The child's bed was barely five feet wide.
At first, lying there with Dabai, Chenchen thought they had plenty of space. But the moment Bai Yeqing settled beside her, the mattress dipped sharply under his weight. Her breath hitched; every muscle locked like stone.
The clean, sharp scent of mint clung to his skin from his shower—a familiar, unsettling fragrance.
Chenchen lay rigidly flat, forcing him to turn on his side just to fit. The shift brought her ear flush against his chest. Unbearably close. The deep, steady drumming of his heartbeat echoed in her ears, while her own frantic pulse hammered loudly—surely, he heard it too.
"Mom," whispered Dabai, oblivious to the tension. "You still haven't told me—what else do grown-ups do to make a baby, besides sleeping together?"
Chenchen fantasized about pitching him off the bed.
"I don't know. Stop asking."
"But you must know!" Dabai protested, brow furrowed with frustration. "You and Dad made me!"
"...Ask your father," she muttered, risking a sideways glance at the man beside her.
He lay propped on one elbow, head resting on his hand. From her angle, she saw only the sharp line of his jaw and the maddeningly hypnotic dip of his throat. Unfair, she thought bitterly. Power, privilege, and a face sculpted by gods.
He shifted, catching her stare. His gaze held hers, heavy with implication. "You truly wish me to explain?"
What? Heat flared across her cheeks. "Suit yourself," she managed coolly, turning away. "I know nothing about such things."
"Nothing?" His murmur was a low rasp, breath feathering her ear. "Or… merely pretending?"
The intimacy of the night, the proximity—it thickened the air like honey. Chenchen's lashes fluttered. She refused to answer.
"Dad?" Dabai piped up. "You tell me."
Chenchen expected evasion. Instead, Bai Yeqing's reply was unnervingly direct. "Sleeping together isn't sufficient."
"What else?"
"Only two people can 'make a baby.' Three would be… inconvenient."
Chenchen's mind reeled. Is this… age-appropriate sex ed? At four?!
"Just you and Mom?" Dabai's eyes lit up. With a sudden squeak, he buried his face in his hands and slithered entirely under the covers. His muffled voice floated up: "Pretend I'm invisible! Hurry up and make a sibling!"
Chenchen squeezed her eyes shut. Trapped.
...…
She'd expected sleepless torment with Bai Yeqing inches away. Yet exhaustion claimed her swiftly.
Deep in the night, half-dreaming, she rolled toward comforting warmth. Mistaking the solid form beside her for Dabai, she curled into it with a sleepy sigh, draping an arm possessively across the broad chest. Her face nuzzled the firm warmth like a child seeking comfort.
Bai Yeqing snapped awake. His gaze dropped.
She slept deeply, features softened, utterly guileless. Impossible to reconcile with motherhood.
She burrowed closer. His breath caught. "Chenchen?" His hand settled lightly on her shoulder, dwarfing its fragile slope beneath the thin silk.
"Shhh, Dabai… no noise…" she murmured, drowsily pressing a finger to his lips.
She mistakes me for the boy?
Impatient, he tipped her chin up. His face hovered inches above hers. "Chenchen," his voice was a dark thread in the stillness. "Do you know who I am?"
"Da…bai?" Her sleepy smile widened. Then, with innocent boldness, she closed the gap, kissing him softly.
Her lips—warm, yielding, impossibly tender—sent a lightning strike through him.
He froze. A shuddering breath escaped him as she retreated slightly, already drifting back into sleep, blissfully unaware. His grip tightened instantly. One hand clamped her jaw, the other banded around her narrow waist, hauling her flush against him.
"Try kissing me again," he warned, voice roughened, thick with a danger that vibrated in the small space.
"Dabai… naughty boy…" she sighed, dreamily obliging. Her lips brushed his again—soft, fleeting.
She tried to withdraw. This time, his teeth closed gently but firmly on her lower lip.
Pain.
Her eyes flew open.
She expected Dabai's mischief. Instead, stark inches away, was the President's unforgivingly sculpted face. Sleep shattered. Terror replaced drowsiness.
It wasn't Dabai… It was his father.
Meaning… those clumsy kisses… landed on… the President?
Mortification screamed through her. She longed to slap herself.
"Satisfied?" he murmured, watching her panic with unnerving calm.
"I—It wasn't intentional!" The stammered apology tumbled out. Only then did she register the steel circle of his arms trapping her.
They spoke mere breaths apart. The slightest movement would fuse their mouths.
Her lungs seized. Her gaze darted up to his eyes—dark, unreadable pools—then skittered away, helplessly snagging on the curve of his mouth.
Damnit.
His lips… looked devastatingly sculpted…
And the memory surfaced, unbidden: the feel of them under hers… surprisingly… pleasant…
God! What am I THINKING?! Shame scalded her.
Her burning hands slid down, pressing weakly against the granite muscle of his forearms. Release me.
His arms constricted like steel bands.
Then—his mouth crashed down on hers.
Chenchen's body convulsed.
A white-noise roar filled her skull. The hands meant to push him away went limp, strength evaporating. Every nerve ending sparked; her very fingertips trembled.
...