Ji Yuxi’s due date was creeping up like a sneaky spaceship cloaked in invisibility, and the house had entered what could only be described as maximum nesting mode.
This morning, Ji Yuxi sat majestically on the sofa, his very round belly propped up with three pillows and his hand delicately holding a pear.
But not just any pear.
A 100 star coin pear.
Yes, each.
And he had ordered four.
Because fairness. Obviously.
Lan, now calling himself Gu Xin (we’ll get to that), blinked at the glowing fruit in Ji Yuxi’s hand.
“Is it… infused with gold?” he asked.
Ji Yuxi took a slow, luxurious bite. “It better be. This thing cost more than your hunting income this week.”
Xiao Yu raised a brow. “So it tastes like heaven?”
Ji Yuxi chewed thoughtfully.
“…Tastes like a regur pear.”
He paused.
“But slightly smugger.”
Then took another bite with the dramatics of a man in a period drama awaiting betrayal.
“Eat it,” he told them all. “Eat this overpriced memory because we are never buying it again.”
Later that day, as Ji Yuxi waddled off to write the next chapter of his novel (titled “Chapter 39: Concubine Number Five Finally Gets Spped”), Lan—no, wait—Gu Xin stood in the garden, staring up at the sky with the expression of someone who just realized he left his spaceship keys on Mars.
Xiao Yu, watering pnts like a responsible space-husband, gnced over.
“You look like you’re solving quantum equations.”
Gu Xin turned, and for once, smiled slightly.
“I remembered something.”
Xiao Yu blinked. “Like… a shopping list?”
“My name,” he said. “My real name. It’s Gu Xin.”
Xiao Yu stared at him. “…You mean your fake name was your real name this whole time?”
Gu Xin nodded, a little surprised himself.
“I remembered more, too. Eight years of my childhood. My brother and I lived in the Northern Asteroid Belt colony. We weren’t rich, but we were happy. He’s the only family I have left.”
Xiao Yu looked at him, the water can suddenly forgotten.
Gu Xin looked different now—his personality had a bit more color, like someone turned the brightness up on his entire aura.
“I think…” he said slowly, “I was a quiet kid. But I ughed more than I realized.”
Xiao Yu smiled. “Well, if your brother’s anything like you, he’s probably very quiet too.”
Gu Xin tilted his head.
“…He talked even more than Ji Yuxi.”
Xiao Yu almost dropped the watering can. “You poor thing.”
Ji Yuxi:...You know i am still sitting here...
-
The lights were low in the bedroom, a quiet warmth humming in the air as if the house itself knew to hush.
Xiao Yu was already lying in bed, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, pretending to read while clearly distracted. Gu Xin walked in, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp, a towel slung casually over his shoulders.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Xiao Yu, and asked in that calm voice of his, “Are you nervous?”
Xiao Yu flinched. “W-Why would I be nervous?”
Gu Xin turned slightly, giving him one of those rare, gentle smiles. “Because I am.”
Xiao Yu dropped his book.
A pause hung between them—long, delicate.
“I remembered more today,” Gu Xin said softly. “And I kept thinking… I don’t want to forget this. You. Us.”
Xiao Yu swallowed. “I don’t want to be something you remember only because you forgot everything else.”
“You’re not,” Gu Xin said, reaching for him.
Their hands met halfway—fingertips brushing like hesitant butterflies—and then their fingers intertwined.
Xiao Yu’s breath hitched as Gu Xin leaned in, slowly, deliberately, until their foreheads touched.
“I love you,” Gu Xin whispered.
And that was all it took.
Xiao Yu closed the gap, kissing him—tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. Gu Xin's hands cupped his jaw, anchoring him as if he was afraid to let go.
Clothes were lost in a tangle of limbs and ughter, shy gnces and breathless murmurs exchanged in the glow of the bedside light.
“Careful,” Xiao Yu whispered between kisses. “You’re not allowed to forget this.”
“I won’t,” Gu Xin promised. “Not even if I forget everything else.”
The night was full of quiet gasps, stolen warmth, and slow touches. It was clumsy at moments—Xiao Yu nearly fell off the bed at one point, and Gu Xin accidentally elbowed a pillow off into the darkness—but it was theirs.
When it was over, Xiao Yu y curled beside him, his cheeks still red, his breathing soft.
“I swear,” he mumbled, half-asleep, “if Ji Yuxi finds out, I’m never hearing the end of it.”
Gu Xin chuckled low in his throat and pulled the bnket over them both.
“He already knows,” he said.
Xiao Yu looked at him with fierce stare. Gu Xin coughed awkwardly and said. "I asked him the process..."
"GET LOST!!"
-
Xiao Yu couldn’t meet Ji Yuxi’s eyes at breakfast.
Ji Yuxi raised an eyebrow over his cereal.
“You look like someone who finally accepted his husband.”
Xiao Yu dunked his toast in silence.
-
Meanwhile, Ji Xing, who had now officially become the household’s sassiest tiny queen, had her own milestone: school admission.
Ji Yuxi walked her in, his belly proudly eight months pregnant, one hand on his hip and the other holding Ji Xing’s little hand.
The school receptionist looked at them, then blinked at the bump.
“Oh! Um, sir, you’re…”
Ji Yuxi smiled sweetly. “Radiating parental energy?”
“Pregnant.”
“Also that.”
He handed over the documents, paid the fees, and introduced Ji Xing like a VIP guest.
“This is Ji Xing. She’s brilliant, occasionally chaotic, and may or may not organize a cookie uprising if not supervised.”
Ji Xing grinned up at the staff. “I want to be Css President!”
They hadn’t even stepped into the cssroom yet.
Ji Yuxi patted her head. “Go rule your empire, darling.”
That night, the family sat together at dinner—Gu Xin serving grilled beast meat, Xiao Yu preparing fresh soup, Ji Yuxi sorting school forms, and Ji Xing reciting all five vowels she learned.
“By the way,” Ji Yuxi said between sips, “we are never buying those pears again.”
“You’ve said that five times today,” Xiao Yu muttered.
Ji Yuxi stared solemnly into the void. “Because I’m still recovering emotionally.”
Gu Xin nodded. “I can hunt pears. Cheaper.”
“No, thank you. I don’t trust fruit that’s been wrestled into submission.”
