Chapter 10
…Go back to his room?
“Yes!!”
Hearing those words, the cotton doll gave its response almost immediately. Its soft, squishy voice rose slightly in volume, carrying the triumphant joy of a wish granted alongside an urgent fear that Shang Che might go back on his word.
The “wilted” tuft of ahoge hair on its head seemed to be injected with instant vitality, springing up with “radiant energy.” Its golden eyes sparkled with light as it stared straight at Shang Che.
Such a direct, unvarnished, and urgent response caught Shang Che off guard, causing the complex emotions churning inside him to tangle even more fiercely.
It had been a decision made on impulse in the first place; hearing the cotton doll’s answer actually made him feel somewhat flustered and even subtly guilty.
However, the words were already out. Even when facing a cotton doll, Shang Che couldn’t bring himself to break his promise.
“…Then keep up.”
Averting his gaze, he dropped those words in a feigned act of nonchalance, then turned and walked out, his steps swift and disorderly.
Shang Che—scrambling in a flustered escape—completely forgot “who” he had spoken those words to.
Still immersed in joy, the cotton doll suddenly saw the human leave the storage room without looking back. Its big eyes filled with hesitation and confusion, its small mouth softly calling out: “Human…”
The human didn’t hear…
The way the human turned and left looked so unfeeling…
Human, look at Cotton…
The cotton doll’s small cat-like mouth parted slightly in a daze.
Although it was thrilled that the human had agreed to let Cotton go back to his room together, with the human walking off like that, was Cotton supposed to crawl over by itself?
…Could this be a test given to Cotton by the human?
The cotton doll tilted its head, then nodded with absolute certainty.
The human’s room was truly hard to enter, so Cotton still had to rely on its own efforts!
Filled with determination, the cotton doll huffed and puffed, raising its two small round hands to flop onto the floor and begin its “grand expedition.”
Compared to the storage room, the sunlight in the bedroom was much brighter. Shang Che walked in with hurried steps, only to accidentally stub his toe against the corner of the wall. Realizing what a stupid thing he had just done, he turned back in frustration.
The cotton doll was currently thrashing across the blanket in a posture resembling a “low crawl,” dragging a shallow trail of crumpled fabric behind it.
It was the exact same method of movement as before.
Seeing this scene, the corner of Shang Che’s mouth twitched slightly.
The human’s feet appeared before its eyes again. The cotton doll stopped moving, raised its head, and looked up at him with its big golden eyes—as if confirming he hadn’t changed his mind, yet also complaining and accusing him of “inaction.”
Averting his eyes in escape, Shang Che bent down and reached out—this time, instead of grabbing the doll by its collar, he rested his palm against the doll’s back, using his thumb and middle finger to hook under its two soft arms, lifting it up with ease.
“Why didn’t you call me?” He cleared his throat. “…You’re too slow.”
What do you mean Cotton is too slow? This is clearly the human’s fault.
Refusing to back down, the cotton doll looked at him resentfully: .
Knowing it was indeed his fault this time, Shang Che remarked casually: “Didn’t you learn how to walk? Why are you still crawling?”
The cotton doll moved its arms, rubbing against the back of his fingers: “Human just cleaned Cotton… Cotton… didn’t want to get dirty.”
Great. He couldn’t win an argument against this cotton doll.
Without wasting any more words, Shang Che carried it by the back and turned into the bedroom.
The bedroom was far more private than the storage room, the air infused with the fresh citrus scent Shang Che frequently used.
He walked to the edge of the bed and hesitated for a moment, deciding against placing it directly on the mattress—that felt too bizarre.
Looking around the room, Shang Che set the cotton doll on a rocking chair by the window, a spot he occasionally used to zone out and soak up the sun.
This was considered the most quiet, secluded corner of the entire room. It formed a triangle with his bed and desk—neither too close nor too far, with an open view.
“You stay here.” Shang Che pointed at the rocking chair beneath the doll’s bottom, his tone reverting to its usual distant, flat manner. “No moving around recklessly, no making weird noises, and no saying weird things.”
Noticing the cotton doll’s line of sight, he added: “And you’re not allowed to climb onto the bed either.”
Placed securely by him, the cotton doll’s body sank into the soft embrace of the chair. Hearing Shang Che’s words, it nodded its round head in earnest: “Cotton knows. Cotton will be good.”
It agreed as readily as ever, but Shang Che reserved his judgment on that.
The afternoon sun filtered through the semi-sheer curtains. The bedroom was very quiet, filled only with Shang Che’s shallow breathing and the rustling sound of his pen tip gliding across paper.
Shang Che sat at his desk with an exercise workbook spread out before him. The black gel pen tucked between his fingers spun from time to time before jotting down a few lines on the paper.
The sunlight happened to fall on his side profile and the hand holding the pen, outlining a sharp, clean silhouette—even the slight bulge of the veins on the back of his hand was clearly visible.
His expression at this moment was exceptionally focused. His brow would occasionally furrow for a second, only to smooth out and lift again shortly after.
This was the very first time the cotton doll had the chance to sit quietly like this with Shang Che.
It really liked the spot Shang Che had arranged for it. It could watch the human’s every move; even if Shang Che wasn’t sitting at the desk, it could clearly see him leave through the doorway and come back.
This time, the cotton doll followed the agreement to the letter. It made almost no sound and didn’t move around recklessly, only making extremely slow, quiet adjustments to its “sitting” posture every now and then, allowing the light filtering through to warm its soft body more evenly.
Finishing the last question, Shang Che let out a long breath. He rubbed his somewhat sore neck and leaned back into his chair, looking rather relaxed. His gaze casually swept across the room, finally landing on the rocking chair.
The cotton doll was still there—obedient and quiet, looking extraordinarily soft in the sunlight. Its golden eyes were turned toward him, though it was hard to tell whether it was looking at him or dazing off.
Why is it so well-behaved this time?
Shang Che suddenly felt like smiling, and his sense of fatigue seemed to dissipate a little.
“Bored?” he asked casually, as if offhandedly.
The cotton doll blinked in surprise. Realizing the human was actually talking to it, it swayed its head slightly: “Human is here… not bored… can watch human.”
Those words were truly difficult to respond to. Shang Che asked back: “What’s there to look at on a human?”
“Human… looks good,” the cotton doll answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even attempting to describe him. “Human’s hands are very flexible… eyes glow… legs are long… walks fast…”
They were all the most superficial, simple descriptions, yet for some reason, they gave Shang Che a strange sensation… of being intently watched.
Not scrutiny, not judgment, but a pure, child-like “gaze.”
“…You sure know how to observe.” The corner of Shang Che’s mouth twitched. Sitting up straight again, he reached out for the water glass at the corner of the desk.
He got up to go to the living room for water. Reaching the doorway, his steps paused for a second, and he glanced back at the cotton doll: “Are you… really not needing to eat anything?”
This time, the cotton doll’s answer seemed slightly hesitant: “…No need.”
“Oh.” Shang Che responded, saying no more as he turned and went out.
When he returned carrying the water glass, he discovered that the cotton doll sitting on the rocking chair seemed to have shifted its position slightly. Originally nestled in the center, it was now pressed closer to one of the armrests.
Its soft, plush arms were carefully and painstakingly raised, reaching toward the patch of sunlight that spilled through the window onto the armrest.
Watching this scene, Shang Che didn’t utter a sound to disturb it.
He suddenly wanted to know whether this magical cotton doll had any perception at all of the most basic things—like light, temperature, and touch…
As it turned out, Shang Che had perhaps still overestimated it.
The cotton doll discovered that whenever it raised its arm, the sunlight falling on the armrest would vanish, and if it moved its arm away, the patch of sunlight would reappear. So magical! Cotton is so awesome!
It was completely absorbed in playing, thoroughly entertaining itself, not even noticing that Shang Che had already returned and was silently watching it.
Watching its clumsy yet earnest little actions, the hesitation in Shang Che’s heart regarding keeping it seemed to show signs of loosening without him realizing.
He didn’t even realize that the corner of his lips had curved upward into an extremely faint, gentle arch.
