My Yandere Mechanical Wife

Chapter 82 A Dream of Nanke

Li Guang was born.

The girl weighed 5.7 pounds, and her cries were so loud they seemed to lift the ceiling off the delivery room. When the nurse brought her out, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely catch her.

Li Guang lay on the hospital bed, her hair soaked with sweat and plastered to her forehead, her face pale, yet she smiled like a child.

"Archie, look at her," she said in a hoarse voice, "her eyes are like mine."

Indeed. The eyes weren't fully open yet, but you could vaguely see that the left eye was lighter and the right eye was darker—inheriting their mother's heterochromia.

I gently placed my fingers in the baby's palm, and she immediately gripped them tightly.

"She's so small." My throat tightened.

"You'll grow up," Li Guang said softly, "growing into a little girl who clings to you like I do."

We named her Fang Xing, after the word "star," which is Li Guang's favorite word.

I stayed by the incubator all night, and Liguang fell asleep after taking her medicine. At three in the morning, the nurse said it was time for her to be breastfed by her mother. I clumsily cradled that soft little life and walked to Liguang's bedside.

She woke up, and her movements as natural as if she had practiced a thousand times when she took the baby. The straps of her nursing top came undone, and the baby instinctively searched for her. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to cry.

"Archie," Liguang looked up at me, "come here."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, and she rested her head on my shoulder. We watched the little one in our arms suckling vigorously, while the rain pattered softly outside the window.

"Did it hurt?" I asked her during childbirth.

"It hurts," she said honestly, "but the thought that she's waiting for me makes it not hurt so much."

She paused, then added softly, "And that way, Archie and I will have an unbreakable connection."

I kissed her sweaty temples.

The baby was full and let out a small burp.

Li Guang gently patted her back and hummed a tune without lyrics—the one she used to hum when I was a child and she was keeping vigil in my living room.

"Will she be happy?" I asked.

"Yes," Liguang said confidently, "because we will love her with our whole lives."

She looked at me, her crimson right eye as gentle as candlelight under the night lamp:

"Just like how I love Archie."

……

Two o'clock in the morning.

The stars were crying for the fifth time from the next room. I struggled to get up, but Liguang had already gotten out of bed before me.

"You sleep, I'll go." Her voice was heavy with sleepiness.

"It's a shift system," I pulled her back, "it was you last night."

In the nursery, Xingxing's little face was flushed from crying. The diaper was checked—dry. Her forehead was touched—not hot. The prepared formula was offered to her lips—she turned her head away in refusal.

"She just wants a hug," Li Guang said, having followed me in unnoticed and wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. "Give it to me."

She took the child, gently rocked him, and hummed that familiar tune. The crying gradually subsided, turning into sobs, and finally only even breathing remained.

But as soon as he put it down, he immediately opened his eyes, pursed his lips, and prepared—

"Wow--!"

After our third failed attempt, we slumped onto the nursery carpet, holding our baby. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating Li Guang's tired yet smiling face.

"Archie, do you remember when we used to play video games all night long?"

"I remember," I said with a wry smile, "back then I felt that dawn was a punishment, now it's a lifesaver."

Xingxing finally fell asleep in her arms. Liguang looked down at her daughter, gently combing her sparse baby hair with her fingers.

"She has the same temperament as you," she said, "stubborn, once she's made up her mind, she won't let go."

"It's just like you," I retorted, "clingy, you won't sleep unless you're held."

We looked at each other and laughed, then quickly covered our mouths, afraid of waking our little darling who had just fallen asleep.

At 3:30 a.m., we decided to "cheat" – move the crib into the master bedroom.

The stars slept in the middle, one hand holding my fingers, the other clutching the hem of Liguang's clothes.

"Shouldn't that put her at ease?" I whispered.

"Yes," Li Guang turned to look at her daughter, "Actually... I'm at ease too."

Her gaze shifted from the child's face to mine:

"Archie, we are now a real 'family of three'."

"Always," I said.

"Forever." She repeated, closing her eyes.

Moonlight mingled with the snow's glow, bathing the bed in its light. Two adults and a child squeezed onto the not-so-spacious bed, their breathing gradually synchronizing.

I suddenly realized that this sleepless night might also be a part of eternity.

……

On Xingxing's fourth birthday, Liguang told me, "Archie, I'm pregnant."

I was squatting down to untie the ribbon from my daughter's gift box when my hand slipped and the ribbon became a knot.

"This time it's a boy," Li Guang said, touching her still flat stomach, her eyes sparkling. "I can feel it."

Her second pregnancy was much easier. She experienced less morning sickness, had a good appetite, and was even able to chase after the stars running all over the yard to feed them.

Xingxing, however, felt threatened and kept clinging to Liguang's belly, saying, "Little brother, I'm your older sister, you have to listen to me."

Li Guang always gently stroked her daughter's head: "Xingxing will be the best sister in the world."

The delivery was more difficult than the first time. The baby was breech, so the vaginal delivery was changed to a cesarean section.

When I signed the surgical consent form, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely write my name. Before Riko was wheeled into the operating room, she grabbed my hand:

"Archie, what if..."

"There's no 'what if'!" I interrupted her.

She laughed: "I mean, even if it's your sister, you should still love her."

"certainly!"

Two hours later, the nurse brought out a wrinkled little baby. It really was a boy.

I went to see Liguang immediately. The anesthesia hadn't completely worn off, and her eyes were unfocused, but she insisted on asking, "Is the baby...healthy?"

"Healthy, very healthy," I pressed my face against her cool face. "Liguang, thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" she said, closing her eyes. "Archie gave it to me."

The son was named Fang Chen. Combined with his sister's name, it sounds like "stars."

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I held my son in one arm and held my daughter's hand in the other.

Li Guang walked slowly ahead, the setting sun casting a long shadow around her. She suddenly turned back:

"Archie, our family is all here."

"Um."

"Four people, one table for meals, one room for sleeping," she walked back, took her son, "That's enough, isn't it?"

"That's enough," I said.

She tiptoed to kiss me, while Xingxing covered her eyes and chuckled beside her.

At that moment, I thought that this is probably what perfection looks like.

……

Xingxing is in the first grade of elementary school.

She spent half an hour in front of the wardrobe in the morning choosing a school uniform that Li Guang had ironed overnight.

A white shirt, a plaid skirt, and a red bow. She carried a starry-sky patterned backpack that she had personally chosen.

"Mom, do I look pretty?" she asked, spinning around in front of the mirror.

"You look beautiful," Li Guang said, crouching down to straighten her collar. "You look like a little princess."

"What does Dad think?"

"Like my mom when she was little," I said honestly, "except her hair color is different."

When I took her to the school gate, she suddenly refused to let go of my hand.

"Mom, I don't want to go to school..." she pouted.

Li Guang squatted down and looked her daughter in the eye: "Xingxing, there are many children at school. You can play together and learn new things together."

"But I want to be with my mom..."

"Mommy misses the stars too," Liguang said gently, "but the stars have grown up and want to see the world that Mommy didn't get to see with you."

She whispered something in her daughter's ear. Xingxing blinked, finally letting go of her hand, and walked into the school gate, looking back every few steps.

On the way home, Li Guang remained silent.

"What did you say to her?" I asked.

"I said," she said, looking at the sycamore trees rushing past the car window, "'Help Mom see if school is fun, and tell her when you get back.'"

She paused, her voice very soft:

"Archie, am I being too selfish? I should be encouraging her to be independent, but instead I'm keeping her tied to my side in this way."

I held her hand: "Parents are all like that."

"Really..." She looked down at our clasped hands, "I'm just... so afraid that one day she won't need me anymore. She is... my little star."

At 3 p.m., we were waiting at the school gate half an hour early. When the school bell rang, the children poured out. When Xingxing saw us, her eyes lit up, and she ran over and jumped into Liguang's arms.

"Mom! School was so much fun! I made three friends!"

Li Guang hugged her daughter tightly for a long time.

On the way home, Xingxing chattered on about what she had seen and heard that day. Liguang listened with a smile, her fingers unconsciously twirling around her daughter's hair.

While being put to sleep at night, Xingxing suddenly said, "Mommy, I thought of you twelve times today."

"So many?"

"Hmm, I'll count the number of times I miss you," the daughter said, closing her eyes sleepily. "I'll try to think about you less often tomorrow..."

Li Guang bent down and kissed her daughter's forehead:

"It's okay, Mom has missed you many times too. We're even."

I closed the door, and Liguang leaned on my shoulder.

"Archie, she's growing up."

"Um."

"One day, she will have her own secrets, her own world, and she will no longer tell me everything."

"That's a good thing."

"I know," she sighed, "but it's so uncomfortable here."

She took my hand and pressed it against her heart.

I hugged her tightly, just like she had hugged me years ago.

The moon outside the window is very round, like someone's gentle eyes.

……

Mother is gone.

She died of a heart attack in her sleep, without suffering. Her father said that before she went to sleep, she was watching videos of the stars and Chenchen when he was little.

At the funeral, Liguang held my hand the whole time.

She wore a black dress, and her silver hair was styled into an elegant updo at the back of her head—a style her mother had taught her, saying, "It makes you look more composed."

Xingxing is already a young lady, standing beside her father under an umbrella. Chenchen is holding her grandmother's portrait, her back ramrod straight.

The rain hit the umbrella surface, making a loud sound.

On the night of the vigil, my father sat alone in front of my mother's altar. We urged him to go to sleep, but he shook his head: "I'll stay with her a little longer; there won't be another chance."

At three in the morning, Li Guang cooked porridge and brought it over. Her father took it and suddenly said, "Xiao Guang, thank you."

"dad……"

"It's true," the old man said, his eyes red, "Archie's greatest blessing in life is to marry you."

Li Guang knelt down and held the old woman's hand: "I am so lucky to have met such a wonderful mother and such a wonderful person like you."

After returning from the funeral, Li Guang took out a photo album. Inside were photos of her and her mother—the two of them making dumplings in the kitchen, watering flowers on the balcony, and knitting sweaters together while wearing reading glasses.

"The first dish my mother taught me was braised pork," Li Guang said, stroking the photo. "She said, 'Archie loves this the most, you have to learn how to make it.'"

"She also said," I continued, "'That kid is stubborn, so you'll have to be patient with him.'"

We looked at each other and smiled bitterly.

At night, Liguang suddenly woke up from her dream and hugged me tightly.

Archie.

"I am here."

"Will you... suddenly leave me too?" Her voice trembled.

"No," I patted her back, "I promised to stay with you for life."

"But Mom also promised Dad..."

I am speechless.

She cried, her tears soaking my pajamas: "I don't want you to die... I don't want to be alone..."

That night she sobbed like a little girl, and I held her until dawn.

For the first time, death looms so concretely between us.