Each short lesson is only forty minutes long.

When the teacher announced the end of class, Little Rice Cake copied the other kids, stood up, and said, "Thank you, Teacher."

Then, beaming, he dashed out the door, cradling his artwork like a treasure. "Mommy! Daddy! Look, look!"

Fu Zhiyie pulled Little Rice Cake in front of him and looked at the picture in the child’s hand.

Ahem... If he remembered right, today’s class was supposed to be drawing ants and watermelons. But this...

The whole sheet was splashed in red paint—still wet—with a scatter of black dots in the middle.

"Daddy, the red is watermelon!"

"Mm, then why is the whole page red?"

"Because the little ant fell into the watermelon, and the watermelon is sooo big, so all the little ant can see is red everywhere!"

Little Rice Cake mimed a huge round shape with both hands, very proud of his work.

Fu Zhiyie was proud too. His little one had drawn the watermelon from an ant's perspective—so creative and unique.

Not bad for his son~

Cecilia couldn’t help but laugh, taking out a wet wipe to clean the paint off his cheeks.

"Did you have fun in class?"

"Yes!" Little Rice Cake nodded. "The teacher told us stories."

Cecilia felt a small twinge of jealousy. "Well, Mommy tells you stories too, remember? Lots and lots."

Quick as ever, Little Rice Cake wriggled out of Daddy’s arms and into Mommy’s, giving her tummy a gentle hug. "I love Mommy’s stories best. But Mommy needs to take care of my little sister, and that’s very hard."

"Clever boy!"

After a little break, Little Rice Cake was off again, this time to the play gym class—which he enjoyed even more. By the end, he was sweaty all over.

Fortunately, some clean clothes were waiting in the car, and Fu Zhiyie helped him change.

The three of them went home. Once there, Little Rice Cake made a call back to the family home.

He gave everyone a full report of his day at school, proudly holding his red painting up to the camera.

Grandpa Rivers, Grandma Rivers, and Ye Jing poured on the praise one after another.

At last, overwhelmed, Little Rice Cake quietly hugged his masterpiece and scampered away.

Cecilia took over the call, and Grandma Rivers laughed: "Our Little Rice Cake is starting school already!"

"Yes, Grandma Rivers. He did great today."

"Good, good. Cecilia, remember to get plenty of rest and take care of yourself."

As always, Grandma Rivers fussed, then reminded Fu Zhiyie to look after Cecilia well before reluctantly hanging up.

That night, lying in bed, Cecilia sighed. "Zhiyie, I suddenly feel like our baby’s more independent than I thought. He can do so many things when I’m not there."

Fu Zhiyie massaged her feet and helped her put on some socks.

"Yes, and sometimes, it’s us who can’t let go of Little Rice Cake."

Cecilia’s voice was tinged with melancholy. "I really can’t bear to be apart from him."

"Of course—it’s only natural. He stayed in your belly for so long, just like his little sister now. But you know, he’s only going to kindergarten, not leaving you for good." His gentle words soothed her.

Cecilia blinked, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I’ll miss him."

Fu Zhiyie understood how sensitive she was these days. He quickly pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back to comfort her. "How come you’re acting more like the baby now? Little Rice Cake just goes in the morning and comes back every night."

Her tears fell, dampening his shirt as she rubbed her face against it. "Sob, I just worry he’ll get hurt, or fall down."

Little Rice Cake had nearly been lost to them twice before he was born, and after that, Cecilia had cared for him almost entirely by herself, pouring all her love into him.

"It’ll be alright. Every kid gets the occasional bump or scrape. I’ll ask the teacher to keep an extra eye on him, okay?"

"Okay."

"No more tears, baby."

"I don’t want to cry either, I just can’t help it."

Fu Zhiyie handed her a tissue and gently kissed her soft lips.

Mmm, this way she won’t cry anymore.

His kiss lingered, tender and lingering, silently comforting her.

After a long while, he finally let go, leaving her breathing hard.

Pregnancy made her extra sensitive, so Cecilia’s cheeks were flushed as she bit her lip and gently thumped his chest. "Stop teasing me."

Her tone was equal parts coquettish and reproachful. Fu Zhiyie’s voice was hoarse: "I’m not teasing. It’s like having food right in front of me, but I can’t eat it."

"..."

Though they’d been affectionate plenty in the early and middle months, with her bump getting bigger, it had been over a month since they’d been intimate.

But as she said that, her small hand slipped under his shirt, fingers trailing over his hard abs.

Cecilia swallowed. She thought of Fu Zhiyie swimming that day at the pool—

Mmm... so handsome.

Her pale, delicate fingers quietly toyed with the waistband of his pants.

Fu Zhiyie caught her hand, looking down at her. In his deep black eyes, desire surged.

"Sweetheart, you really can't handle it..."

Her beautiful eyes blinked, her voice soft as a whisper. "I want to. Just be gentle, okay?"

The corner of Fu Zhiyie’s eye twitched. He ground out, "You’re going to be the death of me."

He brushed her hair aside, settled her comfortably, then tossed the thin blanket away—leaving only the two of them, alone in the cool, empty bed.

Her white nightdress skirt was lifted up; her legs slid apart. Cecilia obediently cradled her belly.

Only when he’d showered her bump with kisses did she finally let go and clutch at the sheets beneath her.

The night stretched on endlessly.

Love and tenderness soaked into every breath and sigh...