Chapter 49: The Stolen Moment
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Xu You refused to play the moral pawn. He thought his studies were going surprisingly well—so please, don’t treat me like a prop in your love drama. He opened the door to grab his takeout and called back over his shoulder to Shi Wenze, “By the way, didn’t Mei Mei Mei Food Stall get a new owner recently? I left your name yesterday, but not only did they not send the soda, they ignored my ‘no scallions’ note and piled on a solid layer of green.”
Shi Wenze remembered their last matchmaking fiasco. “From now on, you’d better stick with your own name—because I officially declined to inherit that stall and the seven downtown shops. The old boss’s wife has me blocked everywhere.”
Xu You blinked. “…” So here I was thinking we were both a couple of good‑for‑nothings on Maple Lane, doomed to failed blind dates—and you go and quietly betray the revolution by becoming a hot commodity all on your own. Is this what the handsome man’s world looks like?
Half an hour later, Lin Su lazily padded downstairs, phone pressed far from his ear yet somehow still loud enough. On the line, Si Longqiu was positively jubilant. I’ve scored a double kill—both my son and daughter running white‑dragon blood! she crowed. Who else can top that? My husband is utterly defeated!
“I’m taking Xiaolu and me to the hospital right now,” she said. Lin Su opened his mouth to protest—I really don’t need this whole entourage—but the call had already ended.
Si Longqiu reminded her daughter to keep the camera rolling the entire time, “You must record every detail for Daddy! This is a family milestone!”
Lin Lu was excited, sure, but thought her mom was going way overboard. It’s just a checkup, then reporting to the Monster Committee. Do I really need these sky‑high heels?
Twenty minutes later, Lin Lu leaned against the front door, phone pressed to her ear. “We haven’t reached the hospital yet… Yes, Mom, she’s still applying makeup… I’ve asked three times, but Mom forwarded me a huge list called ‘How to Care for Your Newly Hatched Dragon.’ There’s even diapers on it—I think my brother’s past that stage.”
Her father seized the moment. “Well, you can save them for your own kids someday.”
Mid‑life crisis fatherhood, am I right? Lin Lu snapped, “Bye, Dad!”
Quèshān Hospital was its usual hive of monsters coming and going. Lin Su took the “monster-only” entrance for the first time and found it oddly exhilarating.
The doctor on reception was a plump, grandfatherly Doctor Kang, whose gentle smile immediately eased Lin Su’s anxiety. Shi Wenze had planned to follow him all the way into the exam wing—but a stern nurse barred him at the door, so he hovered outside instead.
Time dripped by. On the bench sat a few other anxious men—different worry, though. Their wives were about to give birth. Just then, two white dragons swooped down from above—a large one and a small one. Lin Lu chased after them, phone in claw, panting, “Can you slow down? This is basically gender discrimination if you’re going to fly faster for my brother!”
The dragons spiraled down; the crowd of monsters parted. Shi Wenze stood and called, “Auntie, Xiaolu!”
“Xiaolu, how is he?” Si Longqiu hurried forward.
“He sprouted horns overnight. He’s comfortable—just a slight fever, perfectly normal.” Shi Wenze reported.
“Describe it in detail. What was he doing when it happened?”
Shi Wenze paused. Lin Lu raised her phone higher (Mom said every detail must be captured—a future BGM’d home‑movie highlight). The scene alone mortified her brother.
“We were stargazing,” Shi Wenze said simply. Si Longqiu and Lin Lu exchanged nods—fits the brooding artist profile to a T.
Lin Su remained in the exam wing until two in the afternoon, released only when his stomach growled louder than any dragon roar. He emerged to find Shi Wenze waiting at the door, flanked by two stately white dragons in a deliberately composed tableau. Lin Su cursed his artistic regret—he should’ve stayed until sunset, when the sky blazed gold and crimson. A dragon‑elf‑dragon trio against a fiery sky would’ve been epic. But he was starving.
His newly awakened dragon blood wasn’t yet under his control. Though Si Longqiu begged, “Let’s try flying,” Lin Su flat‑out refused. Becoming a spectacle for relatives is no fun. He wanted his motorcycle.
The nurse handed Si Longqiu his exam report: every metric normal. A healthy dragon… or rather, a dragon youth. Shi Wenze tried to peek but was yanked back by Lin Su, who grinned, “Where to for lunch?”
“Auntie’s picked the restaurant.” Shi Wenze said, then added, “Oh—Du Siyue called you a moment ago.”
Du Siyue’s calls were never riveting. Predictably, he blurted, “I heard you shifted?”
Lin Su groaned. How was he always in the loop?
“Your mom told mine,” Du Siyue admitted cheerfully. Lin Su didn’t want to think how many monster‑aunts already knew. Du Siyue continued, “When I get back, let’s all dine together.”
“Are you still in Hùchéng?” Lin Su took his helmet from Shi Wenze.
“Wrapping up business, but rest assured I’ll fix whatever’s needed before your gallery opens.” Du Siyue was practically vibrating. “I’m putting together a special grand‑opening gift package.”
Grand‑opening gift package. Lin Su imagined a gaudy red silk drape, ribbon cutting, and someone on the second floor tossing out cash showers. “Just convert it to cash.”
Du Siyue recoiled, “No way! I’ve really gone all out—I want to outshine everyone.”
After hanging up, Lin Su told Shi Wenze, “When the gallery opens, keep an eye on Du Siyue. No money‑tossing from balconies.”
Shi Wenze nodded, “…Got it.” My husband’s rich but… peculiar friends.
After lunch, Si Longqiu and Lin Lu escorted Lin Su home—sensible, since newly awakened dragons needed rest and lessons. Shi Wenze, not yet an official family member, returned to the Monster Committee to work overtime, saving up to renovate the den and assume the sweet responsibilities of a mature dragon keeper. Three weeks flew by.
Lin Su could now shift shapes with ease. Because he’d awakened later than most, his dragon form was a bit smaller than Lin Lu’s—a lithe body, paler scales, still-soft horns that the doctors said might not harden for years. At this stage, weekly checkups were mandatory.
In the consultation room, Doctor Kang tapped Lin Su’s forehead with a cotton swab, frowning. “Why is there some redness and swelling here?”
Shi Wenze swallowed. Lin Su stared impassively. “Ran into a wall,” he said. Doctor Kang prescribed an ointment. That night, Shi Wenze grimaced. “This medicine is bitter.”
Lin Su’s eyes turned red from all the biting. Outside, the autumn rain showed no signs of stopping. The weather in Chengdu was also cooling with each passing downpour.
Because the metro construction at the end of Egret Street had dragged on endlessly, leaving the area a bit messy and chaotic, the opening of Lin Su’s gallery was delayed longer than expected. But he didn’t mind. The extra time gave him space to focus on painting—or to brainstorm ideas for decorating his new home.
He had bought himself a small collection of sleep caps, made from fabric even softer than cashmere. Shi Wenze immediately decided they were invented for the sole purpose of stopping him from nibbling, and complained pitifully, “Can you not wear them?”
Lin Su insisted. He genuinely had no way to explain to the doctor again why he kept walking into walls.
“You’ve got horns too,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but mine are hard,” Shi Wenze said smugly. Lin Su decided to shut that conversation down immediately. He yanked the blanket over his head. “Sleep. We’ve got a renovation meeting tomorrow.”
Shi Wenze pressed up against him, wrapping his arms around Lin Su. Even with the sleep cap and blanket in the way, he still managed to sneak in a kiss.
Lin Su: Mentally exhausted. Emotionally drained. What even is this kink?
The renovation company had scheduled them for a 2 p.m. meeting. But at 1:30 the next day, Shi Wenze got a call from the Monster Affairs Committee—emergency overtime.
Lin Su asked, “Another criminal?”
“It’s Cang Daming,” Shi Wenze said. “He filed a police report.”
Lin Su blinked. “Filed what? Wasn’t he in the hospital in Russia? He’s back?”
“Landed this morning,” Shi Wenze said. “It sounds… complicated.”
Cang Daming had been invited to Russia for a guest lecture series, originally scheduled to stay for three months. But when the university there suddenly rearranged their academic calendar, the exchange was cut short and pushed to resume next spring. The school booked flights for everyone, but Cang wanted to wander the colorful street markets for a few more days. He rebooked his return on his own—and then got mauled by a bear on the way back to his hotel and ended up in the hospital. Lin Su guessed, “So the bear… was part of a conspiracy?”
“Seems like it.” Shi Wenze was already pulling on his coat. “When he got back to Chengdu today, he couldn’t reach his assistant at all. Something felt off, so he went to the studio to check—turns out someone broke into the underground vault. The loss is huge, and all the security footage was destroyed.”
Lin Su had never been a big fan of Cang Daming’s artwork, but thanks to that trip to Lake Baikal, he’d warmed up to the guy. Now, hearing about this streak of horrible luck, he couldn’t help wanting to go too. “Want me to come? I can help estimate the value of what was stolen.”
“Come on,” Shi Wenze said. “And try to comfort him. Apparently, he’s already on the verge of collapse. He won’t listen to anyone.”
Even a sweet, sincere airhead that Russian intellectuals could bring themselves to love—being forced to face such naked betrayal and cruelty all at once? That was a bit much.
By the time they arrived at the Monster Affairs Committee, Cang Daming was slumped in a wheelchair, gazing bleakly and tragically into the distance like a war hero who’d lost everything.
Shi Wenze asked, “His leg’s not healed yet?”
A colleague replied, “It is. He walked in here himself. But halfway through giving his statement, he started swaying like he was gonna faint, so we found him a wheelchair. We still haven’t finished recording. Every time he brings up some painting—‘the Brisbane something or other’—he starts sobbing like crazy. Is it worth a lot?”
“Almost eight figures,” Lin Su said calmly. The colleague blinked. Okay, fair enough. In that case, we’re happy to work overtime to give him a moment.
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