Xiao Lin barely stepped through the front doors of their estate before he was immediately wrapped in a blanket—by none other than Marshal Sheng Long himself.
"I just got discharged," Xiao Lin protested through the thick wool. "Not frozen in space."
"You sneezed," Sheng Long deadpanned, tucking the blanket higher.
"I sneezed because I inhaled the flower by the gate!"
"Which could have spores. Allergens. A bee."
Xiao Lin stared at him. "A bee?"
Sheng Long didn't blink. "Those things can sting."
Xiao Lin flopped dramatically onto the couch, blanket still engulfing him like a cocoon. "This is ridiculous."
But Sheng Long was already adjusting the pillows, setting a hot cup of nutrient broth nearby, and inspecting the air filters.
And sticking to him like glue.
Every time Xiao Lin shifted, Sheng Long shifted with him. If he stood up, the marshal's hand was at his elbow. If he stretched, Sheng Long frowned and asked if his back hurt. If he went to the bathroom—
"No, Sheng, you *may not* escort me in there."
---
Later that afternoon, Yan Shuo and Lu Jian arrived at Sheng Long's summons.
The moment they saw Xiao Lin curled in a blanket on the couch with Sheng Long sitting cross-legged on the floor like an anxious guard dog, they knew something was up.
"You look like a nervous ger first day at school," Lu Jian said to the marshal, raising a brow.
Yan Shuo looked between them and slowly smiled. "It happened, didn't it?"
Sheng Long didn't answer. Xiao Lin lifted his hand from the blanket and held up two fingers in a V. "Victory. Or, I guess... baby."
Lu Jian let out a delighted whoop. Yan Shuo's eyes widened, then softened. "Congratulations. Truly."
The marshal stood, clearing his throat. "You're the first to know, aside from the doctor. If anything happens when I'm not here—"
"We'll protect him like he's our own blood," Yan Shuo said, deadly serious. Lu Jian nodded.
When Xiao Lin dozed off later in the sunroom, wrapped in his blanket, Yan Shuo found Sheng Long standing on the balcony, arms crossed, looking at the horizon.
"He's going to be fine," Yan said softly.
Sheng Long didn't look away. "I know. But it doesn't stop the fear."
Yan stepped beside him. "Being a father… it's terrifying. Every move feels like it'll break something. Like you're made of iron, but your family is glass."
There was a pause.
"But they don't want a shield all the time," Yan continued. "They want someone to *live* with. To laugh with. Someone to fall asleep next to, not behind."
Sheng Long finally looked at him.
"He's strong, you know. Xiao Lin. Maybe stronger than both of us."
The marshal smiled faintly. "He is."
---
That evening, Xiao Lin—very much awake—finally had enough.
"I'm not *fragile,*" he declared, pointing a spoon at Sheng Long over the dinner table. "You're treating me like I'll snap if I *breathe* wrong."
"You fainted last week," Sheng Long replied evenly. "And now you're growing a child inside your very soft, very crushable body."
Xiao Lin squinted. "Did you just say 'crushable'?"
Sheng Long sighed and reached across the table to gently cup his cheek. "I just… I almost lost you, and I don't want to risk even the smallest bruise."
Xiao Lin's expression softened. "I know. But we're in this together. I need to *feel* like I'm still me. Not just your delicate bundle of bubble wrap."
A beat passed. Then Sheng Long leaned forward and whispered, "Not even bubble wrap—more like... priceless stardust."
Xiao Lin laughed, bright and helpless. "You romantic idiot."
"I'm trying."
"You're succeeding."
And under the golden glow of lamplight, their foreheads touched—wrapped not in fear, but in fragile, blooming joy.