After devouring forty hens, two hundred pig trotters, twenty crucian carp, and ten servings of braised pork within a week, Lu Jianchuan finally realized—he had overestimated his capacity.
The remaining three weeks’ worth of food was absolutely impossible to finish! He felt like he had been marinated from the inside out with old hen soup.
But after laying the egg, luck always seemed to favor him at just the right moments.
Today, for instance, his wife and child were going out.
Fang Xingzhou, anxious after a week of failing to hatch the egg, planned to take it to a poultry farm to consult professional egg-hatching experts.
Seizing the opportunity, Lu Jianchuan volunteered to stay home. Once they left, he dragged the remaining stockpile of meat to the market and set up a stall.
Apart from the live hens, the other food had been refrigerated for a while. Though still fresh, Lu Jianchuan honestly priced them very low.
Business boomed. Within an hour, everything was sold out. A customer even added him to a “Meat Group Buy” chat, urging him to notify them if he ever sold again.
Looking at the empty truck, Lu Jianchuan felt immensely relieved. With the money, he bought a pile of baby supplies from the wholesale market and hummed all the way home.
Fang Xingzhou hadn’t returned yet.
Lu Jianchuan cleaned up, installed a rocking ride in the garden, and tested it out himself, experiencing the joys of human infant entertainment.
The quiet garden echoed with a cheerful children’s song:
“Dad’s dad is called what? Dad’s dad is called grandpa…”
—
Meanwhile, Fang Xingzhou stood in the poultry farm, listening to the technician’s explanations while taking notes.
A whole week had passed, and despite his 24/7 incubation efforts, the egg showed no signs of hatching. His anxiety was mounting, like failing a crucial exam.
Beside him, the technician pointed at rows of eggs under the incubation lights, explaining the key points:
“Temperature and humidity are the two most critical factors. First, the temperature must be just right—not too high, not too low. Ideally between 35 to 40 degrees Celsius. Human body temperature is actually perfect for incubation.”
“Second, humidity requirements vary by stage. Typically, chicken eggs hatch in about twenty days. Early-stage humidity shouldn’t exceed 70%, while mid-to-late stages should stay around 50%. You also need to turn the eggs regularly to ensure even heating.”
Fang Xingzhou scribbled furiously, absorbing every detail and reflecting on where he might have gone wrong.
Perhaps he had been too lax…
The egg was too active. Whenever something piqued its curiosity, it would leave his abdomen to explore, only returning after cooling down—never maintaining a consistent temperature.
Humidity was another issue. Autumn had arrived, and with Lu Jianchuan recuperating, the house was kept warm and dry around the clock.
Moreover, Lu Jianchuan was amphibious, having spent long periods in the ocean. Their child likely inherited aquatic traits and thus had a high need for moisture.
Fang Xingzhou pondered seriously, sketching a mind map in his notebook, circling every possible failure point.
The technician, moved by his dedication, rambled on for an hour and a half before pausing for a drink. Curious, he asked, “Are you in the poultry industry too?”
Fang Xingzhou: “No, I’m a doctor. Though I’m currently on unpaid leave.”
“Veterinarian?”
“Surgeon.”
The technician choked on his water, coughing violently before exclaiming, “A surgeon raising chickens? That’s quite the career shift!”
Fang Xingzhou smiled faintly.
He reached into his hoodie pocket, stroking the drowsy egg that had been “learning” alongside him, and said softly, “No, I’m just studying parenting.”
The technician’s eyes widened.
“…Huh?”
The guy seemed so serious—how was he so unhinged?
Shaking his head internally, the technician showed off the farm’s advanced incubation equipment, giving Fang Xingzhou a full tour.
When they reached the pigpen, Fang Xingzhou spotted talismans pasted on the doors—jarringly out of place in a modern farm.
He paused. “I didn’t think modern farms still used these… Do they work?”
The technician glanced around, ensuring no supervisors were nearby, then whispered, “You wouldn’t believe it, but something strange happened here.”
Fang Xingzhou: “Strange?”
“The owner of this farm is actually the city’s richest man. This place is more of a charity project. But a couple of years ago, a man claiming to be his son started showing up—and every time he did, weird things happened!”
Fang Xingzhou: “…”
He could guess where this was going.
The technician, oblivious, continued dramatically, “Most times, he came alone, left alone, and forbade anyone from watching. But after he left, the staff would find animals mysteriously missing! And his appearance—he was a man, but… hard to describe…”
Fang Xingzhou helped out: “Like a creature from folklore?”
“Yes! Definitely not normal. We suspected he was a weasel spirit from the mountains, coming here for a feast. So the manager got these talismans to ward him off—and it worked! That weirdo hasn’t been back since!”
Fang Xingzhou: “When did you put them up?”
“About half a year ago.”
Right around the time Lu Jianchuan lost his human form.
Fang Xingzhou hesitated, then said sincerely, “You’ve had it rough.”
The technician sighed. “Occupational hazards…”
He adjusted the talisman carefully before opening the pigpen door.
After the tour, the technician returned to work.
Fang Xingzhou lingered by the chicken coop, watching the hens march single-file along a mechanized walkway.
The egg in his pocket peeked out curiously. Seeing its father deep in thought, it hopped onto the railing and sat motionless, studying the chickens intently.
Fang Xingzhou noticed but didn’t interrupt. He crouched beside it, watching in silence.
The egg remained entranced for over twenty minutes.
Finally, Fang Xingzhou whispered, trying to distract it, “What do you think of the technician’s advice? How can I help you hatch?”
The egg didn’t react.
Following its gaze, Fang Xingzhou saw the chickens living their monotonous, preordained lives.
Beyond them, countless identical eggs lay in incubation chambers, glowing faintly blue, awaiting the same fate as their parents.
“What’s on your mind?” Fang Xingzhou stroked the shell gently.
The egg stayed still.
Then, suddenly, it flung itself against his chest, pressing close as tiny amber droplets seeped from its shell—as if crying.
Fang Xingzhou froze, cradling it carefully.
Tear after tear fell onto his skin.
His heart clenched. Thinking it was frightened, he wiped its “tears” and soothed, “You’re not a chicken. You won’t be trapped here. Let’s go home.”
The egg shook its head, denying his words, and retreated into his pocket, sulking.
Fang Xingzhou didn’t linger. After thanking the staff, he drove home with the egg.
He’d hoped leaving the farm would help, but the egg cried the entire way, its newly developed mind seemingly burdened with profound thoughts no amount of coaxing could ease.
At a loss, Fang Xingzhou texted Lu Jianchuan at a red light:
“Get rid of the leftover hens before the egg sees them.”
Lu Jianchuan replied instantly: “Got it! But… why? Yesterday you said we had to finish them.”
Fang Xingzhou glanced at the sobbing egg and typed: “I think it might’ve mistaken itself for a chicken egg.”
After a pause, he added: “Or there’s something deeper we can’t comprehend.”
Lu Jianchuan: “Ah…”
Rushing home, Fang Xingzhou found the egg exhausted from crying, dozing in his pocket—and the hens completely gone from the garden.
Impressed, he asked, “Did you eat them all in ten minutes? Or hide them?”
Lu Jianchuan, looking pleased, dodged the question and hugged him instead. “What happened?”
Fang Xingzhou frowned, guiding Lu Jianchuan’s hand into his damp pocket.
Lu Jianchuan chuckled. “Aww, crying its little heart out.”
He lifted the egg, inspecting it. “What’s all this fuss about, hm?”
The egg rolled, its round, featureless form somehow radiating misery.
Father and child locked gazes silently.
An imperceptible exchange passed between them before Lu Jianchuan smirked and flicked the shell. “Is that all? Didn’t you do what you wanted?”
The egg let out an indignant “Ah!”
Lu Jianchuan: “I don’t understand baby talk. Your vocabulary’s terrible.”
Crushed by his father’s words, the egg leaped from his hand into the garden—where, its luck depleted, it landed squarely in a pile of chicken droppings.
Fang Xingzhou’s eye twitched. Fighting his germaphobia and the urge to overthink the egg’s fragile psyche, he barely held it together.
Lu Jianchuan plucked the egg up, wiping it with a leaf. “I won’t judge you as an adult, but as the master of fortune, you’ll find your answer soon… Maybe this’ll speed up your hatching.”
Fang Xingzhou eyed the faint brown stain, asking quietly, “What did it do?”
Having done similar things himself, Lu Jianchuan instinctively covered for them both. Coughing, he said, “Nothing. Babies get moody too. Anyway, I bought a rocking ride! That’ll cheer it up.”
He strode to the sheep-shaped ride, deposited the egg inside, and inserted a coin.
The ride sang: “Dad’s dad is called what? Dad’s dad is called grandpa…”
Distracted, the little monster bounced happily in its seat.
Just then, Fang Xingzhou’s phone buzzed urgently.
The technician had texted: “Mr. Fang, do you remember which way the talisman was facing when you left? Emergency!”
Fang Xingzhou had a sinking feeling.
“It was upright,” he replied.
Technician: “That can’t be! It’s still upright, but all our chickens escaped into the mountains!”
Followed by: “The weasel spirit must’ve come back!”
Fang Xingzhou: “…………”
He looked up from his phone.
Two weasel spirits—one in a rocking ride, the other standing beside it—stared back at him with identical innocence.
The ride continued cheerfully:
“Dad’s mom is called what? Dad’s mom is called grandma…”
