On Shen Nian'an's first birthday, the crabapple blossoms in Fengtian City had just faded, leaving clusters of tiny green fruits dangling from the branches like jade beads, swaying gently in the wind. A small, quiet feast was held at the mansion—no outside guests, only the Shen family, Su Wan, and a few close servants. It was warm, simple, and joyful.
Shen Xiaoshan held his grandson, who wore tiny tiger-head shoes, grinning from ear to ear. He personally placed a long-life lock around the child's neck and tucked a heavy red envelope into his little arms. Shen Nian'an giggled and grabbed his grandfather's beard, making the whole room laugh.
Su Wan sat beside Shen Yanci, gazing at her son's chubby little face, her eyes overflowing with tenderness. In the year since giving birth, she had fully recovered. Her complexion was rosy, and the shyness of new motherhood had given way to gentle, quiet warmth.
"Look how strong he is," Shen Yanci said, placing a piece of steamed fish on her plate, his voice full of paternal pride. "Stronger than I was at his age."
"Naturally," Su Wan teased with a smile. "Look who his mother is."
Amusement softened Shen Yanci's eyes. His fingertips brushed hers quietly under the table. Her hand was warm and slightly damp, like it had touched the morning dew. He thought of the past year: woken each dawn by their son's cries, watching her nurse and change his diapers by day, sitting together under the lamp at night—him reading military dispatches, her sewing—looking up at each other with quiet smiles. Plain as water, yet sweet to the bone.
After the feast, Shen Nian'an was taken by the nurse for his nap. Su Wan sat on a rattan chair beneath the corridor, looking at the newly planted roses in the yard. Their vines had climbed the frame, dotted with tiny buds. Shen Yanci pulled a chair beside her and fanned her slowly with a palm leaf fan.
"The days are getting warmer," Su Wan said, brushing a new rose shoot with her fingertip, soft as cotton. "In a while, these roses will bloom beautifully."
"Mm," Shen Yanci murmured. His gaze fell on her wind-tousled hair. He tucked it behind her ear, his finger brushing her earlobe, sending a faint, tingling shiver through her. "If you like them, we'll plant more next year."
Su Wan's cheeks warmed slightly. She lowered her head, stared at her folded hands, and after a short silence, spoke softly.
"Shen Yanci… let's have another child."
Shen Yanci's fanning stopped abruptly. He stared at her, astonished. He saw the blush on her ears, the way she twisted the corner of her dress nervously, and his heart softened, tender and full.
"You… your body has only just recovered," he said hoarsely. "Don't rush—"
"I know my own body," Su Wan lifted her head, her eyes bright and sincere. "Nian'an is older now, easier to care for. I want another baby. A little girl, preferably—with bright eyes like yours. She can be Nian'an's companion."
Her voice was soft, but every word touched his heart. He thought of how hard she had worked for Nian'an, of his agonized wait outside the birthing room. A flicker of hesitation lingered, but it was overwhelmed by warmth. She wanted to fill their home with another little life, to make their days fuller, brighter.
"Okay." He wrapped his hand around hers, his palm warm and firm. "If you want another baby, we'll have one. But this time, you must not push yourself. The moment you feel unwell, you tell me at once."
Su Wan's eyes lit up like stars. She nodded hard, a bright, uncontrollable smile spreading across her lips. "I will."
Sunlight filtered through the rose branches, casting dappled gold over their joined hands. In the distance, Nian'an woke, his soft cry drifting over—annoying to no one, only adding life to the gentle afternoon.
After that, Shen Yanci grew even more careful with her.
Every morning, he went to the kitchen himself to watch over nourishing soup, refusing to leave for the camp until she drank it. No matter how late he returned at night, he checked on her first, tucking her in, touching her forehead to make sure she slept peacefully.
Su Wan found his fussing endearing. "I'm not a porcelain doll," she laughed, snuggling into his chest, breathing in his faint soap scent. "I'm not that delicate."
"To me, you are," Shen Yanci whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "When Nian'an was born, listening to you in pain broke my heart. This time, I won't let you suffer even a little."
Su Wan's heart warmed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest. His embrace was strong and safe, just as it had been when they first married—he had always loved her clumsily, sincerely, warming her heart bit by bit.
"I saw Miss Wang at the girls' school yesterday," she said suddenly. "She's teaching the girls to sew, and they're all so focused."
"Good," Shen Yanci said, brushing hair from her forehead. "Let them learn skills, so they won't be bullied in the future."
"I want our daughter to study there too," Su Wan said, her eyes shining. "To read, to learn, to be a girl who can choose her own life."
Shen Yanci looked at her hopeful face and melted. He pictured their future: Nian'an as a young boy, learning to ride at his side, a delicate little girl beside him—just like Su Wan, with bright eyes, pestering him for stories, sewing lopsided little purses.
What a warm, wonderful life that would be.
When Shen Nian'an learned to walk, he stumbled eagerly toward the garden. Su Wan followed closely, bending to protect him, murmuring, "Slow down, Nian'an… slowly."
Whenever Shen Yanci was home, he took over. He knelt with open arms and smiled. "Come here, Nian'an. Come to Father."
The little boy giggled and tumbled into his embrace. Shen Yanci lifted him high, and their laughter rang through the yard like clear bells. Su Wan watched from the corridor, the sweet soup in her hands growing cold, but her smile never faded.
"You're spoiling him," she said, wiping sweat from her son's forehead. "He'll be too bold to control."
"Bold is good for a boy," Shen Yanci kissed his soft cheek. "Like me. He can protect you and your little sister."
"We don't know if it's a sister or brother yet," Su Wan laughed, tapping his arm, her cheeks blushing.
Shen Yanci leaned close to her ear, his voice low and warm.
"Brother or sister, I love them all—as long as they're yours."
Su Wan's ears burned. She gave him a shy, reproachful look and walked inside, her steps slow, her smile unable to hide.
When summer arrived, Su Wan's monthly cycle was late.
She suspected quietly but said nothing, only asking the kitchen for lighter soups. Then one morning, she felt nauseated at the smell of greasy food—and Shen Yanci understood at once.
"Are you… are you expecting?" he held her shoulders, his voice trembling with joy.
Su Wan blushed and nodded gently, her eyes sparkling. "We haven't asked the doctor yet… but I think so."
Shen Yanci swept her into his arms and spun her around, giddy like a child. "Wonderful! Wanwan, wonderful!" His eyes glistened with tears. "This time, I will take care of you. I won't let you suffer at all."
"Put me down—Nian'an is watching," Su Wan laughed, her own eyes moist.
Shen Yanci quickly set her down, still clutching her hand as if afraid this happiness might vanish. Shen Nian'an watched his parents, then giggled and held out his arms to be carried.
"Come, Father will hold you," Shen Yanci lifted his son, took Su Wan's hand, and walked toward the main hall. "Quick, send for Doctor Zhang. I want him to check your mother properly."
Sunlight streamed through the windows, weaving gold across the floor. Shen Yanci held Su Wan's hand tightly, his palm burning hot, as if holding the most precious treasure in the world. Su Wan looked at the light in his eyes, at the innocent smile on their son's face, and felt completely at peace.
She knew the months ahead might hold tiredness and difficulty, but with this man, with this family—everything was worth it.
The roses beneath the corridor were in full bloom: pink, red, white, clustered thickly like a floral gown. The wind carried their fragrance throughout the yard, mixing with the scent of chicken soup from the kitchen—the softest, warmest smell of summer.
Shen Yanci glanced back at Su Wan. She was looking down at her belly, a quiet smile on her lips, bathed in sunlight, gentle as a painting.
He realized the most beautiful sounds in the world were not gunfire or military orders, but the laughter of those he loved, the quiet stir of new life growing inside her, and the simple, sweet warmth of home.
Their future was long.
And their story would bloom like these roses—endlessly, warmly, year after year.