Chapter 20
One human and one cotton doll stood in a four-eyed stare down, an atmosphere of childish yet subtle standoff pervading the air.
Shang Che’s lips twitched, opening and closing a few times. Only after a long moment did he squeeze out a rigid sentence from his throat: “…I didn’t want to know that badly anyway.”
How could that be!
The cotton doll’s golden eyes were instantly brimmed with the shock of “you are lying to Cotton.” It worked hard to maneuver the few stitches on its face, making an extraordinarily vivid, insight-filled expression that locked firmly onto Shang Che.
“But human… clearly… wanted to know so badly~” It dragged out its soft, squishy tone, its voice carrying a touch of subtle gloating, as though it had completely seen through its human keeper’s duplicity.
Shang Che averted his gaze: “I didn’t.”
The cotton doll tilted its round head, its pink ahoge hair swaying with the movement, its tone resolute: “You clearly did.”
“Impossible.” Still the same dry denial.
The cotton doll pouted its stitched cat-like mouth, glaring huffily at this awkward human who “refused to admit it to his dying breath.”
Shang Che simply turned his face away entirely, no longer looking at it at all. Sitting cross-legged on the soft rug, he began sorting those tiny shirts, overalls, and jackets into laundry bags according to color shade.
His movements appeared focused, yet held a sense of evasion, as if embarrassed from having his inner thoughts exposed.
“Because Cotton likes human,” the cotton doll blurted out out of nowhere, its voice not particularly loud. Paying no mind to whether Shang Che was listening or not, it simply expressed its feelings in the most straightforward manner, “So… Cotton feels human… is the absolute best!”
The cotton doll didn’t understand the roundabout subtleties and awkward duplicity of the human world.
Its round head was stuffed with the softest, fluffiest cotton; its thoughts were simple and direct—liking was liking, and good was good.
Yet it was precisely this unreserved, straight-to-the-point way of expressing itself that acted like a tiny cannonball wrapped in a soft sugar coating. With a pop, it hit the most defenseless corner of Shang Che’s heart dead-on.
His hand—currently organizing a light blue shirt—froze almost imperceptibly. His movements slowed down, and even his breathing seemed to lighten for a fraction of a second. A rare emotion, a mix of fluster and embarrassment, swept rapidly across his brow and eyes.
Shang Che lowered his head slightly, the fine strands of hair on his forehead falling down, neatly concealing the flustered mess that had leaked out for that instant.
“…Glib tongue.” After a long moment, he softly spat out two words, sounding even lower and more muffled than usual.
The cotton doll had sharp eyes. It acutely caught sight of the keeper’s ears peeking out from beneath his hair, which seemed to flush with an extremely faint, unnatural shade of red.
Human is shy!
The cotton doll secretly and joyously cheered in its heart. It had grown smart this time, knowing that blurting out such a discovery might cause the “shy” human to “fly into an even greater rage out of humiliation.” Thus, it merely curved its cat-like mouth into an arch, continuing to sit obediently on the sofa, intently watching its keeper tidy up those tiny hair clips, hats, and necklaces, carefully sorting them as well.
Shang Che stabilized his mind—which had been disrupted into a surreal mess. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed a mini denim hat, tossing out a self-examining question as if casually chatting: “…Don’t you think I treated you poorly before?”
“Before…?” The cotton doll learned another new word. It thought about it earnestly, then shook its head, its tone still cheerful and firm: “Before was good too~”
“Although human… sometimes… speaks meanly,” the cotton doll raised a hand, beginning to count them off, “human spread out a blanket for Cotton… gave the shiny… snow globe to Cotton… cleaned up… the dirty Cotton…”
“Human didn’t… throw Cotton away. Human kept Cotton… behind.” It paused, its gaze sweeping over the crossbody bag that had carried it all day. The cotton doll no longer held a shred of resentment toward this crossbody bag now, its tone even carrying a subtle excitement: “Human even took Cotton outside! Cotton saw… so, so many Cottons!”
“So, human is Cotton’s… only keeper! The best keeper!” A summary that was practically ground-shaking.
Quiet fell over the room, with only the faint sound of air blowing from the air conditioning system.
“…”
Shang Che went silent.
Listening to this little thing use the most unpretentious language to list out his actions—which, by human standards, might not even count as “good” and were even laced with impatience and disdain—one by one, treasuring them like prized possessions and exalting them as “the best”; listening to it count off his meager, insignificant bits of kindness, a place in his heart felt as though a feather had lightly brushed past it—ticklish, warm, and carrying a faint, unfamiliar sour sweetness.
…Who on earth counted these things as “good”? It really was a tiny creature that didn’t hold a grudge.
His throat moved silently, ultimately resolving into a barely audible sigh.
The tight lines of his shoulders and neck seemed to quiet relax along with this sigh. He supported himself with his hands on the floor, slowly standing up, and looked silently at the cotton doll that was staring at him expectantly.
The cotton doll didn’t understand what was happening, merely raising its round head, gazing wide-eyed at its keeper who had suddenly stood up.
It maintained that completely unclouded smile, even raising two soft, small round hands to press against its cheeks, striking a pose it considered very cute.
Shang Che suddenly broke into a raspy laugh.
That usual impatient, hard-to-approach demeanor vanished in an instant. The smile curling up at the corners of his mouth was extraordinarily distinct at this moment, even pulling at the corners of his eyes.
Under the light, the cotton doll saw the human eyes it loved—glowing like obsidian—and that smile that made it freeze unconsciously in a daze.
Shang Che reached out his hand, his long index finger gently poking the fluffy, cute-acting head of the cotton doll: “What do you even know about being ‘good’?”
The force wasn’t heavy, yet it caused the supportless cotton doll to tumble softly backward onto the sofa cushion with a thump.
“Ah—” It instinctively let out a brief exclamation. Before it could “accuse” this “ambush-striking” human, it heard Shang Che’s voice—carrying a lingering smile that was more than a degree softer than usual—leisurely float over.
“You…”
“Are just a little lump of cotton.”
“Human, what is this?”
The cotton doll’s voice sounded in the quiet room. It pointed curiously at a soft, money-pouch-shaped object beside the bed.
“A nightlight,” Shang Che explained.
“Like this,” he extended a hand, demonstrating in front of the cotton doll. Giving a light pat with his palm, the soft, pouch-shaped tap lamp instantly lit up with a warm, gentle glow, “It lights up when you tap it.”
“Woah~~~”
The cotton doll’s big golden eyes lit up in an instant—a few degrees brighter than the nightlight itself—brimmed with unreserved novelty and awe.
Shang Che placed the tap lamp within arm’s reach beside the doll bed, then reached out to turn off the bedroom’s main light. The room plunged into sudden darkness, leaving only the nightlight casting a small circle of faint glow beside the doll bed.
The position of the doll bed had been chosen by the cotton doll itself—just twenty to thirty centimeters away from Shang Che’s bed, a distance where it could see its keeper without disturbing him.
The cotton doll couldn’t wait to reach out its small round hands, pulling the soft tap lamp into its embrace. Mimicking its keeper’s gesture, it gave the surface of the light a gentle pat with its round palm.
The light instantly grew a bit brighter than before.
“!!!” So magical!
Out of curiosity, it gave it another pat, but the money-pouch-shaped nightlight suddenly went out.
“!!!” The cotton doll instantly opened its cat-like mouth wide, its golden eyes filled with panic and loss for what to do.
Cotton’s sky! The nightlight was patted broken by Cotton!
It instinctively wanted to raise its head to call its keeper, but discovered that its keeper was already lying on his big bed, eyes tightly shut, breathing evenly, seeming to have already fallen asleep.
Can’t disturb keeper’s rest. Must be quiet and peaceful. The cotton doll swallowed the exclamation that rushed to its lips, reminding itself silently.
It decided to find a way to “fix” the nightlight by itself. Exerting a bit of force with its two soft, small round hands—one on the left and one on the right—it carefully sandwiched the soft body of the nightlight as if holding a fragile piece of china.
Suddenly, the warm light lit up once more.
Woah—
So that was how it worked! It wasn’t broken! It was fun!
As if discovering a new continent, the cotton doll began studying this “tap lamp” for its own amusement—patting it lightly to make it bright one moment, squeezing it with force to make it dim the next, playing to its heart’s content.
And on the bed not far away, Shang Che was closing his eyes, working hard to let himself fall asleep.
After learning that the cotton doll didn’t sleep, he felt the nights in this room had turned strange. His nerves were involuntarily wound tight, and his ears were extraordinarily sharp, constantly and involuntarily catching every tiny sound in the room.
This little creature couldn’t possibly be “watching” him sleep like this the entire night…
This realization made Shang Che feel the process of falling asleep was even more difficult than usual.
In the dark, his senses were amplified. He could clearly hear his own slightly hurried breathing as he tried to calm down; he could hear the subtle friction produced by the thin blanket; he could hear…
An extremely faint, nearly uncatchable “rustling” sound, like soft fabric dragging gently across the rug… ? What was that noise?
Shang Che held his breath.
Yet in the next instant, that faint “rustling” sound suddenly vanished, as if it had been nothing more than his imagination earlier.
Maybe he misheard.
Shang Che relaxed his tense body once more, attempting to let the drowsiness brought on by the medicine take the upper hand.
His consciousness began to grow hazy and chaotic, his body gradually sinking, on the verge of falling into sleep—
“Rustle… rustle…”
There it was again!
This time the sound was a bit clearer, and it was getting closer and closer to him.
Shang Che didn’t open his eyes immediately. Maintaining his posture lying on his side, he listened intently.
That extremely subtle “rustling” sound was moving from the direction of the window toward the side of his bed at a slow yet steady rhythm.
Could it be… that little creature?
Just as he was hesitating over whether to speak up and ask, the “rustling” sound stopped without warning. Immediately after, the room fell into silence once more, leaving only his own lightened breathing.
Shang Che waited patiently for a few more minutes, confirming that the sound didn’t ring out again, nor did it get any closer.
Only then did he slowly, extremely subtly lift his eyelids a fraction, using the extremely faint light from that nightlight on the doll bed to look toward the soft rug beside the bed.
He saw that tiny, pink figure sitting quietly on the rug, not far from where his arm hung outside the edge of the bed.
The cotton doll made no further attempt to climb onto the bed, merely adjusting its body into a comfortable posture, facing the direction of the bed.
Those golden eyes, faintly reflecting a glint of light in the dimness, were staring unblinkingly at the hand hanging beside the bed.
Shang Che looked at that lump of a figure on the rug, feeling both perplexed and somewhat amused in his heart.
What was this little thing doing, not staying properly in its own bed in the dead of night, running over here to stare at his hand?
Right at that moment, an extremely subtle, soft touch came from the back of his hand hanging beside the bed—it was the cotton doll using its fluffy head, bump by bump, gently nudging his hand.
Shang Che’s heart stirred. He didn’t react immediately, but relaxed the muscles in his arm instead, wanting to see what on earth this little creature was trying to do.
The cotton doll seemed to feel this method was working.
Straining to hold onto the edge of the bed that it could barely reach, it used its round head with even greater force to nudge the human’s big hand, pushing it inch by inch from the dangerous edge of the bed rail to the safer inner side of the mattress.
Only after confirming that the hand had completely left the edge of the bed and was “lying” properly back inside the blanket did the cotton doll blink its big eyes in satisfaction.
Then, it began its slow and quiet “grand expedition” once more, crawling back to its own little bed as slowly as possible without making a sound.
Throughout the entire process, it didn’t make a single extra noise, its movements clumsy yet earnest.
Shang Che quietly watched that tiny figure struggling to move across the rug, watching it curl back into its little bed in complete contentment after completing its “mission.”
For a moment, his chest felt as if it were caught off guard and filled to the brim with something, setting off a sour, soft sensation.
He moved his lips silently, ultimately merely closing his eyes, tucking that “protected” hand back into the warm blanket with greater peace of mind.
…What a silly Cotton.
