Little Niangao lay in his cradle, wailing with his mouth wide open. His usually chubby, fair cheeks were flushed, and big teardrops rolled down his face, soaking his long eyelashes.
“Baby, baby, mama’s right here,” Cecilia’s heart ached at her son’s cries—she quickly reached in to scoop him up. “Shhh, what’s wrong? Why is our little Niangao crying?”
She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was much hotter than normal. Cecilia’s eyes instantly turned red as she held him and gently patted his small back, trying to soothe him.
Xavier Foster came upstairs with the thermometer and took his temperature. 38.5 degrees—he was running a fever.
“He must’ve caught a chill when we came home tonight. He’s burning up. Don’t worry—I’ll call Fu Sen,” Xavier Foster said, turning to make the call.
Maybe he was exhausted from crying, but Little Niangao ended up sprawled over Cecilia’s shoulder, sniffling softly, looking even more pitiful than before.
Cecilia kissed his little cheek. “It’s mama’s fault, sweetheart. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Once Uncle gets here, you’ll feel much better.”
It hurt Cecilia deeply knowing her child was so small and couldn’t tell her where it hurt—he could only cry. Since his birth, Little Niangao had always been healthy. She blamed herself for not remembering to bring his blanket when they went out—he wouldn’t have gotten sick if she had.
A feverish child was like a little furnace. Cecilia placed him on her lap, and he clung to her shirt, his round eyes brimming with tears.
Meanwhile, Xavier Foster was on the phone with Fu Sen.
Fu Sen, his hair sticking up like a bird's nest, was still at the hospital. "What’s wrong, bro?"
"Little Niangao's sick—he’s got a fever, 38.5. Must have caught a chill coming home. Can you come over?"
"Okay, got it! Do you have any fever patches at home? Stick one on him for now. Stay calm."
He leapt off the sofa, threw on his shoes, and dashed downstairs. After picking up medication from the hospital pharmacy, he hopped in his car and rushed toward Qinghe.
Xavier Foster hung up and turned back, seeing both Cecilia and their son with red-rimmed eyes. His heart twisted with worry.
"It’s okay, Cecilia. I’ll get a fever patch. Fu Sen will bring the meds," he reassured.
Cecilia nodded, hugging the baby a bit tighter.
Xavier Foster bustled around, turning on every light, fetching a fever patch for Little Niangao, and grabbing a towel to gently wipe the boy’s face and palms.
Neither of them had ever dealt with their child falling ill before. Guilt weighed especially heavy on Cecilia—she bit her lip until it turned red. “It’s all my fault. I forgot his blanket when we left. If I’d remembered, he wouldn't be sick right now...”
Xavier Foster caressed her cheek in comfort. “Don’t blame yourself. Kids get sick sometimes—it’s normal. Our little Niangao is already a champ.”
After having his hands and feet wiped, Little Niangao seemed much better. He stopped crying and stared up at his mom, then at his dad with his big, round eyes.
“See? He’s not crying anymore, so neither should you, Cecilia.”
Almost as if he understood that "Cecilia" was his mama, Little Niangao turned his gaze to her as soon as Xavier Foster spoke.
Meeting his innocent, pure eyes, Cecilia blinked back her own tears and gave him a smile.
Fu Sen soon arrived. "Sis-in-law, let me take a look at Little Niangao."
He examined the boy, then smiled. "It’s okay, just caught a chill and a mild fever. Nothing serious."
He left them with careful instructions but told them not to worry too much.
"Thank you, Fu Sen. Sorry for making you come over so late," Cecilia apologized earnestly.
"Don’t mention it—Little Niangao is my nephew, after all," Fu Sen replied with a grin.
"His fever should break by tomorrow. Just make sure he doesn’t get chilled again."
"Alright."
Xavier Foster saw his brother out, then returned to find Cecilia still holding Little Niangao in her arms.
Extra relieved now that the child was fine, he said, “Baby, you don’t have to hold him all night. Let him sleep in the crib.”
"I want to have Little Niangao sleep with us tonight," Cecilia said, gazing at him, wanting to bring their son onto the bed.
"Sure, he can sleep in the middle with us."
He took the baby and laid him down between them. Little Niangao, now much more comfortable, looked around the big bed with childlike curiosity.
Cecilia slipped under the blanket, carefully nestling the baby beside her, eyes fixed on him as she soothed him to sleep.
After a long night—crying and feverish—Little Niangao quickly dozed off in his mama’s arms.
Xavier Foster stayed by his wife’s side. “Come on—get some sleep too. The baby’s fine now.”
"Mhm. Zhiye, we really have to take good care of our baby from now on. Tonight, I realized that when a mom sees her baby in pain, it hurts just as much—maybe that’s how my own mom felt when I got hurt... she never wanted me to suffer."
Xavier Foster stroked her cheek and leaned over their son to give Cecilia a kiss. “Don’t dwell on it. We’ll give him the best care.”
"Okay."
Finally, both mother and child drifted off to sleep. Xavier Foster, sleep nowhere in sight now, tucked them in before checking the time—it was already past five a.m.
He switched on the bedside lamp, then turned to the other side of the bed and quietly started reading through some documents.
As daylight crept in, he went downstairs to cook some millet porridge, making sure Cecilia would have something warm as soon as she woke up.
Returning to the bedroom, he felt Little Niangao’s forehead again and took his temperature. Still a little warm, but much better than before.
Little Niangao clung to his mom’s hand like a tiny koala, exactly the way Cecilia always slept.
Xavier Foster couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, and muttered in a soft voice, “Alright, just this once—since you’re sick, I’ll lend you my wife for the night.”
It wasn’t until after eight that Cecilia finally woke up. Her first instinct was to reach out and feel Little Niangao’s forehead.
Xavier Foster turned and smiled at her. “He’s fine, I already checked—his temperature’s almost back to normal."
Cecilia sighed in relief, then noticed him reading. “Why are you up so early?”
"Just woke up myself. I made you some porridge—let me get you a bowl."
He went downstairs to bring her a bowl of millet porridge and prepared some milk for Little Niangao. By the time he came back up, the little one was already awake.
After a long, restful sleep, Little Niangao was back to his lively self—kicking his legs and waving his hands, as if he’d forgotten entirely about the chaos of the previous night.
Since Little Niangao was sick, Cecilia called Mia Moore to postpone their bridal gown shopping trip.
Thankfully, Mia Moore didn’t mind at all. She even suggested that Cecilia skip the studio for the day and just stay home with her baby.
With both wife and child at home, Xavier Foster saw the perfect excuse to grant himself a day off and stay home with his family.