Sheng Sui loved Zhou Shiyu, not Zhou Shiyu as a father.

Zhou Shiyu didn’t sleep all night.

The steady, long breathing of his wife reached his ears, carrying a faint, lingering body fragrance that indicated everything before his eyes wasn’t a figment of his imagination—unlike hearing or hallucinations, scent could never be fabricated out of thin air.

The desolate moonlight slanted down through the gauze curtains, falling on his sleeping lover’s shoulders and hair, making Sheng Sui’s already gentle face appear even more serene.

Countless times since their marriage, Zhou Shiyu had lain quietly beside Sheng Sui, gazing deeply and longingly at his lover’s appearance, his eyes revealing unreserved love.

Only in the darkness of deep night could he look at her so unrestrained, without worrying about being disturbed, and without fearing that this overly profound emotion would startle her.

Using his eyes as ink and brush, Zhou Shiyu traced Sheng Sui’s smiling face in her dreams—she had naturally smiling lips, her soft, moist thin lips slightly upturned.

It reminded him of how her watery eyes had sparkled with laughter when she described the beautiful scene of a family of three not long ago.

“…When you proposed last time, you said you wanted to live in that house on the west side of the city. We could move there after having a baby. The empty space in the backyard could have swings and slides installed, and when we play with him, we could also get more sun…”

“…Do you have any expectations for children? I hope he can just be healthy and happy. Of course, it would be even better if he looked like you. I haven’t seen what you looked like as a child…”

“…”

The heartfelt hope and anticipation made Sheng Sui’s voice unconsciously become lighter and more cheerful, but Zhou Shiyu felt as if his chest had been inflated with air, continuously expanding and pressing against his heart and ribs.

When he could barely breathe, he quietly sat up and got out of bed, took cigarettes and a lighter from the study drawer, and walked alone to the balcony farthest from the master bedroom.

The late spring evening breeze was still cool, but fortunately bearable. The man came to his senses and closed the glass door, not letting any smoke smell into the house. He casually leaned against the gray wall to avoid the wind and took out a plastic-wrapped, brand-new cigarette pack from his pocket.

This was the first and only time he had smoked since marriage, or in the past five or six years, from what he could remember.

The click of the lighter broke the quiet of the night. The trembling spark swayed as it lit the milky white cigarette tip, exposing the deep brown tobacco inside.

The burning bright red extinguished, and white smoke particles curled upward. Only the cigarette tip could be seen flickering in the darkness as his mouth and nose tasted the mixed flavor of nicotine and tar.

For Zhou Shiyu, it was neither the rich mellowness of an addict nor the harsh irritation of someone who detested it.

Cigarettes were no different from alcohol to him—discussing preference or dislike was always meaningless.

Because they were all things he couldn’t touch.

Patients with bipolar disorder should not only avoid tobacco and alcohol, but also minimize contact with spicy, cold, fried, and pickled foods that are difficult to digest. High sugar and high fat content also required caution.*1

This type of person was emotionally sensitive and prone to overthinking. Any internal or external factor could become the fuse that detonates the brain’s bomb—even just changing seasons, alterations in temperature and humidity, could trigger symptoms.

During Zhou Shiyu’s childhood, even before he knew the name “bipolar disorder,” he was already more than familiar with these symptoms.

Because that man—who was also his “father” through blood ties—was exactly such an unpredictably moody person.

Having coldly witnessed that man’s beastly appearance when he had episodes, beating him to vent his rage, Zhou Shiyu understood all too clearly that there was a type of person in this world who didn’t deserve to have offspring.

The extremely high hereditary rate of bipolar disorder meant he had perfectly inherited everything from that man. During those years when his condition repeatedly flared up, Zhou Shiyu became increasingly convinced of this.

What should have been the best years of a spirited young man—when his spine pressed against blood-stained cold floors, when the vomit from activated charcoal stomach washing was too much to clean up, when his self-respect was already in tatters—Zhou Shiyu understood all too clearly that people like him didn’t deserve to have offspring.

During those most torturous years, he had never blamed anyone or anything, except for hating that man who had a reproductive cancer yet insisted on bringing him into this world.

And he, like that man, was incapable of becoming a father.

Zhou Shiyu knew he didn’t have the mental capacity to love another life, and couldn’t even guarantee giving this life a normal brain that ordinary people possessed.

The cruelty of the adult world lay in the fact that not all endings would be perfect, and not all hopes could be resolved through effort.

Sheng Sui simply wanted a child.

And Zhou Shiyu was powerless to provide that.

Thinking of how his lover had noticed his low mood before sleep, carefully reaching out to hug him and patiently patting his back, Zhou Shiyu closed his eyes and pressed his thin lips against the cigarette paper, inhaling the choking white smoke particles into his lungs.

She hadn’t asked about the reason at all, just softly comforted him: “I know the topic of children was very sudden; it’s okay, if you don’t like children, the two of us living our life together is also very good.”

“Sheng Sui loves Zhou Shiyu, not Zhou Shiyu as a father.”

“…”

If he hadn’t seen Sheng Sui’s expectant expression with his own eyes, Zhou Shiyu might have almost believed it.

But the truth was, he could hear the disappointed loss beneath his lover’s forced cheerful smile.

Even while being firmly held and unable to see his lover’s face, he could imagine the unconcealable disappointment beneath Sheng Sui’s jewel-like eyes.

At that moment, words of agreement rolled to Zhou Shiyu’s lips repeatedly.

“Then let’s have a child”—this short sentence was the easiest thing in the world for him.

All Zhou Shiyu had to do was ejaculate, then just wait for Sheng Sui’s ten months of pregnancy, just easily deceive himself. That was all.

This child had a high probability of not inheriting the bipolar gene. Even if inherited, a good family environment wouldn’t necessarily trigger bipolar episodes.

Even if truly afflicted, in today’s technologically advanced world, conquest and cure were just matters of time—moreover, life and death each had their fate. Among the infants, teenagers, adults, and elderly who died young each year, the bipolar probability was negligible, even far less than those who died in car accidents.

Thinking of this, Zhou Shiyu smiled sarcastically, almost tempted by such logical and beautiful reasoning.

Examining his conscience, he had no feelings for this child, yet he also knew from personal experience that this wasn’t right.

Irresponsibly and rashly giving life was no different from murder.

His sleepless tossing and turning was only because he felt guilty toward Sheng Sui.

Zhou Shiyu didn’t understand how cruel it was to deprive a woman of the qualification to become a mother.

He only sadly knew that throughout Sheng Sui’s life, she seemed to always be compromising.

Having to compromise with her father’s violence, her mother’s departure without notice, having to compromise with diabetes that would entangle her for life;

Now, because of his selfishness and arbitrariness, she had to compromise once again, giving up the role of mother she had yearned for for years.

Examining his conscience, Zhou Shiyu had no feelings for this child who would never be born, and could never empathize with why Sheng Sui wanted a child so much.

But the fact was, Sheng Sui wanted a child.

So he also frantically wanted a child.

But Zhou Shiyu knew all too clearly that this wasn’t right.

Sheng Sui hadn’t expected to smell cigarette smoke on Zhou Shiyu.

His embrace was as warm as always, but the faint scent of nicotine entered her nose, mixed with the man’s deep, bitter woody cold fragrance, creating a different feeling, just unfamiliar.

Half-awake and half-asleep, her first reaction was thinking some food had burned.

Suddenly opening her eyes, Sheng Sui looked up to meet Zhou Shiyu’s gaze, blinked, her voice slightly hoarse from just waking:

“…You smoked?”

He had even changed his pajamas. Had he not slept last night, or had he woken up early?

“Mm, couldn’t sleep last night.”

Zhou Shiyu lowered his head to kiss her forehead. Seeing Sheng Sui sniffing the scent on his body like a kitten with her nose lightly twitching, thinking she didn’t like it, he was about to get up: “I’ll go shower now.”

The man’s dark eyes were slightly heavy.

He should have showered after smoking last night, but not wanting to wake her, he had only brushed his teeth and changed clothes.

Sheng Sui held him tighter with her arms, rubbing her head against Zhou Shiyu’s firm chest: “It’s fine, it smells quite good.”

Seeing Zhou Shiyu insist on getting up, wanting to stay in bed but unwilling to have her arms become empty, she looked up again:

“If I had body odor, would you divorce me?”

“…”

Zhou Shiyu was both amused and exasperated by his lover’s unreasonable argument, gently patting Sheng Sui’s raised bottom, his low voice unable to hide his indulgence: “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Though the man’s tone was helpless, his eyes couldn’t help but show some warmth and smile.

Over the weekend, gossip had spread far and wide.

When Sheng Sui stepped through the school gates, from the duty teacher at the entrance and the security guard uncle at the reception, to the teachers she passed when going upstairs, everyone frequently turned to look. Even the dean of students, whom she encountered just before reaching the classroom, took the initiative to greet her.

“Um, Teacher Sheng, wait a moment.”

The serious dean of students made a fist with his hand, placed it by his mouth, coughed awkwardly twice, and hinted indirectly: “About a few days ago, some rumors in the school regarding Ms. Lin Xi and President Zhou—”

“It’s okay,” Sheng Sui saw the director was so nervous he was sweating profusely, felt sympathetic, and kindly explained: “Zhou Shiyu won’t mind.”

The director let out a long sigh of relief upon hearing this, taking out a white handkerchief to wipe his bald head that was shiny like a boiled egg: “That’s good, that’s good.”

The man then simply asked a few more questions about Zhou Yi’s recent situation, inquiring whether he and Zhou Shiyu were brothers and about his relationship with Lin Xi. Sheng Sui didn’t want to say too much, only confirming they were indeed blood brothers, keeping quiet about everything else.

Fortunately, the director was only concerned about the student’s situation. Seeing this, he didn’t ask further questions. Before leaving, he instructed: “Regardless, the only reason the school hired you is as a teacher, and we won’t treat you differently because of other factors.”

This was exactly what Sheng Sui wanted most. She smiled with curved eyebrows: “Okay, thank you, Director.”

After supervising the class until the first period teacher arrived, Sheng Sui took her bag back to the empty office, took out her phone wanting to send Lin Xi a text message, asking about her and Zhou Yi’s situation since he hadn’t come to school for several days.

The message was repeatedly deleted and rewritten in the chat box. Sheng Sui recalled Lin Xi’s tearful voice when she came asking for help that day, thinking she really wasn’t good at comforting people. Finally, she sighed lightly and put down her phone.

Leaning back against the chair, she thought Lin Xi was also a pitiable person. Autistic children needed more care and attention, and Lin Xi was not only busy with work but also single.

Thinking of this, Sheng Sui couldn’t help but start to resent the source of all difficulties—that man whom Lin Xi described as sometimes gentle and considerate toward her, sometimes physically abusive, and who frequently tried to commit suicide by any means possible—

The symptoms Lin Xi described were too consistent with the criteria, making Sheng Sui’s thoughts suddenly stop.

…Wasn’t this the typical manifestation of a bipolar disorder episode?

Her brain collapsed with a thunderous crash. The relevant materials about the causes of bipolar disorder that she had read days ago suddenly flooded her mind.

Remembering Zhou Shiyu’s abnormal silence last night, Sheng Sui’s lowered long eyelashes trembled lightly. She picked up the phone on the desk again, took a deep breath, and typed:

【What is the hereditary probability of bipolar disorder?】

“—According to data, the hereditary rate of this disease is as high as nearly 85%. The closer the blood relationship, the higher the risk of passing it to the next generation.”*2

“—Among all mental illnesses, bipolar disorder has an especially high hereditary probability, about 10-30 times that of ordinary people…”*2

“—Bipolar disorder has a very obvious familial hereditary tendency…”*2

Searching the internet, the answers naturally varied, but after Sheng Sui looked through the next five full pages, regardless of how different the explanations were, the core conclusion was singular.

Bipolar disorder was hereditary, and the probability far exceeded Sheng Sui’s expectations.

Noticing that even her breathing was trembling, Sheng Sui deleted all content in the search box and typed again:

【What are the conditions for applying to a sperm bank?】

“—In our country, not everyone is qualified to apply to the national sperm bank. Only those who meet the three-certificate requirement—marriage certificate, birth permit, and infertility diagnosis—can legally apply to use the sperm bank.”*3

Each word pierced her pupils like needle points. Sheng Sui’s eye corner twitched.

She remembered very clearly that patients with bipolar disorder were not prohibited from reproducing.

Her fingertips stalled for a long time without falling. The cold white screen was glaring. Sheng Sui’s eyes felt a bit sour, so she lowered the screen brightness and made one final search:

【Can patients with bipolar disorder adopt or □□?】

The first answer that appeared didn’t give a direct response but clearly listed the specific conditions for adopting children.

In the deafening sound of her heartbeat, Sheng Sui unconsciously held her breath, reading through each condition word by word:

【According to Article 1098 of the Civil Code, adopters should simultaneously meet the following conditions:

(1) Have no children or only one child;

(2) Have the ability to raise, educate, and protect the adoptee;

(3) Not suffer from diseases that are medically considered inappropriate for adopting children;

(4) Have no illegal or criminal records detrimental to the healthy growth of the adoptee;

(5) Be at least thirty years old.】*4

“……”

After Sheng Sui finished reading completely, she put down her phone. After a long moment, she lowered her eyes and smiled with unclear meaning, carrying a sense of settled dust and relief.

Not suffering from diseases that are medically considered inappropriate for adopting children.*4

And bipolar disorder was among them.

Author’s Note:

I hesitated for a long time about whether to follow reality completely. I also know that as an author, I could completely ensure that Suisui and Xiao Zhou’s baby would always be healthy and worry-free.

But Zhou Shiyu doesn’t know these things. He can’t deceive himself, just like I can’t deceive him either.

However, things always need to be resolved. The emotional storyline hasn’t been angsty before (hopefully everyone will be satisfied)(patch)

As always, please leave comments and nutrient solution, kiss kiss kiss

*1, 2, 3, 4: Related knowledge sourced from professional books, legal codes, and the internet. Will delete if infringing.

Thank you very much for everyone’s support. I will continue to work hard!