"It's born!"
"It's born!"
Hearing that vigorous cry, Song Ze slapped his thigh hard and wept with joy.
The midwife was more experienced, after all. In a few quick strides, she rushed into the delivery room to check on the situation. Though already in her fifties or sixties, she was exceptionally spry.
"Wife, wife!"
Song Ze came back to his senses then. Calling out as he dragged along the thigh he had swollen with that slap, he ran toward the delivery room.
Before he could reach it, the midwife emerged carrying the endlessly wailing infant. Her face was full of smiles, every wrinkle blooming wide as she placed the child in Song Ze's arms. "Congratulations, congratulations. It's a son."
Song Ze took the child, only glanced at him once, then handed him straight back to the midwife. Standing on tiptoe to peer through the delivery room window, he asked impatiently, "How is my wife?"
"The bleeding has stopped. Mother and child are safe."
Hearing this, the stone hanging over Song Ze's heart finally dropped. He let out a long breath and said repeatedly, "That's good, that's good."
Only then did he have the heart to take a proper look at his newborn eldest son.
His skin was somewhat wrinkled, and he was not particularly pretty, but Song Ze treasured him beyond measure. He carefully held him in his arms and gently teased him with a finger.
Perhaps because blood called to blood, the infant, who had been crying without pause, suddenly quieted down. He pursed his lips and drifted into sleep.
"It truly is a miracle. When I came out, Madam had already fainted from exhaustion, and the bleeding simply would not stop. I never thought she would actually give birth. In my opinion, the young master knew how hard