Chapter 56

The next morning, before dawn had even broken.

Lin Zao was still sprawled in Fu Cheng’s arms, fast asleep.

Outside the window, the rain fell in a steady pitter-patter.

“Woo… so noisy…”

Lin Zao woke in a daze, fumbling to grab Fu Cheng’s black tank top. Using it for leverage, he rolled over and buried his face in Fu Cheng’s chest.

As soon as he stirred, Fu Cheng woke up too.

Fu Cheng lay flat on the bed, utterly still, like a giant cat tree letting Lin Zao climb all over him at will.

He opened his eyes and dipped his head slightly. His gaze landed right on the top of Lin Zao’s head—dark, fluffy, and fuzzy.

Lin Zao had gotten a trim at the barber just before the New Year, but that was nearly two months ago now.

His hair had grown out a bit, black and soft, all fluffy and carrying a faint sweet scent, just like a pampered long-haired cat.

Fu Cheng watched, a warm itch stirring in his chest. Unable to resist, he reached out and stroked it—first with the grain, then against, back and forth a couple of times.

“Hey! Fu Cheng, you jerk!”

The moment he ruffled it against the grain, Lin Zao suddenly got mad.

He jerked his head up and shook it hard, trying to shake off Fu Cheng’s hand.

But even as he squirmed, Fu Cheng didn’t let go.

Not only did he not let go—he slid his hand down along Lin Zao’s hair, over his neck and shoulders, until his broad, cold palm settled on Lin Zao’s slender waist.

Through the leather gloves, Fu Cheng pinched with one hand and gripped that waist tight.

Lin Zao felt uncomfortable all over from the touch—his waist went limp, his legs turned to jelly, and his face flushed red.

He ducked his head and, as if venting his frustration, slammed it down hard onto Fu Cheng’s chest. But his voice came out soft.

“You jerk…”

Lin Zao lay there in his arms, calming down after a moment before asking, “Is it raining?”

Fu Cheng rumbled twice from deep in his throat, his chest vibrating, though what it meant was anyone’s guess.

Lin Zao thought for a second, then explained, “Raining means… water falling from the sky.”

Fu Cheng fell silent for a beat, then growled louder: “Roar—”

Little Zao, he wasn’t an idiot!

He knew what “raining” meant—no explanation needed.

Those rumbles meant—

Yes, right, exactly—it was raining!

Lin Zao lay in his arms and let out a muffled laugh.

It hadn’t rained much over the whole Spring Festival.

Now that spring had come, it was about time.

Speaking of rain, cold drafts seemed to seep in through the cracks in the door and windows.

The once-stuffy air suddenly cooled.

Lin Zao shivered involuntarily, tugged at the blanket over him, and scooted a bit away from Fu Cheng.

Lin Xiaobao felt the chill too. The little guy spun around—from the pillow into the covers, then from the covers to Dad’s side.

Father and son huddled together, warming each other up.

Fu Cheng sat up, grabbed the plush robe from the bedside, and awkwardly bent his joints to slip it on.

Little Zao was so fickle.

Last night, he’d insisted Fu Cheng sleep in just the tank top, saying it made it easier to grope his pecs and abs.

But this morning, he was complaining Fu Cheng was too cold and had slithered right out of his arms.

Such quick changes, so infuriating, so unpredictable.

But what could he do?

This infuriating little cat was his wife.

And he just wanted to hold his wife and son while they slept.

Fu Cheng resignedly pulled on the robe and bundled his wife and son up in the blanket, hugging them through the fabric.

In the middle of the night last night, chaos had erupted outside.

Lin Zao woke up, went out for a peek, and came back unable to sleep.

To help him drift off, he’d slipped his hand under Fu Cheng’s clothes.

Right, purely for sleep aid.

And it worked wonders—he’d conked out after just a bit of touching.

It was still early now, and Lin Zao wanted to catch some more shut-eye.

One arm around Lin Xiaobao, he reached back with the other, groping all over Fu Cheng but unable to find an opening.

Fu Cheng looked down at those mischievous paws and sighed, quietly lifting the hem of his robe to bare his solid, chiseled waist and abs.

Now Lin Zao found his target.

He slapped his whole hand onto Fu Cheng’s abs and grinned like an idiot, utterly content.

Rainy days were for sleeping in.

The family of three didn’t crawl out of bed until around nine, still groggy.

Breakfast was congee that had been set to cook in the rice cooker ahead of time, paired with the usual sides.

Meat floss, pork oil slag, and canned sardines.

They’d been eating these on and off for nearly a month, and supplies were running low.

Lin Zao absolutely refused to get up early to cook, so he planned to whip up more pork oil slag—or maybe make his own meat floss.

He’d never done it, but it didn’t seem hard.

Or…

Lin Zao cradled his bowl of congee, eyes darting around, until they settled on Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng was slurping down his porridge when he noticed Lin Zao’s stare and turned to meet it.

Little Zao, what was up?

Lin Zao set down his bowl, cupped his face in both hands, curved his eyes into crescents, and beamed at him.

“Heh heh, Brother Cheng.”

“Morning—”

Fu Cheng watched him, a bad feeling rising in his gut.

What was it? Why was Little Zao looking at him like that?

Had he eaten too much? Or skipped the rice for just sides, pissing off Little Zao?

Was Little Zao going to kick him out? Banish him?

No! He wouldn’t eat any more!

Fu Cheng hastily set down his bowl and shoved it toward Lin Xiaobao.

Lin Xiaobao was eating obediently when the bowl suddenly appeared in front of him, startling him.

He looked up, utterly baffled.

—Big Daddy, what are you doing?

—For you to eat.

He was a zombie—he didn’t need food anyway.

He wouldn’t eat another bite, leaving it all for wife and son!

—No thanks.

Lin Xiaobao shoved the bowl back, disgusted by Big Daddy’s spit.

It hit Fu Cheng like a bolt from the blue!

Wife rejected him, son rejected him!

Fu Cheng felt the sky falling.

Lin Zao tilted his head, blinked big eyes, and said nothing—just watched him quietly.

Under that stare, Fu Cheng’s gaze grew shifty, his heart racing.

His heartbeat hit peak zombie speed.

Since other zombies’ hearts didn’t beat at all.

Wife, if you’re unhappy with me, just say it—don’t look at me like that.

You’ll scare me to death!

“Hee hee!”

Lin Zao grinned mischievously and reached out both hands to Fu Cheng.

“Brother Cheng, copy me.”

Fu Cheng tentatively reached out too.

Lin Zao grabbed his hand, inspecting it top to bottom, flipping it over and over.

“Such perfect hands—just like before.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Fu Cheng nodded vigorously, fingers tensing as he tried to hide his thicker, wider palms and bulkier fingers.

Just like before.

“Brother Cheng, do you remember?”

Before Lin Zao could finish, Fu Cheng kept nodding.

He remembered, he remembered.

Whatever Little Zao said, he remembered.

“Back then, you did all the housework with these hands.”

“Fixing the car, washing clothes, hanging them up, sweeping and mopping—you could do it all.”

“You were one of the world’s rare stay-at-home husband gems.”

Fu Cheng nodded on, his tail behind him wagging like an electric fan.

Yeah, yeah—he could do it now… or learn!

He was a good man.

“And making breakfast,” Lin Zao revealed his punchline.

Fu Cheng froze. Lin Xiaobao looked up too.

“Dad, a few days ago you said…”

Lin Zao jolted and lunged forward, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Little Bao, don’t say it!”

When Fu Cheng had just emerged from the utility room, Lin Zao had said—

The sides we eat are all stuff Big Daddy brought back from outside.

It’s division of labor—Big Daddy procures supplies, we cook at home.

As long as Big Daddy cheers us on from the side, I’m super happy!

Super happy…

Happy…

Lin Zao pursed his lips, flashed Fu Cheng a sweet smile, batted his eyes, and threw in a flirty wink.

“Brother Cheng, try cooking!”

“Your food back then was so tasty and you were so skilled—bet you could pick it right back up with a little practice.”

“Little Bao and I both love your cooking…”

The clever Lin Xiaobao tried to save Big Daddy from the kitchen doom.

“Big Daddy, don’t let Dad fool you—he’s doing it on purpose…”

In the next instant, Fu Cheng clasped Lin Zao’s hand.

Cook! He’d cook!

Not just breakfast—lunch, dinner, even midnight snacks.

Lin Xiaobao, seeing through it all, sighed and went back to his congee.

Whatever.

Dad and Big Daddy were both little dummies.

Falling right into such an obvious trap.

Fu Cheng grinned, basking in Lin Zao’s praise.

“Brother Cheng, you’re the best! I knew it—you care about me the most!”

Fall! He’d fallen right into Little Zao’s sweet trap!

After breakfast, Lin Zao dragged Fu Cheng to the sink.

Lin Zao declared confidently, “To learn cooking, start with washing dishes.”

Fu Cheng nodded, tone resolute: “Okay.”

He raised both hands, and Fu Cheng mirrored him.

Next, Lin Zao pulled out the kitchen rubber gloves and slipped them on him.

He handed him the dishcloth too.

“Hold it gently—don’t rip it to shreds.”

“Roar?”

“As gently as you hold me.”

With that, Fu Cheng got it.

He’d practiced the right pressure for holding Little Zao and Little Bao on pillows countless times in private.

He was proficient now.

Guaranteed not to hurt wife, son, or dishcloth.

Lin Zao kept instructing: “Right hand on the cloth, left on the bowl.”

Fu Cheng followed suit.

As a zombie, he still struggled to tell left from right, but muscle memory kicked in first, positioning him correctly.

“Brother Cheng, you’re amazing! I wasn’t half that good my first time!”

“Roar roar roar!”

Of course.

He was a zombie who retained human memories.

One man and one zombie—one sweet-talking and teaching, the other eager to listen and learn.

Even dishwashing sparked pink bubbles of fluff.

Lin Xiaobao stood by with arms crossed, butt sticking out, lips pursed, stomping his foot repeatedly in displeasure.

“Hmph! Hmph hmph hmph!”

He was mad!

When he’d helped Dad shell beans and corn, Dad hadn’t praised him like this!

Lin Zao heard and whipped around.

“Oh! And there’s our super amazing Little Bao Bao—how could Dad forget?”

Lin Zao scooped up Lin Xiaobao, bouncing him in his arms.

“Little Bao Bao, you’re Big Daddy’s little teacher now—teach him to wash dishes.”

“Really?” Lin Xiaobao eyed Dad, then Big Daddy, holding out a bit longer. “Hmph…”

“Of course!” Lin Zao cooed. “Hurry, if you don’t teach him, Big Daddy’s stopped dead.”

“Fine then.”

Lin Xiaobao lifted his chin, striking a pose.

“Big Daddy, first stack all the bowls and soak them in water.”

“Roar.”

Every step Lin Xiaobao taught, Fu Cheng followed, and Lin Zao lavished praise.

One moment Little Bao Bao was the little teacher, the next Fu Cheng was the perfect husband.

He had the pair wagging their tails like propellers, ready to helicopter into the sky.

In a rare moment of clarity—

Lin Xiaobao thought, no wonder Dad could be a kindergarten teacher.

Fu Cheng thought, he shouldn’t be the one training dogs—Little Zao should.

But soon enough, they lost that clarity.

“Heh heh, thanks Dad—I’m not that great really.”

“Roar.”

Only Lin Zao stayed cool and clever from start to finish.

Heh heh, sweet-talking was definitely his forte!