8

In the dead of the night, all sounds were still.

The person by his side exclaimed in a low voice.

"Fu-fujun!"

Zhu Wuyang's eyes flew open. He anxiously got up and felt his wife's sweaty face. He asked nervously, "What's the matter? Furen? Where does it hurt?"

"Calf—calf cramps."Please read this at onemachineshow.blogspot.com

Linlang sucked in a cold breath.

She immediately grabbed the man's arm and bit down.

Tooth prints were densely packed on the surface. They had not faded for several days.

Zhu Wuyang had long grown accustomed to this little ancestor's biting habits throughout her pregnancy. One hand was for her to bite while the other massaged her calf skillfully.

During the man's massage, Linlang gradually fell back to sleep.

Zhu Wuyang saw that her uncomfortable expression was no longer as bad and left to bring back a pot of warm water. He carefully wiped her face, hands, and legs. At the same time, he exploring her forehead temperature. When his heart finally felt at ease, he poured out the water and returned to bed.

He had only slept for a little while before being startled awake.

"What's the matter, Furen?"

He quickly opened the quilt to check on her.

"Fujun, I am hot. It's uncomfortable," said Linlang.

Zhu Wuyang did not say a word. He took out a fan and gently fanned beside her.

After waiting for her to fall back asleep for a while, the city lord couldn't fan any longer and simply fell forward on the side of the bed. His eyes had just closed when his shoulders were shaken a few times.

"Fujun, don't sleep, I'm hungry. Hurry up cook noodles for me!"

Indeed, this little ancestor was starting to toss him around again.

However, Zhu Wuyang took this to be a matter of course.

"All right, just a moment. I'll bring it over."

The first thing the man did after opening his eyes was to cover her up with the quilt then rush to the kitchen.

It was midnight, and the old servant guarding the kitchen was simmering a small pot of bone broth. Having heard the sound of footsteps, she turned around to look. She asked with a smile, "What would Furen like to eat today?"

"Noodles." He said concisely.

Like an expert, the city lord folded his sleeves, scrubbed the iron cooking pot, took two scoops of water recently drawn from the well, then covered the pot with a lid.

The wood was chopped and the fire replenished. After adding an egg and some seasoning, he poured out a bowl.

Complete success.

Gu-gu-gu-

What was that?

A chicken?

The city lord frowned as he swept his eyes across the kitchen.

Last month, Linlang was accidentally pecked by a chicken and the back of her hand was bruised purple. Feeling pained by the sight, the man immediately ran to the kitchen and slaughtered what could be slaughtered to vent his anger.

Although after that, he earned the title of 'Chicken Slaying Maniac'...

Gu-gu-gu-

It's still crowing?

This chicken was a bit arrogant. Does it think he doesn't know a hundred ways to kill it miserably?

He was not called Chicken Slaying Maniac for show.

The man squinted his eyes dangerously, and just as he was about to give it a nice color to see—

"City lord, your belly is rumbling1!" The old servant said candidly.

"..."

He touched his deflated belly.

So hungry.

Linlang's morning sickness was especially severe today. He was so busy coaxing this little ancestor that had no time to think about eating.

"Furen, the noodles are here. Eat them while they're hot."

He handed her a pair of washed and dried chopsticks.

"Egg noodles again."

Linlang looked disgusted.

Zhu Wuyang: "..."Please read this at onemachineshow.blogspot.com

Can you blame him for this?

This little ancestor insisted that his unborn child had to taste his father's craftsmanship. Perhaps this would make the child happy enough to stop tormenting her.

The lord of the city foolishly believed in this dishonesty and worked hard every day to practice his cooking, but unfortunately, he was not born with the talent. After more than eight months, he was still a rookie and could only make the simplest egg noodles.

Linlang ate a few mouthfuls.

The man's eyes stared fervently at her...noodles.

"Hungry?" Linlang raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not hungry, you can eat it." The city lord immediately recovered his gaze and calmly gestured for her to carry on.

Gu-gu-gu-

The stomach rumbled again.

"..."

"Nevermind. I will gift you this bowl of noodles," Linlang held back a smile and pushed it towards him.

He was stunned and refused firmly.

"Even if I starve to death, I will not fight over food with my child."

Linlang glanced at him. "How can you say this? You have to live to be a hundred and watch our child be born. Don't talk about death all day. It's very ominous."

The city lord was quick to slap himself. "Right, right. What furen says is right. Weifu misspoke."

"Fine then, eat quickly. Your son says he's no longer hungry for fear of starving his father." Linlang touched the stubble on his chin and asked distressedly, "Have these recent days been that tiring?"

As long as she provided a few words of comfort, everything was worth it.

Zhu Wuyang shook his head, "I'm not tired."

His wife was going to give birth to his child. She could neither eat properly nor sleep comfortably. She went through so much suffering, how could he have the nerve to say he was tired?

Linlang urged him to eat the noodles.

Before he could finish the bowl, his wife suddenly grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach.

The city lord looked at her dubiously.

Suddenly, his palm felt a jolt.

Zhu Wuyang was a little frightened.

"It, it—it... moved?"

What followed was endless panic.

"Furen, are you all right? Does it hurt? Do you want me to take you to the physician now?" The crumbling man asked. He was prepared to pick her up and rush out.

Linlang knocked on his forehead and answered helplessly, "Fool, the child is saying hello to you."

Saying hello?

It took him some time to digest this message.

The city lord carefully placed his palm back.

He felt the jolt again.

"Furen, the child is saying hello to me!"

His eyes expressed wonder and joy.

Zhu Wuyang straightforwardly bent down and pressed his face against her stomach. He coughed lightly, thinking about what greeting would be proper. But because he was too nervous, it turned into a serious self-introduction: "Child, I am your father, Zhu Wuyang. Courtesy name, Yongzhi. Age, twenty-seven years old..."

The other side did not respond.

The city lord looked at his wife in a fluster.

"Why, why doesn't it? Does it not like me?

"But-but why does it not like me? I fed it noodles every day!"

"How old are you to be pouting so much that an oil bottle could be hung on your lip?" Linlang glanced at him sideways.

The man didn't hear a word she said. He felt like he had been plunged into an abyss. Grabbing his hair, muttered to himself.

"I'm finished. I must be disliked..."

Linlang couldn't do anything else but to let him feel it again.

The man was very stubborn and maintained the position. It was only after he began to resemble a statue that he felt a distinct jolt against his face.

"Furen, it kicked me! It kicked me in the face! Oh my god, it's so powerful!"

The city lord's entire face was flushed.

Was it a glorious thing to be kicked?

Linlang had to sit there and watch him laugh foolishly. She urged him to finish eating.

He reluctantly moved away from her belly and dug out the noodles.

As Zhu Wuyang was eating, he began to feel terrible again.

On one side was his younger sister while the other side was his wife and child.

His wife, who was oblivious to his intentions, was hooking back wet hairs behind his ear. "Why aren't you eating? Are you no longer hungry? Are you unaccustomed to the light flavor?"

"No, I just choked."Please read this at onemachineshow.blogspot.com

He avoided her without thinking and gulped the rest of the food as if it was delicious.

Fortunately, she did not see his tears.

The noodles taste so bitter.

The bitterness reached all the way to his heart.

He had to say 'it was delicious' with a smile.

Linlang said he had no shame. How could he praise himself like that? Wait until the child arrives, their mother-child duo will be sure to mock him.

By the way, they gave the child the nickname, Fu'er.

So that the chubby little brat may be blessed.

Zhu Wuyang imagined that scene. The family of three was having a meal together.

The three of them were sitting and eating together. The little stout boy was slurping a long noodle with his little red mouth. Those little pairs of eyes looked at him plaintively. Father, why are the noodles so long? Fu'er is almost out of breath!

The child's mother is secretly laughing as she watches father and son.

She looks him in the eye and says, Who told your father to be so incapable of making noodles?

Zhu Wuyang covered his eyes and laughed hard, but tears flowed freely from the corners of his mouth.

If Fu'er is born, he will certainly pick up the little babe and carefully kiss the soft head as well as the eyes that cannot yet open.

When he's a little older, he would hoist him up around his neck and accompany him to see his first New Year's fireworks on a crowded street.

He would teach him how to dress and eat.

He would teach him how to read and write.

He would teach him survival skills.

He would teach him everything he had learned.

But Fu'er, Father is afraid that he will not be able to fulfill his promise.

I cannnot teach you to ride a horse.

I cannot grow older alongside you.

I cannot see you marry a wife and have children.

You may never remember your father's appearance.

You may be bullied by other children and can only run home crying to your mother, asking, am I an undesirable child?

No, you are not an undesirable child.

Father's love for you has never been less than that of others by even a little bit.

It's just that Father has to leave first. I cannot continue to guard you or your mother.

So, Fu'er, you have to be strong, like a dependable man. Replace your father and protect your mother, do you understand?

Father is a despicable man and tricked your mother into this marriage. But Father can no longer and dares to no longer trick her a second time. She has suffered through so much. This father is the one to blame. You must be filial to her, be sure never to make her angry.

If by the time you read this letter a lifetime has since passed and your mother did not remarry, if possible, please bury your father and mother together to rest together for eternity.

If she has remarried, then cremate your father's remains and scatter the ashes over the river. Scatter everything. Maybe this way, your father will not miss your mother too much. It would be better for her to forget me and live a good life.

If your mother cries bitterly, you should tell her that Father never loved her so she may hate me. Perhaps this will make her feel better.

In truth, your mother is your father's only true love in this life.

Father has never regretted ever meeting her. Even if I searched beyond the sky above or the Yellow River below, never will I change my mind.

Also, I'm sorry.

I am not a qualified father.

Please forgive me.

My dear son.

Your Father, Zhu Wuyang.

—Final Testament—