Jing Mian and Mr. Ren’s application materials were quickly approved.
However, after the successful sample matching, the application for their baby’s cultivation pod, submitted to the Civil Affairs Bureau, seemed to vanish without a trace—no updates, no responses.
Jing Mian secretly looked it up online and learned that cultivation pods were extremely precious. Only babies whose genetic tests showed good health and no hereditary diseases would be approved for placement.
The approval process usually took about a week, though some cases might extend to two weeks.
But no matter what, the two-week deadline had already passed.
Jing Mian even began to worry—was this a sign that their application had been rejected because their baby wasn’t healthy enough?
This anxious feeling lingered…
Until the fifteenth day.
Jing Mian was in class when his phone screen suddenly lit up.
Mr. Ren: 【Our cultivation pod application has been approved.】
Mr. Ren: 【Would you like to see it?】
Jing Mian: “!!”
His heart skipped a beat.
Gripping his phone, he replied: 【Yes.】
Jing Mian checked the time: 【My class ends in ten minutes.】
Mr. Ren: 【Meet me at the school gate.】
Mr. Ren: 【Don’t run.】
Jing Mian turned off his phone.
He quietly packed his books and pens into his bag, placed it on his lap, and hugged it while staring at the clock, steadying his nerves as he waited for class to end.
The moment the bell rang, Jing Mian stood up immediately, moving ahead of the crowd as he briskly walked downstairs.
Jing Mian knew exactly what the approval of the cultivation pod meant.
—He was going to meet their baby.
After all the uncertainty and the long, agonizing wait, everything was finally settled. Their child, his and Mr. Ren’s, would arrive in this world in ten months.
As he neared the school gate, Jing Mian, who had been running, suddenly remembered his husband’s instruction not to run.
So he slowed his pace, calming his breathing. This time, Mr. Ren had parked the car under a large tree by the school gate. Spotting the familiar black car, Jing Mian suppressed his pounding heart and got in.
The car’s heater was on.
So even though his fingertips were cold from nervousness, warmth soon enveloped him.
Mr. Ren held the steering wheel and said, “The cultivation pod headquarters is very close to your school.”
Jing Mian paused: “Close?”
Ren Xingwan: “Two kilometers.”
Jing Mian was surprised.
At that distance, even walking would only take about twenty minutes.
Without Mr. Ren’s help, Jing Mian could have visited the cultivation pod headquarters after class to see their baby regularly.
With all the traffic lights green, the drive took only a few minutes before they arrived at their destination.
Jing Mian carried his backpack and followed Mr. Ren. As soon as they reached the entrance of the headquarters building, a staff member came out to greet them.
The staff nodded politely, and Jing Mian awkwardly nodded back.
“Please follow me.”
Having never visited a cultivation facility before, Jing Mian found it far more luxurious and immaculate than he had imagined. The floors they walked on were pristine and smooth, the glass walls crystal clear, reflecting a soft blue glow.
They followed their guide into the elevator, heading to the top floor.
The moment the elevator doors opened, their vision was gradually illuminated.
The blue hue that had been visible through the glass earlier now deepened on this floor. For a moment, Jing Mian felt as if he were in an aquarium, though upon closer inspection, he realized the blue came from the edges of the cultivation pods, each one separated from the others.
…So this was what a cultivation pod looked like.
Due to privacy protection, Jing Mian couldn’t see inside each cultivation pod. Yet his gaze instinctively searched for something, overwhelmed by the sights until suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder.
“It’s at the very back.”
Mr. Ren’s voice was soft, close to his ear.
Jing Mian held his breath.
Then nodded.
Following the staff, they walked deeper inside, turned a corner, and arrived at a door.
The staff opened it sideways, revealing an unexpectedly small room, just a few square meters, with a cultivation pod quietly placed against the side.
A small wooden plaque with tassels hung on the edge of the pod’s door, inscribed with his and Mr. Ren’s names, labeled as “Baby’s Guardians.”
“…”
A peculiar feeling rose in Jing Mian’s heart.
Nervous yet bittersweet.
Warmth enveloped his blood, rushing toward his pounding heart.
“To avoid disturbing other babies in the pods, visitation is usually limited,” the staff explained. “But Mr. Ren applied for a private pod. This room connects to a separate passage and elevator, allowing unrestricted visits without entering the main floor.”
Jing Mian swallowed.
So, Mr. Ren had arranged a private room for their baby.
This meant that for the next ten months, he could visit freely. Moreover, the science center was close to his school, so coming here wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. Whether in time or space, this was a little sanctuary just for him and their baby.
The staff handed Mr. Ren a keycard. “This is for the passage door.”
Ren Xingwan glanced sideways, signaling for it to be given to the person beside him.
The staff promptly passed it to Jing Mian.
“We won’t disturb you further.”
“Press the bell if you need anything. Staff are always on standby.”
“Alright, thank you.”
Once the staff left, the room fell silent, leaving just the two of them.
Jing Mian eyed the unfamiliar pod and looked up. “…Can we take a look?”
Mr. Ren’s lips curved faintly, as if holding back a trace of a smile. “Of course.”
Jing Mian mirrored the expression.
The pod emitted a soft glow, illuminating every corner of the dim yet gentle space.
The warmth in Jing Mian’s eyes shimmered softly.
Mr. Ren’s hand remained on his shoulder, his sleeve brushing against the bag’s chain. Holding him close in this almost-embrace, his other hand pressed the pod’s second button.
“Transparent mode activated.”
The glass cover gradually faded, revealing the interior.
…
Jing Mian: “?”
Contrary to his expectations, there was nothing particularly noticeable inside, in fact, the pod seemed completely empty.
Mr. Ren said, “It’s still in embryonic form. You’d need a microscope.”
Jing Mian: “…”
Seems he’d gotten ahead of himself.
Lowering his lashes, Jing Mian lightly touched the glass. After a quiet moment, he murmured, “I hope he looks like you.”
Ren Xingwan froze.
Time seemed to stand still.
In the tranquil, blue-tinged space, even their breaths were audible. Just as the man was about to speak, Jing Mian’s voice came again:
“Like Husband when he was little, that would be nice.”
Mr. Ren: “…”
The air remained silent for over ten seconds.
Jing Mian suddenly noticed the unusual quietness around them: “…”
Mr. Ren: “Why from childhood?”
Jing Mian swallowed lightly.
As for why…
After all, Brother was the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.
Not to mention appearances, Brother had been gentle-natured, fair-skinned and handsome—like clear water. In his memory, he was the epitome of the perfect childhood sweetheart next door.
Whereas Mr. Ren was stern and mature, his presence often imposing and intimidating. He remembered their first meeting—even without speaking, the man had exuded an aura as chilling as frost.
From a thoughtful parental perspective, Jing Mian worried that if their child grew up resembling the current Mr. Ren, regardless of gender…
They might struggle to make friends.
This kind of preemptive parental concern naturally couldn’t be voiced aloud. Jing Mian’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as he murmured:
“…Resembling Husband now would be nice too.”
Then, glancing sideways, he asked the man: “Who would Husband prefer our child to resemble?”
Though merely a casual attempt to change the subject, Jing Mian found himself genuinely curious about the answer.
“I hope they resemble you.”
Ren Xingwan’s voice was deep and quiet as he continued: “And also resemble us both.”
Jing Mian’s pupils constricted slightly, his heartbeat suddenly loud and insistent in his ears.
“Shall we choose a name?”
Jing Mian: “Now?”
Mr. Ren: “Mm, now.”
Jing Mian felt somewhat at a loss.
He hadn’t considered this yet—naming their baby was such a solemn decision that couldn’t be taken lightly. It wasn’t just about them as young parents; likely their elders should be involved too. Moreover, since the baby was also Mr. Ren’s child, this concerned the Ren family as well.
Besides, changing names later would be troublesome. The name given at birth would likely stay with their child for life.
Still, Jing Mian thought, they could start with a nickname.
…
“Suisui.”
Jing Mian suddenly said.
Mr. Ren’s gaze paused, lingering.
“Mother once put up a Spring Festival couplet.”
“While others’ couplets were all very long, ours had only four characters per line, characters Mother had carefully selected.”
Jing Mian’s eyes seemed to reflect memories of the past as he pressed his lips together, softly reciting: “‘Year after year without worries, eternal peace and constant safety.'”
“She wrote it herself. Though it only stayed up for one year, it left a deep impression.”
“Back then I didn’t understand its meaning. Now that I’m grown, I realize it’s actually quite simple.”
“Perhaps she just wanted me to be safe and sound.”
Jing Mian pressed his lips together, feeling the weight on his shoulders gradually tighten—the pressure transmitting through fabric, carrying a profound, comforting warmth.
“I hope every day after our baby is born will be free from illness and disaster, filled with good fortune and peace.” Jing Mian gazed at the cultivation pod as he whispered:
“Year after year of smooth sailing, everything in constant peace.”
…
Ren Xingwan: “Good.”
The cultivation pod’s soft glow illuminated both their figures, casting their features in gentle relief. After a long moment, Mr. Ren turned to look at Jing Mian and spoke:
“His name will be Jing Sui.”