WRA CH94

Once the egg settled onto the plate, it was best left undisturbed.

Chu Ren spent the night having a custom-built enclosure made: one cubic meter in size, featuring breathable mesh on three sides and glass on the front.

He spread a silk quilt across the floor, positioned the plate right in the center, and bolted the enclosure firmly to the ground.

There was no telling exactly when the baby would crack through the shell. Chu Ren resolved to monitor it in person; he had already missed Bai Qi laying the egg, and he refused to miss the moment it hatched.

What if the little one got stuck mid-hatch? Or what if it emerged smoothly, only to find neither father by its side—wouldn’t the poor thing be terrified?

“Aren’t you going to work?” Bai Qi asked.

Chu Ren set up a camera linked to Xiao Kui Bao to assist with surveillance. Mortals had to blink, after all, so a machine providing round-the-clock service was essential: “Nope.”

Toward the tail end of the pregnancy, Chu Ren had stopped going to the office, leaving a mountain of backlogged tasks behind.

During the summer, Bai Qi was active and had no qualms about working. After a single week of recuperation, General Manager Bai casually stepped back onto the scene.

Their relationship was an open secret across the entire company.

Everyone was intensely curious about where President Chu had vanished to. If their mutual disappearance had looked like a honeymoon, why was only General Manager Bai back at his desk?

Bai Qi replied breezily, “Oh, he’s at home brooding over an egg.”

In human idioms, that merely meant lazing around idly. The employees nodded with vague enlightenment—ah, sitting on an egg, got it.

At any rate, as long as one of the pair was on the clock, the company ran smoothly; running the business together for so many years, their judgment had never diverged.

Having cleared morning paperwork, Bai Qi had the entire spacious executive suite to himself. At noon on the dot, he minimized his work tabs and dialed Chu Ren on video call.

Line busy.

Hm?

Bai Qi patched directly into the home security feed. He checked the snake egg inside the enclosure first, then shifted the view to Chu Ren: “What are you up to?”

Chu Ren was in the middle of a live video consultation with the owner of a snake-breeding farm. Unable to visit the facility in person, modern tech came in handy for remote coaching.

He paused the lesson, looked up at the camera lens, and said, “Wife, tired from work today? If you are, just come home. Auntie Zhang headed out ten minutes ago with your lunch; she should be arriving at your office any minute.”

Glancing at the wall opposite the bed, Bai Qi noticed the live feed of a sprawling commercial snake farm. After two seconds of silence, he asked, “Thinking of branching into animal husbandry?”

“No, I’m studying parenting.”

The technician was just explaining how to incubate snake eggs with maximum industrial efficiency.

Bai Qi remarked, “That’s industrial mass-breeding. Weren’t you aiming for boutique, bespoke care?”

Chu Ren paused. “Learning from their strengths to patch up my weaknesses.”

“Oh? Planning to feed the baby frogs and pond loaches? Skipping baby formula entirely?”

“Of course not! Our baby will only eat the finest delicacies!”

“Finest delicacies… hm? Pinky mice?”

On breeding farms, those were premium nutritional treats reserved strictly for hatchlings and breeding stock.

Chu Ren recoiled in horror: “Wife, can we please skip that? Can’t we just stick to formula? Little Sunflower Seed is a plant, and Zhou Sicheng still feeds him formula; the kid is growing up plump and fair!”

Bai Qi propped his elbow on the desk, resting his chin on his hand, his middle finger lightly tapping against his temple: “Can’t do this, can’t do that—then what on earth are you studying at a snake farm for?”

Right in the middle of lunch break, and he was tying up the line for this.

Left tongue-tied, Chu Ren hastily severed the consultation call and dialed his spouse back on video.

Bai Qi unhurriedly swiped to answer. “Hello?”

Chu Ren adopted an immensely solemn tone: “Bai Qi, you have to promise me one thing.”

“Go ahead.”

“Never tell the baby he’s allowed to eat frogs and mice.”

Their residential estate was exceptionally clean, with scarcely any rodents in sight, but its landscaping was also top-tier, complete with a central lake. On warm summer nights, the frog chorus was deafening.

Frogs were ridiculously easy to catch; Chu Ren was practically tempted to relocate to a high-rise penthouse.

A faint smirk played at Bai Qi’s lips: “I won’t need to teach him. He’ll pick it up from books once he’s older anyway.”

“By then, I’ll have already instilled in him what counts as proper food and what doesn’t.”

“Oh? Looking down on my species now, are you?”

“Never! Humans used to eat wild things back when we were apes too. But conditions are better now, so we’re just following public guidance—no bushmeat.”

“Fine by me,” Bai Qi replied casually.

Chu Ren furrowed his brow, convinced Bai Qi hadn’t taken a single word to heart.

Fortunately, Little Sunflower Seed was a sunflower and Coffee Bean was a coffee tree—their diets were completely normal. Mingling with them, the little snake baby would surely blend in nicely and wouldn’t suddenly get the urge to hunt rodents for an afternoon snack.

After Chu Ren kept vigil at home for an entire month, the tranquil egg finally began to wobble, as if struggling to find its footing—the baby was about to break through the shell!

Bai Qi was just about to head to work when it started; he instantly pushed open the car door and dashed back inside. Chu Ren unsealed the protective enclosure, steadily brought the plate out, and set it down in the dead center of the bed.

As they watched, the egg swayed with increasing vigor, growing noticeably heavier by the second. The newborn spirit was transitioning from its initial serpentine form into a human infant.

Chu Ren fought to keep his excitement in check. Back in his school days, his classmates had been obsessed with anime blind boxes—a trend he had dismissed as childish. It turned out he simply hadn’t encountered the one blind box he truly cared about: “Wife, how many pounds do you think we’re going to hatch?!”

Little Sunflower Seed had weighed five pounds, and Coffee Bean seven. Following that trajectory, the little snake ought to be nine pounds! A born winner right out of the gate.

Animal young were naturally heavier than plant seeds, after all.

Seeing how curious he was, Bai Qi reached over, hefted the plate in his palms, and told him: “Six pounds.”

“Six… six pounds is wonderful too.”

A brief flash of soft light swept through the room. The shell split cleanly in two, and Bai Qi’s reflexes kicked in—his hands darted out to catch the baby as it tumbled smoothly into his grasp.

Some nutrient fluid remained pooled within the shell halves: the infant’s first nourishment.

Chu Ren had already rehearsed this step. Picking up a pre-sterilized syringe, he drew up the liquid and gently squeezed it drop by drop into his son’s mouth.

Bai Qi gazed down at his newborn with tender warmth. Before crossing paths with the other spirits, the thought of reproducing had never once crossed his mind; the heavens had gifted him an adorable son.

Chu Ren’s paternal instincts surged into overdrive. Looking over his son, he matched every feature against his spouse’s—the boy was the spitting image of Bai Qi.

“Wife, his nose and mouth are just like yours.”

“Don’t the eyes look a bit like yours?”

“No, strictly yours.”

Bai Qi moved to toss the leftover eggshell into the wastebasket, but Chu Ren intervened immediately: “Don’t throw it out! I’ll have it preserved like preserved flowers so it lasts forever.”

Bai Qi didn’t think much of it at the time. Yet a few weeks later, Chu Ren not only brought back the “everlasting shell,” but had also commissioned several 1:1 replicas, placing them neatly right on the nightstand.

Snatching Bai Qi’s glasses, Chu Ren slid them onto his own face: “Bai Qi, sneaking an egg onto my abs in the dead of night without waking me up—wasn’t that out of line? Don’t you owe me some compensation?”

“If you want to watch a snake lay eggs, look it up online.” Bai Qi couldn’t fathom the appeal in the slightest.

“No, I want to watch a human.”

Bai Qi: “…” Ah. Understood.

He instinctively reached for his glasses to put Chu Ren in his place.

Yet the frames were already perched on Chu Ren’s nose. Chu Ren argued with complete conviction: “Even in a court of law, the judge would rule in favor of my claim.”

Deprived of his glasses, Bai Qi’s defenses crumbled, and he was sentenced to grant Chu Ren his compensation. Even so, the defendant showed very little enthusiasm for complying.

“Wife, put some back into it. You were so fast before—I didn’t even wake up and you were already done.”

“…” Bai Qi looked as though all his energy had been drained away. “Chu Ren… you… try pushing it in a bit further.”

When it came to raising an infant, the mortal father was inevitably doomed to shoulder far more worry. Spirits were born of heaven and earth; whether a sunflower seed or a coffee bean, toss it into a rocky crevice and it would still sprout come springtime. When a snake hatched with no parents in sight, it still figured out how to survive on its own.

Having grown up that way themselves, the spirit fathers were remarkably laid-back. Far from providing parenting references, they actively caused chaos.

Especially that Little Sunflower Dad Academy… every session came with shocking surprises.

The mortal fathers had no choice but to fumble through the dark, raising their spirit sons by trial and error.

Zhou Sicheng had introduced robotics into his childcare routine. Returning from a spirit gathering, Bai Qi recommended Chu Ren free his hands the same way, but Chu Ren politely declined.

“Didn’t you write the foundational code for Xiao Kui Bao’s robotic dexterity yourself?”

“That was written by a Chu Ren who didn’t have a child.”

“…” Bai Qi was speechless. “A few drops won’t hurt him. He’ll only grow sturdier the more he takes a tumble.”

Chu Ren: “…”

Every household faced its own unique parenting trials. Little Sunflower Seed was far too restless, Coffee Bean was obsessed with the outdoors, and the little snake baby was somewhat of a picky eater.

Things were manageable right after birth with regular nursing. Come winter, Chu Ren had initially worried his son would follow his spouse’s lead by fasting through hibernation. As it turned out, Little Bai Chu had zero interest in hibernating, but his appetite plummeted—he would take two sips of milk and refuse the rest.

“Mm, skipping hibernation comes from your side,” Bai Qi noted.

By the time winter passed, Little Bai Chu’s weight had barely budged, while Coffee Bean—born around the same time—had packed on five pounds.

Chu Ren: “…”

Bai Qi wasn’t concerned. Though the weight gap had widened, Little Bai Chu’s joints were developing splendidly; he could sit and crawl with ease, and he would catch up once summer rolled around.

When the time came for the three spirits to exchange academic notes, mortals were technically excluded, yet the human husbands insisted on attending.

Their reasoning: this was an unregistered assembly of a specialized demographic without prior filing, so mortals had to be present—otherwise, they’d report the gathering for fire-safety noncompliance.

The spirits: “…”

Unable to hold a formal meeting, it was downgraded to a family playdate hosted at Zhou Sicheng’s estate.

Though Xiang Zhen was the youngest, Little Sunflower Seed was the eldest child!

In certain respects, Zhou Sicheng was considered the reigning authority.

Chu Ren had no choice but to consult the authority from time to time to see what novel gadget Zhou Sicheng had cooked up.

By the summer of Little Bai Chu’s second year, all three babies could crawl, and Little Sunflower Seed had even mastered walking.

The trio sat together playing with toys while Xiao Kui Bao tossed out small balls—three different colors per round. Each baby gravitated toward the ball matching their respective father’s hair color, scurrying across the rug to fetch the balls and return them to the robot for the next turn.

Little Sunflower Seed seemed to have forgotten he knew how to walk, excitedly crawling along with the others. After several rounds, his cheeks flushed bright red. His skin was naturally hydrated, needing no moisturizing cream even in the dead of winter.

“Daddy!” Little Sunflower Seed grew thirsty.

“Coming,” Zhou Sicheng stepped over carrying a bottle, though it was filled with clear liquid rather than milk.

Taking it with both hands, the toddler took a massive swig. The flavor was a bit different today; patting the bottle with a chubby little palm, he drank with even greater gusto.

With Little Sunflower Seed serving as the ultimate trendsetter, even plain water in a bottle would have looked irresistible.

Zhou Sicheng produced two more bottles: “Want some?”

Coffee Bean and Little Bai Chu nodded, taking their bottles and huddling close beside Little Sunflower Seed to drink.

Shen Ku asked, “What’s in there?”

“100% pure white birch sap from the Greater Khingan Mountains.”

It tasted like faint coconut water—subtly sweet and entirely free of additives.

Chu Ren inquired humbly, “Is there a specific rationale behind that?”

Dabbing the sweat from his son’s brow with a handkerchief—the little tyke was prone to sweating—Zhou Sicheng looked at him as if bewildered that such a straightforward concept needed explaining: “Tree sap. Replenishing sap with sap.”

Shen Ku had an epiphany: sap was the “blood” of trees, perfectly suited to plant-spirit constitutions. Naturally, the children loved it.

Chu Ren turned to his spouse: “Wife, can botanical logic really be applied to animals?”

Bai Qi brushed him off with absolute conviction: “Of course. Plant babies can drink animal milk, and animal babies can drink plant sap. Both are nourishing.”

Xiang Zhen sidled up to Zhou Sicheng: “Hubby, you really are a master at inventing folk remedies for the spirit realm.”

The sunflower spirit was a firm believer in modern science now; Zhou Sicheng was the uncultured one!

Zhou Sicheng arched an eyebrow: “Oh? Back when I was driving ride-shares, who was the one buying pig trotters, claiming eating trotters strengthens the legs?”

Xiang Zhen pivoted instantly: “Hubby, this magnificent remedy of yours will surely be passed down for generations to come.”