PTGWD Chapter 80: Dietary Therapy

The chicken soup, simmered with shiitake mushrooms and red dates, exuded a rich, savory aroma after hours of slow cooking.

After nineteen long months of pregnancy, Fang Xingzhou had come to understand one thing very clearly:

For Lu Jianchuan, no vegetarian dish could provide any real energy. At best, they only boosted his confidence in his ability to masquerade as a human, which brought him some joy.

Thus, Fang Xingzhou prepared an all-meat feast: besides the stewed chicken, there were braised pork trotters, roasted lamb, spiced beef, salmon salad…

Multiple pots bubbled away simultaneously, but the egg nestled in his belly clearly favored the chicken soup. Every time Fang Xingzhou passed by the pot, it would poke out a tiny head, curiously leaning toward the stove.

Fang Xingzhou gently stroked the egg’s shell and noticed it had fully absorbed his body heat. Smiling, he murmured, “Hurry up and hatch, then you can have stewed chicken.”

With that, he grabbed the salt container, lifted the lid of the chicken soup, and prepared for the final step of cooking.

Suddenly, a shadow darted out.

Before he could react, the egg shot from his abdomen straight into the boiling pot.

Fang Xingzhou’s heart skipped a beat.

His breath hitched, his face paled, and he immediately reached out to catch the reckless egg. But the egg was too quick—it slipped through his fingers and plunged into the soup with a splash.

Plop!

Boiling broth splattered everywhere.

Fang Xingzhou’s face drained of color. He frantically grabbed a ladle to fish out the egg, but it had already sunk to the bottom. After several attempts, he still couldn’t retrieve it.

He felt like he was suffocating.

In desperation, he lifted the entire pot and dumped its contents into the sink.

With a loud whoosh, the hour-simmered chicken soup vanished down the drain. But the chicken, mushrooms, and red dates were all gone—not a single scrap remained.

Only the unharmed egg bounced into the sink. It showed no cracks, hadn’t been cooked, and even seemed desperate to salvage the lost soup. Unfortunately, lacking limbs, it could only spin helplessly in place, watching the broth disappear.

Fang Xingzhou: “…”

His racing heart refused him to calm, body still numb from the adrenaline.

He turned on the faucet and doused the egg, then squeezed dish soap onto it, meticulously scrubbing away the chicken grease. After drying it with a towel, he tucked it back against his abdomen—this time, tying his clothes tightly around his waist to secure it.

The egg wriggled a few times, unable to break free, and let out a tiny, pitiful chirp at its father.

Fang Xingzhou stared at the empty pot, took a deep breath to steady himself, then retrieved another chicken from the fridge and started over.

“Did it taste good?” he asked the egg.

The egg wiggled in confirmation.

Fang Xingzhou chuckled, his mood unshaken.

“How did you eat it? Absorbed it through the shell? Or did tiny tentacles sneak out to shred the meat?”

The egg tilted, confused.

Fang Xingzhou tried again, “What do I need to do to help you hatch? Or what do you need right now?”

The egg tilted twice more, still not understanding.

Fang Xingzhou hummed. “So you only understand simple words—like ‘eat,’ ‘sleep,’ ‘dad,’ things like that.”

After a few seconds of silence, the egg seemed to catch a familiar keyword and let out a halting, “Papa!”

Just like the voice that had whispered in Fang Xingzhou’s dreams for ten months during the pregnancy.

His smile deepened.

As he finished the second pot of soup, the giant monster upstairs remained fast asleep. The egg, however, grew restless again, straining against its bindings and peeking longingly at the pot.

It was probably hungry.

After all, even in the womb, it had always acted like it had never eaten its fill.

Fang Xingzhou watched it quietly for a moment.

Then, he fetched a bottle of men’s cologne from the bathroom and sprayed it around the kitchen doorway to mask any lingering scents.

Placing the egg on the cutting board, he pressed a finger to his lips and whispered, “Let’s keep this quiet. Don’t let your other dad find out.”

The egg seemed to anticipate what was coming—excited yet hesitant. It nuzzled Fang Xingzhou’s hand, chirped twice, then fidgeted anxiously on the board.

“It’s fine,” Fang Xingzhou reassured it. “Just a little bit.”

He didn’t use a knife. The kitchen blades always unsettled him, as if some unseen presence watched whenever he gripped the handle.

Instead, he bit his middle finger open.

A small amount of blood welled up. He pressed the wound to the eggshell.

The egg couldn’t resist. Instantly, it lost all restraint, eagerly drinking its first “meal” from its father. Fine, nearly invisible tendrils even slipped out from the shell’s pores, burrowing into the cut to draw more blood inside.

Fang Xingzhou let it feed for five minutes before pulling away and covering the wound with a bandage.

The eggshell now glowed faintly, dizzy from the delicious feast. It wobbled drunkenly before toppling over on the board.

Fang Xingzhou laughed.

He tucked the egg back against his abdomen, where it immediately settled down and dozed off.

So well-behaved.

—

Lu Jianchuan didn’t wake until the afternoon.

After eight hours of rest, his true form had fully recovered, though the lost strength would take time to return.

Half his eyes remained closed, half open, as he instinctively reached for his womb—only to remember he’d already laid an egg.

The open eyes shifted to the bedside.

The incubator was empty.

The other half of his eyes snapped open. His brain-like mass wriggled out from under a pile of knitted blankets, extended five tentacles into a stainless steel basin, and gulped down the electrolyte water that was prepared earlier. Then, he crawled off the bed.

The room was warm as spring. Under his lover’s meticulous care, his body temperature had normalized. Everything felt safe, blissful, and comfortable—like another beautiful dream.

Lu Jianchuan wasn’t worried about the missing egg. He buried his entire mass into the wardrobe, greedily inhaling Fang Xingzhou’s scent, rubbing against his clothes to leave his own mark. Satisfied, he finally left the bedroom.

“Zhouzhou, I’m awake,” his restored vocal cords hummed. “Are you incubating the egg?”

The house smelled strongly of cologne, mixed with the delicious aroma of food.

Lu Jianchuan didn’t overthink it. He slithered into the living room and saw his wife on the balcony, phone in hand.

His tentacles surged toward him, enveloping Fang Xingzhou from behind. His brain mass nuzzled against his collar, drinking in his intoxicating sweetness through every available pore.

Slightly more restrained than when he’d sniffed the clothes—but still unsettling to behold.

Fang Xingzhou calmly patted a tentacle just as the call connected. A gentle voice came through the receiver: “Hello, Xiao Zhou? What’s the matter?”

It’s his human mother.

The giant monster pressed closer to listen.

Fang Xingzhou said, “Auntie, I have good news. Lu Jianchuan gave birth safely this morning. Both father and child are well—you and Uncle can relax now.”

Her voice instantly jumped an octave. “Really?! Oh heavens, finally! Why didn’t you call us to the hospital? This is so sudden!”

Fang Xingzhou smiled. “The delivery was a bit risky, so we didn’t notify anyone. We came straight home after it was over this morning.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, then asked, “Boy or girl?”

Fang Xingzhou: “It’s an egg.”

Silence.

“…What?”

Lu Jianchuan’s vocal cords curled around the phone as he cheerfully added, “Mom, want to come see? The baby would love to meet its grandma.”

His mother seemed to be processing the fact that her grandchild was oviparous. After a long pause, she stammered, “An—an egg is nice too. Your dad and I will visit tomorrow. We’ve had gifts ready for ages—two years, finally getting to give them.”

Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Does the egg… drink formula?”

Fang Xingzhou chuckled. “It does. It even eats chicken already.”

Another pause.

“…I see. Well, see you tomorrow. Congratulations.”

Lu Jianchuan chirped, “See you tomorrow!”

After hanging up, Fang Xingzhou kissed the brain mass and dialed another number—unlisted, unfamiliar.

Curious, Lu Jianchuan pressed closer, nearly smothering the receiver.

The call connected after a few rings. A young woman’s voice answered, “Hello, may I ask who’s calling?”

Fang Xingzhou: “Is Master Qi Yilian available?”

The name gave Lu Jianchuan pause.

It had been so long since he’d last heard it that it took him a moment to place it.

His other mother.

Nervousness set in. He listened intently.

The woman replied, “Master Qi went up the mountain early this morning and hasn’t returned yet. What’s this regarding?”

Fang Xingzhou: “When she returns, could you pass along a message? In thirty days, I’ll bring my partner and our one-month-old child to visit her at the temple.”

A pause. “…You are?”

Fang Xingzhou: “Her son, from before she became a nun.”

“Ah!” Recognition dawned. “She’s mentioned you. Congratulations! I’ll let Sister Lian know.”

Fang Xingzhou thanked her and hung up. Turning to Lu Jianchuan, he counted his tentacles and teeth before asking, “Feeling better?”

Lu Jianchuan was still reeling from the impending family reunion. “Mm! Much better. Why has Mom been at the temple all this time?”

Fang Xingzhou smiled softly, gazing at the monster before him. “After Dad’s accident, she told me a part of her soul had vanished with him. She couldn’t feel joy or sorrow, see colors, or taste food anymore. Life lost all meaning. I was terrified of losing her too, so I suggested she consider monastic life. She agreed.”

Lu Jianchuan knew of that tragic accident.

He coiled tightly around Fang Xingzhou, his suckers gently lapping at his skin like a beast tending to an injured companion.

“Mom’s as gentle and strong as she was twenty years ago,” he murmured. “If—” He skipped the unpleasant hypothetical. “—I’d just lie in the earth with you, embracing eternal peace.”

A pause. Then, softer: “I love you, Zhouzhou. We were destined to be together forever. That’s why we created a child who governs fate.”

Fang Xingzhou suddenly wanted to kiss him—but after scanning the brain mass, he couldn’t find a suitable spot.

He gave up and said instead, “Alright. I made you a big dinner.”

Lu Jianchuan carried him toward the kitchen. “I could smell it earlier—chicken soup, beef, pork trotters, salmon, and…”

He froze.

Dozens of eyes locked onto Fang Xingzhou’s bandaged middle finger.

A tentacle snatched his wrist, yanking it closer for inspection. The monster sniffed urgently at the bandage.

Fang Xingzhou’s altered physiology had already healed the wound, but traces of blood lingered on the adhesive.

“You’re hurt,” the monster growled, the air around him chilling. “…Not from cooking. What else could’ve cut you?”

His gaze snapped to Fang Xingzhou’s abdomen.

Sure enough, the egg was nestled there, fast asleep. Lu Jianchuan snatched it up with another tentacle, sniffing suspiciously.

The egg jolted awake, sensing impending doom. It squirmed frantically, letting out guilty chirps of “Papa!”—pleading for Fang Xingzhou’s intervention.

But luck was on its side.

Lu Jianchuan found no evidence after thorough sniffing. Fang Xingzhou reclaimed the egg, explaining calmly, “I just dropped a glass.”

The crimson eyes stared unblinkingly. His brain mass tilted, instincts warring with trust.

Fang Xingzhou’s smile didn’t waver as he pointed to the trash. “See?”

Inside lay shards of glass.

After a hesitant pause, Lu Jianchuan relented. His tentacles fished out the pieces and crunched them in his maw, erasing the offending debris. Then, he suckled gently at the healed finger, smoothing the scar away.

Fang Xingzhou exchanged a glance with the egg, which sighed in relief and burrowed into his sleeve, clinging to his skin.

The incident was thus buried. Lu Jianchuan carried the feast his wife had prepared to the living room—ten pots of soup, three meat dishes, requiring an extended table to hold it all.

There was the expected chicken, beef, salmon… and some unusual additions.

Like five pots of soybean-stewed pork trotters.

Or two pots of pale, quivering… brain matter?

The monster, already full from five basins of electrolytes, involuntarily hiccuped at the sight.

He glanced up. Fang Xingzhou sat across from him, chin propped on one hand, the egg cradled in the other, smiling.

“Eat well,” Fang Xingzhou said. “Now that the pregnancy’s over, these meats should replenish your energy—especially the trotters and brains. They might help regenerate your tentacles and core faster.”

Lu Jianchuan doubted this but couldn’t bear to waste his efforts.

Eighteen tentacles plunged into the pots. His maw chewed enthusiastically as he began his first customized postpartum meal…

But certainly not his last.

 

T/N:

I’m backkkkkkkk——

About eating brain matter… its a old belief called that what you eat is what you get, believing eating certain food benefits the corresponding part of the body. For example, eating animal liver is thought to improve one’s liver health, and eating walnuts is believed to boost brain function because they resemble a brain. lol