After finishing his meal, Fang Xingzhou prepared a bottle of formula for Fang Yanzhou.
Seizing the opportunity while Lu Jianchuan was away, he drew 100 milliliters of blood with a syringe, mixed it almost one-to-one with the formula, and fed it all to the egg until not a drop remained. The eggshell turned a healthy, radiant red, gleaming like a smooth piece of jade.
The egg lay bloated on the table, its fissure facing upward, staring blankly at the ceiling as if lost in thought.
Fang Xingzhou reached out and touched the eggshell. It was warm now, no longer icy cold as it had been when it first emerged from the morgue.
Unable to suppress a pang of guilt, he asked proactively, “Still want to go this afternoon? If not, you can stay in my pocket and join me for consultations.”
Hearing this, the egg sprang up from the table and bumped its “head” firmly against the back of Fang Xingzhou’s hand.
Fang Xingzhou: “So… you still want to go?”
The egg nodded.
Thus, Fang Xingzhou returned to the morgue. The attendant was on his lunch break, sitting at the end of the corridor, basking in the sunlight while playing a game on his phone.
Fang Xingzhou greeted him, “Long time no see.”
The attendant looked up, startled for half a second before breaking into a smile. “Oh, Dr. Fang! It’s been a while! Have you recovered? What brings you to the morgue?”
Fang Xingzhou replied, “I’m fully recovered and back to work today. Just wanted to take a look inside—mind if I go in?”
The attendant grinned. “Of course not.”
He closed his game, stood up, and walked over, reminiscing as he went. “I still remember when I first started working here two years ago. I was alone in the morgue at night when a fresh corpse started releasing gas. Scared me half to death…”
Fang Xingzhou quietly and swiftly placed the egg back in its spot, then turned around just as the attendant reached the door.
He said, “I remember. You clung to my leg screaming for help.”
The attendant scratched his nose sheepishly. “Looking back, it’s pretty embarrassing. But I really owe you one—if it weren’t for you that night, I probably would’ve quit.”
Nearby, the egg listened to their conversation, sensing a subtle yet significant connection to itself.
Fang Xingzhou: “It was nothing. I’ve got patients to see now—thanks.”
The attendant: “Leaving so soon? Not staying to chat? Oh, wait… what did you come here to see, anyway?”
Fang Xingzhou simply smiled and excused himself, hurrying away without explanation.
Left behind, the attendant stood puzzled for a few seconds before reopening his game, completely oblivious to the egg now hidden behind a potted plant—its shell faintly revealing a shadowy, eye-like shape…
…
Fang Yanzhou spent two full days in the morgue.
By the end of those two days, several long-unclaimed bodies were suddenly collected by their families.
These relatives had all experienced similar dreams the night before, waking with a strange sense of clarity that compelled them to come to the hospital to bid their final farewells.
But only three or four bodies were claimed.
Many more remained, including one that had been frozen for over a decade—its storage fees recently renewed for another year by its mother.
Fang Yanzhou realized it would take another ten years of waiting here before the truth would finally rise to the surface.
By now, Fang Yanzhou had lost interest in altering the threads of others’ fates. It had learned a lesson: even the destiny of a single chicken could spiral out of control with the slightest interference.
Two days later, Fang Xingzhou ended the egg’s “morgue internship” and began carrying it with him to work.
The life of a surgeon was just as tumultuous, often bloodier, exposing the egg to humans of all walks of life—far more than the morgue ever could.
The egg behaved impeccably, nestled in its father’s pocket all day, occasionally receiving treats from Uncle Qin next door (actually snacks meant for his teacher).
There was another crucial factor—
Lu Jianchuan was absent.
Or rather, Lu Jianchuan stood atop the shopping mall across from the hospital every day, watching Fang Xingzhou’s consultation room through a telescope, admiring his beloved at work. But the moment Fang Xingzhou stepped away from the window, he vanished from Lu Jianchuan’s line of sight.
Thus, Fang Xingzhou took advantage of this blind spot, slipping into a private room daily to draw another 100 milliliters of blood for the egg’s “snack.”
After over a week of this, the egg had visibly grown larger, now heavy in the hand, its fissure lengthening—yet it showed no signs of hatching.
Fang Xingzhou’s intuition told him the time was ripe.
But for some reason, the fissure remained stubbornly unchanged, with no breakthrough in sight.
Sometimes, when he placed the egg on his desk, he could hear it rustling inside, straining against its shell. Perhaps embarrassed by its previous failed hatching attempt, it struggled in secret, determined to break free without its fathers noticing.
But after days of effort, there was still no progress. Though the egg never showed sadness, Fang Xingzhou could sense its disappointment.
He sighed softly.
…
The last workday before the holiday rotation.
Fang Xingzhou finished his shift, cradling the still-unhatched egg against his chest, murmuring soothing words before preparing to leave.
Colleagues greeted him warmly along the way. Qin Hongbo, now handling independent consultations, dashed out of his office when he saw him. “Brother Zhou, we’ve got the day off tomorrow. A few of us are grabbing drinks with Dr. An tonight—wanna join?”
Fang Xingzhou felt the egg shift against his chest, peeking out from between his buttons at Qin Hongbo. It seemed to envy its father’s connections to human society while lamenting its own prolonged confinement, still separated from the world by an unbreakable barrier.
Sensing its mood, Fang Xingzhou smiled. “Sure.”
Qin Hongbo blinked, delighted. “Wow, finally convinced you! Hold on, let me grab my keys. You can ride with me!”
As they walked to the parking lot, discussing yesterday’s consultation, Qin Hongbo had just opened his car door when a melodious voice called out from behind.
“Dr. Qin. Hello. Long time no see.”
Qin Hongbo spun around.
A tall, strikingly handsome man had appeared out of nowhere, smiling politely—but his eyes were locked onto the car keys in Qin Hongbo’s hand.
Qin Hongbo’s heart raced inexplicably, a wave of guilt washing over him as if he’d done something unforgivable.
He forced a laugh. “Mr… Mr. Lu.. sir… long time no see.”
Lu Jianchuan stepped closer, his gaze shifting to Qin Hongbo. His light-colored pupils fixed unblinkingly on the younger man, his smile deepening. Though he appeared gentle and harmless, an indescribable eeriness radiated from him.
“Going out with Zhouzhou?” Lu Jianchuan asked airily, feigning nonchalance.
Qin Hongbo’s hair stood on end. He retreated hastily behind the car door.
“Uh, y-yes, we were just going for… um, not drinks! Dinner! Just dinner, and I’ll bring him right home after!”
Lu Jianchuan tilted his head. “Is that so… Well, that’s fine. Go ahead.”
Fang Xingzhou raised an eyebrow.
Sure enough, after a brief pause, Lu Jianchuan continued mournfully, “I’ve just given birth, after all. No job, nothing to do. Finished cleaning by 10 a.m., then waited in the parking lot for eight hours. It was lonely, missing Zhouzhou terribly—though I did sneak a peek at him through my telescope while he worked. But I’d never interfere with his social life. I’m very open-minded. Dinner’s fine. Drinks are fine too. Right, Dr. Qin?”
Qin Hongbo: “…”
His pupils trembled as he glanced between the unnerving “teacher’s wife” and his unflappable teacher, who seemed unfazed by the stalking admission. With a shudder, he bolted into the car, slammed the door, and sped off with a shouted, “Sorry! Just remembered something urgent! Next time!”
The egg, which had been looking forward to the gathering: “…”
It leaped onto Lu Jianchuan’s head, screeching angrily and yanking out several strands of hair.
Lu Jianchuan effortlessly stuffed it into his pocket, silencing its protests, and beamed at his wife. “How rude of your colleague to stand you up. Guess we’ll have to eat at home, darling.”
Though his plans had been ruined, Fang Xingzhou only smiled indulgently.
As they got into their car, he asked, “You’ve been here since 10 a.m.?”
Lu Jianchuan: “I missed you too much, wife.” Then, glancing at the egg, he added, “And… uh, Tangtang too.”
The egg turned its back on him.
Fang Xingzhou: “Tangtang was really looking forward to socializing. You hurt its feelings.”
Lu Jianchuan paused, lifting the egg to eye level. After a moment, he sensed the baby’s emotions through faint divine fluctuations.
He kissed its shell apologetically. “Sorry, baby. But Daddy can’t bear to share Zhouzhou. Ever since you started work, I’ve been so lonely I’ve considered turning back into Xiao Wang…”
Fang Xingzhou: “Xiao Wang was fired for skipping too many internships.”
Lu Jianchuan sighed, nuzzling the egg. “Then socialize with me. I’m human too.”
His pitiful tone melted the egg’s anger. After a brief sulk, it nudged his hand gently, as if comforting him.
Lu Jianchuan’s eyes curved as he cradled it.
“Tangtang’s grown so thoughtful lately,” he mused. “They grow up so fast.”
Fang Xingzhou agreed.
“Maybe it’s pondering something complex,” he said. “Once it figures it out, it’ll hatch.”
As the car started, the egg left Lu Jianchuan’s palm, hopping onto the dashboard to silently watch the passing traffic, casting a quiet shadow over them.
…
To make up for the missed gathering, Lu Jianchuan hosted a backyard barbecue that evening, inviting the idle Li Xuan and Yan Xin. Even the neighbor’s dog wandered over, curious about the lively gathering in their yard.
By 11 p.m., the adults were exhausted. Lu Jianchuan saw off their friends, then transformed into his true form—eighteen tentacles flailing as he cleaned up at lightning speed before curling around his drowsy lover in bed.
The egg didn’t join them under the covers tonight. Instead, it stood in the incubator it once feared, watching its fathers’ intimate moments.
Lu Jianchuan patted its head with a tentacle before turning off the light.
“Goodnight,” he told the egg. “Even if you stay an egg forever, we’ll love you just the same.”
After a pause, a halting reply came from within the shell:
“Gii’nigh.”
Lu Jianchuan’s crevices formed a smile.
…
That night, Fang Xingzhou dreamed of his mother for the first time in years.
She sat in a dark, empty temple, illuminated only by a flickering oil lamp that cast living shadows across her serene face.
At the boundary between light and darkness stood a smooth, fissured egg, watching its other grandmother intently. Slowly, blood began seeping from its crack.
The flow increased until the fissure split wide open—the eggshell shattering in an instant.
A blurred, indescribable shadow finally freed itself, writhing atop the shards with eerie cries as it crawled toward the silently chanting grandmother, clinging to her robes with its tentacles.
The grandmother smiled peacefully, stroking the amorphous creature with her beaded hand…
…
Fang Xingzhou jolted awake in a cold sweat, immediately looking to the egg on the nightstand.
Dawn was just breaking. Lu Jianchuan slept soundly beside him, clearly lost in pleasant dreams.
The egg stood motionless in the incubator, meeting its father’s gaze.
Fang Xingzhou took a deep breath, pressing his forehead to the shell as he recalled the vivid, eerie dream.
After a long silence, he whispered hoarsely, “Your divine power is mature. You’re just waiting for the right moment?”
The egg didn’t answer.
Fang Xingzhou continued, “That moment…” He thought of the dim, flickering imagery. “It’s tied to blood. To bonds. To love.”
Still, the egg remained silent, merely bumping against him with a soft, “Morne’!”
Fang Xingzhou’s expression softened. “Morning.”
Cradling the egg, he shook Lu Jianchuan awake. “Deer, we’re visiting Mom three days early. Let’s go now.”
Lu Jianchuan startled awake, staring at his lover in drowsy alarm.
