“Now?” Lu Jianchuan’s eyes widened. “But we haven’t bought gifts for Mom yet, nor did we make an appointment. I haven’t even decided what form to take…”
Fang Xingzhou leaned down and kissed him. “This is fine. I’ll get the car ready in half an hour.”
Lu Jianchuan froze for two seconds before leaping out of bed and darting into the bathroom.
Fang Xingzhou freshened up quickly and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Just as he finished frying an egg, there was a polite knock on the kitchen door. He turned to see Lu Jianchuan standing there nervously, dressed in a plaid shirt and casual pants from his student days. “Is this appropriate? Maybe Mom would prefer a more well-behaved look.”
Fang Xingzhou tasted the newly bought ketchup, leaned against the counter, and admired the rare student attire. “It looks great, but maybe something more mature? We’ve graduated, after all.”
Lu Jianchuan nodded seriously and vanished from the doorway in a flash.
As Fang Xingzhou drained the cooked noodles, another knock sounded behind him.
He turned again.
This time, Lu Jianchuan wore a tailored high-end suit, spritzed with cologne, his sculpted physique perfectly outlined by the fabric—like a celebrity stepping out of a glossy magazine ad.
“How about now?” Lu Jianchuan asked.
Fang Xingzhou pondered for a moment, then smirked. “Better than before. But we’re going to a temple, not a red carpet. Maybe a bit too formal.”
Lu Jianchuan took a deep breath and looked down at himself. “…Fair point.”
He disappeared once more.
By the time Fang Xingzhou set breakfast on the table, Lu Jianchuan emerged in his third outfit—a simple trench coat and jeans, his hair neatly combed. He sat across the table solemnly. “Darling, I think this one’s good. What do you think?”
Fang Xingzhou studied him carefully, his smile deepening. “Mmm,” he agreed. “It really is.”
Lu Jianchuan exhaled in relief.
After breakfast, the family of three got ready. Fang Xingzhou changed into casual wear, packed a first-aid kit, and grabbed the car keys.
Apart from the first-aid kit, they brought nothing else.
Lu Jianchuan, unsettled by this, trailed behind Fang Xingzhou, fretting. “Why the first-aid kit?”
Fang Xingzhou made up an excuse on the spot. “The mountain roads are dangerous. We might encounter an accident.”
Lu Jianchuan: “I’ll protect you; you won’t get hurt. But darling, instead of a first-aid kit, shouldn’t we bring something else? It’s impolite to go empty-handed. I remember Mom loved truffle scrambled eggs, and there’s plenty of wine in our cabinet. How about we buy some truffles and a few bottles? It won’t take long—the mall’s right across the street.”
Fang Xingzhou reminded him, “Deer, she’s a nun now.”
Lu Jianchuan had never quite understood what that entailed.
“Nuns can’t accept gifts?” he asked.
Fang Xingzhou: “Taking vows means renouncing all desires—whether for food or love. So gifts hold no meaning for her.”
Lu Jianchuan still didn’t get it. “But isn’t seeking enlightenment also a form of desire?”
Fang Xingzhou was stumped.
After a brief silence, he chuckled and opened the car door decisively. “You’re right. But today, we’re bringing nothing. No gifts.”
Lu Jianchuan pursed his lips and reluctantly gave in. “Fine…”
As they drove away from Xiangxing Street, Fang Xingzhou made a quick stop at a pet store. He didn’t buy gifts but picked out a tiny red sweater for the egg—the kind meant for teacup dogs. Embroidered with a golden “福” (fortune) character, it even had two small pockets, each big enough to hold a piece of candy.
Fang Yanzhou adored it, hopping excitedly in front of the car window to admire itself.
They left at 7 a.m., traveling from the city to the suburbs, then into the mountains. After over an hour on winding roads, they arrived at the temple by 10.
Surprisingly, the remote temple was bustling with visitors. The gravel parking lot was nearly full.
Lu Jianchuan, tense, hoisted the egg onto his shoulder, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car with grave determination.
As his feet touched the gravel, his nose twitched, taking in the crisp mountain air—then paused.
His pupils slit vertically like a reptile’s. The egg on his shoulder also grew excited, its shell flushing pink as it trembled against him.
Fang Xingzhou, having just locked the car, noticed his pupils and felt his heart skip. “What’s wrong?”
Lu Jianchuan scanned the temple before settling his gaze on a nearby tree.
A squirrel perched on a branch, its cheeks stuffed with winter provisions, basking lazily in the sun.
—But its eyes were blood-red.
After a moment, Lu Jianchuan’s pupils returned to normal. He turned to Fang Xingzhou with a smile. “This is a nice place.”
Fang Xingzhou squinted at the squirrel but saw nothing unusual from this distance. “Sense something?”
Lu Jianchuan: “There’s something buried under this temple… Probably an artifact once worn by an ancient god. After eons, its power has diluted, leaving only residual energy from the temple’s incense offerings.”
Fang Xingzhou tensed. “Radiation? Is it harmful?”
Lu Jianchuan: “It subtly alters living tissue, but… seems beneficial.”
A slender tentacle slithered from his sleeve, snatching the squirrel for a quick inspection before releasing it.
“No contamination,” Lu Jianchuan confirmed. “It’s healthier and will live longer than most.”
Fang Xingzhou relaxed slightly. “No wonder people praise places with good feng shui… Tangtang seems to love it here too.”
Lu Jianchuan glanced at the quivering egg. “Tangtang’s this excited? Must be something related to good fortune.”
Good fortune… Fang Xingzhou recalled last night’s dream.
Dismissing the buried artifact, Lu Jianchuan grew nervous again, his palms clammy as he clutched Fang Xingzhou’s hand. “When we see Mom… can I call her ‘Mom’?”
Fang Xingzhou tucked the egg into his pocket and led the way. “Of course.”
Lu Jianchuan: “Zhouzhou, will you tell her what I really am?”
Fang Xingzhou: “Yes.”
Lu Jianchuan: “Will she be angry?”
“Why would she be?”
“I made you sick for so long.”
Fang Xingzhou: “You were just a pet jellyfish back then. You didn’t know any better. She won’t hold it against a jellyfish.”
“But—”
Mid-sentence, Fang Xingzhou stopped walking.
His eyes landed on a woman sweeping leaves by the temple.
She gazed back at him with a smile, as if she’d been waiting.
Her skin was pale, her frame slender, her face nearly wrinkle-free—time seemed to have left no mark. Her deep, tranquil eyes matched the simplicity of her unadorned robes, blending seamlessly with the lush forest behind her.
Fang Xingzhou instinctively tightened his grip on Lu Jianchuan’s hand, his heart pounding as long-dormant emotions surged.
Softly, he whispered, “Mom.”
Hearing this, Lu Jianchuan stiffened instantly.
He followed Fang Xingzhou’s gaze, meeting those eyes—unchanged from twenty-two years ago—and felt his morning-long nervousness erupt into full-blown panic, his back damp with sweat.
He remembered how she’d fed him fish food daily, never scolding her son for keeping odd pets. She’d smile, call him “good boy,” and even dip her fingers into the water to stroke his head.
Then Fang Xingzhou fell ill. Her smiles dwindled, her figure grew gaunt, and some nights, she’d sit silently by his bed, weeping over her feverish son…
That was when Lu Jianchuan first understood human bonds.
The unbreakable tie between mother and child, linked by blood across lifetimes.
And when he first realized the magnitude of his mistake— he had hurted the three people he respected most.
So, the moment their eyes met, Lu Jianchuan retreated half a step, guiltily averting his gaze to stare at the ground.
He heard her set down the broom and approach unhurriedly until she stood before them.
Still staring at her cloth shoes, he murmured in a tiny voice, “Mom…”
Qi Yilian responded, “Mm.”
She bowed calmly to them. Fang Xingzhou returned the gesture. “Long time no see. How have you been? It’s getting cold—aren’t you underdressed?”
Her voice remained gentle, each word clear and soothing like a babbling brook. “I’m well. Have you come to pray?”
Fang Xingzhou: “No. We came to see you.”
He took Lu Jianchuan’s hand in his left and the red-sweatered egg in his right, introducing them to his long-absent mother. “This is my partner, Lu Jianchuan. We’re deeply in love and plan to spend our lives together. A month ago, we had our baby—this egg.”
Lu Jianchuan, gripping Fang Xingzhou’s hand white-knuckled, braced for the disappointment he’d seen twenty years ago.
A beat of silence.
Qi Yilian reached out, carefully cradling the egg in her palms.
Fang Yanzhou shifted, a terrifying eye peering from its fissure to study this other grandmother.
Their gazes met.
In that instant, something extraordinary happened.
Fang Yanzhou saw its reflection in those depthless eyes and felt an indescribable current race through it. The nutrient fluid bubbled violently, the shell shuddering as if caught in the primordial whirlpool of fate.
Compelled, it strained closer. Invisible tendrils slithered from its fissure, piercing Qi Yilian’s palms to greedily drink her blood—seeking the code of its human genes.
Lu Jianchuan caught the familiar scent and paled.
“Fang Yanzhou!” he hissed, reaching to snatch the misbehaving egg.
Qi Yilian blocked him gently. “It’s alright.”
The egg was beyond listening. Its shell gleamed, internal temperature rising steadily to 37°C.
As it drank deeper, staining the nutrient fluid red, it “saw” fate—and its continuation.
Bound by blood, part of it overlapped with Qi Yilian and Fang Xingzhou, forming an unbreakable triangle.
The moment it deciphered its genetic origins, its long-dormant human half awoke, clashing with divine power before merging seamlessly…
Crack.
A second fissure split the shell.
Fang Xingzhou’s heart raced. Now he understood the dream’s riddle.
—Fang Yanzhou’s hatching hinged on human lineage.
But he couldn’t let it keep draining Qi Yilian. He swiftly retrieved the egg, checking her palms—no wounds remained.
“Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “It…”
Qi Yilian: “No matter.”
Neither her son’s male partner nor the bizarre egg claiming to be her grandchild seemed to faze her.
She touched the scalding shell, then Fang Xingzhou’s hair, finally resting a hand on Lu Jianchuan’s head.
To him, she said, “Welcome back. Xiao Zhou missed you terribly.”
Lu Jianchuan froze.
His pupils shrank, breath quickening as he stared at her in disbelief. “You… know…?”
“Of course,” Qi Yilian said. “You carry the scent of that jellyfish from twenty-two years ago.”
May be MC is not a human child as well
I like Granny so far. But her and MC are hella sus