Can You Bear a Child for Me?

  "Pfft!"

  At those words, David nearly choked on the briny tea, his face flushing as he hastily apologized, "I’m sorry, madam. Your presence is simply impossible to overlook."

  He could ill afford to lose this lucrative position.

  Admittedly, he had cast a few furtive glances; Lady Bai’s form was so extravagantly curvaceous—her hips overshadowing her shoulders, and, dare I mention, her height exceeding two meters—truly a sight seldom seen.

  He had presumed Sophia would be displeased, yet her ensuing words made David question whether he was indeed hearing correctly.

  The exquisitely beautiful young woman surveyed the room with a graceful air, propping her porcelain chin on one hand as she murmured softly,

  "Then tell me, between my mother and me, whom would you prefer to serve?"

  David’s lips parted in a single, puzzled syllable, "Ah?"

  Sophia elaborated in a tone as smooth as silk, "My elder sister and my other siblings are away. In this household, it is only my mother and I. You may elect to serve one exclusively—that is the nature of your employment."

  Something felt amiss. David, his brow furrowed in suspicion, replied, "Does it truly matter? I shall follow your directives, miss."

  Sophia’s smile deepened into a knowing, enigmatic curve as she fixed him with a lingering gaze.

  "Of course it matters. My mother lacks the gentleness that I possess; if you choose her, your toil will be considerably more arduous, draining your energy far more so."

  Unable to withstand her gaze, he looked away, his head suddenly awash with inexplicable dizziness, leaving him utterly speechless.

  At that precise moment, through the window, he observed a blonde maid gently holding the hand of a young man as they strolled through the flowerbeds of the front courtyard.

  Indeed, she was holding him.

  It was the first man David had encountered since entering Eden.

  The young man, appearing to be in his early twenties, was strikingly handsome, his features refined yet pale, his frame slender and delicate. Yet his stomach was grotesquely distended, as if burdened by an unbearable weight, rendering his steps labored and necessitating that he be led.

  David’s gaze fixed on the swollen abdomen, his intuition whispering that this was no ordinary beer belly—it bore the semblance of a nefarious tumor.

  Taking a bite of a sweet pastry, Sophia’s eyes softened as they lingered on the man’s belly.

  "He is the male steward you had before."

  What strange malady could have befallen him? Before David could inquire further, a muffled groan emanated from outside.

  In a sudden collapse, the steward knelt, clutching his protruding stomach, his face contorting in agony as he unleashed a prolonged, harrowing cry:

  "Hmmph! AHHHHH!"

  In the very next instant, he thrust his hand into the garden soil, seizing handfuls of earth which he then forcefully stuffed into his mouth, swallowing with great difficulty as the crunching of his chews resounded grotesquely.

  Handful after handful, his anguished screams were reduced to pained whimpers.

  David’s eyes widened in horror, a mysterious heaviness gripping his chest as a disquieting thought slithered through his mind: Has the steward succumbed to pica, his stomach bloated by the incessant consumption of soil?

  "Why at this moment?"

  Yet, as the bloated steward writhed in torment, the blonde maid’s countenance brimmed with both astonishment and delight. She did not halt his bizarre act; instead, she summoned other maids.

  In no time, two more arrived with a stretcher, hastily and collaboratively hoisting the young man and carrying him upward toward the villa.

  "What on earth is happening?"

  Observing the steward’s agonized expression, David felt an icy dread crawl along his spine—as if that very pain might soon be his own.

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  Then, in a most unexpected and eerie twist, Sophia laughed softly as she gazed toward the stairwell through which the young man had vanished.

  "How splendid! I shall have another sister."

  "...Sister?" David’s mind swirled with a disquieting conjecture—a chilling suspicion that defied reason, though his rationality insisted it could not be.

  "Indeed," Sophia stated evenly, "I was destined to have three sisters; alas, two perished in infancy. This, then, must be my fourth sister..."

  The peculiar behavior of the steward and the maids, coupled with Sophia’s illogical revelation, left David’s head spinning as though beset by heatstroke, his thoughts growing sluggish and muddled.

  Fourth sister... Who is she? Where might she be?

  Wait—my head is so dizzy...

  "You seem rather unwell—could it be that the prolonged train ride has worn you out? Come, allow me to take you to your room..."

  Sophia rose gracefully, drawing near and linking her arm with David’s, effortlessly lifting him as they ascended to the second-floor corridor.

  In an instant, a sharp, acrid stench—a nauseating blend of disinfectant and the metallic tang of blood and decay—filled his nostrils, nearly compelling him to vomit.

  "Ah!" Simultaneously, the steward’s tormented cries rang out once more, sending shivers of dread and restlessness through him.

  David could not recall how he had been led into the room, nor could he fathom what fate had befallen that poor steward.

  No sooner had he collapsed onto the bed than a tidal wave of drowsiness, mingled with dizziness, swept over him, submerging his senses until the horrifying cries faded into silence.

  ...

  When David, still dazed, finally opened his eyes, the familiar anguished cries resumed. Outside, darkness had fallen.

  What, pray tell, ailed that male steward?

  The door creaked open slowly, its feeble light barely illuminating the corridor. Whether in a half-dream or driven by overwhelming curiosity, David moved toward the sound.

  Before long, he stood before a door whose very sight would forever haunt his memories.

  Bathed in the soft glow of orange lamplight, he beheld a scene that defied both psychological and physical boundaries.

  Inside what might more aptly be termed a “birthing chamber,” a gaunt, naked young man lay on a bed; his abdomen bulged like a stone pedestal, his scalp slick with sweat.

  Upon closer inspection, a deep, bloodied gash marred the center of his belly, from which a tiny, crimson-stained hand emerged, feebly clawing at the void.

  Beside him, two maids worked in eerie unison, their steady hands widening the incision with a scalpel.

  In a moment that defied nature, they extracted a newborn—its skin swollen, pallid, and marred with blood.

  David was struck as if by lightning, rendered immobile like a petrified statue.

  Boom!

  Simultaneously, a potent, decaying floral scent erupted into the room, its intensity overwhelming his senses many times over.

  Overwhelmed by the assault on both sight and smell, David’s vision darkened, the room spinning wildly as his breathing grew labored and his stomach churned in violent upheaval.

  Amid gentle pats from a maid, the infant emitted its first sound—not the heart-wrenching cry expected of a newborn, but an unnervingly crisp, eerie laughter:

  "Hahaha!"

  The young man on the bed fell silent, as if surrendering to unconsciousness.

  The infant’s unsettling laughter persisted, each peal weighing on David’s chest like heavy stones, as if a swarm of ants were gnawing at him, his thoughts descending into chaos:

  Surely this must be a dream—a nightmare. Men cannot bear children!

  And yet, why did the scene appear so vividly real, accompanied by such a nauseating, repulsive odor?

  Could it be that he—or perhaps she—is transgender, possessing the organs of a woman despite a masculine fa?ade?

  No, no—a lady in white had mentioned that I was to replace the former steward. Could that, too, be connected?

  David felt his dizziness intensify, his head on the verge of bursting, as the world around him swayed and blurred, leaving him utterly paralyzed.

  "Splendid! It appears remarkably healthy," exclaimed the blonde maid, exhaling a relieved sigh as she gazed tenderly at the infant, whose face was etched with bizarre, mischievous wrinkles.

  "John, the steward, has toiled to bring a princess to the White family; I must swiftly present her to the madam—she will be overjoyed."

  The brunette maid murmured a few words to the unconscious youth before cradling the infant and preparing to leave the birthing chamber.

  "They’re coming out; I must not be seen here..."

  A colossal wave of terror seized David’s entire being; he yearned to flee, yet his legs felt as though bound by cement.

  At that very moment, a female voice from behind sent a jolt through his body, "You saw, didn't you?"

  Slowly, he turned to find, to his dismay, a figure in a white dress standing behind him, her expression impassive as she regarded him.

  "I'm afraid you've seen too much. I had intended for you to come to accept it gradually," she declared in a flat, unwavering tone.

  The brunette maid, upon noticing the two outside the door, paused briefly before respectfully bowing to Sophia, completely disregarding David’s ashen visage. Meanwhile, another maid remained within the birthing chamber, tending to Lu Ziqing’s wound.

  David’s heart pounded as countless questions swirled within him, yet no sound emerged from his lips. All the while, a single, insistent thought reverberated in his mind: Leave immediately! Abandon this mansion—better yet, this entire town! These people are utterly deranged! Now!

  Yet he had lost all control over his movements, as if the very air had congealed into a viscous, muddy quagmire, forcing him to cling to the wall lest he collapse.

  It was that tea—yes, that very tea was the source of his affliction, David suddenly surmised.

  "Do not be anxious; take a deep breath. This state is perfectly normal."

  Sophia approached, gently stroking his back as a comforting smile played upon her lips. "Childbirth is, by nature, excruciating yet profoundly magnificent, is it not? Initial reluctance is understandable, but once you truly conceive, you will experience the joy of fatherhood... Come now, let me escort you to your room to rest."

  Thus, David was led back to his room like a lifeless automaton, collapsing onto the bed as his consciousness swiftly faded.

  Before succumbing to oblivion, he glimpsed a tall, ample figure standing at his bedside, a hand pressed upon his chest, as a rich, enticing voice slowly murmured,

  "Can you bear a child for me?"