fostern carefully took their son and set him in the cradle. “Right now, you’re the boss. But just wait. When you’re older, your dad’s going to get back at you.”

After showering, Xavier Fostern slipped into bed, pulling his wife into his arms.

Her skin was soft and delicate, and he couldn’t help but knead the tender flesh at her waist—completely enamored.

“Baby, tomorrow I’m taking you somewhere,” he whispered.

Lulled by his touch, Cecilia relaxed like a kitten enjoying a gentle stroke, drifting off to sleep.

“Where are we going?” she mumbled.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The cold moonlight streamed through the lattice windows of the old house, painting the bed in gentle silver. Cecilia looked up—and his handsome face filled her vision.

Resting on his solid chest, she could hear the strong, rhythmic thump of his heart—just a little fast tonight.

“Honey, your heartbeat is so quick,” she murmured, confused, eyes fluttering shut again.

Xavier Fostern’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he clenched and released his fist, again and again. Images of him gently kneading their baby son earlier danced through his mind, kindling an unquenchable heat in his chest—growing more urgent.

These past two months since giving birth, Cecilia had slept piled on top of him every night—if not on his chest, then his shoulder—becoming more uninhibited by the day.

As if annoyed by the sound of his heartbeat, she turned her head from his chest to his shoulder. Her pale, slender legs curled up and straddled his waist.

Passing over his thigh, she felt something… odd.

“What is that…?”

She fumbled, her leg instinctively nudging it again. Xavier Fostern sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Instantly, Cecilia snapped awake. Her first reaction was to apologize—she’d heard that it could be very uncomfortable for men.

“S-sorry—I didn’t mean to!”

Her slim wrist was seized in Xavier Fostern’s hand. He gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting in the moonlight—mirroring the delicate beauty of the girl beside him, like a pink hibiscus flower.

“Baby, Xiaoniangao is already over two months old now,” he hinted, in a voice thick with longing. Time to take care of me, too.

Cecilia’s eyes lingered on his throat, her nose brushing up, just grazing the faint mole on his skin—a touch bashfully inviting, yet full of intent.

Xavier Fostern lowered his head, lips grazing her ear, his burning breath sending chills down her spine. His cool fingertips lingered, tracing her refined features, dark eyes gleaming with dangerous intent.

He was patient, waiting for his little darling to nod—he didn’t want to scare her.

Her slender hands clung tightly to his black silk pajamas, making her skin seem even more porcelain in contrast.

Cecilia felt trapped, caught between a tiger’s jaws, her leg draped across his waist—no idea if she should move it or leave it there.

Her soft lips made a last, feeble protest. “But… but the baby’s right here.” She didn’t want to refuse; it was simply that so much time had passed since their intimacy—nearly a year, in fact.

“He’s asleep. He won’t hear a thing.” Xavier Fostern’s hoarse whisper was unhurried in her ear, like a wolf luring a little white rabbit into its den.

And so, the little white rabbit finally stopped struggling. These days, they understood each other too well—it wasn’t just Xavier Fostern who longed for closeness; sometimes, she did too.

Seeing his little rabbit nod and close her eyes, Xavier Fostern finally let go, and the world spun—her legs soon ended up once again among the soft blankets.

His tall form leaned in, blotting out the cool silver moonlight.

Her breath was stolen away as white cotton nightgown tangled with black silk, her fair fingers covering her lips to hold back any sound as his love filled every part of her—

All-encompassing trust and endless affection surged through the night.

……

In the cradle at the foot of the bed, Xiaoniangao kept sleeping soundly. At the slightest sound, his little fists twitched in his dreams.

——

Moonlight gave way to morning. Beautiful long hair spilled over a broad, lightly muscled chest.

Long, graceful fingers absently stroked, gently caressing as always, even in sleep.

“Waaah waaah waaah—” The baby in the cradle suddenly started wailing in hunger—he hadn’t had much to eat all night, and he was starving.

Xavier Fostern jolted awake, worried that his son would wake his wife, but it was already too late.

Bleary-eyed, Cecilia opened her eyes, tried to sit up, then fell back with a hand on her waist.

“Uuuh…” she whimpered softly, feeling wronged. Her waist was so sore.

The son was crying, the wife was upset. Xavier Fostern, the rookie daddy, scrambled to grab his crumpled pajamas from the floor to at least cover himself—he couldn’t let his son see him like this!

After fumbling into his clothes, he picked up Xiaoniangao from the cradle and checked the baby’s bottom—well, time for a diaper change.

“Baby, don’t get up. Let me handle it,” Xavier Fostern comforted his wife. He quickly took a nipple shield from the sterilizer, rinsed it with hot water, and popped it in the baby’s mouth.

After a new diaper, Xiaoniangao sucked earnestly at the pacifier, but finding nothing, his gummy mouth opened wide again to cry.

Cecilia watched, anxious, then realized she wasn’t wearing anything.

“Uuh, hubby—clothes,” she whimpered.

Xavier Fostern, flustered, grabbed her a fresh set of pajamas from the closet—her old one was a wrinkled mess on the floor, and though he could wear it, she definitely couldn’t.

She changed under the covers and managed to sit up.

“Give Xiaoniangao to me—he’s hungry,” she said.

Xavier Fostern handed over the baby, glancing at the spot he’d monopolized the previous night—now his son was taking it over again. His face darkened with each passing moment.

“Wife, the boy’s going to have to switch to formula soon. Dr. Song said two months of breastfeeding is enough,” he declared solemnly—making it up on the spot.

“Really?”

Thank goodness his wife was so easy to convince…