The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 29

29:

Inside the villa, the atmosphere was completely different from the chaos outside. The turmoil hadn’t affected their little world at all.

That morning, Chu Zhao had rare free time to accompany her mother for a walk.

Over the past few days, Chu Zhao’s mother had been in much better spirits—less timid, though some habits from her torment in the Chu family remained ingrained.

For example, she would force herself to sleep at exactly 7 PM, whether she was tired or not. Otherwise, she’d be beaten.

The previous nurses had treated her like a prisoner, enforcing strict schedules. Disobedience meant beatings or starvation.

Leisurely walks? Impossible. They’d interfere with the nurses’ rest.

Afraid of punishment, Chu Zhao’s mother had complied meekly. Anyone would break under such conditions, let alone someone already mentally fragile.

Thankfully, Chu Zhao’s constant companionship had helped her recover significantly.

Watching Chu Zhao smile softly while talking to her mother, Zhou Lan couldn’t help but smile too.

The scene was so peaceful that she didn’t want to disturb it. She quietly moved to slip past them and return to her room.

But Chu Zhao’s mother spotted her immediately, rushing over joyfully.

“Daughter-in-law! You’re back! Where have you been? I missed you!”

“Chu Zhao missed you too! I asked if she did, and she said yes! Did you miss her?”

“You must have, right? Newlyweds should be inseparable!”

Chu Zhao: “…”

(Her mother had forced her to say she missed Zhou Lan. It meant nothing!)

Hearing Chu Zhao’s inner protests, Zhou Lan bit back a laugh and played along. “Of course I missed her. Who wouldn’t miss their wife?”

Instantly, she regretted it.

Chu Zhao’s face flushed faintly pink—whether from anger or embarrassment, Zhou Lan couldn’t tell.

Since she couldn’t hear Chu Zhao’s thoughts at this distance, panic set in. Did I upset her again?

Just as she prepared to backtrack, Chu Zhao cleared her throat. “Let’s go back. I have work.”

Her tone was neutral, unreadable.

Zhou Lan trailed behind, mentally scolding herself. Getting too bold with jokes. Better keep my mouth shut.

But Chu Zhao’s mother grabbed her hand, chattering excitedly. Zhou Lan patiently answered every question—

Until one made her freeze.

“When are you two having a baby?”

Zhou Lan: “???”

Chu Zhao: “???”

Zhou Lan was stunned. Chu Zhao looked exasperated—clearly, this wasn’t the first time her mother had brought it up.

Chu Zhao’s thoughts: Yesterday, I craved spicy hotpot, and she asked if I was pregnant.

“Sour for a son, spicy for a daughter”—she’s convinced I’ll have a girl. All because of that damned Zhou Lan.

Zhou Lan: “…”

How was this her fault? And why the “damned” prefix?

Despite the internal ranting, Chu Zhao’s expression remained ice-cold. The contrast was oddly endearing.

Without hearing her thoughts, Zhou Lan would never have guessed Chu Zhao’s mind was this lively.

Amused, Zhou Lan’s smile deepened. Who knew the icy queen had such a playful inner monologue?

But—Chu Zhao wanted a hotpot?

She vaguely remembered ordering hotpot broth before. Was it still in the fridge?

Back inside, she checked. The broth was there, but it might be too spicy for Chu Zhao’s mother.

She asked the housekeeper to prepare chicken soup. Why settle for one pot when they could have two? A spicy one and a mild one.

As for ingredients, she drove to the nearest supermarket, buying enough meat and vegetables for a feast. With the nurses and housekeeper joining, nothing would go to waste.

She even bought a dual-flavor hotpot pot—since the villa only had single pots. Convenience mattered.

By 12:30 PM, everything was ready. Zhou Lan and the housekeeper washed and chopped ingredients, arranging them on platters.

They set up a rotating dining table, filling it completely. The villa’s spacious dining area accommodated two tables easily—one for the “family,” one for the staff.

—

Around 1 PM, Chu Zhao paused her work, realizing she was hungry.

She wasn’t worried about her mother, the nurses ensured she never missed a meal.

But as she descended the stairs, the aroma of hotpot hit her, making her stomach growl.

After days of bland meals with her mother, the spicy scent was irresistible.

(Just yesterday, her casual mention of craving hotpot had triggered the “Are you pregnant?” interrogation. Damn Zhou Lan.)

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw Zhou Lan—wearing an apron—shuttling between the kitchen and dining room, arranging dishes and adjusting the broth.

In this world, Alphas who cooked were considered “good Alphas.”

Like how, in her original world, men who cooked were praised, while women were just expected to. A double standard.

What surprised Chu Zhao was Zhou Lan’s hands-on involvement, not just ordering others around.

As the housekeeper spotted Chu Zhao, she smiled. “Miss Chu, Miss Zhou bought all these ingredients specially for hotpot. Go wash up, I’ll fetch Madam.”

Chu Zhao’s mother’s maiden name was Wu Shunci, long forgotten by most.

Here, the staff called her “Sister Wu” for convenience.

Chu Zhao nodded, watching Zhou Lan’s busy figure.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to really know this person—not the monster from her memories.

But after what happened, some bridges couldn’t be rebuilt.

Zhou Lan placed the last dish on the table, wiping her hands on her apron.

She massaged her stiff neck—too much time hunched over vegetables.

Unbeknownst to her, the sunlight haloed her in gold, making the simple gesture strangely captivating.

Chu Zhao’s heart gave an odd little twinge.

She dismissed it as appreciation for Zhou Lan’s beauty.

Even barefaced, Zhou Lan’s flawless skin glowed under the light, almost ethereal.

Chu Zhao shook her head. Pretty face, empty soul.

Except… Zhou Lan’s recent actions contradicted that.

But some wounds never healed, no matter the remorse.

Touching the suppressant patch behind her ear, Chu Zhao’s expression frosted over.

When Zhou Lan turned and smiled at her, she responded with icy indifference.

Zhou Lan blinked, confused but unfazed. She was used to Chu Zhao’s moods.

(Did my smile look ugly? she wondered. Women are so hard to understand.)

Her mind-reading ability had limits—it only worked at close range. Through glass and distance, she heard nothing.

With a resigned smile, she watched Chu Zhao walk away.

—

The hotpot meal was surprisingly pleasant.

Chu Zhao’s mother chatted happily, Zhou Lan responded warmly, and even Chu Zhao seemed more relaxed.

Good food improved moods. Zhou Lan was pleased with their progress.

Even if they couldn’t be lovers, being friends wasn’t bad. They’d be seeing each other often, and Zhou Lan genuinely admired Chu Zhao.

Then an uninvited guest arrived, Sang Xia.

From the moment she entered, she glared at Zhou Lan, scoffing and sneering.

Zhou Lan tolerated it. Sang Xia was Chu Zhao’s friend, and her hostility stemmed from the original host’s crimes. Picking a fight would undo all progress.

When Sang Xia muttered, “How shameless, still clinging here,” Zhou Lan just lowered her eyes and prepared to leave.

But Chu Zhao’s mother blocked her path, bristling. “Who are you? Why are you bullying my daughter-in-law?”

“Chu Zhao! Kick her out! She’s a bad person!”

Zhou Lan was touched by the fierce protection.

She patted the older woman’s shoulder. “Mother, don’t worry. We’re friends, just joking around. Right?”

She shot Sang Xia with a pointed look.

Reluctantly, Sang Xia played along. “Yes, Auntie. We’re friends.”

(Inside, she was fuming.)

Once Chu Zhao’s mother was reassured and returned upstairs, Zhou Lan turned to leave—then paused.

She’d forgotten something.

According to the timeline, Sang Xia was about to reclaim her status as the Sang family’s true heiress.

And she needed a warning.

“Don’t provoke Sang Yu.”

Sang Yu was formidable. Without Chu Zhao’s protagonist plot armor, Sang Xia and her mother would’ve been crushed.

Sang Xia stiffened. “How do you know about that?”

Zhou Lan kept walking.

“Explain!” Sang Xia demanded.

Zhou Lan ignored her, until Chu Zhao spoke. “Do you know something?”

She stopped.

Sang Xia she could disregard. Chu Zhao? Never.

Obediently, she returned to the living room and sat down—the picture of a henpecked spouse.