Chapter 15
“My hand slipped; I just didn’t hold the glass steadily,” Shang Che’s heart tightened, though his face remained entirely unruffled. “What could possibly be in my bag?”
“If there’s nothing in it, then why does your gaze keep drifting downward, intentionally or otherwise?” Lu Zeming held up three fingers, leaning his body forward with curiosity, as if his eyes could pierce through that thin layer of fabric. “From the moment you sat down until now, you’ve zoned out at least three times.”
Sometimes, having a friend who knows you too well and possesses overly sharp observation skills isn’t a very pleasant thing.
Shang Che quietly used his palm to press down on the restless cotton doll through the fabric of his crossbody bag. Meeting his friend’s probing eyes, he adopted his usual casual and open tone: “It’s a new bag—the novelty hasn’t worn off yet. If you like it, I’ll gift you one.”
Then, without waiting for Lu Zeming to speak again, he quickly switched the topic, a look of well-calibrated urgency appearing on his face: “Where’s the restroom?”
The urgency on Shang Che’s face wasn’t fake. Lu Zeming raised an eyebrow and pointed toward a subtle hidden door in the room. He watched as his friend immediately stood up, walking over in a hurry without forgetting to bring along his “precious new bag.”
Shang Che’s behavior was unusual in every aspect—he was definitely hiding something from him. But since Shang Che wasn’t willing to tell him right now, Lu Zeming couldn’t force the issue either.
The restroom was exceptionally clean. The door lock engaged with a click, shutting out most of the noise from the party outside, leaving only the low, subtle hum of the ventilation system.
The soundproofing was better than expected. Shang Che turned on the faucet, letting the stream of water wash over his fingertips. The little creature in the bag was making a scene again. He turned around, unzipped his crossbody bag, and pulled out the “culprit” who had almost caused major trouble.
“What are you making a fuss about?” Lowering his brows, he pulled his flat lips into a cold, faint curve, his tone laced with clear annoyance.
The liberated cotton doll didn’t thrashes around or talk excitedly as it usually did. It merely kept staring at him with that same resentful, furious expression, looking as if Shang Che were some unfaithful scoundrel.
“…Didn’t you promise not to move around recklessly?” Shang Che’s brow furrowed slightly. He set the cotton doll in his palm, asking with patient restraint: “Rolling back and forth in the bag earlier, almost getting us caught… and now throwing this kind of face at me—what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hmph!”
The cotton doll sat huffily in Shang Che’s palm, even intentionally twisting its bottom to turn its back on him, leaving Shang Che with nothing but a round, plush back of its head.
…How on earth had he offended this little creature?
He had clearly promised to behave, yet it rolled around inside the bag and almost got them discovered. He hadn’t even called it to account, yet this little thing was throwing a temper tantrum first.
Shang Che pinched the cotton doll’s soft head, turning it back around with effortless ease. Looking at its gritted-teeth expression, the irritation he originally felt inexplicably dissipated quite a bit, replaced by a sense of amusement.
He poked the cotton doll’s puffed-up cheek with a fingertip, speaking with decent patience: “Speak.”
The cotton doll blurted out huffily: “Mean human!”
“You wanted to come out, so I brought you out. I even let you hold my finger.” Shang Che felt he had indulgence this little thing to the extreme today. Wearing an expression that invited it to elaborate, he asked flatly: “How am I a mean human again?”
The cotton doll had been putting up a tough front, but when pressed and petted by Shang Che, its momentum involuntarily softened.
It raised its small face, loudly declaring in a tone filled with grievance and accusation: “You’re gonna have… another Cotton!”
“Mean human!”
Shang Che’s expression went blank for a second. How come he didn’t know he was getting another cotton doll?
“When did I ever say I was getting another cotton doll?” he asked, somewhat bewildered.
The cotton doll raised its arm with a creak, its face full of indignant fury: “I heard it all! You want a… new cotton doll, and you’re gonna… send Cotton away!”
…So it eavesdropped on his conversation with Lu Zeming, misheard it, and misunderstood the whole thing.
Shang Che finally understood what was going on. Feeling a headache coming on, he explained: “It’s not that I want one, someone else wants one.”
The cotton doll looked at him half-skeptically, its golden eyes practically written with: You’re lying to Cotton.
“It really isn’t that I want one.” Shang Che spoke too quickly, adding almost out of reflex: “Besides, I don’t even like cotton dolls.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Shang Che regretted them.
He watched as the fierce little guy in his palm drained of its momentum at a speed visible to the naked eye. Those big golden eyes, usually so bright, dimmed in an instant, and even the tuft of hair on its head wilted.
Cotton Doll: …
“From the start… you wanted to… throw Cotton away too…” The cotton doll’s voice carried a tiny sob, utterly heartbroken. “Cotton knows… you’ve never… liked Cotton!”
In truth, the cotton doll had known all along that this human didn’t like it. He had wanted to throw it away right at the beginning. Even though he ended up letting it stay, the cotton doll always harbored a thread of fear and anxiety in its heart.
It didn’t know how these thoughts had appeared in its head, but it just knew that some humans would abandon their cotton dolls.
The lucky ones would be sent to the next home; the unlucky ones would be thrown out directly. The once clean and white cotton doll would turn filthy, tattered, and torn, only to be dismantled, bitten, corroded…
It didn’t want to be suddenly thrown away one day, nor did it want to turn into an unwanted, dirty cotton doll. So it tried so hard to be good, tried so hard to cooperate, tried so hard to make this human like it…
Yet it still seemed useless.
“Human is gonna… send Cotton away…”
“Human is gonna… throw Cotton out…”
“Human is gonna… have a new Cotton…”
The cotton doll’s eyes welled up into two sad poached eggs once more. Even though no tears fell, it continued to sob in a small voice.
The vein on Shang Che’s temple throbbed. He felt a throbbing headache, feeling both absurd and helpless. He admitted that he had such thoughts at the very beginning, but after all this time together, such an idea had never crossed his mind again.
He offered a clumsy explanation: “I won’t throw you away.”
“I can guarantee you this much too,” he paused, his tone taking on an unprecedented seriousness, “I won’t get any other cotton dolls.”
The cotton doll looked at him cautiously: “Really?”
“Since I kept you, I’ll take good care of you.”
Shang Che’s shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh from deep in his chest, making a compromise filled with helpless, total resignation: “I can barely handle one cotton doll as it is. If another one comes along, how am I supposed to survive?”
The cotton doll looked deeply concerned: “If human dies… what will Cotton do?”
Was it wishing for his death so early on?
This cotton doll always managed to “provoke” him in the most unexpected places.
“I’ll try my best to live a long time.” Shang Che thought for a moment, then added: “Until you don’t need me anymore.”
From those deep eyes—which carried helplessness yet reflected its own tiny figure—the cotton doll sensed a solemn promise.
“Cotton will never… not need human.” Staring straight into those flickering black pupils, the cotton doll spoke softly yet firmly: “Cotton will always… stay with human.”
Shang Che was almost brought to laughter by its overly earnest little appearance.
A corner of his heart seemed to be melted open by this soft, stubborn little gesture, creating a place to accept it.
Shang Che nodded, reaching out a finger to gently hook the cotton doll’s round, knuckle-less little hand. Under the cotton doll’s innocent and curious gaze, he used his warm finger pad to press gently against its soft “palm.”
It was like completing a childish yet solemn contract.
“Let’s get along well from now on.” He offered a subtle, gentle, and genuine smile. “I’ll try my best to be a qualified keeper.”
The cotton doll still hadn’t forgotten the question the human had been avoiding all along: “Then will human… try hard to like Cotton?”
Asked so directly, a flicker of embarrassment seemed to cross Shang Che’s face as he offered a vague answer: “…Barely, I suppose.”
