A Straight Man's Unexpected Pregnancy with the British Duke's Baby - Chapter 5

Maybe lying down for a couple of days would help, Shi Yuan thought.

He had been staying up late a lot lately, and walking on the road, he often felt drowsy, as if suffering from spring fatigue.

Shi Yuan stumbled back to the dormitory, thinking to himself that he really hoped he wouldn’t run into Hawthorne at a time like this. He had just thrown up, and right now, he was at his most vulnerable.

If that damn Brit saw him like this, it would be another blow to the dignity of Chinese tough guys.

But as soon as he opened the door, he bumped right into Hawthorne.

To be honest, Shi Yuan had always been a very proud man. In the two years he had lived with Hawthorne, he had constantly maintained the composure, calmness, and strength befitting a Chinese student abroad.

For seven hundred days and nights, he had only slipped up twice.

The first time was the day he moved into the dorm. The British weather had been relentlessly rainy, and he had lost his umbrella while moving his luggage, leaving him soaked and utterly disheveled.

At the time, he didn’t know what his new roommate looked like. If he had known it was Hawthorne, he would have definitely dressed up and preened like a peacock to avoid being outshone.

Shi Yuan believed this was what set him apart from others.

Most people, when they saw Hawthorne, either felt ashamed of their own inadequacies or were simply overwhelmed by his presence.

But not Brother Yuan!

Brother Yuan would compete with him in looks!

Ever since that day, Shi Yuan had successfully been spurred on by Hawthorne, secretly competing with him in every aspect, especially paying close attention to his own behavior, speech, and appearance. He made sure to dress impeccably every day before leaving the dorm!

With sheer willpower, he had persevered until today, and finally, as expected, he slipped up for the second time.

Shi Yuan knew exactly how he looked right now: pale-faced, with dark circles under his eyes, and because he had vomited so violently outside, the whites of his eyes and his lips were bloodshot, making him look like a vampire.

But since he was of Chinese descent, he’d have to be called a bat spirit.

If he were American, he’d have to be called Batman.

Shi Yuan amused himself with this train of thought and couldn’t help but chuckle.

He was still laughing when he remembered Hawthorne was still at the door. So, he quickly wiped the smile off his face, snorted disdainfully with his nose in the air, brushed past Hawthorne’s shoulder, and headed straight to his room without looking back.

Hawthorne frowned as he watched Shi Yuan’s retreating figure.

He had noticed for a while now that Shi Yuan had been avoiding him over the past month.

The change seemed to have started after that night.

Could it be that he had done something unforgivable to Shi Yuan that night?

Hawthorne thought for a moment, then called his secretary to meet him at Cambridge University for a discussion.

In less than five minutes, the secretary appeared in a centuries-old office at Trinity College, Cambridge.

This was one of the buildings donated by the Hawthorne family to the university, and Hawthorne usually met his secretary here.

The secretary, a man in his thirties or forties, wore a tailored suit with his hair meticulously combed back. He listened patiently to Hawthorne’s concerns.

After a moment of contemplation, he carefully chose his words and said, “Based on Your Grace’s description, it’s highly likely that Mr. Shi is upset with you.”

Hawthorne was taken aback. “Why would he be upset with me for no reason?”

The secretary gave a slight bow. “If you ask that, there could be many possible reasons.”

Hawthorne raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

The secretary replied without changing his expression. “For example, you might have been heartless after intimacy, pulling up your pants and pretending nothing happened.”

Hawthorne said, “Impossible. I barely even talk to him.”

The secretary said, “Of course, I was just making an analogy. I doubt the Duke would be such a scumbag. But based on my research, this is one of the most unforgivable behaviors in a romantic relationship, which is why I brought it up.”

Hawthorne was a bit surprised. “You research this? Where do you find your samples?”

The secretary replied, “Green River, a database from China.”

Hawthorne was familiar with financial databases like Bloomberg and Refinitiv, but he had never heard of Green River.

“Is it a newly developed database in China?” Hawthorne asked with reverence. Over the years, he had always kept an eye on the latest developments in the country, afraid of missing anything.

The secretary shook his head. “Not exactly new. It collects exemplary romantic relationship samples among homosexuals in China over the past two decades.”

Hawthorne was deeply impressed. “So authoritative.”

The secretary nodded again. “You can rest assured. When I talk nonsense, I never talk nonsense.”

The secretary’s real name was Hugh, which was translated into Chinese as Husi. When he first studied Chinese, his teacher asked him to choose a Chinese name. Husi borrowed the character “Hu” from his own name, and since the number eight is considered auspicious in China, he was henceforth named Hu Shuoba.

Hu Shuoba was well-read. His original motivation for learning Chinese was to read Chinese male-oriented web novels without barriers. He had once been obsessed with genres like cultivation, martial arts, son-in-law stories, soldier kings, dragon kings, and masters returning to the mundane world, effortlessly reading three hundred chapters a day.

But two years ago, when Hu Shuoba discovered that someone had moved into the Duke’s bachelor quarters and the Duke had silently allowed it, he, out of professional integrity as a private secretary, sensed that sooner or later the Duke would seek his advice on matters of the heart. Thus, he began exploring the previously uncharted territory of danmei literature…

And once he started, he couldn’t stop! It opened the door to a whole new world.

Hu Shuoba presented a small book he had prepared in advance. “Your Grace, this is the latest sample I’ve gathered from the vast Green River database. I believe it will be of great reference value to you.”

Hawthorne took it and saw it was a colorful little novel titled “After Moving In Together, I Got Entangled with My Arch-Rival.”

Very straightforward!

Hu Shuoba explained, “In this sample, both parties are prominent figures on their university campus. Initially, they couldn’t stand each other, but by a twist of fate, they were assigned to the same dormitory, leading to a deeply emotional love story…”

Hawthorne vaguely felt something was off but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Curious, he opened the book.

After just one glance, he snapped it shut, a vein throbbing at his temple. “This is completely unrealistic. They slept together after only thirty-three days of living together?”

He and Shi Yuan had lived together for over seven hundred days and nights, and aside from dreams, they hadn’t even held hands.

It just showed how superficial and shallow this so-called sample was!

Hawthorne calmed his emotions and quickly tucked the book into his bag. “I’m taking this. We can’t let it pollute the Green River database.”

Hu Shuoba nodded understandingly. “It was meant for you anyway. Feel free to dispose of it as you wish.”

After a pause, he added with a mysterious expression, “This sample mentions a case at the beginning where the ice between the two parties was broken when one of them cooked for the other while they were sick. But since you find this sample unrealistic, this case naturally isn’t worth referencing either. Please be discerning and don’t take it at face value.”

Hawthorne nodded. “I’m aware of that.”

He patted Hu Shuoba’s shoulder, quite satisfied.

He had sought out Hu Shuoba precisely because Hu had minored in both philosophy and psychology at Harvard, capable of offering targeted and highly useful advice. Now, it seemed Hu Shuoba had indeed provided suggestions that sounded very helpful.

Shi Yuan lay in his room all day, eating nothing.

It wasn’t that he had no appetite—after 24 hours without food, he was already starving. The problem was that no matter what he tried to eat, he felt nauseous. He could only curl up in bed, relying on water to keep his vital signs stable.

So annoying.

If he starved to death in his room, he’d truly become a legend at Kang University.

Shi Yuan suddenly missed Hawthorne a little.

Had he known it would come to this, he should have treated Hawthorne better on a daily basis. At least then, if he died, Hawthorne might help preserve his body intact.

With a pained sigh, Shi Yuan felt another wave of nausea churn in his stomach. He quickly covered his mouth, got out of bed, and rushed to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne had just finished his meeting with Hu Shuoba and immediately headed to a nearby Chinese supermarket for a major shopping trip.

He bought four large bags of ingredients and hurried back to the dorm without delay. Just as he arrived home, he bumped into Shi Yuan emerging from the bathroom.

Shi Yuan had just finished dry heaving. His eyes were moist, the corners tinged with red, and his face bore a fragile, delicate beauty from the ordeal. Coupled with the vermilion mole on his right cheek, positioned directly below his eye, it resembled a drop of blood about to fall—a tragically beautiful sight.

Hawthorne paused. “Not feeling well?”

He couldn’t help but recall the “ragged doll” metaphor Hu Shuoba often used—a term to describe the indescribable state of a certain type of submissive partner.

“None of your business.” The sight of Hawthorne instantly irritated Shi Yuan. He snorted coldly, promptly forgetting all the remorse he’d felt while lying alone in bed earlier.

The ragged doll pouted.

Clutching his stomach, Shi Yuan turned and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The ragged doll bristled.

He didn’t understand where Shi Yuan’s intense hostility toward him came from.

He took off his scarf with one hand and hung it behind the door, rolled up his sleeves, and carried the four large bags of ingredients and seasonings into the kitchen. Assuming the posture of a master chef, he began cooking.

Few people knew that Hawthorne, a native Brit, was actually an excellent cook.

Moreover, his culinary talent was entirely focused on Chinese cuisine. Having cooked it since childhood, his dishes were quite authentic, fully on par with professional chefs in China itself.

The sounds from the kitchen drifted into Shi Yuan’s bedroom.

He had just lain down when he heard the chopping of meat and the sizzling of stir-frying from outside.

Shi Yuan froze for a moment.

For an instant, he felt as if he had returned to China.

The aroma of the food soon wafted out, reaching Shi Yuan’s nose.

He rubbed his empty stomach, nearly starving.

With a rather spineless thought, he figured: Even if he couldn’t eat, surely he could at least smell it…

Shi Yuan quietly peeked out from his bedroom, moving half an eye at a time like a thief.

The kitchen was filled with steam.

Hawthorne stood at the counter, expertly tossing the wok.

His tall frame was outlined sharply by the light—broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscles with an almost excessively perfect definition. Yet, at this moment, he was wearing an apron.

Somehow, it looked oddly domestic.

With a sizzle, white smoke rose from the wok. Hawthorne flipped it with one hand, his movements fluid and pleasing to the eye.

Shi Yuan watched, utterly mesmerized.

Hawthorne had actually noticed the furtive gaze much earlier.

A faint, unconscious smile surfaced in his eyes.

Shi Yuan remained completely unaware.

Curled up by the door like a little kitten, he still thought he was well hidden.

Hawthorne turned off the induction cooker.

Steam was still rising gently from the pot when he suddenly turned and walked straight toward Shi Yuan’s room.

Shi Yuan was startled and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

The sound was so loud it could probably be heard from the neighboring floor.

Huo Sang suppressed a laugh and came over to knock on the door.

After waiting a full half minute, Shi Yuan slowly opened the door, pretending to be groggy. “Hmm, senior, what’s up? I just woke up.”

Huo Sang pressed down the corners of his mouth. “Do you have an extra plate? I need one for the steamed perch.”

“Steamed perch!”

Shi Yuan swallowed his saliva and asked nonchalantly, “How many dishes did you make? You don’t even have enough plates.”

Huo Sang: “Just four.”

Shi Yuan peeked toward the dining room and finally got a clear look at the dishes on the table.

Crab roe tofu, sweet and sour pork ribs, Chinese broccoli stir-fried with cured meat…

All the flavors of home!

Shi Yuan said shyly, “That’s quite a lot.”

Huo Sang was almost overwhelmed by how adorable his roommate was.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay composed. “It’s fine. Enough for one person to eat.”

Shi Yuan widened his eyes and asked exaggeratedly, “Can one person finish all that?”

Huo Sang shook his head. “If I can’t finish it, I’ll just throw it away.”

Shi Yuan was genuinely distressed. “…What a waste.”

Would he rather throw it away than invite him to share?

Huo Sang felt that if he held back any longer, he’d lose his composure, which would be unbecoming of a duke. So he said, “I also think it’s a waste to throw it away. If two people ate together, it would be fine.”

Shi Yuan pretended not to understand. “Fine for what?”

Huo Sang looked into his eyes. “Would you like to eat with me?”

Shi Yuan almost jumped for joy but remembered to maintain his dignity, putting on a look of grim determination. “Although I’m not hungry yet, we really shouldn’t waste food.”

The excuse was absolutely perfect—it showcased the pride of a Chinese student abroad who wouldn’t accept charity, while also highlighting the virtue of not wasting food.

He truly was a high-EQ genius.

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