PTGWD Chapter 81: Seahorses

After laying the egg, Lu Jianchuan no longer felt the endless hunger.

So, after devouring a mountain of pig trotters and brain matter, he was—for the first time in a long while—stuffed. He crawled back to the bedroom, desperately digesting the food while watching his lover tuck the egg against his abdomen, warming the shell with his body heat as he patiently incubated their child.

It was a scene he had dreamed of countless times.

A surge of intense emotion overwhelmed him. When Fang Xingzhou climbed into bed with their child, Lu Jianchuan couldn’t help but extend his cold yet overflowing hectocotylus, wrapping it around Fang Xingzhou’s ankle.

Fang Xingzhou turned to look at him.

The monster is sniffing him frantically again, the folds of his brain-like mass contorting with longing, like a fish suffocating in the depths, desperate for oxygen above the water’s surface.

The hectocotylus coiled tighter. In a low voice, Lu Jianchuan said, “Next time we reproduce… let’s not use such a troublesome method.”

Fang Xingzhou leaned against the brain mass, closing his eyes wearily. “Hmm?” he murmured.

The vocal cords brushed gently against the fine hairs by his ear.

“Next time, we’ll learn from seahorses. We make a brood pouch, nurture a clutch of embryos for a few months, then return to the sea and give birth to thousands of babies at once,” Lu Jianchuan said seriously. “That way, we’ll have many children calling us ‘Daddy’ together, instead of spending two years just to produce one measly egg. The efficiency is just too low.”

Fang Xingzhou opened his eyes.

He could tell from the brain mass that Lu Jianchuan wasn’t joking—he was genuinely considering the possibility.

The hectocotylus had also reached its limit, squirming restlessly, its mucus soaking large patches of Fang Xingzhou’s skin.

Fang Xingzhou curled his lips, having no intention of responding to this courtship. After all, Lu Jianchuan had just given birth—it wasn’t the time for vigorous, recovery-hindering activities.

He closed his eyes again, stroking the eggshell, and murmured, “I don’t think our baby will give you that opportunity.”

Lu Jianchuan: “Why?”

“It’ll make all your seeds ‘unfortunately’ miss their mark,” Fang Xingzhou said. “Even if you produce hundreds of millions, reducing the failure rate to 0.000…1%, once it fails, the probability becomes 100%.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

He clearly realized the problem too. After a long silence, he racked his brain for a way to deal with the troublesome authority their firstborn wielded—but came up empty.

Finally, he spoke gloomily: “But I still want to give you lots of children. Ideally, tens of thousands of years from now, every human would carry our bloodline.”

Fang Xingzhou chuckled softly, shifting into a more comfortable position. He mumbled a few unknown reassurances and soon drifted back to sleep.

Leaving Lu Jianchuan and his restless, helpless hectocotylus standing stiffly in lonely despair.

In the end, he sighed, glared at the troublesome egg, and quietly plucked it from his wife’s abdomen. From the drawer, he fished out a marker.

And drew a turtle on the eggshell.

…

The next morning, Fang Xingzhou woke up and instinctively reached to check the egg—only for his fingers to brush against a familiar yet unfamiliar tail poking his lower abdomen.

He froze.

Warm, dry human skin pressed against his body. The limbs tangled with his weren’t tentacles but the familiar arms and legs he hadn’t felt in nearly a year.

Fang Xingzhou immediately looked toward the pillow.

A devastatingly handsome face filled his vision. No matter how many times he saw it, its perfection felt surreal, like an illusion.

The dozens of eyes had dwindled to just one pair, their pale pupils reflecting his image with unwavering focus—as if they’d been watching for a long time.

Meeting his lover’s surprised gaze, Lu Jianchuan smiled and leaned in to kiss the corner of Fang Xingzhou’s lips. His voice was rich and magnetic, just like every morning during their honeymoon phase before the pregnancy:

“Good morning, Xingzhou.”

Fang Xingzhou ran his hands under the blankets, confirming that the person beside him had fully reverted to his original form. Delighted, he said, “You recovered so quickly?”

Lu Jianchuan caught his wrist and kissed it. “Darling, you should have more faith in me. I was only so weak during the pregnancy because of that little freeloader.”

Fang Xingzhou hummed. “Maybe the pig trotters and brain matter helped too. I wasn’t sure how monsters replenish their nutrients, but it seems effective.”

A complicated expression flickered across Lu Jianchuan’s face.

Fang Xingzhou, in high spirits, reached for the little freeloader.

The egg was nestled snugly between its two fathers, its shell saturated with their body heat, still fast asleep.

His heart settled into quiet contentment. He shifted into a more comfortable position, yawning, wanting to laze in bed a little longer on this beautiful morning.

Drowsiness soon washed over him again. Half-asleep, he felt the now-human jellyfish’s tail nudge insistently against his tattoo, rubbing with careful desperation.

A thick, dark scent filled the space between them. Fang Xingzhou, still half-asleep, didn’t even change positions, merely watching the desire on his lover’s face through half-lidded eyes. He moved the egg to the pillow—no need for it to receive premature education.

“Done?” he asked lazily.

This appetizer wasn’t even enough to whet his appetite.

Lu Jianchuan buried his face lower, his nose skimming Fang Xingzhou’s skin—from shoulder to collarbone, collarbone to cheek—over and over, like a starving man savoring the aroma of freshly braised pork.

“Let’s have a second child, darling,” he whispered eagerly.

Fang Xingzhou didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Lu Jianchuan persisted. “I’ll carry it. I can carry many, many.”

Fang Xingzhou’s lips twitched. Sensing danger, he asked, “How would you get pregnant?”

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes gleamed with vivid, indecent memories. “By consuming copious amounts of your fluids, of course. My stomach would analyze the genetic secrets within, then engage in a romantic recombination with my own DNA…”

Fang Xingzhou: “So theoretically, if I get a vasectomy, it’d also work as contraception.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Finally conceding defeat, he swiftly changed the subject: “I was joking, Zhouzhou! You’ve worked so hard incubating the egg—I’ll make breakfast!”

He grabbed tissues, meticulously cleaning the traces left on Fang Xingzhou’s tattoo, then rolled out of bed and rummaged through the wardrobe for clothes he hadn’t worn in ages.

Morning light spilled over Lu Jianchuan’s bare body, his skin glowing like fine silk. Fang Xingzhou’s gaze lingered on his abdomen—no scars, no stretch marks, just the same perfect eight-pack as before, even the tattoo on his lower belly unchanged.

Having gone so long without clothes, Lu Jianchuan struggled to find his own. In the end, he went commando in a pair of Fang Xingzhou’s sweatpants and a black tank top. The morning light outlined the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms as he returned to the bed, bending down to kiss his lover’s forehead.

“Sleep a little longer,” he said.

Fang Xingzhou marveled at the monster’s physical resilience, smiling as he nodded.

Lu Jianchuan closed the door behind him to make breakfast, while Fang Xingzhou and their child dozed off again.

Before long, voices and laughter from downstairs roused both Fang Xingzhou and the egg.

The egg burrowed back into its father’s abdomen, nuzzling affectionately. Refreshed, Fang Xingzhou got up with it, washed up briefly, then opened the bedroom door to look downstairs.

Lu Jianchuan’s parents had arrived with bags of gifts, even carrying a babbling Lu Xinning in their arms, chatting with their long-absent, enigmatic second son.

Fang Xingzhou was about to head down to greet them when—

His abdomen suddenly lightened. The egg shot out from his belly, launching from the second floor straight into Lu Xinning’s bib.

Fang Xingzhou: “…”

The lively living room fell silent, then descended into prolonged stillness.

Three pairs of eyes stared, bewildered and shocked, at the egg that had fallen from the sky—and the crooked little turtle drawn on its shell.

After a long pause.

Lu Jianchuan’s father ventured cautiously: “you… buy eggs this big?”

His mother, more imaginative, stammered: “This… this can’t be…”

Lu Jianchuan plucked the egg out, flicking its shell lightly. “What if you’d hit your sister?” he scolded.

Mr. Lu: “Huh?”

Lu Jianchuan held up the egg for everyone to see.

“Dad, Mom,” he said cheerfully, “this is my child—your second grandbaby.”

The egg gave a little wiggle, as if proud.

Both: “……”

Even with prior mental preparation, they hadn’t expected their grandchild to be such a… such a… such an ordinary-looking egg!

Madam Lu swallowed hard, forcing a grandmotherly smile. She pulled out a golden locket from her pocket, but it couldn’t fit around the egg—so she looped it twice, draping it over the egg’s “head.”

“Good grandbaby, I’m your grandma,” she said, patting the shell. “Are you a chick? A duckling? Or a little bird?”

The egg hopped over, nuzzling her neck, and let out a tiny “Squeak!”

Mr. Lu stumbled back in alarm, heart pounding. After a moment, he cautiously approached and, under his wife’s encouraging gaze, touched the shell.

“Baby, I’m… I’m Grandpa,” he said. “Are you a little mouse?”

The egg tilted, not understanding “mouse.”

Beside them, Lu Jianchuan said, “I think it’s a little jellyfish.”

“Jellyfish” it understood—that was Dad’s favorite animal.

So the egg immediately made an approving noise.

Even after the initial shock, this answer left the couple stunned.

Madam Lu: “A jellyfish? Jellyfish hatch from eggs? And how would it survive on land?” She looked around, spotting no fish tank. “Don’t we need to buy a big aquarium? Oh dear, we must hurry. I’ll have the butler send one over immediately.”

The giant jellyfish himself nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. You’re right—an aquarium is necessary. Doesn’t need to be too big… preferably bedside.”

Lu’s mother laughed at the mental image.

Their expressions softened. In her arms, Lu Xinning babbled, chubby hands reaching for the egg.

Lu’s mother quickly pulled it away. “Don’t drop your little sibling,” she told her granddaughter.

Lu Jianchuan promptly shoved the egg into his niece’s hands. “It’s fine. Let her play.”

Lu Xinning, unable to hold something so heavy, predictably dropped it with a thud.

Lu’s mother gasped in horror, watching the egg hit the tiles—

Crack.

The tile split.

The egg remained intact, even bouncing like a ping-pong ball before finally landing back in her bib, nuzzling her soft cheek.

Lu Xinning giggled, drooling all over it, tiny hands gripping the egg as she squirmed to get down, babbling: “Ball! Ball! Ball-ball!”

Lu’s mother clutched her chest in relief, quickly setting Lu Xinning on the floor so she wouldn’t drop the egg from height again.

Once on the ground, the egg rolled around playfully, prompting Lu Xinning to crawl after it, laughing gleefully.

Fang Xingzhou and Lu Jianchuan prepared a meal for their guests, while Lu’s parents watched their grandchildren’s antics from the couch, their expressions kind and benevolent..

The family was undeniably bizarre—but also perfectly harmonious.

By afternoon, after lunch, Lu’s mother carried her granddaughter home.

As Lu Jianchuan and Fang Xingzhou saw them off at the door, a chorus of clucking suddenly erupted from the garden.

Lu Jianchuan’s nose twitched. He turned—and froze at the sight of dozens of flapping, lively hens.

His mother patted his shoulder. “Xiao Chuan, we heard you craved meat during your pregnancy. Now that you’ve just given birth, you must nourish yourself properly, or you’ll risk long-term health issues.”

His father added, “Yes, we brought fifty hens, twenty crucian carp, and a hundred pounds of pork and trotters…”

With each item listed, Lu Jianchuan’s smile stiffened further.

The butler had driven several vans to deliver the meat to the garage. His parents, still operating under the assumption of his pregnancy appetite, looked at him expectantly. “We hope you like them.”

Lu Jianchuan could already foresee his diet for the next month.

Tearfully, he forced a grin. “Thank you… I love them.”

Fang Xingzhou’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “Thank you. Please visit again soon.”

Lu’s parents left happily with their granddaughter. Fang Xingzhou went to the kitchen to prepare formula for the egg, leaving Lu Jianchuan alone in the garden, staring despairingly at the clucking hens.