PTGWD Chapter 57: Exploration

“What have you prepared?” Fang Xingzhou asked with a smile.

Lu Jianchuan replied, “There’s thoroughly stewed eight-treasure porridge, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, blanched lettuce, crab roe tofu, boiled edamame…” He paused briefly, tapped the soup bowl in his hand, and his smile widened a bit more, “…and lily meat soup.”

Fang Xingzhou caught a whiff of an indescribable spice in the kitchen.

It somewhat resembled the mysterious, subtle fragrance that always seemed to linger around Lu Jianchuan, yet it was distinctly different. It was incredibly appetizing, making his mouth water almost instantly.

Fang Xingzhou’s nostrils flared slightly as his eyes scanned the kitchen, trying to pinpoint the source of the tantalizing aroma.

Lu Jianchuan asked, “You barely slept last night. You must be starving now, right?”

Fang Xingzhou’s mouth was already watering, and his stomach began to cramp from the enticing smell. He stared at the food in Lu Jianchuan’s hands and nodded, his voice still a bit hoarse, “I am… I was already starving last night.”

Lu Jianchuan brought all the dishes to the dining table, placing a soft cushion on Fang Xingzhou’s chair to ensure he could sit more comfortably.

The two sat facing each other. Fang Xingzhou, unable to locate the source of the aroma, decided to try the scrambled eggs with tomatoes first.

Lu Jianchuan had a habit of adding sugar to his dishes, and the scrambled eggs were slightly sweet. Fang Xingzhou chewed slowly, then took a sip of porridge to balance the sweetness before reaching for the lettuce.

The lettuce was perfectly cooked, vibrant and crisp, refreshing and appetizing. He ate several bites before moving on to the crab roe tofu.

Crab roe tofu was one of Lu Jianchuan’s specialties. The rich flavor of the crab roe had fully infused into the tofu, creating a soft, savory texture that was perfect for a morning after a night of hunger. Fang Xingzhou took several spoonfuls, praising his lover’s culinary skills, before finally turning to the boiled edamame… which was just average, nothing special.

After sampling everything, Fang Xingzhou was half-full but still hadn’t found the source of the captivating aroma.

Lu Jianchuan, sitting across from him, had been watching him eat intently. Seeing Fang Xingzhou put down his chopsticks, he scooped a small bowl of the lily meat soup that Fang Xingzhou hadn’t tried yet and placed it in front of him.

“Try this.”

The soup was still steaming hot. As Fang Xingzhou leaned in, he finally caught the rich scent he had been searching for.

His pupils dilated slightly, and his expression froze for a moment as he saw his own reflection in the soup. He swallowed unconsciously.

It smelled so good… He couldn’t help but pick up the bowl.

“What did you put in this?” he murmured. “Why does it smell so amazing?”

Of course, Lu Jianchuan wouldn’t tell him what was really in it.

Fang Xingzhou had once given him a nightmare-inducing lesson. Even now, whenever Lu Jianchuan stepped into the kitchen, he couldn’t help but recall that horrifying wound.

So, he lied with great effort, “I added the blood of a strange creature. I caught it while fishing by the sea and found it unexpectedly delicious, so I kept a small portion and froze it in the fridge.”

A half-truth was always easier to accept, and after many failures, Lu Jianchuan had finally learned this lesson.

Sure enough, Fang Xingzhou simply glanced at him, smiled, and assumed “it” referred to Lu Jianchuan’s catch from that day. Without further thought, he took a sip.

An unprecedented, magical flavor spread across his taste buds. At first, it didn’t seem particularly strong, just that the soup was incredibly thick—so thick that it felt almost alive, sliding down his throat eagerly and diving into his stomach.

After swallowing, his taste buds finally caught up, registering the rich, layered flavors. A sweet aftertaste quickly spread across his tongue, filling his mouth with an indescribable aroma that reminded him of freshly picked mushrooms from the forest, tender bamboo shoots after a spring rain, or delicate sashimi from the deep sea… It was a flavor so exquisite that words failed to capture it.

Fang Xingzhou remained in that position, dazed for several seconds.

He was beginning to understand why Lu Jianchuan had enjoyed the eyeball sashimi so much…

“Is it good?” Lu Jianchuan was still watching him intently, his voice filled with anticipation as he added another spoonful of soup to Fang Xingzhou’s bowl. “Have more. It’s good for you.”

Fang Xingzhou, too hungry to think much, lowered his head and quickly finished the entire bowl.

He let out a long sigh, placed the empty bowl on the table, and felt all the blood in his body rush to his stomach, waiting to process the nutrients. His brain completely shut down.

The lingering soreness in his body vanished rapidly, and the fatigue that had built up over the past few days dissipated. His limbs warmed, and a light sweat broke out on his back. He felt an unprecedented lightness, as if even his bones had turned to plastic.

In the few seconds he spent in a daze, Lu Jianchuan had already served him another bowl, his smile so bright it was almost blinding. He looked radiant with happiness and said, “Have some more. We can’t waste food today, darling.”

Fang Xingzhou didn’t hesitate. He picked up the bowl again and continued drinking.

The other dishes were completely forgotten. He focused solely on the lily meat soup and, encouraged by Lu Jianchuan, finished the entire pot. His stomach bulged slightly, and his forehead was damp with sweat. He leaned back in his chair, motionless for a long while.

Lu Jianchuan rested his chin on his hand, his eyes shining as he watched his beloved consume his tentacle in its entirety.

“How does it taste?” he asked again.

After a moment, Fang Xingzhou nodded vigorously.

“It’s delicious,” he said. “A very unique flavor… It’s definitely unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before.”

Lu Jianchuan was so happy that his tentacles emerged, wrapping around Fang Xingzhou’s wrist under the table and affectionately rubbing against it.

“I’m so glad you like it,” he said. “This food can make you healthier, but you can’t have it too often. It might disrupt your human DNA. In a couple of months, when I go hunting by the sea again, I’ll make this soup for you.”

Fang Xingzhou, unusually slow to react, could barely think. He simply nodded mechanically.

Lu Jianchuan was overjoyed. He used his tentacles to shovel the remaining food into his mouth, cleaned up the kitchen, and then went upstairs to change.

When he returned to the living room, Fang Xingzhou had already washed his face with cold water and seemed to have recovered from the overwhelmingly delicious breakfast.

Water droplets still clung to his face, his lips were unusually red, and his cheeks had a faint blush. He looked much healthier than usual.

Meanwhile, Lu Jianchuan had transformed into the appearance of “Intern Wang.”

He carried a stack of professional books, his belly slightly rounded as if he were three or four months pregnant, and asked, “Are you full? How do you feel?”

Fang Xingzhou, full of energy, replied, “I’m very full, and I feel much more energetic. We should hurry, though. We’re going to be late.”

Lu Jianchuan smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Finally, I get to go to work with you. You have no idea how hard these past few months have been for me. After you leave for work, the baby in my belly starts acting up, urging me to go to the hospital to find you. Every day, the two of us sit by the clock, counting every second until you come home.”

Fang Xingzhou chuckled, picked up the car keys, and walked with him to the garage. “You should have told me your true identity earlier.”

Lu Jianchuan gripped his hand tightly. “But I love you too much.”

Fang Xingzhou didn’t quite understand the logic behind that statement. “If that’s the case, you should have been even more honest with me.”

“I’ve read many human-written tales of the supernatural. Love between different species always ends in tragedy,” Lu Jianchuan said, looking at Fang Xingzhou with “Intern Wang’s” eyes. “Even textbooks say that different species have reproductive isolation and can never truly merge in flesh and blood.”

Fang Xingzhou gently squeezed his hand. “I don’t care about any of that. Besides, we already have a child.”

Lu Jianchuan, as if caught in a beautiful dream, couldn’t help but ask again, even though he had already sought answers from his beloved countless times the previous night. “Really?”

Fang Xingzhou replied, “Of course.”

Lu Jianchuan leaned closer. “Last night, you said my tentacles were beautiful. Was that true? You weren’t just saying that to make me feel better, were you?”

Fang Xingzhou paused for a moment, seemingly recalling something, then raised an eyebrow and said, “It was true. I wasn’t just saying it. But please don’t shove your hectocotylus into my stomach again.”

Lu Jianchuan’s ears instantly turned bright red, and he nearly crashed into the car door.

“I-I’m sorry…” he stammered.

Fang Xingzhou fastened his seatbelt, turned his head, and studied his lover’s human-like form with interest, slowly recalling the details from the night before.

Then, he started the engine, drove out of the garage, and began discussing the matter as naturally as if he were lecturing on reproductive biology. “Male cephalopods, after mating, get their hectocotylus stuck by the female and have to sever the entire arm to escape. That’s why they can only reproduce once in their lifetime. But last night, I didn’t trap you… Why did you leave it inside me? It felt very uncomfortable, Deer. It seemed to be secreting mucus all night, and then it suddenly disappeared this morning. Did it dissolve after running out of mucus?”

Lu Jianchuan sat in stunned silence, his face as red as a boiled lobster, unable to believe that his beloved could so calmly discuss the grotesque anatomy of his monstrous form.

“Wh-what…?”

“The hectocotylus,” Fang Xingzhou repeated, glancing at him with a faint smile. “We minored in veterinary medicine in college, remember?”

Lu Jianchuan: “…………”

“Darling, I promise I’ll remember to take it out next time,” he pleaded. “Last night, I lost control and couldn’t help myself…”

“I’m not blaming you,” Fang Xingzhou said. “I’m just curious about your true form. If you leave it inside me, does that mean you no longer have a hectocotylus?”

Lu Jianchuan was taken aback and instinctively defended himself. “No, it will grow back! No matter how many times it’s used, it will regenerate! As a monster, I’m in my prime, my love. Please don’t doubt that.”

Fang Xingzhou asked, “So, you’re not a cephalopod?”

Lu Jianchuan: “…What’s a cephalopod?”

“Like an octopus, for example.”

Lu Jianchuan let out an “ah,” recalling the octopuses he’d seen on nature documentaries. He realized they did share some similarities with him, perhaps because these creatures carried a trace of ancient divine bloodline.

“I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “Most creatures on Earth aren’t directly related to me.”

At this point, Fang Xingzhou finally brought up the request he’d been wanting to make.

He softened his voice, a hint of excitement in his tone. “When we get home tonight, show me your complete true form.”

Lu Jianchuan reacted swiftly this time. “No!”

“Why not?” Fang Xingzhou stopped at a red light and turned to look at him. “I’ve already proven to you that I don’t care at all about your true form. In fact, seeing you in that half-human, half-monster state last night was more shocking than seeing you as a full monster would be.”

Lu Jianchuan shifted slightly toward the window, weakly refusing again. “…I can’t. It would contaminate you.”

“You could generate a protective film over my retinas. It would be effortless for you.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

“No,” he insisted, clinging to the last shred of his disguise. “It’s too ugly, darling. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. Isn’t it better to keep things as they are now? You can play with my tentacles as much as you want.”

Fang Xingzhou fell silent.

He could smell the faint, mysterious fragrance in the car growing stronger. Lu Jianchuan’s entire body seemed to radiate refusal, as if being seen in his true form would drive him to hang himself with his own tentacles.

The light turned green. Fang Xingzhou sighed and didn’t push further. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached out with the other toward Lu Jianchuan, seizing the opportunity to tease him.

“Deer, then show me your new hectocotylus.”

Lu Jianchuan: “!!”

“R-right now?” He felt like he was about to boil over, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he instinctively glanced at the traffic outside, forgetting that their car had tinted windows.

Fang Xingzhou: “Yeah, we won’t have time to look at it once we get to work… It’s been so busy lately.”

Lu Jianchuan stared at his beloved’s pale palm, took a deep breath, and felt his heart pounding. He could hardly believe that in just two days, their relationship had progressed to this point…

After a long wait of several seconds, something soft and slippery finally coiled around Fang Xingzhou’s hand, shyly wrapping around his wrist.

After the previous night’s activities, Fang Xingzhou was already quite familiar with this appendage. He tightened his grip and quickly located the terrifying structure that had nearly pinned him to the bed the night before. It was indeed newly grown, identical to the one still inside him.

Beside him, Lu Jianchuan’s breathing grew heavier, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, causing it to creak.

Fang Xingzhou moved slowly and deliberately, exploring every soft, fleshy barb. He was certain that in its original form, it would be even more menacing. If these barbs hadn’t been rendered harmless, last night’s bedroom might have resembled a crime scene.

“The skin is so thin,” he remarked. “But surprisingly tough. Is it because of the high density of the fluid inside?”

Lu Jianchuan’s rationality was hanging by a thread. His eyes were red, and he struggled to speak. “Yes… After it releases all the… fluid, only a thin layer of skin remains. It dissolves into… the body, becoming nutrients that allow the mucus to survive longer and increase the chances of…”

“Will it make me give birth to lots of little octopuses?” Fang Xingzhou asked casually.

“Of course not,” Lu Jianchuan’s voice was thick with desire, carrying a strong mating signal. “How could I bear to put you through something like that?”

Another red light. Fang Xingzhou smiled, leaned down, and kissed the structure in his palm that would terrify any ordinary person. He was satisfied to hear his lover’s soft, needy whimper.

“It’s pink, and very beautiful,” he said. “If your true form really is an octopus, then you must be the most beautiful octopus in the world.”

Lu Jianchuan’s pupils dilated, and he lost himself in the praise, his mind going blank for a moment.

Fortunately, before his rationality completely gave out, he quickly retracted his tentacle, not letting Fang Xingzhou see how easily he had been reduced to such a state. He maintained the last shred of dignity a monster could have.