Chapter 1766 – Midlife Crisis
About having offspring, Jiang Pengji really has no attachment at all.
Shouldn’t it be a simple matter of paying a fee to a childcare institution and later clicking to collect the child from the nurturing pod?
The Old Commander snorted, extinguishing Jiang Pengji’s fantasies, “Wake up, you’re stuck in the backward ancient era, not the Federation!”
“Speaking of which, why don’t you just mail me an artificial gestation pod? Carrying around several pounds of child in my belly is exhausting, squishing my internal organs and nerves—just thinking about it makes me want to collapse. Honestly, I think I need to pay homage to the Federation’s decision to ban pregnancy in the mother body; it’s simply revolutionary!” After draining Wei Ci dry yesterday, today she feels as lazy as a dried fish, perfectly embodying the “Ge You Slouch” that everyone talks about.
Oh, paired with those half-closed, dead fish eyes, she instantly replaced the “Ge You Slouch” as the new emoticon.
Your Dad: Heh, and how are you going to explain the child to outsiders?
With hardly any baby bump showing, how are you going to justify bringing home a chubby baby in three to five months as their Young Master?
To outsiders, it’ll look like Jiang Pengji adopted a child from who-knows-where with suspect quality; who knows if this kid is even worth anything.
Upon hearing this, Jiang Pengji thought there might be a chance, quickly springing to her feet, shaking off her earlier gloom and laziness.
“Can you actually mail it?”
If only you could, that’d be perfect! Everyone could just make a few Young Masters, and we’d have a soccer team ready in a year!
Your Dad: No, give it up; there’s no such thing.
Upon hearing this, Jiang Pengji rolled her eyes and fell back into her slouch, deflated like a punctured balloon.
“Old Commander, isn’t it illegal for the mother body to get pregnant? How can I break the law?”
She might not care about others, but as a principled high-ranking official in the Federation military, she absolutely cannot do that.
Your Dad: Heh, just admit you want to see others going crazy over this, no need for all that fancy talk.
Every time the topic of Young Masters comes up, Jiang Pengji can’t help but show that faint excitement—does she not fear capsizing the boat?
As Jiang Pengji ages, the issue of heirs becomes increasingly pressing; people’s minds are fickle, and who knows what trouble might arise?
The Old Commander kindly reminded Jiang Pengji, yet this stubborn kid won’t listen.
She chuckled lightly.
“I’m not that naive!”
Naturally, she wouldn’t engage in meaningless activities for such a twisted pleasure.
Repeatedly making her own people anxious will eventually lead to a chilling atmosphere.
She’s been putting off having children, partly because she wants this life to resonate as closely as possible with Wei Ci’s memories of her past life; let Feng You be Feng You, let Jiang Yan be Jiang Yan, even though she knows it’s impossible. Even if the embryos were conceived by the same parents at the same time, they’d never be identical, let alone across different timelines. What if in the end, aside from their names, there’s nothing the same?
As a citizen of the Federation, Jiang Pengji fundamentally has no feelings or attachments toward the bloodline and heirs.
If a child is a comfort for Wei Ci, it doesn’t matter when they’re born—early or late.
Besides this reason, she has an even more pressing motive.
The body she currently occupies, Liu Xi, is from a noble family. Even if she has no ties to the Liu Clan and separated herself from the lineage long ago, blood is thicker than water; she’s still fundamentally a member of the Liu family. Jiang Pengji wants to see when they’ll finally lose their cool.
Once they do, she can take the opportunity to cut ties with the Liu Clan and reclaim her original name.
Although names are merely labels, it’s common to change them; being called Liu Xi day in and day out is rather annoying.
The traces left behind will belong to “Liu Xi,” and all the glory and shame will have nothing to do with “Jiang Pengji.” That’s unacceptable.
Your Dad: Tsk, I remember someone once said they regard fame and fortune as dung.
Jiang Pengji laughed, “Nonsense! Leaving a name in history is just to show off to future generations; otherwise, what’s the point of living?”
Your Dad: Heh.
An ever-changing woman.
Jiang Pengji said, “Having children is indeed a headache; never mind giving birth, I don’t even have experience raising kids…”
Your Dad: Your little man can raise them just fine. I doubt anyone expects you to be good at parenting, oh mighty one.
Jiang Pengji isn’t cut out for teaching; even the best seedling would be wasted in her hands, and she might end up misleading them.
“I told you he’s an adult now.”
What “little man”? It always sounds like she’s keeping a young sugar baby.
Your Dad: Heh, need I show you the Federation’s definitions of adulthood and childhood?
Jiang Pengji: “…”
There’s no way to continue this conversation.
She wanted to keep her slouch, but the mundane matters outside wouldn’t give her that chance.
“I thought a winner in life could just lie down and rake in wealth…” Jiang Pengji shivered from the cold, not liking the feeling of being surrounded by chilly air; even though the room had charcoal burning, the airflow was poor—a risk for carbon monoxide poisoning! It’s much colder than being under the covers, she grumbled, “I’m the strongest lord in the land; I’m just one step away from becoming the emperor. Why am I still waking up earlier than the rooster, sleeping later than a dog, eating worse than a pig, and working harder than a donkey, all just to earn a meager living…”
If she were to be jealous, Jiang Pengji envies those foolish lords who devote all their resources to pamper one person.
With thousands of beauties in the harem—if she sleeps with one a day, it would take ten years to go around…
Of course, this is purely the wishful thinking of poor scholars—much like the joke a dried fish told her recently, where farmers imagined the emperor worked fields with a golden hoe, and the empress washed clothes with a golden mallet… There are no thousands of beauties, but dozens is still possible.
Jiang Pengji only has one Wei Ci; that little man is possessive enough.
For her, doing work is even less enjoyable than lugging around a golden hoe in the fields.
The dried fish were not pleased.
Stowaway Non-Money: Host, before you say that, why not check your own conscience and see how Zixiao and the others are doing?
If Jiang Pengji is earning a meager living, then Wei Ci’s crew is literally pouring their youthful energy into the void.
Jiang Pengji couldn’t be bothered to lift an eyelid.
This was clearly her live stream, yet all the fans are for someone else, dissing her over various idols now and then.
To put it frankly, the idols these dried fish once fawned over are now all middle-aged men nearing forty.
Lan Ting Xiangxue: That’s called the charm of mature men.
Whether those guys are managing their figures well or just not eating enough meat, hardly any of them are middle-aged and out of shape; no beer bellies, no bald spots, no greasiness—it’s like they continue to be charming, graceful, and more distinguished as they age.
Heh, when Jiang Pengji saw Huang Song, she instantly recanted her words.
After having a busy afternoon, Jiang Pengji didn’t bother having the kitchen fire up, opting instead to find a nearby restaurant and grab a bite, only to run into an old acquaintance.
She glanced at Huang Song’s belly, then back at his face and chin, and felt a wave of sorrow.
“Have you mastered the Nine-Nine Reunion Technique?”
Huang Song looked utterly baffled.
“What Nine-Nine Reunion Technique?”
Jiang Pengji pointed at his belly, “Your former muscles have united into one.”
Huang Song: “…”
Feng Jue, who conveniently walked out of the private room at that moment, heard this and went silent.
Huang Song almost exploded, grinding his teeth, “This isn’t fat; this is called plumpness.”
