PTGWD Chapter 91: Parents

The tip of the tentacle still had flesh attached, dripping blood incessantly after being pulled out.

Fang Yanzhou was utterly terrified, screaming for half a minute before floating into the air, flying to Fang Xingzhou’s face, tugging at his hair with its tentacles, and babbling anxiously.

Luck always arrived as promised.

Though the tug had been forceful, the internal organs were only damaged, not completely torn out.

Moreover, after fusing with Fang Yanzhou’s divine blood, his body had undergone unimaginable transformations.

Fang Xingzhou still held the suture thread, preparing to disinfect the wound, when he felt his internal organs rapidly healing.

It was as if his flesh had gained consciousness, actively seeking out the severed parts and repairing itself with cells and mucus.

He could clearly see the wound healing.

In less than five minutes, the wound no longer looked horrifying. Fang Xingzhou pulled the terrified Fang Yanzhou to the wound and said, “Look, it healed on its own. Don’t be scared, Tangtang.”

Fang Yanzhou peeked at the wound, saw the long scar still healing, remembered the terrifying scene from earlier, and burst into tears again.

The joy and leisure of watching the sunrise vanished entirely. Its jellyfish hood quivered, eyes squeezed together in sheer terror as it stared at its human father.

Fang Xingzhou cradled it in his arms, patiently soothing it until it stopped crying, then kissed its hood and whispered, “Don’t tell your Lu papa. He’d be very angry.”

The little monster wrapped its dozens of tentacles tightly around his arm, trembling as it nodded.

Fang Xingzhou: “Good.”

He wiped away all the bloodstains with alcohol wipes, put on his shirt, and sprayed the prepared perfume everywhere to ensure no traces of the gruesome scene remained.

Qi Yilian heard him wake up and walked toward the room.

Fang Xingzhou sealed all the dirty wipes in a trash bag, opened the door, and smiled at his mother, who had been waiting outside all night. “Good morning, Mom.”

Qi Yilian glanced at the small bulge in his chest where Fang Yanzhou, still shaken, was hiding.

“Everything went smoothly?”

“Everything went smoothly.”

Since Fang Yanzhou was in its true form, Fang Xingzhou worried it might affect his mother’s retinas, so he only let a few tentacles peek out.

“We named him Fang Yanzhou—’Yan’ as in inkstone, ‘Zhou’ as in sandbar. His nickname is Fang Tang,” Fang Xingzhou said with a smile. “He looks a lot like the little jellyfish from back then, but with some differences.”

Qi Yilian’s eyes stung sharply at the sight of the tentacles.

Seeing her eyes redden, Fang Xingzhou immediately tucked the little monster back in. “Next time, I’ll bring a pair of goggles.”

Qi Yilian blinked hard and asked, “Can I touch him?”

“Of course,” Fang Xingzhou stepped closer, wrapping the baby completely in fabric. “Tangtang, do you remember how to call Grandma? I think I taught you.”

Qi Yilian focused on the small bulge, reaching out to gently stroke the newborn through the thin cotton fabric.

It felt soft, warm with human body heat, and even nuzzled her palm like a kitten, rubbing against her hand affectionately.

“Guandma.”

Fang Yanzhou called out in a delicate, slightly mispronounced voice.

Hearing this address, Qi Yilian’s lips parted slightly. Her usually impassive face showed a rare flicker of emotion.

Fang Xingzhou’s heart skipped a beat. Staring intently, he momentarily felt as if his old mother had returned to him.

He squeezed Fang Yanzhou’s tentacle, and the little one understood, speaking softly to Grandma again.

“Morning, Grama.” It extended half a tentacle, hiding under her palm, licking Qi Yilian’s hand with tiny suckers. “Granma, Daddy, Mommy, morning! Me, Tangtang, hungry, eat, morning!”

Qi Yilian took a deep breath, as if finally remembering how to breathe, her fingers trembling slightly.

She smiled, bending to kiss the newborn through the fabric, her voice hoarse. “So adorable.”

Fang Xingzhou still watched her nervously.

“It’s been so long since I felt any emotion. Just now, my heart was pounding, my mind blank,” she said slowly. “Tangtang must bring good luck.”

Fang Xingzhou clenched his fists, tentatively asking, “In a few days, we’ll host Tangtang’s full-month celebration. Mom, will you come? Deer and I can drive you there.”

Qi Yilian fell silent for a few seconds.

The world outside the temple felt like another realm to her—monochrome, filled with suffering, loneliness, and pain, sealed away like a dark amber never to be reopened during her long years of asceticism.

Now, Fang Xingzhou was inviting her back into the mortal world.

Even if just for her grandchild’s celebration.

Qi Yilian looked at Fang Xingzhou, then at the little monster nestled against his chest, sensing their worry and hope.

Perhaps luck truly was on their side. She suddenly recalled a distant memory—back when her son wasn’t sick and the little jellyfish hadn’t left home. Once, she brought a cake home, pushed open the bedroom door, and saw her son lying on the floor, telling the jellyfish in the tank the story of Snow White. The jellyfish pressed against the glass, listening intently, occasionally blowing bubbles as if responding.

Sunlight streamed through the window, freezing them into a warm, colorful painting.

…That scene had color.

Qi Yilian’s gaze grew distant, as if looking through Fang Xingzhou at shadows of another world.

After a long pause, her grip on the prayer beads loosened. Her brows twitched slightly, as if making a decision. “I’ll think about it.”

Fang Xingzhou’s heart raced. He forced a calm smile. “Alright. By then, Tangtang might take human form, and you can hold him.”

Fang Tang: “Ahh! Mm!”

Qi Yilian’s expression softened.

In the distance, the temple bells chimed—time for morning prayers. She removed the prayer beads she’d worn for years and handed them to Fang Xingzhou. “I’ve nothing else to give. These are for Tangtang as a birth gift. May he grow up safe and sound.”

Fang Xingzhou carefully put them on. “Thank you, Mom.”

They bowed to each other. Qi Yilian returned the amulet to him and left for prayers.

Fang Xingzhou watched her until she disappeared, then took a deep breath and lifted Fang Yanzhou to eye level.

“You always bring us luck, baby,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll definitely have a meal with Grandma on Xiangxing Street, won’t we?”

Fang Yanzhou tilted its head, blowing a bubble.

Fang Xingzhou kissed its head, lingering until he heard the sound of tentacles scraping against the ground miles away. He looked up, whispering with a smile, “Dad’s here. Last night is our little secret, remember?”

Fang Yanzhou, already sensing its father’s divine energy, hid in his pocket with a soft “Mhm.”

Fang Xingzhou walked to the temple entrance, counting silently. At twenty, the scraping sounds ceased, replaced by human footsteps.

Lu Jianchuan appeared hurriedly down the path. Spotting his wife, he sprinted over. “Sweetheart, the radish you wanted—”

He froze mid-sentence.

Lu Jianchuan stopped dead in his tracks, pupils slitting dangerously as he stared at Fang Xingzhou’s changed eye color.

He leaned in, nostrils flaring, sniffing like a beast—disinfectant, perfume, the familiar sweetness of blood… but different now.

Mixed with something eerie, unmistakably divine… and oddly familiar.

Lu Jianchuan sniffed his own arm, then Fang Xingzhou’s face. The scent matched his own.

For the first time, he recognized his own scent—but why was it on Xingzhou?

Unless… someone had used his divine blood to alter Fang Xingzhou’s body.

Realization dawned. All expression vanished from Lu Jianchuan’s face. Pressing their noses together, his slitted pupils pierced through Fang Xingzhou’s eyes, seeing the modified heart structure and blood infused with new power.

Rage obliterated his last shreds of reason.

The temperature plummeted. Frost formed on leaves as icy tentacles slithered under Fang Xingzhou’s clothes, inspecting every inch of skin and bone for damage.

“Who…” Lu Jianchuan’s voice distorted with fury, barely human. “Last night… who… your body… heart…”

Fang Yanzhou trembled violently in the pocket.

Fang Xingzhou calmly embraced Lu Jianchuan, kissing him tenderly under the gaze of Buddha.

“Don’t be angry, Deer. It’s just something that happened when Tangtang hatched,” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I reached for it, it crawled into my palm, and we merged.”

Lu Jianchuan stared unblinkingly.

“My genes flowed into it, helping complete its true form,” Fang Xingzhou continued. “Its genes—your genes—flowed into me, giving me some… not unpleasant changes.”

Lu Jianchuan’s forehead sprouted eight extra eyes, all examining Fang Xingzhou’s unmarked palm.

The tentacles writhed beneath his clothes, finding no wounds.

The tension eased slightly. The eyes blinked in unison as Lu Jianchuan asked suspiciously, “You didn’t bleed Tangtang?”

Fang Xingzhou: “No.”

“Then why the fusion?”

“Why not?” Fang Xingzhou countered. “I’m its other parent.”

The standoff lasted minutes.

Finally, the frost melted.

Retracting his tentacles, Lu Jianchuan resumed human form and circled the temple, sniffing every corner for traces of blood.

Fang Xingzhou followed. “Satisfied?”

Lu Jianchuan remained displeased.

His beloved had undergone a transformation without him there. Every minute of that unknown danger could’ve ended catastrophically.

The thought chilled him to the core. Forgetting the newborn, he bit Fang Xingzhou’s shoulder—fangs piercing skin—to taste his blood.

Fang Xingzhou: “Do I have your blood in my veins now?”

Lu Jianchuan savored the flavor.

After comparing it to his own, the anger subsided slightly. The two bloods were nearly identical, though Fang Xingzhou’s was sweeter, more intoxicating.

A wave of romanticism washed over the giant jellyfish, tempering his rage.

He licked the bite mark, healing it, then remembered their child.

“Where’s Tangtang?”

Fang Xingzhou reached into his pocket.

Fang Yanzhou, petrified by Lu Jianchuan’s fury, clung to the fabric. Only after extensive coaxing did it emerge onto Fang Xingzhou’s palm.

Dozens of eyes peeked timidly at its other parent… who was also its mother.

Lu Jianchuan bent down, studying the newborn.

“Daddy. Mommy,” Fang Yanzhou immediately fawned, nuzzling Lu Jianchuan’s cheek. “Mom! Dad!”

Lu Jianchuan held his breath, eyes roving over every inch of the baby.

A long, tender silence.

Finally, Lu Jianchuan straightened, cradling the child in one arm and Fang Xingzhou in the other, nuzzling the bitten shoulder.

“Our baby’s finally hatched,” he exhaled shakily. “He looks just like you.”

Fang Xingzhou: “…”

He squeezed the little monster’s tentacles, finding zero resemblance to humans.

Whatever.

If he says so, then it is.

He nodded. “Yes. Just like me.”