Chapter 43: Encounter with Danger

“Xiaomeng!” As Lian Meng stepped out of the maternity waiting room, Fan Chi, who had been fiddling with his watch, stood up. “How is it going?”

Lian Meng replied weakly, “I’m heading to the delivery room now…”

She had just turned when Fan Chi called out to her again.

“Xiaomeng!”

“Is there something else?”

Fan Chi hesitated for a moment, then, gathering his courage, asked, “Did you ever love me?”

Lian Meng didn’t understand why Fan Chi would ask such an irrelevant question at this moment, but she still answered, “I once loved you. But you wore it away.”

Fan Chi had already guessed her answer in his heart, but hearing it from her lips, he still felt a pang of disappointment. “Is there really no chance?”

She shook her head. “No.”

In truth, Lian Meng thought at that moment that if Fan Chi could truly change in the future, treat the child well, and give them a happy family, she might consider forgiving him. But her stomach hurt too much to say any more.

Fan Chi said nothing more. He let out a long sigh and sat back down.

Lian Meng entered the delivery room, where a midwife on duty and a nurse were napping at the table. The director she had scheduled, Director Chen, had not yet arrived.

“How many centimeters dilated are you now? Lie down and let me check,” the midwife said, rising to arrange her.

Lian Meng lay down on the delivery bed. The midwife performed an external examination. “Still just over two centimeters. You can’t deliver until you’re at eight to ten!”

“Please, just do a C-section. I can’t take it anymore.” Lian Meng was in so much pain her voice was barely a whisper.

The midwife waved her hand. “No, no, you don’t meet the criteria for a C-section. We can’t just decide to do one for you. You’re at the perfect age for childbirth, the baby’s position is normal, there’s no cord around the neck, your weight is normal—not one of those overweight pregnancies.”

Her request denied, Lian Meng could only lie helplessly on the bed and wait.

In the single delivery room in the early hours, there were no other laboring women. The midwife and nurse, bored, began to give Lian Meng ‘psychological counseling.’

“Miss Lian, don’t think that just because you have money you can have a C-section whenever you want. Natural birth is better for both mother and child. Babies born naturally have much better heart and lung function than those delivered by C-section. Mothers recover faster and you’ll be able to return to work and acting sooner.”

“It’s true technology has advanced a lot and C-sections are possible, but we still advocate for natural birth. Don’t think of a C-section as a shortcut. Childbirth hurts—there’s no shortcut.”

“Don’t think that a C-section with anesthesia won’t hurt. Let me tell you, with a natural birth you only hurt during delivery; with a C-section, you hurt afterward, and when the anesthesia wears off, the pain is even worse than natural birth. And do you know how big the scar is? About this big.”

The midwife gestured across her own lower abdomen.

…

By eight-thirty in the morning, Director Chen finally arrived.

“How is Miss Lian doing now?” She spoke as she changed into her scrubs.

“Since about ten o’clock last night, she’s only dilated to two centimeters and hasn’t progressed.”

“Hasn’t progressed in all this time?” Director Chen said, dissatisfied. “After so long, shouldn’t you have recorded it and reported up?”

The nurse replied, aggrieved, “We did record it, but since she specifically asked for you to deliver, we didn’t know whom to report it to.”

“I see. You’re about to finish your night shift—go home. Leave it to me and my assistant.”

As Director Chen finished speaking, a woman dressed in scrubs and a mask, tightly covered, walked in from outside.

Her assistant began to review Lian Meng’s prenatal charts. Director Chen prepared the oxytocin drip, tied a rubber tube around Lian Meng’s wrist, found a prominent vein, and inserted the needle.

“Miss Lian, I’m putting you on an oxytocin drip now,” Director Chen said, glancing at the wall clock. “It’s half past eight. By noon, you should be at eight centimeters.”

After half an hour on the oxytocin, Lian Meng didn’t know if it was hunger or a reaction to the medication, but her stomach churned uncomfortably.

Her pregnancy had been marked by severe morning sickness, vomiting several times a day. The worst was when she vomited so violently it entered her nasal cavity, leaving her with a fermented sour taste in her breath all day long.

Later, because she couldn’t stand the taste in her mouth after vomiting, but found it worse to have nothing in her stomach, she settled on drinking only water and eating a little fruit—so that when she did vomit, there was little taste.

“Director Chen, could you pass me the trash can?” she murmured.

Director Chen was busy reviewing other patients’ charts and told her assistant, “Help Miss Lian with the trash can.”

The assistant placed the trash can by her bed. As Lian Meng turned her head, the assistant quickly turned away.

Why did this assistant seem to be avoiding her?

Lian Meng strained her neck several times but, having eaten nothing since the previous night, she had nothing to throw up. She could only lie down again.

Around ten-thirty, Director Chen performed an internal exam—her first since the previous night.

“Good, you’re at eight centimeters. Hang in there—when you reach ten, we’ll prepare for delivery.”

Lian Meng asked curiously, “Director Chen, has my water broken yet?”

Dr. Chen replied casually, “It’s fine, this happens sometimes. We’ll break it artificially when the time comes.”

Meanwhile, Lian Changsheng and Shi Xuezhen finally managed to get on a bus. The bus inched forward at a snail’s pace, barely faster than a bicycle.

The couple’s hearts were twisted with anxiety.

“Changsheng, it’s already eleven-thirty. Why hasn’t there been any news from Mengmeng? Could she be delivering at noon?”

“As long as mother and child are safe, why does the time matter?”

“Giving birth at noon is unlucky. Noon is when the sun is at its strongest—didn’t the ancients always schedule executions at three-quarters past noon? It’s an inauspicious hour.”

“Ah, Mengmeng’s phone isn’t connecting, and that Fan Chi boy’s phone is off. I’m so worried!”

“And who knows when this bus will finally get us to the hospital. I’m really scared something might go wrong. If she hemorrhages, at least we could donate blood to help her…”

Lian Changsheng called out to the driver, “Driver, could you go a little faster? My daughter is having a baby in the hospital—we’re in a hurry!”

The driver replied impatiently, “Uncle, it’s easy for you to talk. Look outside—are there any cars on the road? Who’d dare drive in this weather? I really can’t speed up. If the bus skids and we crash, we’re all finished!”

At two o’clock, Lian Meng finally reached ten centimeters.

From ten o’clock last night to two in the afternoon—a full sixteen hours.

If not for her baby, enduring this level of pain for sixteen hours would have made her wish for death.

“All right, Miss Lian, open a bit more, that’s it. Otherwise the baby won’t come out easily!” Director Chen covered Lian Meng from her stomach to her knees with a green sterile sheet, both to prevent infection and to block her view, easing her fear.

After artificially breaking her water, Director Chen instructed, “Miss Lian, now push! Take a deep breath and bear down with all your strength!”

Lian Meng took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and pushed with all her might.

“No, Miss Lian, harder! You can scream if you need to—just push! The baby is almost here!”

Again and again, Lian Meng summoned every ounce of strength she had. Her hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to her forehead. Her brows were furrowed, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, her hands gripping the sweat-soaked sheets, veins standing out on her arms.

“Ah…” Her cry was weak and hoarse.

“Waa… waa…”

A newborn’s cry is the most beautiful sound in the world—the arrival of new life.

Director Chen cut the umbilical cord and instructed, “The mother’s bleeding is above average—record it now and prepare hemostatic supplies.”

Director Chen cleaned the vernix from the baby, wrapped her in a swaddling blanket, tied the ribbons, and brought her to Lian Meng’s side. “Look at your child—a beautiful little princess.”

Turning, Director Chen scolded the assistant standing by, “Didn’t I tell you to record the bleeding and prepare supplies? Why are you just standing there?”

The assistant arched her brow at the baby by Lian Meng’s pillow, her expression contemptuous. “Tch, it’s a girl? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered saving even one.”

That voice sounded familiar.

“Who are you!” Lian Meng’s eyes widened in terror. She raised her hand from the sheets and seized the ‘assistant’s’ arm. “Who are you really!”

“Yes, it’s me, Mengmeng—surprised?” Qu Wuyan pulled down the mask covering her face, lifted her lips in a victorious smile.

“You… why are you here… how did you get in…” Lian Meng was instantly paralyzed, as if a bucket of ice water studded with blades had been dumped over her, the chill and pain cutting through her skin.

Director Chen, who was tending to Lian Meng’s bleeding, was also stunned. “Who are you? How did you get in? Where’s my assistant? You—”

Before she could finish, a searing pain struck her neck and she collapsed. Qu Wuyan had stunned her with a taser.