Fusheng immediately brought the plate of meatballs over and placed it in front of himself. Having not used chopsticks in so long, his hands seemed to be fighting with the utensils; they refused to cooperate, and he couldn't manage to pick up a single meatball. Considering he had to use his own hands to pick up such small things, he felt like smashing the plate to pieces.
Fusheng gripped the chopsticks, growing increasingly impatient. Just as he lifted a meatball from the tray, he used too much force, and it went flying, landing on the floor with a thud and rolling away. Instead of trying for another, Fusheng lunged after it, sprawled onto the floor, and was just about to shove the dirty meatball into his mouth.
Fortunately, Alvano was by his side and moved with lightning speed, swatting the dirty meatball away from Fusheng's lips. Fusheng, furious, bared his teeth at Alvano and turned to reach for the floor-bound snack again. Alvano had no choice but to grab a fresh meatball from the tray and shove it directly into Fusheng’s mouth, then kicked the dirty one far away to ensure Fusheng couldn’t retrieve it for a while.
Alvano felt a sense of wordless exasperation. Fusheng was truly starving—he would eat anything. It wasn't as if missing one meatball would cause him to starve to death. Fusheng was stunned by the surprise offering, his attention completely captured by the flavor. He couldn't quite tell what the meatball was made of, but it was surprisingly good. By the time he looked for the one on the floor, it was long gone.
Vane and Yichen brought over the remaining two meatballs, crying as they handed the plate to the ravenously eating Fusheng. Vane knelt down to watch him eat, wiping away tears while offering him water, urging him to eat slowly for fear he might choke. It was all his fault; he had assumed that since Fusheng had been given his medication and hadn't mentioned being hungry, he didn't need to be fed for the past two days. Seeing Fusheng in such a state, he felt consumed by regret.
Zergs were instinctively drawn to Zerg (male/dominant morphs), and since Fusheng was their own, they found it unbearable to see the little one looking so pitiful. They were all deeply heartbroken.
Fusheng’s cheeks bulged. He smiled at Vane and Yichen, grabbed the tray, tossed the useless chopsticks aside, and dug in with his hands. To hell with elegance! Fusheng stuffed the meatballs into his mouth, thinking to himself that using his hands was much faster, just like Alvano. At the same time, he felt a twinge of resentment—why hadn't Alvano told him sooner?
Alvano watched Fusheng bury his face in the plate, making it look as if he had been abused and starved. Well, strictly speaking, he hadn't fed him. But that wasn't his fault; the doctor had prescribed a medication that forbade solid food. The medicine was mixed with high-grade nutrients, so Fusheng wouldn't feel hunger for seven days. Moreover, Fusheng hadn't shown any interest in eating for the past two days, and Alvano hadn't wanted to cause extra trouble. Who knew Fusheng would pull a stunt like this? Thankfully, the head of the Yichen Family was a reasonable person and wouldn't punish the Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) for this; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to explain himself even with ten mouths.
Fusheng finished the last bite and stared longingly at the final meatball left on the plate, drooling. That last meatball was reserved for Alvano because he was his lackey. Although he was reluctant to give it up, a deal was a deal: as long as he had a bowl of rice, Alvano would have a bowl to wash. It was all Alvano's fault—he could have eaten three, but now he only got two. If he had known, he would have shoved that dirty meatball into Alvano's mouth earlier.
"Shensheng, eat slowly; the kitchen will have more ready in a moment." Yichen looked at Fusheng with loving, heartbroken eyes and pulled the kneeling boy up. He desperately wanted to pull Fusheng into his arms for a hug, but remembering the boy's earlier resistance, he held back. This time, he didn't call him 'little cub,' but used his nickname. Perhaps Fusheng had grown up and didn't want to be called that anymore; after all, he himself hadn't liked it when his muer called him 'little cub' back in the day.
Fusheng’s eyes lit up at Yichen's words. He shoved the tray into Alvano’s hands, sat upright in a chair by the dining table as if he were fully prepared, and waved his hands, shouting, "Quick, bring it all out!"
Alvano followed him, carrying the tray, and placed it in front of Fusheng. "Lord husband, eat this first." The Zergs in the kitchen were working so fast they were practically throwing sparks, but it wasn't quite that instant.
"You eat." Fusheng looked at Alvano and shook his head. This lackey was so attentive; the fact that he was willing to give up his food to save it for him was something he truly liked. Fusheng didn't want to mistreat his lackey. He knew that intimidation alone wasn't enough to secure Alvano's loyalty; if he wasn't good to him, Alvano would surely run away. He wanted Alvano to follow him forever. He hadn't been able to keep his previous lackeys, but he had to keep this one. No one could take Alvano away from him. So, even though he was starving, he held back—that meatball was for Alvano.
"Is this for me?" Alvano looked at Fusheng, his expression complex, asking with uncertainty. He thought Fusheng just didn't want to eat it and was having him hold it. Although Fusheng had shared candy with him over the past two days, he didn't think he was important enough to Fusheng to be given food again.
Fusheng didn't answer. He assumed Alvano was doing what he did last time—acting shy and wanting him to feed him. Seeing Alvano’s hand gripped the edge of the tray without making a move, he grabbed a meatball and shoved it directly into Alvano's mouth. He couldn't stand seeing a meatball and not being able to eat it; he wanted Alvano to hurry up and swallow so he wouldn't have to watch him suffer.
Alvano lowered his gaze, biting into the juicy meatball. A strange feeling flickered in his heart, and he thought that perhaps it wasn't so bad having Fusheng act like this while he was sick.
Soon, other Zergs arrived with a variety of meatballs, and the previous dishes were cleared away. Before the tray was even placed on the table, Fusheng had already climbed onto his chair, leaning over the table and stretching his neck to look toward the door. Alvano had prepared a fork for him to make eating easier, but Fusheng still felt his hands were more convenient. He grabbed a meatball in each hand and buried his face in the food.
Yichen moved his chair to Fusheng's side, helping him plate the food while eating with him. In the middle of it all, Fusheng even took the time to pass a plate to Alvano.
Alvano held the tray, not daring to eat. There were over a dozen Zergs in the dining hall, all of them Yichen's secondary spouses, including Yichen’s primary consort, Claire. They were all his elders, and even though some were close in age, it simply wasn't the proper etiquette. A Zerg (male/dominant morph) didn't need to follow such rules—they *were* the rules—but he could not afford to be lax. Moreover, these dozen Zergs were all standing to serve Yichen; it would be inappropriate for him to be the only one sitting and eating.
He lowered his eyes, looking at the meatballs in front of him. Fusheng was really stirring up a wave of resentment for him. Not all of Yichen’s spouses were as tolerant as Vane and Claire.