“How can toast be an allergen?” Fang Xingzhou frowned slightly. “How did you discover your toast allergy? What are the symptoms? Are you allergic to some kind of grain in it, or maybe eggs?”
Lu Jianchuan said firmly, “Don’t ask. I just don’t want to see any toast on the dining table again.”
Fang Xingzhou: “…”
As he spoke, he even took Fang Xingzhou’s hand and pressed it against his belly, emphasizing word by word, “This one doesn’t want to eat any toast products either!”
The belly moved very appropriately, though it was unclear whether the little one inside was expressing agreement or disagreement. Fang Xingzhou couldn’t help but laugh, deciding not to dwell on it further and simply treating it as one of the pregnant man’s harmless new quirks. “Alright, no more toast in the house from now on.”
Lu Jianchuan still seemed unsatisfied. He stared at Fang Xingzhou for a while, his nostrils twitching slightly like a dog’s, as if confirming that tonight’s dinner hadn’t been “tampered with.” Only then did he pick up his chopsticks and start eating.
After dinner, Lu Jianchuan insisted on doing the dishes and stayed in the kitchen for a long time.
He dismantled the handles of all the knives in the house, then used a cleaver to chop off a section of his tentacle, cutting it into pieces according to the number of knives and disguising them as new handles.
The new handles looked and felt exactly like the original ones, but as soon as someone gripped them, it was as if they were holding a part of Lu Jianchuan’s body. He could immediately sense it and, across time and space, direct his attention to it.
Fang Xingzhou was cleaning the living room when he heard the sound of chopping. He called out from a distance, “Still hungry? Do you need help?”
Lu Jianchuan wiped away the tentacle mucus from the cutting board with a tissue, finally feeling more at ease. He smiled and said, “No, darling. I’m just swinging the knives to exercise.”
Fang Xingzhou: “…”
Footsteps approached, accompanied by the hum of the vacuum cleaner. Fang Xingzhou stopped at the kitchen door, pulling it open to see Lu Jianchuan arranging all the knives on the counter, carefully wiping each one. After wiping them, he would pick them up, admire them for a few seconds, and then place them back on the knife rack.
Since becoming pregnant, Lu Jianchuan’s strange behaviors had been increasing.
Fang Xingzhou leaned against the doorframe and said, “Before I attended your and Wang Fei’s engagement party, I was just like this, picking out the most suitable knives one by one. After choosing, I’d even swing them a few times to exercise.”
Lu Jianchuan, however, seemed to hear this as some sweet love confession. He couldn’t help but smile wider, his gaze slowly sweeping over the remaining knives. Finally, he selected the cleaver, boning knife, and fruit knife, asking, “Were these the ones you picked?”
Fang Xingzhou: “Yes.”
Lu Jianchuan’s eyes curved with amusement as he began to reminisce about the deliciousness of that night. “Darling, you’re so adorable, especially when you’re angry… Our engagement night was such a beautiful evening. It’s a shame those knives were left at the scene. Otherwise, I would have kept them as mementos, engraved with the date of our engagement, to show our child how they came to be.”
As he spoke, he picked up the fruit knife and handed it to Fang Xingzhou.
Fang Xingzhou took the knife.
Perhaps because Lu Jianchuan had held it for so long, the handle was warm, as if it carried the body heat of some creature, giving it an eerie sensation.
He looked down at it for a moment but found nothing unusual. So, he used the knife to cut a plate of oranges for Lu Jianchuan.
As he cut, Lu Jianchuan stared intently at his hands, letting out a soft, almost imperceptible moan. It was as if what Fang Xingzhou was holding wasn’t a knife handle but some unspeakable part of Lu Jianchuan’s body.
The oranges were quickly cut. Fang Xingzhou rinsed the knife and put it away with the others on the rack, saying, “Stop looking at the knives. Finish your oranges and go to bed early.”
Lu Jianchuan’s ears turned red, still craving more. He quickly finished the oranges and then pushed his luck, “Could you peel an apple for me too?”
Fang Xingzhou obliged, peeling an apple for him.
The hands that usually wielded surgical knives seemed a bit overqualified for peeling apples. The resulting peel was one continuous strip, evenly thin and translucent. Just as Fang Xingzhou was about to throw it in the trash, Lu Jianchuan snatched it and stuffed the entire strip into his mouth.
Fang Xingzhou: “…It’s not washed.”
Lu Jianchuan chewed it slowly, savoring the taste. “Delicious. Now, how about a pear?”
“…”
Fang Xingzhou sighed softly and took out a pear. This time, he washed it thoroughly before peeling. Lu Jianchuan stood beside him, smiling as he watched, his gaze fixed on Fang Xingzhou’s fair, slender fingers, waiting to be fed.
They stood in the kitchen for a long time, until all the fruit in the fridge was gone. Finally, Lu Jianchuan allowed Fang Xingzhou to put down the fruit knife.
As Fang Xingzhou slid the knife back into the rack, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something warm had licked him—like the tongue of some animal…
He frowned and looked closer.
But there was nothing there, just a wooden knife handle.
Lu Jianchuan wrapped an arm around Fang Xingzhou’s waist from the side, his lips brushing against his ear as he said contentedly, “Zhouzhou, let’s go to bed.”
Fang Xingzhou still felt uneasy. He glanced back a few more times before finally nodding and following Lu Jianchuan back to the bedroom.
The next day.
The increasingly weak Lu Jianchuan overslept.
Fang Xingzhou didn’t disturb him. He got up quietly, washed up, and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
No toast? Then he’d make some eight-treasure porridge and stir-fry a couple of dishes… He took out tomatoes and eggs, reached for a knife from the rack, and then suddenly paused, inexplicably drawn to the knife handle again.
He stared at the handle.
The handle stared back.
But no matter how he looked at it, it was just an ordinary handle—an ordinary knife.
Fang Xingzhou forced himself to look away, picked up the knife, and sliced the tomato in half. Red juice seeped out, staining the gleaming blade, like the vegetable’s blood.
Fang Xingzhou froze, as if triggered by something. He didn’t make the second cut.
His breathing grew rapid.
A familiar, subtle feeling resurfaced. Even though Lu Jianchuan was still asleep in the bedroom, Fang Xingzhou couldn’t shake the feeling that the person lying in bed wasn’t just lazing around but was instead too weak and hungry to get up.
Once this feeling took hold, it quickly intensified. Soon, even his stomach began to cramp, as if experiencing the same hunger as Lu Jianchuan—a ravenous, insatiable hunger that made him want to devour the entire world.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and his fingertips trembled slightly.
If only he were some lower creature, he thought.
Then he could transform his blood into nourishment to feed his hungry partner and child…
Crazy thoughts slowly filled his mind. Fang Xingzhou opened his eyes again, staring at the tomato. He couldn’t resist taking a spoon and scooping out the soft flesh, eating it and leaving behind a beautiful, hollow red shell.
Then, he placed the hollowed tomato in a bowl, picked up the knife again, and glanced at his left arm.
No surgeries this week, he thought. A small cut wouldn’t affect anything.
Besides, his body seemed to have a strong healing ability. No matter how severe the injury, it would heal completely within two days, leaving no scars. This time should be no different.
With that in mind, he pressed the blade against the artery in his wrist and, without flinching, made a cut—
He was absolutely certain that the blade had cut through something soft, but the moment the knife descended, his mind seemed to blur, and intricate, beautiful patterns flashed before his eyes…
When he came back to his senses, the blade was still gently pressed against his wrist. There was no cut, no blood.
Fang Xingzhou’s lips parted slightly, his eyes filled with confusion.
Did I not sleep well again last night?
He frowned but didn’t back down. Instead, he steadied himself and firmly raised the knife for a second attempt—
A cold hand gripped his wrist.
Heavy breathing came from behind, carrying a familiar, subtle fragrance. Fang Xingzhou’s heart sank as he turned around.
Lu Jianchuan had appeared silently at his side, his face pale, his clear eyes dark with emotion. His gaze was fixed on Fang Xingzhou’s wrist, his pupils contracted to an almost animalistic degree. He looked both unfamiliar and dangerous.
Fang Xingzhou instinctively tried to put the knife away, but Lu Jianchuan’s grip on his wrist was unyielding, not allowing him to move an inch.
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
He asked, each word soft but stern.
Fang Xingzhou averted his gaze, unwilling to meet Lu Jianchuan’s eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke, trying to keep his tone calm, though his voice was uncharacteristically shaky. “I just wanted to… test if the knife was dull.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t help but sigh.
…What a terrible lie.
Lu Jianchuan’s expression darkened further. Fang Xingzhou’s recent series of self-inflicted injuries had already pushed his patience to the brink. Some dangerous emotions were stirring, teetering on the edge of eruption.
He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm, but his fingers tightened around Fang Xingzhou’s wrist, pressing hard against the pulsating artery. His voice was low, almost a growl. “You’re a doctor, Xingzhou. You should know very well that this is an artery. Once it’s cut, the human body can quickly bleed out and die… Do you want our child to grow up without a father? Or do you want me to join you in a double suicide? Huh?”
Caught red-handed, Fang Xingzhou had no explanation. He could only place his other hand over Lu Jianchuan’s, trying to soothe him. “I’m sorry, little deer. I’ve performed many surgeries. I know my limits. I would only make a shallow cut and stop the bleeding in time…”
“Limits? You know how dangerous this is! You know!” Lu Jianchuan’s voice rose, trembling with anger. Finally, he had the chance to say what he’d been holding back. “I don’t like blood, and I don’t need to be fed with blood. The baby has plenty of ways to get nutrients. Why do you keep hurting yourself? It’s already… it’s already…”
It had already happened four times, and each time the location was more dangerous than the last. Was he trying to drive Lu Jianchuan completely mad?
Fang Xingzhou could only remain silent.
Why?
Because he was inexplicably convinced that his lover and child were starving, and that what they needed most was his blood? These thoughts were utterly irrational, enough to make Lu Jianchuan consider sending him to a psychiatric hospital.
After a long pause, Fang Xingzhou lowered his eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Lu Jianchuan’s anger hit a wall, leaving him both furious and heartbroken. Beneath his sleeve, a tentacle began to emerge uncontrollably from his joint.
For a moment, he even considered using his tentacles to bind Fang Xingzhou, turning the villa into an impenetrable fortress where no one could enter. He wanted to hide Fang Xingzhou away in a safe nest, where he could do nothing but raise their child.
Ten years ago, this idea had taken root in his mind, almost becoming a reality. But a former special agent from the Institute had told him, “Humans are delicate creatures, but you can’t keep them in a greenhouse forever. If they stay in a greenhouse too long, their minds will grow sick, and once that happens, they’ll never recover.”
Following this advice, he had carefully nurtured his wife, keeping him safe and sound until the age of 26. But where had things gone wrong? Why was Fang Xingzhou’s mind still growing sick, to the point where he was now trying to cut open his own wrist?
Lu Jianchuan’s temples throbbed.
He didn’t dare stay in the same room as Fang Xingzhou any longer, afraid he might lose control and do something drastic. He released Fang Xingzhou’s wrist, snatched the knife, and pushed him out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut.
“No more kitchen for you for a while!” he said angrily. “Stay out there!”
Fang Xingzhou didn’t even have time to take off his apron before being shut out by his lover.
He looked down at his unscathed left wrist, trying to recall the sensation of the knife cutting through. But no matter how hard he tried, he was certain—the blade had cut through something.
Yet there was no wound on his wrist.
Was his mind playing tricks on him? Perhaps… Ever since Lu Jianchuan became pregnant, his brain seemed to have gone haywire, constantly filled with inexplicable impulses.
His frown deepened. He clenched his fist, hiding it in his pocket, and looked up at the figure in the kitchen.
Lu Jianchuan had clearly just crawled out of bed. He wasn’t even wearing shoes, just a thin set of pajamas, standing on the cold tiles as he furiously chopped the unfortunate tomato into a pulp, as if it were his greatest enemy.
The sight gave Fang Xingzhou a splitting headache.
This is bad, he thought.
Deer is really angry.
And he looks more furious than ever before.
