OFTLHFRO C43

Chapter 43: That’s Your Daddy!

At night, after washing up, Luo Mingchen stretched and flopped onto the bed, perfectly comfortable.

When Huo Yan came in, Luo said, “Did you check the backyard? The chickens and ducks we’re raising are huge. Must’ve fed them too much corn from the space. Tomorrow we should buy a sack of regular feed for them. Back where I was, a mutant chicken could have three pairs of wings and four claws. If these get pushed into a gene-mutation and someone sees it, we’ll be burned as monsters.”

It wasn’t cowardice—wrongful accusations were common in ancient times, especially in superstitious, remote villages.

Huo Yan handed him a dry cloth and leaned his head forward.

Annoyed, Luo Mingchen tugged a lock of his long hair. “Really treating yourself like some lord, huh?”

Even so, he resigned himself to towel-drying Huo Yan’s hair—wondering how the man’s hair stayed this soft.

Huo Yan didn’t mind the tug. “I can dry yours too.”

“I’ve got hands and feet. I don’t need help.”

Huo Yan caught his wrist and looked up. “I’m not ‘someone else.’”

The earnest tone threw Luo a little. He couldn’t dodge with a joke, so he said, “Of course I know. I’m just used to doing things myself. Let me adjust, alright?”

Huo Yan released him. “Okay.”

As Luo worked the towel, Huo Yan said, “They won’t grow like that.”

“What?”

“The chickens and ducks won’t sprout random parts—at most they’ll grow faster and bigger than normal.”

“How are you so sure?”

“When I fixed the coop, I checked. If extra limbs were going to develop, there’d be signs first—bone structure, budding joints. There were none. If you’re worried about overgrowth, switch them to regular corn.”

Luo was a little surprised by the care Huo Yan had taken. He’d proposed getting poultry at the start, then got tied up with tofu work—Huo Yan and the boys had handled feeding, cleaning the yard, even tending the ox.

“Then keep feeding like this. The sooner they grow, the sooner we eat.”

He set the towel aside. “Done—no more drips.”

“Mm.”

Huo Yan met his eyes. “So—have you decided what to call me?”

Luo had totally forgotten. “…Can we skip that?”

Huo Yan let out a quiet, amused “heh,” clearly refusing.

Even though he called Luo his spouse when speaking to others, the term felt strange to Luo’s ears—“husband,” “lord,” any formal address stuck in his throat, even with intimacy looming.

They locked eyes. Seeing Luo tangled up, Huo Yan hooked an arm around him, narrowed his eyes, and murmured, “Want me to teach you?”

Up close, that face was tempting. “Alright.”

Huo Yan’s light smile grew more enticing.

When he didn’t move, Luo took the initiative.

Huo’s permissive stillness emboldened him. Unrejected closeness was addicting.

Not fond of gentle kissing, Huo cupped Luo’s nape and took control.

He couldn’t devour him whole, but he had other ways—coaxing several breathy calls of “gege” and “husband” from him.

With his delicate neck kissed and his eyes reddening, Luo finally snapped when Huo asked, once more, “What are you to me?” He kicked him. “To hell with you! I’m your dad!”

Huo only bit his earlobe lightly, even more delighted.

Luo: “…”

This was probably doomed.

Morning came, and little Huo Xinyue woke Luo by patting his cheek with soft palms. He opened his eyes to her smile and the faint light struggling through the window.

“Daddy.”

He jolted awake. “Yueyue! What time is it?”

She scratched her little head, unable to answer.

Sighing, Luo set her aside and got up to dress and fix his hair. He’d forgotten she was too young to tell time.

Carrying her out, he glanced at the piles of cabbages, white radishes, and chilies in the main room. A scorched smell drifted from the kitchen.

There, Huo Yan tended the fire while Huo Yuhui fried flatbreads. A few charcoal-black pieces sat in a bowl—that was the source of the smell.

Having tasted Huo Yan’s attempts at flatbread before, Huo Xiang beamed as Luo entered. “Little Daddy! You finally woke up!”

Luo cast Huo Yan a pained look. The man’s stamina was inhuman. Was internal energy in this world really so ridiculous?

Huo Yan met the look without guilt.

Luo had planned to cook himself, but Yuhui’s bread was decent. Pleased, he went to wash up for breakfast.

The porridge was plain rice—Huo Yan had made it, with too much water, likely trying not to turn it into rice.

Luo couldn’t remember the last time hot food waited the moment he got up. It felt new—and stirred emotions hard to name.

On the road to town, Luo sat beside Huo Yan, smiling at his profile.

Huo didn’t mind the staring; he even hooked a finger around Luo’s when he had a moment.

The three kids in back sensed something odd but couldn’t say what—sticky? Mushy?

For Huo Xiang, mushy beat fighting any day.

Soon after the tofu shop opened, a few customers arrived together to buy. In such a tucked-away corner, scattered tofu rarely sold in big volume, so the wave passed and quiet returned.

Which was fine—Luo sat teaching Yueyue characters, complete with pictures and words.

At home, he could have used a ready-made children’s primer, saving effort. Here, he sketched and wrote. If he grew tired, Huo Yan took over; trading shifts, they’d already taught the little one several phrases. She no longer tripped over every word—though excitement still turned her into a babbling stream.

Like when she suddenly saw Master Ming—she squealed, “Daddy! Jin-zi come!”

Luo hadn’t caught it at first; turning and seeing Master Ming, he realized she meant—gold had arrived.

Footnotes:

• “I’m your dad!”: A comedic, domineering retort in Chinese banter; not literal, used to flip power dynamics during teasing.