Chapter 25: The Husband and Wife Curse Worms

Li Chuzhe’s brows knitted tightly. “What do you mean?”

Before him, Sanya’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Don’t you find it strange, Mr. Li? Why did my father insist on pushing you into that pool? Why did I jump in after you? Or—why did I know exactly what symptoms you’d develop?”

“What did you two do?” Since that sudden stab of pain in his chest, Li Chuzhe hadn’t experienced anything unusual again. He’d dismissed it entirely.

Sanya laughed softly. “The pool was filled with our family’s special concoction. And your body… well, my father implanted a curse worm inside you. Naturally, I’ve got one too. That liquid—the potion—is what activates both of them.”

“Curse worms? How could you possibly—” Li Chuzhe frowned. The Sana family dealt only in Western medicine. This kind of superstitious nonsense was completely out of character.

“Ah,” Sanya said, eyes glinting, “when you’re in the business of crafting drugs, you have to understand every angle—scientific, mystical, even ancient. These worms are a matched pair—husband and wife. You carry the male worm; I carry the female. In this bond, the male is utterly devoted to the female—until death do them part.”

“That episode when you collapsed from chest pain? That was the male worm reaching out to its mate. The only cure? For us to come together. Oh—and just so you know, these worms aren’t sitting still. They move around freely inside you. Don’t waste your time trying to surgically remove them. You won’t succeed.”

“And here’s another thing: the longer we delay, the more frequent and severe your pain will become. Protect the worm inside you. If it dies… so do you. And don’t even think about killing me. Because I hold the power to end your worm’s life—or keep it alive.”

No wonder Sanya had been so bold, so unafraid of him. She held his life in her hands. But Li Chuzhe just smirked, cold and dismissive. “You really think a little cursed worm can threaten me? Don’t worry—I’ll die before I ever touch you.”

With that, he stood up and walked away from the scene like smoke vanishing into air. “Watch her,” he growled, his face dark, voice ice-cold.

In the car, Xiao Li dared not ask anything. He kept his eyes on the road, carefully reading the mood in the man beside him. After a long silence, Li Chuzhe finally spoke. “Xiao Li, look up the most famous worm-tamers. Then take me home.”

Hearing that, Xiao Li understood immediately. Once they arrived, he rushed to research experts in the field.

Meanwhile, Tang Yan was pruning flowers in the garden, completely unaware that Li Chuzhe had returned. “When did you learn how to do that?”

Tang Yan flinched, nearly swinging around to punch him. “Can’t you make *any* noise? You’re like a damn ghost!”

“Fine, fine. Where’d you pick that up? You’ve been busy lately—almost starting to act like a proper wife now.”

Li Chuzhe crouched down beside her, watching quietly, tenderly, as she worked.

“I’ve got skills you wouldn’t believe. What brings you back? Not going to work?”

“Nope. Came home for a break. Thought I’d rest a bit.”

She glanced at him. His smile didn’t feel quite right—too forced, too fragile. “Go rest then. Stop blocking me while I’m working.”

“Alright, I’ll head upstairs.” Then, without warning, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss on her cheek. Satisfied, he turned and climbed the stairs.

She’d been ambushed too many times already—but never saw it coming. Each time, he got away with it. “Honestly, you’re such a kid. So childish.”

By noon, she finally set down her tools. “Still asleep?”

She stepped into the kitchen and found the servants already preparing lunch.

“Let me handle it. You all go rest.”

She wanted to cook herself—repay him for that hot pot dinner he’d made earlier.

The staff hesitated. Their master adored this woman. No one dared to refuse.

Tang Yan gave them a reassuring smile. “Relax. I’m doing this willingly. Go on.”

“We’ll be right outside if you need anything,” they bowed politely and filed out of the kitchen.

She remembered how often Li Chuzhe liked steamed crucian carp. So today, she decided to make it.

The scent of ginger and soy wafted through the house. Lunch was almost ready.

Finally, Li Chuzhe stirred awake. He checked the clock—late. As he descended the stairs, he saw Tang Yan in a floral apron, setting plates on the table alone.

“Where are the servants? Why are you doing this?” His tone sharpened, steps quickening.

Tang Yan smiled, seeing him awake. “I sent them down. You cooked for me once. Now I’m returning the favor.”

Li Chuzhe moved closer, helping her carry dishes. When he saw her holding the last plate—steamed crucian carp—he froze.

“You made this?”

“Mm-hmm. You ate it so many times. Figured you liked it.”

Her words were casual, but something in her quiet gesture warmed him deep inside.

He sat at the table, and for the first time in a long while, showed off a bright, genuine smile—white teeth flashing. “Huh. Not bad at all.”

“Hmph. Try it. You’ll be blown away.”

Her cooking was flawless. She’d lived alone for years, and to treat herself, she’d learned to cook everything—just to survive, and maybe, to remember.

Li Chuzhe’s lips stayed lifted. He picked up chopsticks, speared a piece of fish, and brought it to his mouth.

“It tastes… just like Grandma’s.”

Tang Yan didn’t catch it. “What?”

He stared at her, stunned. Was this fate? Coincidence? Something deeper?

“Nothing. It’s… really good.”

Seeing his expression, Tang Yan knew she’d nailed it. Her nose lifted proudly. “I told you. I’ve got confidence in my cooking.”

“Alright, Miss Tang. Eat up.”

He passed her a piece of fish.

That meal—simple, warm, full of quiet care—soothed something deep inside Li Chuzhe. For the first time in a long while, he felt close to his grandmother. Not lost. Not broken.

Afterward, he rested his chin in his hand, watching her. “Miss Tang… what else is there about you that I don’t know?”

“Want to find out?”

He nodded, eager.

“Sorry. Not telling.” She chuckled, then turned and headed upstairs to change clothes—ready to go out.