Chapter 9 — My Mother-in-Law Forced Me to Give Birth at Home

After Zhao Xuanbin was admitted to the closed treatment ward, the very first thing she could not bear was the absence of her phone. No live streaming. No fans. No voice messages to send into family group chats waiting for everyone to echo her applause. Every single day, she would stand behind the glass pane and cry out to Tan Yanzhu.

"I know I was wrong, come take me out of here."

"I will never interfere with Wen Tang having children ever again."

"I am not used to this place. People scream at night, and the doors are locked."

Yet no one came to fetch her. The debts she owed remained. The retroactive fines demanded by the online platforms remained. The civil compensation remained. Her medical record for psychiatric treatment also became an insurmountable wall she would never be able to bypass in the future. The woman who constantly preached that women must not be weak and that new mothers should not make a fuss was, in the end, subjected to the nurses' strict control over when the lights went out for sleep, and whether she obediently opened her mouth to take her medication. This was her greatest fear of all: losing absolute control.

On the day of discharge, the weather was exceptionally clear. Tan Yanzhu carried the baby, while Su Li helped me push the luggage. I sat in a wheelchair, the surgical incision still throbbing with pain, yet every single breath felt utterly, vibrantly real. Standing right outside the hospital gates was Tan Yue. She stepped forward and extended a bank card toward us.

"This is the refund from the postpartum care center, along with the cash value of all the things mother ever bought for you. I know it is still not enough, but I will pay back the rest over time."

Tan Yanzhu refused to take it.

"Give it to Wen Tang."

Tan Yue looked at me, her face devoid of its former sense of entitlement.

"Sister-in-law, I am sorry."

I took the card. It was not out of forgiveness. It was simply because this money rightfully belonged to me and needed to be returned.

We moved into a newly rented two-bedroom apartment. It was not large, but it was quiet and impeccably clean. The postpartum caregiver we hired came from a certified, professional agency with complete credentials, and the contract terms were laid out with utmost clarity. The very first thing she said upon stepping through the threshold was:

"Madam, please let me know if you have any dietary restrictions, scents you dislike, or anything at all that makes you uncomfortable. I will arrange everything according to your personal habits."

I looked at her, and a sudden, sharp sting prickled at the bridge of my nose. So being respected was not some unattainable luxury after all.

After the baby fell asleep, Tan Yanzhu sat down beside me on the bed. He handed me a folder of documents.

"This is the application to transfer ownership of the new house. I am adding your name to the deed."

I looked at him. He offered a wry, bitter smile.

"This is not meant as compensation, nor is it an attempt to wipe away everything my mother did."

"I just want you to know that from now on, this home is not a place where anyone grants you charity to live."

"You hold the absolute right to decide who is allowed through that door, how the money is spent, and how our child is raised."

I did not take the papers immediately.

"Tan Yanzhu, just because you are standing by my side now does not mean I will forget every time you chose to stay silent in the past."

He nodded.

"I know."

"I will spend the rest of my time proving it. But you do not have to rush to trust me."

This time, he had finally learned how not to make decisions on my behalf. I accepted the folder and placed it gently on the bedside table.

Late into the night, the baby woke up. The child's cry was not loud, merely a soft, tiny whimper. I braced my hands, pushing through the agonizing pain of the surgical wound to sit up, but Tan Yanzhu was already awake ahead of me, clumsily mixing the formula and carefully testing its temperature. The lights of the distant city glittered far outside the window. Inside the room, only the gentle, warm glow of the small nightlight illuminated the space. I touched the scar upon my abdomen. It still ached, it would leave a permanent mark, and it would forever remind me that certain boundaries can only be reclaimed at the cost of blood. I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to my child's tiny face. The baby's breath was warm and soft against my skin. At last, I could be certain. Both of us had survived.