Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Though the two appeared to have reconciled, Shengsheng Zhou maintained that she had merely been bought off with money.

If Fusheng Duan wanted hugs or kisses,

those would cost extra.

When Fusheng heard this, the first thought to cross his mind was, “What about something more excessive?”

Of course Shengsheng knew what he meant by “something more excessive.”

At the thought of that thing below Fusheng’s waist, something that quite simply should not have been possible for a human being to grow, Shengsheng’s face went pale for an instant.

“Starting today, let’s have a Platonic relationship,” she declared solemnly.

Fusheng arched a brow. “Who is Plato?”

“A great man who advocated spiritual love, the communion of souls, and freedom from carnal desire.”

They had returned so late that Shengsheng did not have the heart to sleep in Zhiyu Jiang’s room and risk disturbing her. Thus, Fusheng dragged her into his room to make do for the night.

At the moment, Fusheng lay on his side, his head propped in one hand as he watched Shengsheng sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

At her answer, Fusheng sat up as well. “That’s easy enough. Kill this man called Plato, and the idea will cease to exist.”

Shengsheng: “…”

Shocked into silence.

“Sleep.” Shengsheng had no intention of continuing the debate. Even talking about it was making her uncomfortable.

At least, not now.

She would die. She really would.

Fusheng pulled over the still-terrified Shengsheng, who remained trapped in thoughts of *I will definitely die*, and reassured her by the ear, “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you.”

“But you can’t hide forever.” He chuckled softly, lifting a lock of hair from beside her cheek with one finger.

Shengsheng: “…” Was there still time to hurry up and die a little right now?

“Why don’t I tell you a bedtime story?” she said, changing the subject.

“No.” Fusheng released her and turned his back with swift, uncompromising decisiveness, refusing in the sternest possible terms.

This time, Shengsheng turned toward him of her own accord and pressed herself against his back. “Then tell me, when did Weiqing Song learn that I’m Shengsheng Zhou?”

Desperate to avoid Shengsheng’s bedtime story, Fusheng recalled the friendship he and Weiqing had forged through years of life-and-death ordeals, a bond that should not have been easily shaken.

“He was the first to know.”

Then he sold Weiqing out without a moment’s hesitation.

“Ohhh, so that’s how it was.” Shengsheng narrowed her eyes, danger seeping into her voice.

She wrapped her arms around Fusheng’s lean waist, propped herself up, and blew gently behind the root of his ear.

Fusheng’s lower abdomen tightened, his eyes instantly darkening.

“Fusheng Duan, I’m actually still very angry. But I know you like me and weren’t playing with me, so I’ve decided to keep the humiliation of having my feelings laid bare under control.”

Fusheng caught her mischievous hand, turned with the motion, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her forehead. “Mm.”

“I like you. The two of us are equals. So if one day you grow bored or weary of me and decide to leave…”

“I’ll break your legs too.” Shengsheng stared into his eyes, trying to find some sign of distaste.

She seemed to fail.

Because–

Fusheng appeared even more excited after hearing those words.

“Also, I’ve never said it before, but I hate the name Tail. You’re not allowed to call me that anymore,” she said sternly.

“Anything you want. But I don’t want to call you Shengsheng,” the man, delighted by the words *I like you*, agreed.

Too many people called her that. Fusheng wanted something special.

Shengsheng’s eyes shifted as if she were struggling with some momentous decision.

After a moment, she said with a nostalgic, emotional air, “I just remembered that I used to have a childhood nickname.”
Clearly intrigued by this childhood nickname, Fusheng Duan touched his nose to hers and asked tenderly, “What was it?”

Shengsheng Zhou pressed her lips together shyly. Then she lifted her eyes and looked at him with naked longing. “My childhood nickname was–Daddy.”

“To demonstrate the intimacy of our relationship, you must call me Daddy in a loud, passionate voice whenever other people are around!”

Clasping both his hands, Shengsheng spoke with forceful conviction.

Fusheng: “…”

He took a deep breath.

Fusheng’s head began to throb.

He pried her two pig trotters off his hands, seized the blanket, and covered Shengsheng with it, forcing her to turn away. “Sleep.”

With only her eyes peeking out, Shengsheng blinked and said in a muffled voice, “If you don’t like it, I can change it.”

“Or perhaps you think Mommy would make a better childhood nickname?”

“If you don’t go to sleep, tomorrow I’ll melt down every treasure in the ruins and turn it all into an urn for Weiqing Song.” After speaking, he added, “One big enough for pickling vegetables.”

Shengsheng: “…”

Excellent. She felt threatened.

But honestly, she did not think Weiqing would be happy to receive a gift made by “scattering ten thousand pieces of gold, all for the sake of one jar.”

Still, if it could be used for pickling vegetables, perhaps he might feel differently…

Imagining Weiqing’s teeth-grinding expression, Shengsheng drifted contentedly to sleep.

Other people whetted her appetite; Weiqing helped her sleep.

Tonight’s late-night special: *The Correct Way to Use Weiqing Song*

“Achoo!” Weiqing, dreaming in a daze, suddenly sneezed.

Little Siran Ming, asleep on the inside of the bed, rolled over, burrowed into Weiqing’s arms, and nuzzled him. “Sheng… sheng…” he mumbled.

Weiqing opened his eyes and looked at the little brat in his embrace, then extended one finger and pushed him aside.

Moments later, Siran rolled back.

There was simply no stopping the nuisance.

Weiqing sat up, picked up the parrot Shengsheng had lodged with him by its feet, brought it onto the bed, and stuffed it into little Siran’s arms.

The moment he had something in his embrace, Siran stopped fussing.

Only then did Weiqing close his eyes again in satisfaction.

Don’t even think about taking advantage of me.

When Zhiyu Jiang woke in the morning, the first thing she saw was an exceptionally beautiful pearl glowing with a soft, warm light on her dressing table.

She blinked laboriously and climbed out of bed, just in time to meet Shengsheng’s gaze as the latter stood by the window holding the goldfish wind chime.

“Shengsheng, you’re back,” she said indistinctly, rubbing her eyes.

“Mm. Autumn is here, so we can’t leave the window open. I’ll put it away for you.” She gave the wind chime a shake, and a clear, crisp sound rang from within.

It was every bit as pleasing as it had been when Shengsheng first gave it to her.

Zhiyu nodded, pointed at the pearl on her dressing table, and asked, “Is that for me?”

Shengsheng nodded. “Mm. I brought you a gift.”

For now, she would keep quiet about that vast heap of treasure. When Zhiyu married one day, Shengsheng would have to prepare a truly generous dowry for her.

Stroking the pearl that radiated a warm luster, Zhiyu was delighted.

They would be leaving very soon.

Zhiyu chose to follow Shengsheng out of Deep Mountain.

After all, compared with Xiyuan Duanmu, this place could not be considered her hometown at all.

Xiyuan was extremely reluctant to part with her precious eldest daughter, but at such a young age, Zhiyu should not be trapped in a godforsaken place like this. No matter how reluctant she was, she could only let go.

*I’ll be able to go to Fourth Uncle’s shop and pick out storybooks openly now. Oh yeah!!* Xiyuan swallowed almost imperceptibly.

That left only one final matter–

What to do with little Siran Ming.