PTGWD Chapter 86: Learning

“Fangtang,” Fang Xingzhou repeated the name, watching the egg still diligently practicing its writing with a smile. “I really like it.”

Lu Jianchuan tapped the eggshell and called it affectionately: “Fang Yanzhou, Tangtang, Sweetie.”

The egg looked up at its fathers from below and responded: “Ah!”

As soon as this brief exchange ended, the egg suddenly froze. It swayed slightly before toppling onto the paper.

It seemed to see countless invisible threads of fate extending from itself—using these two names as conduits, they wound around Fang Xingzhou, around Lu Jianchuan, and finally back to itself, binding the three of them together in an inseparable knot. The ends of these threads then stretched onward into unknown reaches of time and space…

Crack.

The fissure in the eggshell deepened.

Still unaware, the egg stared blankly, sensing intense fluctuations from fate itself.

The world that had always kept it at arm’s length had finally cracked open its door, expressing a willingness to accept it.

But it was accepting Fangtang and Fang Yanzhou—not the “One True God of Fate.”

The egg faintly realized something and instinctively rammed against its shell. Yet the crack merely deepened slightly, remaining immovable under its assault.

Fate seemed to laugh at its impatience and recklessness. Unlike its devastated sorrow after the first failed hatching attempt, the egg now felt remarkably at peace. It even laughed along with fate.

The parallel lines were drawing closer but hadn’t yet reached their intersection.

This, it finally understood.

A lighthearted joy enveloped the entire egg. Fang Yanzhou rolled over and leaped back into its father’s embrace, chattering excitedly—”Papa,” “Tangtang,” “Ball,” “Eat!”—content to remain a carefree egg for now.

Both fathers took turns kissing its shell, praising its cleverness. Drunk on their admiration, that very night it slipped into their dreams and asked in its self-invented language:

“What if I stayed an egg forever?”

In the dream, Fang Xingzhou answered: “Of course you can, if that makes you happy.”

In the dream, Lu Jianchuan mused: “Hmm, not a bad idea—but you’d miss out on so much delicious food.”

The egg laughed at them before floating away. Like a true jellyfish, it drifts lightly into the vast ocean of other dreams.

…

When he woke, Fang Xingzhou gazed thoughtfully at the egg for a long while before making a decision.

He applied to return to work.

Due to his heroic actions and severe injuries during the hospital incident, his position had been kept open for him. His reinstatement was approved the very next day.

On his first morning back, Fang Xingzhou kissed Lu Jianchuan goodbye, tucked the egg into his pocket, and drove to the hospital amidst his lover’s reluctant grumbling.

Having been away so long, he arrived much earlier than usual. The office was still empty, but his desk was covered in flowers, cards, and a fresh fruit cake.

Fang Xingzhou smiled, walking over to pick up the card nestled among the blooms.

“Bang!”

Suddenly, a shower of confetti rained down, obscuring his vision.

Colleagues sprang out from nowhere, surrounding him with enthusiastic applause. Qin Hongbo rushed forward to hug his mentor, eyes red-rimmed: “Brother Zhou, you’re finally back!”

Fang Xingzhou noticed his nameplate no longer said “Intern.”

He congratulated his student on becoming a full-fledged doctor, but before he could finish, the nurse he’d saved during the incident grabbed his hand excitedly: “I’ve been wanting to bring my husband to thank you in person, Director Fang! You disappeared so completely—we’ve been so worried!”

Dr. An chimed in: “Did you have the baby yet? Where did you deliver? I kept waiting for your wife to come to my department, but it’s been over a year!”

Director Li laughed: “You promised us a full-month celebration—the baby must be talking by now!”

A crowd swarmed around the long-absent Fang Xingzhou, the office buzzing with chatter. The egg peeked out curiously from his pocket, straining to comprehend these unfamiliar humans.

Fang Xingzhou distributed invitations to the full-month banquet, scheduled for two weeks later.

“How could I forget?” He smiled. “My partner has a… unique constitution. The pregnancy took longer—we just welcomed the baby.”

Dr. An blinked: “Just now? That would mean… nineteen months?”

Fang Xingzhou nodded: “Yes, just over nineteen months.”

A brief silence fell over the lively office.

The group of medical professionals exchanged glances. Finally, Director Li coughed and said, “Xingzhou, we’ll definitely attend the banquet! Come by my office this afternoon—it’s been too long since your last checkup.”

He patted Fang Xingzhou’s shoulder meaningfully.

Fang Xingzhou smiled: “Sure, I’ll stop by when I’m free.”

They caught up on hospital gossip until nearly shift time. Qin Hongbo suddenly remembered: “Oh! We got you a cake—”

His words cut off abruptly.

Qin Hongbo’s eyes widened in shock. Others followed his gaze to where an egg with a visible crack sat nestled in the cake—which was now mysteriously missing over half its mass.

The nurse who’d brought the cake shrieked: “Where’s the cake?! It was fine just now!”

Qin Hongbo: “And why is there an egg?!”

Fang Xingzhou: “…”

The egg, caught red-handed mid-bite like a misbehaving puppy, froze before looking up at its father with exaggerated innocence.

Fang Xingzhou swiftly plucked it out, wiped off excess frosting, and tucked it back into his pocket as if nothing had happened.

“My apologies,” he said. “I accidentally dropped this morning’s breakfast into it while cutting the cake earlier.”

Dr. An: “…Huh?”

Everyone had been standing by the office entrance—when had anyone cut the cake?

Fang Xingzhou continued calmly: “I skipped dinner last night and was quite hungry, so I helped myself to most of it after arriving.”

His delivery was so natural and confident that the group collectively displayed expressions of bewildered concern.

Qin Hongbo’s heart ached, suspecting his mentor had been traumatized by the violent incident. “It’s… it’s fine,” he said hoarsely. “Have your breakfast—we’ll catch up properly after work.”

The others echoed similar sentiments before dispersing to their respective departments.

Alone at last, Fang Xingzhou exhaled and carried the remaining quarter-cake to his break room.

The moment the door closed, the egg launched itself at the dessert, devouring it like a miniature excavator.

Fang Xingzhou whispered: “You like it that much?”

Egg: “Mmmff gud ssooo gued…”

The cake vanished in seconds.

Fang Xingzhou chuckled, cleaning its shell. “Now that you’re full, you’ll have serious studying to do. I’ll pick you up for lunch at noon.”

The egg blinked up at him, still savoring the cake’s afterglow, unsure what “studying” entailed but nodding anyway.

Fang Xingzhou visited the morgue, placing the egg in a potted plant and concealing it behind leaves.

The morgue lay silent—the attendant presumably on breakfast break—populated only by dozens of frozen corpses.

“Stay hidden, Tangtang,” Fang Xingzhou murmured.

Fang Yanzhou shrank deeper behind the foliage and solemnly replied: “En,” followed by a string of incoherent babble: “Papa ee-ya-woo-ah…”

Fang Xingzhou kissed its shell: “I’ll be back at twelve.”

Egg: “Ah!”

With a final pat, Fang Xingzhou left his unhatched child alone in the hospital’s most dreaded location.

The egg let out a cake-scented burp.

Bored after prolonged waiting with no attendant returning, it began counting the plant’s leaves—eighteen in total.

It saw.

Eighteen minutes until the attendant’s return.

The probability of anyone passing the door during that time approached zero.

Fang Yanzhou immediately strutted out from hiding, circling the morgue before stopping at the innermost drawer. With a decisive thump, it hit the release switch.

The sliding mechanism whirred as icy vapor spilled out.

The egg perched on the edge and peered inside at the corpse—a long-deceased man frozen for years, his death at under thirty having been particularly gruesome.

With no concept of mortality, the egg studied the remains boldly, even cautiously extending its divine power to resonate with the body.

…A faint thread of fate emerged from the corpse like unspooling film, projecting scenes of a life once lived…

…A privileged childhood, routine academic progression, unremarkable romances, a respectful marriage… until age twenty-eight, when disputes over shares led to his envious younger brother pushing him from a thirtieth-floor balcony.

The mundane thread ended abruptly, tugging at several connected destinies.

The egg faintly perceived more: the brother had plied him with alcohol beforehand, his acting flawless enough to frame the murder as drunken misadventure.

Their mother, suspicious yet unable to accept her eldest’s sudden death, paid exorbitant preservation fees to keep his body refrigerated while investigating her daughter-in-law for over a decade—to no avail…

…

The egg stood transfixed.

Such complex human drama far exceeded its comprehension.

Yet it felt profoundly shaken.

These ephemeral humans contained such staggering depths of love and hatred.

Even after years in frozen storage, the corpse’s dying resentment burned like undying ghostfire, scorching the egg’s incomplete divinity.

Fang Yanzhou’s head throbbed. Chilled, it moved to the next drawer.

…Here lay a diligent woman who’d toiled endlessly—laboring in her parents’ fields as a girl, serving her in-laws like livestock after marriage, bearing three children in four years to finally produce a son…

…Her traditional values alienated her daughters while spoiling her son, leading to a desolate old age. She died alone in a rented room days prior, unclaimed by any relatives…

A black, utterly flavorless thread of fate.

The headache intensified as the egg opened more drawers.

A boy born defective and unloved by his parents.

A construction worker crushed by falling bricks.

A revered professor estranged from all family.

A old lady who was mean all her life and died in front of the hospital because she wouldn’t pay for her stay ……

…

Within thirty square meters, the morgue contained lifetimes of human experience the egg had never imagined.

It emitted soft “ah, ah” sounds as the shell’s cracks deepened, its divine power fluctuating wildly.

Then—footsteps in the hallway. Remembering its father’s instructions, the egg hastily closed all drawers and darted back to its hiding spot just as the attendant returned with bubble tea.

The mundane rhythm of death resumed—fresh corpses arriving, grieving relatives following. Some would depart quickly for burial or cremation; others would linger for reasons varied and complex.

Countless fate-threads converged and diverged here as society indifferently enforced its rules amidst overwhelming passions.

The egg observed quietly until noon when the attendant left for lunch—and Fang Xingzhou returned post-morning consultations to retrieve his chilled offspring from the planter.

“Tangtang, lunchtime,” he said gently.

The egg broke free from his palm, burrowing into his white coat to press against his heartbeat, then went utterly still.