Chapter 12: Su Lan

"Can I delegate this?" Su Yu asked the ceiling.

"No," said the midwife.

"Even a little? Partially? To the team?"

"Breathe, Mr. Su."

It was the ninth month and the fourth hour.

The delivery room smelled of antiseptic and of the white roses Su Yu had carried in himself, in a bucket.

Three nurses had tried to stop him.

Lu Chen sat at the head of the bed in a paper gown, holding his husband's hand.

His glasses were fogged and his grip was bruising.

"You're doing it by yourself," he said. "Everything counts. Every breath. I'm writing it down."

"You're not writing anything down, you're holding my hand."

"I'm memorizing."

The contractions came in a long wave, and Su Yu swore at the ceiling, the midwife, the roses and Shu Fan in that order.

Lu Chen wiped his forehead with a cold cloth.

He said all the right things in his dry low voice, and Su Yu clung to it, and to him.

This was the man who had sat all night with a numb arm so that he could sleep.

Just after six in the evening, the baby came out.

He was small and red and furious, and he opened his mouth and told the room exactly what he thought of it.

The midwife laid him on Su Yu's chest.

Su Yu stopped breathing.

Everything he had ever planned to say to a child went out of his head.

What was left was a very small, damp face and a pair of tight fists.

"Oh," he whispered. "Hello. It's me."

Lu Chen made a sound.

It was not a word, and he did not try to make it one.

He bent over the two of them with his glasses in his hand, and a tear fell onto the baby's blanket.