Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Dare You Question My Abilities?

To be honest, artificially incubating parrots isn’t that hard. As long as the eggs are solid and the technique’s not trash, you’ll get a decent hatch rate.

The hard part? Raising the chicks.

That’s where things get brutal. Surviving the first few months is a battle of luck, obsessive patience, and being awake so long your soul detaches from your body.

And sure, parrots are easier than emperor penguins—those guys hatch eggs like they’re trying to unlock a secret ending—but even parrots need someone monitoring temperature and humidity 24/7. It’s like babysitting a box of Fabergé eggs with a death wish.

Now, don’t get me started on some local vets. No offense to anyone’s diploma, but when it comes to hatching parrots? Honestly, some smugglers are better at it. Yeah. Criminals. Because unlike some certified professionals, those guys are doing it for cold hard cash—and they’ve perfected their methods.

Sun Aiping knew this. That’s why she called me, clearly panicking. In Donghai, even with four full-time vets on staff, very few have ever gone head-to-head with dozens of high-value parrot eggs. The traffickers? Ninety percent hatch rate. They handpick eggs, each worth tens of thousands, and guard them like their lives depend on it.

And if they’re caught? Oh, they go full drama queen. “You can’t hatch these! Only I can hatch them!”

Honestly, it works. Most people freeze when someone starts yelling at them about egg-rearing superiority.

But not Sun Aiping. Nope. She throws me under the bus instead.

“Lingyou can even hatch emperor penguins!” she declared like a proud parent showing off her gifted son. I could hear the smug grin through the phone as she volunteered me without consent.

Me: …Excuse me???

And just like that, fifty parrot eggs and nineteen rare, newly hatched chicks landed in my lap. The oldest of the bunch was barely three months old, but every single one was already reserved. Meaning if even one feather went missing, I’d have a lawsuit on my hands.

But hey, no pressure.

Of course, I couldn’t just hand them off to any vet. Like, take this guy I know—decent with birds, pretty professional. But recently? Started dating.

You expect me—a zoo director chasing a 100% hatch rate—to trust someone who might ditch his shift for a date? Absolutely not.

The nineteen hatched ones? Fine, he could handle those. But the eggs?

Nope. Not a chance.

So… I went to find Lu Ya.

This man was lounging around playing video games, face perfectly smug, like he was the final boss of relaxation. When I showed up, he barely looked away from the screen. Just lifted his chin and went, “What’s up?”

What’s up, he says.

I shuffled over, all awkward. “Master Lu, the Forestry Bureau intercepted a batch of smuggled parrots—nineteen chicks and… fifty eggs.”

His face darkened. “You want to hatch eggs again?”

Abort mission. I tried to pivot. “Ah no, this isn’t really your field. I was thinking, you know, maybe Ling Guang Shen Jun could—”

BANG.

That was the sound of his bedside cabinet slamming into the wall.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you say once the breeding center was built, hatching would be your job? Trying to back out now?”

I bit down my soul. “I was just worried you’d be too tired…”

He scoffed. “So now you’re saying I can’t do it?”

I choked. That… that wording felt a little too spicy for public consumption.

“Who exactly did you want to hatch them?” he pressed, eyes narrowing. Like if I said anyone but “you,” I’d be dealing with supernatural fireworks.

“…You,” I whispered. “It’s still you.”

Finally, he looked pleased. “That’s better. So are you moving in again? Last time we hatched miracle eggs, you slept in my room every night.”

I nearly fed the fruit puree into my own face.

Excuse me?? What kind of logic was that???

Anyway, as long as Little Blue was happy.

This clingy little blue-purple macaw was the most affectionate of the bunch, always nuzzling my fingers with its curved beak. Once grown, it’d be a full meter long, live for sixty years, and sell for several hundred thousand.

Lu Ya said another one just like it was among the fifty eggs. A perfect pair. Just great—parrot matchmaking was now part of my job description.

While I was feeding the birds, intern Zhou Min popped over.

“Director, are the eggs hatching yet?”

“Almost. Half a month to go,” I said.

Her eyes sparkled. “That’s awesome! Soon we’ll have dozens of parrots chattering away. If they all learn to talk, Lingyuan will welcome you every morning!”

I shuddered. You think they’ll say “Welcome”? No. They’re going to scream Daddy.

I swear, one day I’ll walk into the park and hear, in chorus, “Good morning, Daddy—”

Kill me now.

Before I could spiral further, the Municipal Federation of Literary and Art Circles called. Apparently, two pages were missing from Bai Jie’s medical manuscript. Only a copy remained. Sounded fishy.

I chuckled, “That’s fine. The copy’s enough,” all while thinking: Who swiped it? Bet they’re trying to copy it.

We’d already paid eight thousand yuan for the book number. I asked Finance to handle the payment and hung up.

Meanwhile, Bai Suzhen had gone viral.

That video of her using acupuncture to wake someone up mid-collapse? The net lost its mind. Trolls tried to drag her, but everyone else? Obsessed.

Only, it wasn’t her skills they were raving about.

“This TCM doctor is stunning!”

“Is she a model?”

“Or a designer?”

“Calligraphy too???”

“She’s the real deal?!”

“She studied TCM as a kid, went abroad to study Western medicine, and passed all the certifications???”

Even the Lingyuan official account posted her credentials. Her medical notes—written in brush calligraphy—sealed the deal. Her handwriting alone had old-school netizens swearing loyalty.

The real chaos? Among the TCM old guard.

Once skeptical, now obsessed.

And one question kept surfacing: Which family is she from?

No famous master surnamed Bai. Was she the secret heir of some hidden lineage?

Once her book hits print, it’s going to rattle the whole industry.

…

Just as I was catching my breath, the miracle started acting up again.

“Why hasn’t Dad come to see me?”

This fat penguin who swore he was a goose looked pitiful.

I gently patted his head. “He’s been… busy.”

“I don’t believe you.” Big teary eyes. “Did someone bully him?”

Me: Who could possibly bully Lu Ya?

“He only listens to you,” the miracle said gravely. “So it must be you.”

WHAT?!

This goose was too sharp.

Before I could argue, a keeper walked in, eyes gleaming. “Director, I heard Lu Ge’s the one hatching all the eggs?”

I stiffened.

HOW DID YOU KNOW???

Then—

“QUACK—!!!”

The miracle launched at me like a cannonball. I hit the floor.

Zookeeper: “OH MY GOD. SOMEONE HELP! THE DIRECTOR’S BEING CRUSHED BY A PENGUIN!”

This. Freaking. Bird.

Me: …Save me. Anyone. Please. I’m being loved to death by a one-meter-tall emperor penguin with abandonment issues.

…

By the way, do I also need to draft a press release where Bai Suzhen saves a penguin’s life with acupuncture?

Because at this rate, anything’s possible.