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墨書 Inktalez
At the press conference, under the flashing lights, I gripped the microphone and spoke steadily, "Pregnancy is neither an excuse nor a burden. The project at The Mao is progressing as planned, and my role will not change because of my pregnancy."
A seasoned journalist in the audience scoffed, "Ms. Han, how can you assure us that this won't affect your professional performance? The public and investors don't seem to think so."
The jab cut deep, but I did not back down. I straightened my back and smiled slightly. "Challenges will always exist, but the foundation of trust and collaboration will not change. I am not the only professional woman continuing to work while pregnant, and The Mao is not a company reliant on a single decision-maker."
Mao Yixuan stepped forward to stand beside me. "Han Xiao is not only my wife but also my comrade. The project will proceed on schedule, and any spreading of rumors will be pursued legally."
As soon as he finished speaking, the room fell silent. Moments later, applause erupted; our resolute stance had shifted some of the public opinion.
When we returned home, my parents were already waiting in the living room. Upon seeing me, my mother tightly grasped my hand. "Child, don’t let the rumors outside bring you down; we will always stand by your side."
My father patted Mao Yixuan on the shoulder. "In this family, no one ever has to bear all the burdens alone."
In our brief exchange, it felt as if we had regained our strength. The calmness and warmth of that moment provided us with a sliver of support for the next storm.
We thought the situation would gradually settle down; however, early the next morning, a video exploded on social media. The content was a private conversation between me and a former colleague, edited in a way that suggested I was dissatisfied with Mao Yixuan.
"They're at it again," I gritted my teeth, feeling invisible ropes tightening around me.
Mao Yixuan's expression was calm yet resolute. "This time, we have set up our defenses in advance."
He mobilized the team to counterattack, uncovering evidence of the video’s fabrication and swiftly exposing the journalist behind it. This proactive approach allowed the public to see the malicious intent of the villains and garnered us even more trust and support.
However, life did not give us much time to catch our breath. On the third day, when public opinion began to stabilize, I received a call from the hospital.
“Ms. Han, we found that the fetal heart rate in your examination report is unstable. You need to come to the hospital for a re-examination as soon as possible.” The doctor's tone was gentle, yet it felt like I had fallen into an ice cave.
I tightened my grip on the phone, trying to calm myself. But an ominous premonition had already taken root in my heart.
Mao Yixuan put down the documents he was holding and took my hand. “No matter what happens, we will face it together.”
Just as I returned home, still unable to breathe a sigh of relief, my phone suddenly vibrated. A sense of foreboding surged from the depths of my heart. I picked up my phone and saw an anonymous email quietly appearing on the screen.
“The child is your only weakness. I will make you understand what it means to lose.”
Those few short words pierced through my heart like a sharp blade. The phone nearly slipped from my hand as a weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Who are they? What do they want? Why are they targeting our child?
Countless images flashed through my mind, as if an invisible net was tightening around us. I handed the phone to Mao Yixuan, my voice trembling slightly. “They don’t intend to let us go…”
Mao Yixuan took the phone, his brow furrowed, his gaze as cold and deep as a frozen lake, filled with danger. He said nothing but slowly stood up and calmly instructed, “From now on, we need to enhance security at home and at the company. No matter who they are, they will not succeed.”
His voice was low but carried an undeniable firmness. As I looked at his tense profile, I suddenly felt a sense of reassurance.
A few days later, I was jolted awake from sleep by a sudden and intense abdominal pain. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back as I clutched my stomach in agony and called out, “Mao Yixuan!”
He suddenly woke up, scooping me up and rushing toward the car, sprinting all the way to the hospital. Along the way, I endured the pain, but one thought consumed my mind: Baby, hold on, you must hold on.
The cold fluorescent lights in the emergency room were blinding. My vision blurred slightly as the doctor's deep voice fell like a heavy hammer: "The fetus's heart rate remains unstable. You must stay in bed for the next few months; any intense emotions could trigger more serious problems."
Mao Yixuan's hand gripped mine tightly, his fingertips icy. I could feel his palm trembling slightly, yet he said nothing. The sense of helplessness and anger simmered like a volcano deep within his gaze.
"I'm sorry..." he murmured, almost to himself, as if confessing a crime.
"I didn't protect you both well." His eyes were darkened with deep guilt and pain. I knew that this was far more difficult for him to bear than any commercial crisis.
I raised my hand and gently touched his face, my voice soft: "It's not your fault. We'll get through this together, okay?"
He lowered his head, resting his forehead against the back of my hand, his breath hot and rapid. After a moment, he lifted his head; the uncertainty in his eyes had been replaced by a calm determination: "I will never let anyone harm you both."
His promise was like a shield that dispelled my fears. I knew that no matter how difficult the road ahead might be, he would walk it with me.
Just then, my phone vibrated unexpectedly. I picked it up and saw a message.
"Welcome to the final game."
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