Chapter 35

“Damn it.”

Lin Zao sharpened his knife with murderous intent.

“Utter bastard.”

Lin Zao yanked open the freezer.

“Fu Cheng is a big bastard!”

Lin Zao gripped the cleaver with both hands, raised it high, and brought it down hard.

A massive clang echoed through the house, shaking the entire building!

Lin Xiaobao, who was standing nearby, raised his hands to cover his ears. “Dad…”

Downstairs in the utility room, Fu Cheng couldn’t help but frown. “Little Zao…”

Lin Zao held the cleaver in one hand and grabbed the severed head of the daikon radish with the other, tossing it into the trash bin.

He tilted his head back slightly, his tone righteous. “What?”

“That was too loud.” Lin Xiaobao rushed forward and hugged his dad’s leg. “You scared me. I almost fainted.”

“Alright, alright.” Lin Zao puffed out his cheeks. “Then Dad will be quieter.”

“Mmm-hmm!” Lin Xiaobao nodded vigorously. “Or… Dad could take the radish to Big Daddy’s room and chop it there.”

“Who said I’m mad at Big Daddy?”

“You did, Dad.”

Lin Xiaobao straightened up, smoothed his collar, cleared his throat like an adult, stomped his foot, and began imitating his dad cursing Big Daddy.

“‘Dummy! Big dummy!’”

“And ‘red bean, big red bean’ too.”

Lin Zao handed him the headless daikon radish, picked up the cleaver and cutting board, and grabbed the food basket.

“Come on, let’s go downstairs and deal with this radish.”

“Yay! I get to see the little dog again!”

Father and son carried their things back down to the first floor.

Just earlier, Fu Cheng had suddenly lunged at Lin Zao, chasing him as if to bite.

Lin Zao had barely escaped, only to find his clothes torn, his wrist bruised, and his body aching all over.

He had locked the utility room door and gone upstairs to change.

While changing, he glanced at himself and saw a nasty bruise on his waist.

It wasn’t from falling—it was a handprint left by Fu Cheng’s grip.

Lin Zao was furious!

So he decided to scrap the plan to stew American ginseng soup for Fu Cheng to nourish his body. Instead, he’d make radish and pork rib soup!

He and Xiaobao would eat the ribs, while Fu Cheng got the radish…

No, Fu Cheng wouldn’t even get the radish!

Lin Xiaobao dragged over a small stool. Lin Zao set everything up and sat down in front of the utility room door to prepare the ingredients.

There were still plenty of pork bones in the freezer, which Lin Zao had taken out earlier to thaw at room temperature.

The daikon radishes were ones Fu Cheng had brought back—a whole sackful. If they didn’t use them soon, they’d go hollow inside.

Lin Zao selected a few decent ones, chopped off the tops, peeled them, and cut them into rolling cuts.

Clang, clang, clang—

Scrape, scrape, scrape—

Fu Cheng stood in the utility room, suddenly feeling a chill on his back.

He’d done something wrong again. He’d pissed off Little Zao again.

Once Little Zao finished with the radish, he’d come for him next.

Fu Cheng stepped forward, lowered his head, and pressed his forehead against the door.

“Purr, purr—”

Little Zao, Little Zao. Calling Little Zao.

I know I was wrong. Don’t be mad.

Lin Zao, facing away from him, paused for a moment before resuming his chopping.

Can’t hear you, can’t hear you! Not forgiving!

Won’t fall for your fake meekness again! Won’t get hurt again!

Lin Zao steeled his resolve and ignored him, but Fu Cheng just kept wagging his dog tail and purring relentlessly.

—Little Zao, Little Zao, Little Zao…

—Go away, go away, go away…

—Pay attention to me, pay attention to me…

—Not paying attention, not paying attention…

Dad and Big Daddy are so childish.

Lin Xiaobao squatted by the dog bed, his little face full of exasperation.

Sigh. He didn’t even act like this in kindergarten.

He turned back to look at the little dog.

The little dog had just drunk some rice soup and was now sprawled in the sunlight, fast asleep.

It was always sleeping and never woke up to play with him.

Lin Xiaobao sneakily poked the little dog’s ear with one finger.

It was soft and warm.

The little dog seemed to sense it, shook its head, and let out a couple of grunts.

Feeling like he’d done something naughty, Lin Xiaobao quickly pulled his hand back and stared at it.

The little dog didn’t wake up and soon fell back asleep.

Kinda good, kinda not.

Lin Xiaobao pouted, stood up, and toddled over to Lin Zao on his short legs. He even wobbled a bit like a puppy when he ran.

“Dad.”

“What’s up?” Lin Zao put the cut daikon pieces into a basin.

“Let’s give the little dog a name.”

“Sure.” Lin Zao’s voice was gentle. “Have you thought of one?”

“Not yet.”

Lin Xiaobao squatted in front of his dad, cupped his cheeks, and pondered seriously.

“I think we should give it a surname first.”

“I’m Lin, Dad’s Lin, and Dad took my surname.”

“Huh?” Lin Zao looked up in disbelief. “I took your surname?”

“Yeah!” Lin Xiaobao declared confidently. “So it should take its dad or mom’s surname too. What’s its dad and mom’s surname?”

“Dad doesn’t know. Dad only knows its mom is called Little Black.”

“Then it should be surnamed Xiao.”

“Mmm.” Lin Zao nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Then let’s call it Xiao Bai! Its fur is white. It’s Little White.”

“Its fur hasn’t fully grown in yet. Right now it’s just newborn fuzz. We’ll need a few more days to see its real color.”

“Oh.” Lin Xiaobao thought for a moment. “Then let’s decide it’s Xiao-something-color for now.”

“Sure.”

Lin Xiaobao darted back and forth, glancing at his dad, then at the little dog.

He was quite busy running around.

Soon, Lin Xiaobao suddenly remembered something and hurried back.

“Dad, Dad! I discovered a big secret!”

“What is it?”

“Big Daddy and us don’t have the same surname!”

“Oh yeah?” Lin Zao teased him on purpose.

“Yeah, yeah! We’re Lin, Big Daddy’s Fu! We’re family, Dad took my surname, so why didn’t Big Daddy?”

Exactly!

Fu Cheng thought it made sense too and perked up his ears to listen closely.

Why was that?

Why did this kid take Little Zao’s surname, but he didn’t?

That wasn’t fair!

Lin Xiaobao put on a serious little face and asked, “Dad is my real dad, but Big Daddy isn’t my real dad, right?”

He even lowered his voice, careful not to let Big Daddy hear.

Very considerate.

“Huh?” Lin Zao was even more shocked, his eyes going wide. “Big Daddy is definitely your real dad! Big Daddy and I dated first, got married, and then we had you!”

Lin Xiaobao counted on his fingers but still couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Then why…”

“If we had the same surname, Big Daddy and I couldn’t get married.”

Lin Xiaobao was skeptical. “Really?”

“Of course! It’s an ancient family rule from way back.”

“Then why is Big Daddy’s auto repair shop called Little Lin’s Auto Repair Shop?”

Lin Xiaobao was even more confused.

“It should be Little Fu’s Auto Repair Shop.”

“It’s because…” Lin Zao explained, “When we got married, Big Daddy promised me that everything in the house is mine and takes my surname. That pickup truck and motorcycle behind you? They’re all Lins now.”

“I’m part of the house too.” Lin Xiaobao stroked his chin, deducing seriously.

“You’re not a thing…” Lin Zao covered his mouth. “What I mean is…”

Still, thinking back, Fu Cheng had been pretty good to him back when he was human.

Lin Zao’s heart softened a bit. He glanced back at the iron door.

But in reality—

Standing behind the door, Fu Cheng vaguely recalled a scene from deep in his mind.

He was wearing a tank top, legs crossed, sitting in front of the shop in the sun. A customer pulled up and asked, “Little Lin’s Auto Repair Shop? Are you Little Lin?”

He’d stand up and say to the customer, “I’m not Little Lin. I’m Little Lin’s husband. Little Lin’s my wife.”

Showing off quietly.

—That was the truth.

The real reason Fu Cheng had named the shop that way.

But Little Zao probably didn’t know. Better that way.

Lin Zao finished cutting the daikon and put it in the basin.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs and make lunch.”

“Okay.”

Lin Xiaobao took a big stride ahead to clear the way for his dad.

“Dad, I’ll protect you!”

With the daikon cut and the pork bones mostly thawed, stewing radish soup with premium ribs felt too extravagant given their situation.

So Lin Zao opted for large pork bones—femur bones, to be precise.

Fu Cheng had already chopped them into sections earlier, with bits of meat still attached.

Lin Zao scraped off the meat clinging to the bones and set it aside.

He put the bones in cold water with smashed ginger slices to blanch and remove any impurities.

Once the water boiled, he skimmed off the foam and fished out the bones.

The marrow inside the femur bones required extra care in this step.

Actually… no extra care needed!

Because he and Xiaobao didn’t like marrow anyway. It was all white and mushy, like fat.

Only Fu Cheng liked it, but Lin Zao had decided—no marrow for Fu Cheng!

Lin Zao dumped the blanching water, rinsed the pot, and filled it with fresh water.

He added the bones again, covered the pot, and let it simmer slowly.

After half an hour or so, once the bone essence was released, he’d add the daikon.

Otherwise, the radish would melt into mush if overcooked.

In the meantime, Lin Zao seasoned the scraped-off meat with salt, oyster sauce, and minced garlic.

Once marinated, he steamed it as a side dish. A quick veggie stir-fry, and lunch would be ready.

At the same time—

While Lin Zao prepared lunch upstairs, Fu Cheng paced downstairs on his stainless steel bed frame. He rested his chin on the windowsill, head slightly raised, listening intently.

He’d been cooped up in the utility room for so long. With Little Zao not visiting, even a zombie like him got bored.

This was his new way to pass the time—

Eavesdropping on what Little Zao was doing.

The living room and kitchen weren’t far, and a zombie’s hearing and smell were sharp.

Fu Cheng caught the aroma of bloody raw meat and the clatter of pots and pans.

So fragrant, so pleasing.

Looks like a hearty lunch again today.

He wondered if Little Zao was still mad. Would he bring food at noon?

If not, he could slip out the window hole and grab a snack outside.

No, he couldn’t eat others.

If he came back covered in someone else’s blood, Little Zao would be disgusted with him.

Fu Cheng stayed by the window, quietly listening to the sounds of Lin Zao cooking.

Until he heard a familiar sound—

Click. The lid of the lunchbox opening.

Fu Cheng’s eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but grin.

Little Zao isn’t mad! Little Zao’s bringing him food!

Little Zao still cared about him!

Little Zao liked him!

Fu Cheng laughed from the heart. He hopped off the bed and picked up the black tank top Lin Zao had left on the headboard.

Worried his claws might tear it, he retracted them, made a fist, and lifted the shirt.

Wearing clothes made him seem more human.

His limbs were stiff, and he couldn’t control his strength well, afraid of ripping it.

So he didn’t move the shirt—he moved himself.

Fu Cheng cracked his joints, dislocated his arm, threaded it through the sleeve, put the shirt on, and popped the joint back.

Perfect.

By the time he’d dressed, Lin Zao had come downstairs.

Instead of unlocking the door, Lin Zao gave the iron door a gentle push to confirm it was secure.

Lin Zao was still a bit scared of him.

Then Lin Zao climbed onto the stool and opened the window.

Fu Cheng’s eyes gleamed as he stared unblinkingly at the window.

But Lin Zao only appeared for a second.

Fu Cheng’s food basket had been repurposed by Lin Zao as a dog bed, and there was no new one.

Lin Zao simply set the lunchbox and thermos on the windowsill, didn’t lower them, closed the window, and left.

He kept a cold face on purpose, avoiding Fu Cheng’s gaze, not smiling, not speaking.

Fu Cheng’s smile froze in his eyes.

Sure enough, Little Zao was still mad at him.

Fu Cheng dragged his heavy feet over, stood on tiptoe, reached up, and grabbed the lunchbox and thermos.

He comforted himself inwardly.

It’s fine. He’s tall enough.

It’s fine. He’d gone too far; Little Zao punishing him was right.

At least Little Zao hadn’t left him to starve. At least he had a loving lunch.

It’s fine. Let’s see what deliciousness Little Zao made…

Fu Cheng opened the heart-shaped lunchbox. Inside was nothing but a mound of white rice.

He opened the thermos. It was filled with a sea of white radish soup.

Not even any radish chunks. Nothing.

Fu Cheng stirred the soup with the spoon.

No, there was something!

Fu Cheng’s eyes brightened with excitement.

Two slices of smashed raw ginger!

Smashed into heart shapes, no less.

This proved Little Zao still loved him deeply.

Fu Cheng carefully put the ginger in his mouth and chewed it cherishingly.

Good flavor—like Little Zao’s love for him, spicy and intoxicating.

He sat on the floor with the lunchbox, alternating bites of rice and soup with the ginger.

The rice was cooked so perfectly. Little Zao loved him.

The soup was stewed so deliciously. Little Zao loved him.

At the bottom of the rice—

Once he’d eaten through the top layer, Fu Cheng realized there was meat and veggies underneath.

Little Zao loves me, no doubt about it!