PTGWD Chapter 51: Control

Successfully picking a mushroom after the rain is actually a highly technical task.

But this is no challenge for Fang Xingzhou. As one of the top surgeons in the country, he possesses hands that can perform surgeries for eight hours straight without the slightest tremor, allowing him to perfect the art of mushroom picking.

Due to the heavy rain, the mushrooms have absorbed an excessive amount of water. If the pressure isn’t controlled just right—too much force, and the moisture inside will be squeezed out, ruining the flavor for cooking; too little, and the mushroom won’t be fully extracted from the soil, leaving part of it buried underground.

Thus, it requires full concentration to keep it under control—gentle but not overly so. The best method is to lightly grasp the cap, pull the mushroom straight out of the soil, and then slowly tug it out bit by bit until it’s completely free from the earth, without letting any juice seep out. This way, it can be placed in the basket to rest briefly, preparing it for the next step in cooking.

The resting period doesn’t need to be too long. Once this plant loses its soil and isn’t cared for, it will sadly wilt in less than three minutes.

During this time, Fang Xingzhou pays no attention to any of its tricks. He even goes to the kitchen to pour himself half a glass of vodka before returning to the basket. He watches over today’s harvest while consuming alcohol to suppress the lingering fear and anxiety from earlier.

Once the picked mushroom has completely lost its vigor, he soaks his gloved hands again, takes out the cap, and washes it unhurriedly until it reabsorbs water. He then kneads it repeatedly until it’s so full of moisture that it can no longer hold any more, and at the perfect moment, he releases his grip.

He repeats this process over and over until the mushroom’s skin becomes as thin as a cicada’s wing, delicate and almost bursting with water, as if it’s about to cry. Only then does Fang Xingzhou squeeze out all the moisture at once, give it a half-glass of strong liquor to rest, and then begin the next round of cooking…

…

By the time the fragrant mushroom soup is served on the dining table, the sky is fully lit.

The clock in the living room shows 11:25 a.m., exactly four hours since they returned home.

Lu Jianchuan feels as though he has already died once. Sitting in the chair, dazed, he takes a slow breath and shifts his position. His tail is still swollen and sore, a testament to the long, gentle yet torturous ordeal he just endured at the hands of his lover…

Yet, even now, he feels a profound emptiness, as if all the moisture has been squeezed out of him during this punishment.

Fang Xingzhou brings the soup bowl and a baguette from the kitchen to the dining table.

Lu Jianchuan’s gaze is like a spider’s web spun by a starving spider, unblinkingly fixed on his lover.

The weather has turned cooler after the rain. Fang Xingzhou is wearing a thin black jacket, zipped up to his Adam’s apple, revealing only a sliver of his pale neck. His body is meticulously hidden beneath the fabric, as conservative and untouchable as a clergyman.

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes linger on his lover’s calm, handsome face, then slowly drift down—over his slightly thin shoulders, his waist that seems like it could be encircled by two hands, his long legs encased in jeans, and his slender, well-defined hands holding the bread.

He is parched.

Lu Jianchuan shifts again, still unable to find a comfortable position. His long-exhausted fungal body shows signs of reawakening, and the soft loungewear he’s wearing feels like an instrument of torture.

Fang Xingzhou, as if oblivious to his gaze, sets down the bowls, chopsticks, and bread, takes a seat, and then casually looks up across the table.

Lu Jianchuan immediately lowers his head, pretending to be engrossed in drinking the freshly served mushroom soup. His human mouth, fragile, is scalded by the hot soup, forming two blisters.

But he doesn’t seem to feel the burn, because his throat is already aflame, and the fire there is far hotter than the soup.

A few seconds later, Fang Xingzhou stops his hand, which is continuously scooping soup, and frowns slightly. He touches Lu Jianchuan’s reddened lips with the back of his other hand: “Still hungry?”

Lu Jianchuan instinctively sticks out his tongue, leaving a wet trace on the back of Fang Xingzhou’s hand.

“Hungry…” he stares at his lover’s hand, but then, as if remembering something, his expression stiffens, and he quickly shakes his head, correcting himself: “No, I’m not hungry. I ate so much by the sea last night. Zhouzhou, are you hungry? Is the mushroom soup enough? Should I make a couple more dishes?”

Fang Xingzhou’s expression is calm now. He serves soup for both of them and says, “Yes, I’m a bit hungry.”

Lu Jianchuan breaks off a piece of bread and soaks it in Fang Xingzhou’s bowl of soup.

Then, he stares intently as Fang Xingzhou eats unhurriedly—watching his pale lips part, revealing a glimpse of white teeth as he places the mushroom and bread soaked in soup into his mouth, chewing quietly before his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows…

Lu Jianchuan’s Adam’s apple moves involuntarily as well. He shifts his position again, increasingly uncomfortable in the knitted fabric, and hoarsely defends himself: “Honey, I shouldn’t have gone fishing by the sea in the storm last night. I made you worry.”

Fang Xingzhou pauses.

He looks at Lu Jianchuan for a moment, realizing that the monster’s brain seems to have understood nothing, even after what appeared to be a deep reflection in the bedroom earlier.

Fang Xingzhou sighs inwardly, puts down his spoon, and says, “I’m not angry that you went fishing by the sea.”

Lu Jianchuan is stunned, a hint of confusion appearing in his eyes: “Huh?”

Then what is he angry about?

Fang Xingzhou says, “I’m angry that you went out alone, without telling me or making any preparations. Under these conditions, replacing ‘fishing by the sea’ with any other action would have the same effect.”

Lu Jianchuan blinks slowly twice: “Ah…”

He still doesn’t get it.

In Lu Jianchuan’s eyes, adding this long string of modifiers doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.

Fang Xingzhou presses his lips together, remains silent for a moment, and then speaks:

“If. You secretly go somewhere without telling anyone, and by chance, you lose your location, and then, by chance, something happens…”

He describes it in a low voice, in a way that Lu Jianchuan can understand.

“I wouldn’t even know where you are or why you suddenly disappeared. I would spend the rest of my life wondering if you were harmed by someone or if you had betrayed me. I would be tormented by this torture, deprived of the right to end my life early, left to wait endlessly in faint hope, only to eventually despair and die.”

“Deer, do you think this is a good ending?” Fang Xingzhou looks at him. “Even if you are indeed skilled in water and fishing by the sea is just a trivial task for you, if even one in ten thousand misfortunes occurs, it would completely destroy me.”

Lu Jianchuan understands now.

Just hearing the possibility Fang Xingzhou describes, his left chest aches with a pain so intense it feels like a giant axe has split him open at the ribs, turning his heart into mush.

His pupils contract, his lips part slightly, and his fingers curl into fists under the table.

“I’m so sorry… baby,” Lu Jianchuan’s eyes redden, his voice wet with emotion, finally feeling genuine fear. “Last night, I was blinded by the fish. I forgot that I’m supposed to be an ordinary human, and I forgot that I should always be a qualified lover… Some unconventional thoughts took over me, as if I had suddenly turned from a human into a beast.”

Fang Xingzhou takes his cold hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, as if finally hearing a satisfactory reflection, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

“I don’t necessarily need you to be an ordinary human, nor do I need you to be qualified at all times,” he says with a smile.

…Lu Jianchuan is once again unable to comprehend his lover’s thoughts.

In front of Fang Xingzhou, his enormous brain feels as soft and empty as tofu.

He is confused for a few seconds, but can only clasp Fang Xingzhou’s hand in return and ask cautiously, “Why? I should be like that.”

Fang Xingzhou draws a Venus flytrap on Lu Jianchuan’s palm with his finger but doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “Next time, if you’re so hungry you can’t sleep, no matter what you plan to do, you must take me with you.”

“Whether it’s catching snakes, fishing, or even hunting mosquitoes—even if you turn into a big, ugly Venus flytrap in front of me, it’s fine.”

Lu Jianchuan blinks again.

He understands this sentence clearly, but…

“Why a Venus flytrap? Honey, don’t you like roses? Do you like Venus flytraps now?”

Fang Xingzhou’s gaze locks onto his face. He knows all of Lu Jianchuan’s little expressions by heart.

Lu Jianchuan is genuinely puzzled, with a hint of inexplicable jealousy, as if he’s considering adding the Venus flytrap to the list of potential rivals.

…It’s not a Venus flytrap. Fang Xingzhou thinks.

Then what is it?

The vague yet shocking image flashes before his eyes again. The lightning froze the battle on the sea, with Lu Jianchuan at the center, countless unknown snake-like tentacles climbing over the monster’s gaping mouth, like a blooming flower…

He feels a headache coming on, as if something is lodged in his brain, preventing him from continuing this line of thought.

Fang Xingzhou supports his heavy head, massages his temples, and temporarily sets aside the chaotic thoughts. “I was just giving an example.”

Lu Jianchuan is unexpectedly persistent: “Really? But you mentioned Venus flytraps last night too. Zhouzhou, if you like those ugly little things, it’s fine. I’ll pick a bunch for you and put them in the entryway—maybe they can even eat mosquitoes.”

Fang Xingzhou smiles.

An ugly little thing… If Lu Jianchuan knew the Venus flytrap was a metaphor for him, he’d probably be too angry to eat.

“If it’s for the entryway, I’ll choose roses,” he says, then serves himself a second bowl of soup.

The topic of Venus flytraps ends here. Lu Jianchuan seems satisfied with his choice and begins to quietly wait for Fang Xingzhou to finish his brunch, anticipating whether there will be a sweet reward after the punishment…

Under Lu Jianchuan’s intense gaze, Fang Xingzhou lifts his foot under the table and gently touches his calf.

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes darken immediately. He shifts his position for the fourth time, as if no sitting posture is comfortable enough.

The foot slides up his calf… and is then caught by the person across the table.

“Zhouzhou…” Lu Jianchuan’s expression looks like he wants to devour him.

Fang Xingzhou finds his own reflection in Lu Jianchuan’s burning eyes.

After their brief heart-to-heart, that reflection now looks calm.

But only he knows how deeply the dangerous images from last night have affected him. With just a moment of distraction, the chaotic shouts of the Special Research Institute staff and the roar of missiles tearing through the night sky echo in his ears.

Even now, after consuming some warm food, having an honest conversation with Lu Jianchuan, and feeling his limbs warm up, even as he prepares for some intimate activity with his lover, his brain remains cold.

This can’t go on.

At the right moment, he pulls his ankle back from Lu Jianchuan’s grasp, finishes the remaining mushroom soup in his bowl, and thoughts begin to flood his mind.

There are too many uncertainties during pregnancy. He and Lu Jianchuan must be completely honest with each other, with no secrets. Otherwise, all uncertainties will become deadly dangers, just like last night.

Lu Jianchuan’s self-control is already hanging by a thread. His voice is hoarse, carrying an unmistakable eagerness and invitation as he asks, “Honey, are you full?”

Fang Xingzhou wipes his mouth with a napkin, smiles, and says, “I’m full.”

Lu Jianchuan quickly gathers the bowls and chopsticks and takes them to the kitchen, not even waiting to wash them before rushing back to the living room. He picks Fang Xingzhou up, places him on the dining table, and fiercely kisses him, almost devouring his lips.

In the midst of the intense kiss, Fang Xingzhou looks into Lu Jianchuan’s pupils, so close to him.

—Let’s start by stripping away his disguises. He thinks.

So many disguises. Start with the one he can most easily accept, bit by bit, step by step, until he willingly reveals all his secrets.

The first layer is the hospital intern, “Xiao Wang.”