Sheng Sui was his desire, his obsession, his greed—his years of yearning and restless nights.

“If there are no other physical problems, type 1 diabetes patients can have children.”

“As for the genetic concerns you’re worried about, type 1 diabetes does have a hereditary probability, but unlike type 2 diabetes’s familial clustering and genetic tendencies, it’s more often caused by autoimmune factors and infections, with a very low genetic probability.”

“So don’t put too much psychological burden on yourself, but you must follow medical advice, control blood sugar fluctuations well, and come to the hospital for regular checkups during pregnancy.”

“……”

Dr. Liu later gave many more instructions, especially regarding the usage and precautions for the blood glucose monitor, but unfortunately most of it went in one ear and out the other for Sheng Sui.

“Alright, thank you very much, Dr. Liu.”

Leaving the office alone, as Sheng Sui closed the door, she saw her irrepressible smile reflected in the metal door frame, feeling a moment of absurd relief.

Actually, thinking about it was somewhat laughable. In this era when women’s consciousness of independence was gradually awakening and more and more girls had the courage and financial means to refuse childbearing, she could only cautiously ask the doctor whether her physical condition would still allow her to have a child.

A few years ago, a blind date had failed because when the man learned of Sheng Sui’s illness, he immediately refused to meet again on the grounds that it would be detrimental to having offspring.

When Xiao Ming learned of this, she immediately cursed the scumbag and comforted Sheng Sui in the bedroom:

“Not being able to have children is great! I wish I was naturally unable to have kids—it would save me from my family’s constant nagging. You’d directly avoid the pain of childbirth. I actually envy you.”

Sheng Sui had only smiled at the time, knowing all too clearly that only healthy people could say such things.

It wasn’t like that.

Wanting or not wanting children, and whether one had the qualification to choose whether to bear children, were two completely different matters.

She respected and admired women who had the courage to refuse childbearing, yet she also naively believed that true women’s freedom didn’t lie in the final choice, but in whether one possessed the right to choose freely and independently.

While some people were unwilling to bear children, this society also had some women like her who, after understanding the costs of childbearing, simply out of fondness, hoped to have a child.

Sheng Sui loved children very much—this was one of the reasons she became a teacher.

Her unfortunate family of origin hadn’t extinguished her maternal instincts. Regardless of marriage or partners, she simply loved children’s round, chubby little faces, and when riding taxis past parks and seeing young couples playing with their children, she would feel momentary envy.

And realizing that Zhou Shiyu was taking folic acid—perhaps wanting to raise the next generation together with her—Sheng Sui’s first reaction was to think how beautiful the baby would be if it looked more like Zhou Shiyu.

Just thinking about it made her smile linger for a long time.

Sheng Sui knew that children were too early to consider now, but this was undoubtedly the only good news for them recently.

Not seeing Zhou Shiyu outside the door, she walked toward the end of the corridor while taking out her phone to make a call.

As she pressed the dial button, Sheng Sui vaguely heard conversation coming from the end of the corridor:

“…Besides the previous ones, several new projects at this seminar are also worth attention: ‘Clinical Research on Human Gingival Mesenchymal Stem Cell Treatment for Type I Diabetes,’ ‘Prospective, Randomized, Controlled Clinical Research on Human Umbilical Cord Mesenchymal Stem Cell Injection for Diabetic Foot Wounds,’ and ‘Clinical Research on Umbilical Cord Mesenchymal Stem Cell Treatment for Refractory Diabetic Peripheral Neuropathy’…”

Then a familiar male voice responded: “Good, we’ll assign someone to follow up later. Once the research analysis report is out—Sui Sui?”

Zhou Shiyu’s questioning voice rang out. Sheng Sui knew her silhouette reflected on the porcelain white floor had given her away. She saw the man turn to look at her, asking:

“How did everything go over there?”

Sheng Sui nodded and greeted the middle-aged man with half-silver hair facing Zhou Shiyu: “Hello.”

“Hello, Mrs. Zhou,” the elderly man smiled kindly, then turned to Zhou Shiyu, “I have other matters to attend to, so I won’t disturb President Zhou further. We’ll chat later.”

“Alright, take care.”

Watching the elderly man leave, the two walked together toward the hospital lobby.

Zhou Shiyu took the initiative to hold Sheng Sui’s hand, putting it in his pocket and squeezing her fingertips: “What did the doctor say?”

“The same things as always—more exercise, regular sleep schedule, and so on,” Sheng Sui recalled her husband’s conversation with the elderly man and asked curiously,

“…That gentleman just now, is he doing diabetes treatment research?”

As a patient, Sheng Sui very occasionally came across research news about completely curing type 1 diabetes, and roughly knew that stem cell transplantation was currently the fastest-progressing and most closely watched direction.

After more than ten years, she had accepted life dependent on insulin injections and had never thought about being cured—after all, her current life was manageable, and hoping for too much would only lead to disappointment.

Realizing that Zhou Shiyu was actually the one who refused to give up, Sheng Sui couldn’t help feeling a complex mix of emotions.

“Yes, Dr. Liu Chen is very authoritative in the field.”

Zhou Shiyu looked down, seeing her complex expression. He stopped in the flowing crowd, bent down to look at her: “The number of type 1 diabetes patients is much larger than you imagine. If there’s a technological breakthrough, it would be enormous business opportunities and profits.”

“I’m a businessman—no profit, no action,” he reached up to pinch the woman’s soft cheek, his voice gentle as jade,

“At times like this, don’t feel sorry for capitalists, don’t blame yourself randomly, understand?”

Sheng Sui was amused by his seemingly logical but twisted reasoning.

With her cheeks puffed out from his pinching, she looked up at him: “Then may I ask, Mr. Zhou the great businessman, what’s the benefit of marrying me?”

Zhou Shiyu pondered for a moment, slowly raising his eyebrows with a smile that carried a hint of well-dressed scoundrel charm.

He leaned close to Sheng Sui’s ear, his burning breath falling against her ear along with his low voice:

“The benefit is probably that Mrs. Zhou makes me develop many desires?”

“……”

Sheng Sui knew that someone was again using impropriety to deflect the topic. She shook her head helplessly as Zhou Shiyu led her to the inpatient department to visit Sheng Tian.

Her father’s surgery was in two days, and nearly half a month had passed since Sheng Sui’s last visit.

Initially, the man had sent messages every day, but later, realizing that his formerly obedient daughter who never made a sound even when beaten would no longer soften her heart, Sheng Tian finally stopped the harassment.

The single room Zhou Shiyu had arranged was on the fourth floor. When they reached the nurses’ station lobby, they saw Sheng Tian pushing his wheelchair out for some fresh air.

The repeated progression of ankylosing spondylitis had forced the once powerful man who demonstrated his masculinity through violence to be confined to a wheelchair, wearing a face full of ingratiating smiles as he made funny faces to amuse the little girl in front of him.

The little girl was visiting her grandmother who had just undergone heart surgery. Seeing someone playing with her, she circled around Sheng Tian, and no amount of coaxing from the elderly could work.

“We’ve spoiled her too much in normal times.” The girl’s grandmother, about the same age as Sheng Tian, was helped by a caregiver pushing an IV stand, apologizing helplessly yet lovingly.

“Even the most well-behaved children need to be mischievous for a few years,” Sheng Tian smiled until his face was full of wrinkles, speaking with the demeanor of a father, “My daughter was even more troublesome at this age, but she became obedient and sensible when she got older.”

“How old is your child?”

“Just turned 27, quite the young lady now.”

“I see they arranged a premium room for you. She must be both capable and filial—you’re truly blessed.”

“Yes, when children can be successful, we fathers are satisfied.”

“……”

Sheng Sui watched the man continuously praise her from afar, uncertain whether he was simply using her as bragging material, or if he truly dared to consider himself a “father,” or if he was finally experiencing guilt and remorse 27 years too late.

A warm, dry hand gently ruffled her hair: “If you don’t want to go, we can go home.”

“…Actually, sometimes I think I’m typically someone who forgets pain once healed.”

Sheng Sui stood still, calmly watching Sheng Tian play with the little girl, finding the scene ironically heartwarming, “Every time I make up my mind, saying I’ll never care about his life or death again, that I’ve done my utmost duty, another voice appears in my head.”

She looked up at Zhou Shiyu, speaking softly:

“‘As long as I still have parents, life still has its origin; if I abandon even my parents, the rest of life will only be a journey to the end.'”

“……”

Before Zhou Shiyu could answer, Sheng Tian noticed Sheng Sui’s presence first. The smile on his face instantly became awkward and uneasy, his rough hands repeatedly rubbing his sleeves.

The man actively pushed his wheelchair toward her, not daring to get too close: “Why did you suddenly come to the hospital? I’m doing fine here, you don’t need to worry—”

“I came to the hospital to see a doctor,” Sheng Sui coldly interrupted, “I’m also a patient.”

“Oh, right, right, right,” Sheng Tian nodded repeatedly, catching sight of the expressionless Zhou Shiyu from the corner of his eye, the flesh on his face trembling again, “How is it? Did the doctor say it can still be cured?”

“It can’t be cured,” facing her father, Sheng Sui was like a hedgehog covered in spines, “Although you’ve never accompanied me to see a doctor, I thought you should at least know this.”

The attending nurse passed by at this moment, naturally discussing the surgery scheduled for two days later with Sheng Sui.

Zhou Shiyu didn’t follow, standing a few steps away with his hands in his pockets, his cold gaze directed at Sheng Tian, who had become the child this time, obediently following beside Sheng Sui with complete dependence in his eyes and movements.

Zhou Shiyu was completely different from Sheng Sui.

Regarding parents, she would speak of origins and destinations because she still had expectations for her parents, or for this world.

Zhou Shiyu had never expected anything from this world.

He just occasionally felt a moment of confusion: in this era where all trades required professional licensing qualifications, when it came to matters of life and death, becoming a parent had no threshold whatsoever.

Especially for men—they didn’t even need to endure the ten months of pregnancy like women. Just a thrust and ejaculation, putting on pants after the pleasure, and all tasks were complete.

Not only could gambling, alcoholic Sheng Tian do this, but even that man could satisfy his reproductive cancer with peace of mind.

Knowing he was ill, knowing the high hereditary rate, he predictably produced Zhou Shiyu, a madman as moody as himself, then comfortably died and was done with it all.

Even one Zhou Shiyu wasn’t enough—he had to make Zhou Yi into a second failed “test subject.”

Perhaps until death, the man couldn’t understand that people like them were born unworthy of having offspring.

“…Zhou Shiyu, are you alright?”

A worried female voice pulled back his drifting thoughts. Zhou Shiyu felt a warm little hand grasp his, and looking down, he saw Sheng Sui looking at him with concern, “I should be finished over there.”

“Your hands are so cold,” Zhou Shiyu looked down, seeing the woman’s delicate brows furrowed. She caught both his hands, brought them to her lips to breathe warm air on them, then pressed them against her warm cheeks, speaking softly, “The temperature dropped so much today. Are you wearing too little? Should we go back to the car first?”

Letting his hands be held by her, Zhou Shiyu complied and agreed, curving his lips in a gentle voice: “Alright.”

On their way from leaving the hospital to the outdoor parking lot, Zhou Shiyu was led forward by Sheng Sui, their fingers interlocked.

Seeing the midday spring light spilling on her shoulders, seeing her long hair swaying gently in the spring breeze, with her light body fragrance filling his nostrils, Zhou Shiyu suddenly felt that perhaps saying he had no expectations of this world wasn’t quite accurate.

The reason people still want to live is because desires still exist, because they still want to obtain something more from this world.

Zhou Shiyu knew he hadn’t achieved complete detachment from worldly desires.

Sheng Sui was his desire, his obsession, his greed—his years of yearning and restless nights.

She was also his only reason for wanting to live and see tomorrow’s garden full of spring colors.