Chapter 131 – The Son-in-Law Dungeon (Part 2)

The meal lasted until past nine o’clock, and the old lady was overjoyed, grinning from ear to ear the whole time. From start to finish, she simply felt there was one more person at the table—one moment calling Fang Zheng her “dear grandson,” the next cuddling Birdy affectionately. Apart from young Li Hang, the innocent child of the eldest aunt, who had naively pointed something out earlier, no one else had dared to speak up. And after Li Hang got his thighs pinched under the table by his mom, he obediently ate his meal with teary eyes.

As the gathering dispersed, Mother Fang, eldest aunt, and second aunt went to the kitchen to clean up, leaving only the old lady in her rocking chair, Father Fang, the eldest uncle, second uncle, Fang Zheng, and Birdy in the living room. Fang Zheng’s family’s sectional sofa was L-shaped, so the five of them naturally split into two groups—the Fang relatives on the long side, while the unfilial son and his boyfriend sat on the short side. The space on the short side was tight, making it a challenge to fit two grown men, especially since the Commander hadn’t yet reached his ideal physique. As a result, he and Birdy were sitting very close. Both groups pretended to watch the Spring Festival Gala, but Father Fang’s peripheral vision had already mentally shredded the adulterous couple into a sieve. Whether sensing the overwhelming hostility or not, the Deputy Commander, still staring at the TV, very naturally reached out and wrapped an arm around the Commander’s waist…

“GET YOUR FUCKING HAND OFF HIM!!!!!!!!!”

The eldest and second uncles felt a sudden gust of wind, as if a rocket had just shot past their faces. Before they could even register the burning sensation on their skin, the shrapnel had already exploded across the sky.

Fang Zheng was also stunned by the explosion. Just as he looked up to ask what the hell was wrong now, he saw his father charging at them, eyes bulging with fury.

By then, Birdy had already discreetly retracted his arm. He looked up at Father Fang alongside Fang Zheng, his face full of innocent confusion.

Fang Liangang’s raised arm hung in the air, unable to swing. A mouthful of rage choked in his chest—unable to be spat out, unable to be swallowed. Finally, over the sound of firecrackers outside, he let out a furious roar, turned around, and stormed off to the kitchen to help.

The old lady, who had been swaying in her rocking chair the whole time, glanced at her son’s retreating back and sighed, shaking her head. “He hasn’t stopped making a scene all night. What the hell is he up to, this troublemaker…”

The eldest and second uncles exchanged glances before hurriedly looking away—one lowering his head to crack sunflower seeds, the other picking up the nutcracker to crack walnuts.

Compared to their brother-in-law, their lives were like fairy-tale princesses—blissful and peaceful. TAT

Fang Zheng, belatedly realizing something had happened, poked Meng Chudong and whispered, “What the hell did you do just now?”

Meng Chudong blinked innocently, looking completely confused.

Fang Zheng frowned, scrutinizing him for a long moment but finding no trace of deception. Reluctantly giving up, he accidentally locked eyes with the two uncles, who were also staring at them curiously. The six eyes intertwined in the air above the living room, forming a giant “WTF” moment. Finally, Fang Zheng broke the awkward silence with a stiff smile—

“Hey.”

The two uncles raised their hands in unison, waving awkwardly. “Hey.”

And that was it.

The waters of the Fang family ran too deep. As foreign nationals with long-term visas, the two uncles were determined to stick to their roles, forever cruising on the track of “language barrier but friendly greetings.”

After cleaning up the dishes, Fang Zheng’s parents, along with the eldest and second aunts, started making dumplings. They spent nearly two hours in the kitchen, giving Fang Zheng and Meng Chudong a rare moment of peace. The only interruption came when seven-year-old Li Hang, exhausted from running wild around the house, stopped in front of them and asked very seriously, “Big Brother Zheng, are you two gay?”

The now-slimmer Big Brother Zheng didn’t answer, because the questioner was immediately dragged away by his dad for some worldview recalibration.

Parents of the post-00s generation were a force to be reckoned with. Watching the whole scene unfold, the second uncle felt the weight of the world—after doing the math, he realized he was likely part of the post-10s crowd.

When the clock struck midnight, Fang Liangang finally came out of the kitchen, carrying a huge pot of freshly boiled dumplings, the steam softening his expression.

During the New Year’s greetings, the old lady handed out red envelopes one by one. Meng Chudong was last in line, but by the time she reached him, her hands were empty. The old lady anxiously wiped her tears, muttering over and over, “How could this happen? I prepared one for everyone!” No matter how the family tried to console her, she wouldn’t calm down. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Meng Chudong suddenly stepped forward, hugged the old lady, and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. The sound was like a fairy’s magic wand—the old lady instantly forgot her earlier distress and hugged her “dear grandson” with a beaming smile.

The Fang family was stunned.

Fang Zheng was also stunned.

This wasn’t the Birdy he usually knew. His Birdy was sarcastic, deadpan, and even his rare moments of tenderness were rough compared to this. Maybe the magic had touched Birdy first, Fang Zheng thought, and then Birdy had used that magic to conquer his grandmother.

But who had cast the spell on Birdy?

Fang Zheng’s family lived in a resettlement housing complex. Based on the number of family members, they were allotted two apartments—301 and 401, both two-bedroom, one-living-room units. Later, Fang Liangang connected the two floors and even built a traditional heated brick bed (kang) in the old lady’s room according to her preferences.

After eating dumplings, the New Year’s Eve festivities were nearly over. Since the family would gather again for breakfast on New Year’s Day, no one left. The eldest aunt’s family of three and the old lady went upstairs, while the youngest aunt’s family of two stayed downstairs with Fang Zheng’s parents. As the extra two, Fang Zheng and Birdy had to make do with the living room floor as their bed, laying out two quilts about half a meter apart—somewhat Japanese-style.

The lights went out, and the entire Fang residence fell silent.

Moonlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows like liquid silver. Fang Zheng lay on the floor, the underfloor heating making the quilt beneath him warm. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he turned to say something to Birdy—only to find himself staring into a pair of faintly smiling eyes.

“What’re you thinking about?” Fang Zheng asked curiously.

The corner of the other’s mouth, injured in the family brawl earlier, had scabbed over with a tiny red mark. Under the moonlight, it looked almost cute. Meng Chudong couldn’t help but smile. “Your family’s pretty interesting.”

Fang Zheng: “That doesn’t sound like a compliment at all.”

With the long night ahead, Fang Zheng took the opportunity to educate Birdy about his family. For example, both uncles had lost their parents early, which was why they spent New Year’s with the Fangs. Or how the second aunt’s first husband had been the worst kind of scum—not only did he have an affair, but he even brought his mistress and their child to negotiate the divorce, blaming the second aunt for not getting pregnant all these years. In truth, the second aunt had secretly gone for a checkup long ago and knew she wasn’t the problem. But because her husband had always assumed she was infertile, she played along to spare his feelings—never expecting it would lead to this outcome. That was when the warrior blood in Fang’s second aunt awakened. An amicable divorce? Not a chance. She took it to court and made sure the bastard walked away with nothing. As for her current husband—unassuming as he might seem—he was a hidden gem. Starting from selling underwear in a wholesale market, he now owned multiple shops spanning jewelry, dining, flowers, and even cross-stitch. While he might not make Forbes, his assets totaled close to ten million. And it was his first marriage. Why he took a liking to Fang Zheng’s second aunt remained a mystery.

Meng Chudong listened from start to finish without interrupting. Not because he didn’t want to, but because there was simply no opening. The Commander’s family history was like a serialized storytelling performance—full of twists and turns, tear-jerking moments, humor, and ultimately, a happy ending. Did listeners interrupt a storytelling performance? Absolutely not.

After finishing the family gossip, the Commander sighed emotionally. “I didn’t expect things to go better than I thought. I’m relieved.”

The Deputy Commander cut straight to the point: “That’s because your overall combat power has improved, making the dungeon feel easier.”

The flattered Commander was delighted. “You really think I’ve gotten stronger since we first met?”

“Mn.”

“Give me details! Now!”

“Your face’s defense stat.”

“……”

“……”

“Honestly, I regretted asking the moment the words left my mouth.”

“I love you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it.”

“Doesn’t feel like it at all!”

As they rambled on about nonsense, they gradually grew drowsy. Fang Zheng rolled over, changing positions, and suddenly noticed the strip of floor between them. It dawned on him how shabby his family’s hospitality had been for Birdy’s first visit.

“Bet you didn’t expect this,” Fang Zheng said, lying on his side and giving Meng Chudong an awkward smile. “My family’s style is making guests sleep on the living room floor.”

Birdy shook his head. “I expected it.”

Fang Zheng thought about it and understood. “Right, not kicking us out and even leaving us a spot to sleep is already generous.”

The Deputy Commander scooted closer, reaching out to ruffle his hair with a smirk. “I think they were mainly afraid we’d be too loud behind closed doors.”

Fang Zheng blinked, confused. “Why would we be loud behind closed doors? Talking here is way noisier.”

Birdy stared at him for a few seconds before rolling over to sleep.

About ten minutes later, Fang Zheng finally caught on—

“Cuckoo cuckoo~” He slipped his hand under Birdy’s blanket, lightly scratching his back.

Birdy didn’t move. Fang Zheng thought he was asleep and was about to withdraw his hand when a single word drifted over from the other side: “Speak.”

Fang Zheng swallowed. “Were you flirting with me just now?”

“Mn.”

“Then let’s keep going, okay?”

“Expired.”

“That’s not fair…”

“Everyone’s responsible for their own IQ.”

“But I’m yours—shouldn’t you take responsibility for me?”

“……”

“If you flirt without considering your partner’s IQ, that’s on you.”

“……”

“Forget it, I’m done talking to you~~”

Meng Chudong assumed “done talking” meant they were calling it a night and going to sleep. But he overlooked the punctuation—specifically, the tilde (~). In the blink of an eye, the person next to him rode the wave of that tilde straight into his blanket, deftly diving under and, in a few swift movements, taking him into his mouth.

What had already been half-hard from the “I’m yours” remark was now standing at full attention.

But Meng Chudong still tried to restrain himself, pulling Fang Zheng up by the shoulders until his head appeared from under the blanket. In an unsteady voice, he enunciated each word: “We’re in your family’s living room.”

Fang Zheng knew that. But this was a once-in-a-century moment of Birdy flirting! How could he not reciprocate? How could he not pounce?! Tonight’s Birdy was as soft and gentle as dough—he wanted to gobble him up whole! >_<

Besides…

Fang Zheng reached down and gave Little Birdy a firm squeeze. “Since it’s already like this~ I’ve gotta take responsibility~”

“Don’t.” The word was practically gritted out.

“I’ll just use my mouth~ No full service~”

“Don’t.”

“I’ll swallow~ Won’t make a mess~”

“Don’t.”

“Birdy~~~~~~~~”

“Fuck off.”

Meng Chudong felt like a revolutionary soldier in a prison camp, standing steadfast against temptation. =_=

“Husband.”

“……”

To hell with revolutionary steadfastness!

Meng Chudong yanked the blanket over both of them and impatiently pushed Fang Zheng back down.

Fang Zheng grinned, gladly sliding down and taking him in.

Though nicknamed “Little Birdy,” Meng Chudong’s equipment was anything but little. At first, Fang Zheng hadn’t been very skilled, barely managing half. With practice, he’d improved, but taking it all in was still a challenge.

The sheer thrill of doing this to someone else’s son in their own home was overwhelming. Even with Meng Chudong’s self-control, he nearly lost it the moment he was enveloped in warmth. He quickly reached down and pressed Fang Zheng’s head to stop him, taking a moment to steady himself before loosening his grip. Fang Zheng obediently followed instructions—pausing when told, resuming when allowed—working diligently.

Despite his best efforts to hold back, Meng Chudong finished faster than usual. At the last second, he instinctively tried to push Fang Zheng away, but the latter stubbornly held on, swallowing every drop. In the darkness under the blanket, nothing was visible, but the sound of Fang Zheng swallowing was crystal clear. The mental stimulation far outweighed the physical, and Meng Chudong felt another wave of heat gathering in his lower abdomen. He quickly pulled Fang Zheng up.

Dazed, Fang Zheng emerged with glazed eyes, traces of white still clinging to the corner of his mouth. In the moonlight, the sight was indistinct yet unbearably erotic.

If someone had told him six months ago that this chubby guy who’d accidentally sent him a photo would one day become an irresistible temptation, Meng Chudong would’ve recommended they get their head examined. Even when he’d started falling for Fang Zheng, it had been because of his personality, his character, even his occasional antics and shamelessness—never his appearance. He was just an ordinary guy, not a looks-obsessed person or a chubby chaser.

But now? Though Fang Zheng had slimmed down significantly, his body still orbited the concept of “roundness”—his face had gone from big-round to small-round, his frame from large-round to medium-round, his eyes from tiny-round to just-round. And yet, Meng Chudong found him absolutely captivating. Or rather, Fang Zheng had him completely ensnared. At first, he’d been fine with any part of Fang Zheng. Then, every part became endearing. Now, every part was irresistible.

When he’d been PKed to level zero, he could’ve quit Huaxia.

When he’d been ambushed, he could’ve blacklisted the attackers.

When he’d been dragged into the Ghost Server Legion, he could’ve quit.

When Xuanyuan had invited him to transfer servers, he could’ve changed his name and started anew.

And then there was Mad Lad, and those two so-called “close friends” who had long since vanished…

So many forks in the road, so many potential turning points. At any one of them, he and Fang Zheng might never have ended up here.

But they still ended up together.

This person was destined to be his. He hadn’t escaped in the past, and Meng Chudong wouldn’t let him go in the future.

Gently wiping the corner of Fang Zheng’s mouth, Meng Chudong flipped him onto his back and slowly leaned down, kissing his eyelids, then the tip of his nose, his lips, trailing lower…

Fang Zheng had been hard ever since servicing Meng Chudong earlier. Now that it was his turn to be pleasured, he curled his toes in bliss.

He bit his lip, afraid of making too much noise, but moans still slipped out. He hurriedly pulled the blanket up, intending to cover them both like Birdy had earlier—but just as he grabbed the edge, the living room lights suddenly blazed on, flooding the room with brightness!

“Your dad and I thought it over and decided we should really talk to you properly—”

Liu Shuxian’s opening line came to an abrupt halt.

Fang Zheng lay on his back. Even after a long moment, his eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light—but that didn’t matter. Birdy was still burrowed under his blanket—that didn’t matter either. His little brother had instantly wilted, possibly never to rise again—none of that mattered.

He was exhausted. All he wanted was to hear the truth—was he really this family’s biological son? Or had he been foisted on them on some snowy day at the train station with a “Hold him while I go to the bathroom” scam…?