Chapter 46
Meng Shancha had hurried over and didn’t have time to buy flowers. Lacking any sense of public virtue, he plucked a tiny blossom from a large cluster of snow-white jasmine in the residential flowerbed and handed it to Meng Xueyuan. “Pregnancy is hard—sorry I only made it back now.”
A queen bee’s pregnancy ought to receive the blessings of the entire clan. Separated by time zones, Meng Shancha was always half a beat slow.
Embarrassed, Meng Xueyuan said, “It’s a pseudopregnancy.”
He really felt awkward about everyone making such a big fuss. Troubling his own clan was one thing; not telling Lu Xiao was also because he didn’t want to put the Lu family on high alert.
Lu Xiao felt like he was about to explode. My wife being pregnant—what the hell does that have to do with you? It was as if he’d been set on fire. Rage toward a “third party” made sweat bead on his forehead; he was like a wounded beast trapped in an iron box, forepaws scraping the ground with a low growl as he watched another male encroach on his territory.
Charging out now would make his wife lose face. Domestic matters were discussed behind closed doors; rivals were dealt with somewhere desolate.
Then Meng Shancha added, “I’ve been transferred back to Nan Cheng. I can look out for you from now on.”
With lingering fear, he said, “I really can’t be too far from you, otherwise—”
Lu Xiao was about to lose his mind. How much longer was this guy going to pester his wife? The child wasn’t yours—it’s mine.
No more restraint. The killing god descended.
Lu Xiao burst out of the “tin box,” sneering. “Otherwise what? My wife—when did it become your turn to look af—”
Meng Shancha had run into muggers who rushed up wielding weapons in South America. By reflex, he clenched his fists and shielded Meng Xueyuan behind him.
“Who are you?”
Meng Xueyuan stared at the Lu Xiao who had appeared out of nowhere—the husband who’d said yesterday he was going on a business trip. Both hands were wearing disposable gloves; there even seemed to be flour on his dark trousers. He looked like he’d been teleported straight out of some kitchen.
Was Lu Xiao’s business trip a Chef King competition?
Meng Xueyuan was dumbfounded, but seeing flowers, worker bees, and Lu Xiao all appear together, experience made his brain react lightning-fast. “Lu Xiao, this is my cousin.”
What? Cousin?
Family?!
Lu Xiao instantly hid the plastic bag behind his back and slammed the brakes. “Hello, Cousin. Please take good care of us.”
Meng Shancha: “……”
Meng Xueyuan closed his eyes briefly and didn’t ask why Lu Xiao was here.
Lu Xiao changed faces faster than a Peking opera performer. “Brother Shancha, it’s your first time visiting our place. Yuanyuan, why don’t you invite him upstairs to sit? I’ve wrapped dumplings—let’s eat together.”
Meng Shancha was stunned by Lu Xiao’s sudden shift. A second ago he looked like he wanted to stab someone; now he wore the face of a virtuous househusband entertaining his wife’s relatives.
Is this what gay men are like? He really was straight.
“No, thanks,” Meng Shancha said. “I still have things to do.”
Lu Xiao’s heart skipped—his performance in front of his wife’s family had been awful. What if Meng Shancha went back and described it to his parents-in-law? No—he hadn’t formally visited as a son-in-law yet!
“Brother, the dumplings are already wrapped—just waiting to be boiled. Ten minutes, that’s all. You and Yuanyuan haven’t seen each other in so long. Come up, sit for a bit, chat.”
Meng Xueyuan also said, “Brother, why not stay for a meal? Lu Xiao’s cooking is pretty good.”
Unable to refuse, Meng Shancha agreed—also taking the chance to observe his cousin’s partner.
This person’s thoughts and behavior were pretty complicated, weren’t they?
“You two go up first,” Lu Xiao said. “I’ll go buy a bottle of vinegar for dipping the dumplings.”
“Mm.” Meng Xueyuan walked his cousin to the elevator, used facial recognition to open the doors, went in and pressed the floor. “Brother, go on up first. The door’s unlocked—left is Lu Xiao’s place, right is mine, go in whichever. I’m worried Lu Xiao didn’t bring money; I’ll check how he’s buying vinegar.”
“All right,” Meng Shancha said.
Meng Xueyuan feinted, then immediately went back out to look for Lu Xiao—but he was nowhere to be seen.
He sniffed, and from the direction of the old clothes donation bin that had suddenly appeared that morning, he caught the smell of dumpling filling.
“……”
Meng Xueyuan ran over, crouched down, and peered through the window. Inside, he saw Lu Xiao tidying up dumplings.
His mouth fell open in shock. When he spotted Lu Xiao’s desk, he completely lost it. “Lu Xiao, what are you doing?”
Lu Xiao stiffened, turned, and squatted down to face him through the window. “Because… I missed you too much.”
“Huh?” Meng Xueyuan said.
“I was on a three-month business trip. I wanted to cling to you so badly, but I was afraid you’d find me annoying.”
Thinking of how Lu Xiao had been treating him like the apple of his eye lately—picking him up and dropping him off from work, a bit too clingy—Meng Xueyuan said, “So you lied about a business trip and hid here to work?”
“Yes—because I wanted you to know that I’m an adult who can go on business trips independently now.”
Meng Xueyuan pressed his lips together. Lu Xiao was like a pitiful little puppy locked in a cage—one that even did housework—waiting eagerly for him to come and go. Softened, he said, “Come out quickly. I never said you couldn’t cling to me.”
The third young master of the Lu family had an office in the Lu Group tower—how luxurious that was. How could he be holed up in a doghouse-like place to work, in the middle of summer, without air conditioning? Seeing Lu Xiao drenched in sweat, Meng Xueyuan’s heart ached.
He straightened up, went around to the back door, opened it, and helped Lu Xiao pack up the computer. “You’re not allowed to do this again. If you get heatstroke, I’ll be worried.”
At least he knew to use ice—so he wasn’t that stupid.
Lu Xiao guiltily followed his wife home and was sent straight to shower as soon as they entered.
“I’ll cook the dumplings,” Meng Xueyuan said.
He went into the kitchen, put half of Lu Xiao’s dumplings into the freezer and boiled the other half.
“Brother, do you like them boiled or pan-fried?”
“Boiled,” Meng Shancha said.
“Okay.” When the dumplings floated up, Meng Xueyuan took a stainless-steel bowl, added a small spoonful of oil, vinegar, and salt, then fished the dumplings in. He lifted and shook the bowl—the skins, once coated, wouldn’t harden.
He set it in front of Meng Shancha. “Eat more.”
Meng Shancha looked at the big pot of dumplings and picked one up with his chopsticks.
Hiss—delicious. Truly authentic Chinese flavor. His first meal after landing was this good, just like home.
All the things he’d wanted to say to Lu Xiao vanished instantly—he’d been bought off.
Lu Xiao cooked so well, yet Meng Xueyuan was still so thin—clearly he needed to look for reasons in himself.
Not one to freeload, Meng Shancha reported honestly, “After I got back, the company issued a 500,000 bonus. I transferred it to Lin Xilan.”
Another high-earning worker bee joined the ranks, adding bricks to the queen bee’s small goals.
Propping his chin, Meng Xueyuan tilted his head and thought. The variety show Harmony of Marriage had a very high fee. Added to the salaries of other clan members, his second small goal was close.
With two goals left, maybe he didn’t need to rush so much—he could take on fewer jobs. It couldn’t always be Lu Xiao visiting sets; when Lu Xiao traveled, he should also make time to accompany him.
He’d promised to help Lu Xiao rise—accompanying him to events and business trips was a key part of that.
As if reading his mind, Meng Shancha said, “Everyone’s salaries are rising. It’s your turn to rest—especially your body. You’re different from us.”
“Okay,” Meng Xueyuan said.
While Lu Xiao was still in the shower, Meng Shancha said, “Downstairs just now…”
“Oh,” Meng Xueyuan said. “He always misunderstands when you guys give me flowers, thinks you like me. Fang Furong got snapped at as a rival too.”
“I’ll tell the brothers to be careful—not to give them in person,” Meng Shancha said.
“Don’t,” Meng Xueyuan replied. “It’s better to be open about it.”
You never know which corner the vinegar king will pop out of; getting caught makes explanations even harder.
Meng Xueyuan frowned slightly. Constant misunderstandings weren’t a solution.
He had so many underlings—how could Lu Xiao possibly finish all that jealousy?
Lu Xiao hadn’t said it outright, but Meng Xueyuan could feel that he was jealous of the “Mahjong buddies”—only without a proper reason, so Lu Xiao felt embarrassed to say it.
How was he supposed to tell Lu Xiao that he was a little honeybee?
He looked seriously at his cousin. “How many brothers are currently abroad?”
“Originally just me. Now there’s one more—028 is going overseas for further study.”
A vague thought formed. Hearing this, Meng Xueyuan said, “Then let’s talk after he comes back.”
Lu Xiao took a quick cold shower. Most of his time was spent selecting gift boxes with five bottles of red wine—his personal collection.
He quietly set the gift box on the sofa and sat beside Meng Xueyuan. “Brother, where did you come back from?”
“South America,” Meng Shancha said.
Lu Xiao choked. “That is far. Are you going back to the hometown? I’ll go with you—I haven’t been to Yuanyuan’s hometown yet. When the time comes, I’ll trouble you to put in a few good words for me in front of the relatives.”
If he said it like this, surely Meng Shancha wouldn’t badmouth him to his parents.
“I need to report the project at headquarters,” Meng Shancha said. “Probably half a month.”
“Perfect—Yuanyuan and I can clear our schedules then.” Lu Xiao had already planned how many trucks he’d need for the meeting gifts. He would perform perfectly, become the most reliable pillar in Nan Cheng in the relatives’ eyes—so if fellow townsfolk needed help, they’d come to him, not his wife.
When Meng Shancha left, Lu Xiao presented the wine. The cousin couldn’t refuse and accepted it.
Lu Xiao watched his back with satisfaction. Now he really wouldn’t say bad things about him to Meng Xueyuan’s parents, right?
“Wife, do you have a scene this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take you after lunch.”
……
Three days later, Lu Xiao personally escorted his wife to the hospital.
“You’re in a great mood,” Meng Xueyuan teased.
Lu Xiao nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
He felt increasingly certain of one thing: he loved his wife, his wife loved him—they were made for each other. There was one thing he would soon forget, and he would never tell Meng Xueyuan.
Their marriage was as solid as gold and iron—there would be no discordant interludes.
This time, the nurse only pricked Meng Xueyuan’s fingertip. The blood loss was minimal.
Lu Xiao pressed an iodine swab to his fingertip, tenderly rubbing his palm.
So many tests, so much blood drawn—if he ever caught the instigator, he’d make them bleed ten times as much as Meng Xueyuan.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
The blood had been drawn fasting. Lu Xiao quickly took out a cup of soy milk and a generously stuffed beef pancake from his backpack.
Meng Xueyuan was surprised. “Isn’t that too greasy for early morning?”
Lu Xiao pinched his chin and brought the pancake to his mouth. “Your main task right now is to put on weight.”
Meng Xueyuan took a sip of soy milk, then lowered his head to bite the sandwich—he took a big, earnest bite, puffing both cheeks.
“Eat slowly,” Lu Xiao said.
With his mouth full of beef, Meng Xueyuan chewed. Maybe because he’d held that mouthful too long, nausea crept up and he just couldn’t swallow.
“Mmph.” Not daring to force it, he hurried to the trash can and spit it out.
“Feel like throwing up again?” Lu Xiao smoothed his breathing. “We won’t eat it. We’ll never eat pancake again.”
“Mr. Meng,” called the nurse who had drawn his blood earlier. “Fingertip blood might not be sensitive enough. The simple device shows you still have high progesterone levels. Should we draw a tube of venous blood to confirm?”
Meng Xueyuan wiped his mouth. “Okay.”
The nurse tied a tourniquet around his wrist. Dark red, warm blood flowed into the clear tube.
Lu Xiao frowned as he watched, already planning the next six months of nutrition meals in his head.
Compared with what his wife was enduring, his own inner turmoil was nothing.
They weren’t in a rush and waited another half hour for the results.
Lu Xiao took Meng Xueyuan into a lounge. “This hospital was torn down and rebuilt ten years ago—much more modern now. But only this lounge was restored to how it looked twenty years ago.”
“Every time my dad finished prenatal checkups, he’d rest here while waiting for results.”
With a smile, Lu Xiao added, “According to the old staff, my dads even used to argue in here.”
“Why?” Meng Xueyuan asked.
Lu Xiao took a bottle of grape juice from the fridge and guessed casually. “Probably my eldest dad had low emotional intelligence and annoyed my Shen dad.”
Tsk—who argues with their spouse during prenatal checkups? He certainly wouldn’t.
Meng Xueyuan thought: every time Shen Ning came for checkups, it was a real pregnancy. He looked around the lounge—the rosewood furniture under him would last a century.
Shen Ning had sat on this very chair while pregnant with Lu Xiao.
If a pseudopregnancy was this troublesome, a real one must be even harder.
Thinking of his own mother, Meng Xueyuan called home.
Lu Xiao listened quietly, not interrupting.
“President Lu,” the young nurse knocked at the door. “The results are out. The director would like to see you.”
“Mom, Lu Xiao and I will come back to see you in early September,” Meng Xueyuan said, hanging up. He went with Lu Xiao to find the director.
Meng Xueyuan walked lightly, but unease crept into Lu Xiao’s heart. The director again—was there something wrong with his wife?
Sensing his heavy steps, Meng Xueyuan asked, “What’s wrong?”
Lu Xiao shook his head. “Nothing. The director is just too interested in male pseudopregnancy.”
It was the same silver-haired expert as before. The moment she saw Lu Xiao, she rolled her eyes—if she’d had a feather duster, she’d probably have swatted him.
Seeing her like this actually reassured Lu Xiao. It must be a small problem—and related to him.
“Who was it that solemnly promised me abstinence?”
She pointed at the data. “Look—progesterone has climbed again. That means a second pseudopregnancy.”
