share time: 2026-01-16 12:30:26
Lin Wan, about to give birth, smiled while rubbing her belly in the delivery room—she heard three exes outside arguing, pulling ties, throwing guitars, and yanking lab coats: "I'm the baby's dad!" Elite lawyer Gu Chuan hid the crumpled tie she gave him three years ago; rock singer Chen Mo had half-written the song *Wan Wan* in his pocket; surgeon Zhou Mingyuan secretly booked her prenatal checks for three months. But when the nurse called "The baby's father, come sign," it was picture book writer Lu Chuan who pushed the door open, holding hot red date congee. He squatted by Lin Wan's bed, gently wiping her sweat: "I cooked the congee for three hours—it won't taste good if it's cold." The noise outside suddenly stopped. The three men stared at the warm light in the ward, realizing what they'd been fighting for wasn't the title of "father"—it was the regret of not being able to walk with her to the end.
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