Chapter 23
Shang Che hadn’t been held by anyone in such a reliant, affectionate way for a very long time, even if the one holding him right now was a cotton doll without a breath or a heartbeat.
A soft, fluffy touch radiated against the side of his neck, carrying the clean, distinct scent of fabric unique to the doll. Even his ear was brushed by that tuft of hair until it felt…
The sensation of having this soft little thing pressed against his chest felt even stranger.
An uncontrollable blush rushed up to the tips of his ears. Shang Che felt like his ears were about to catch fire. He instinctively tilted his head, wanting to escape that annoying itch. His chest rose and fell sharply a few times, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.
In the end, he said nothing at all. Maintaining this awkward yet intimate posture, his arm steadily cradled the tiny “accessory” in his arms as he took long, silent strides downstairs.
The grand villa was exceptionally quiet, leaving only the sound of Shang Che’s rhythmic, somewhat steady footsteps. The cotton doll opened its eyes wide, taking in this “territory” that was entirely foreign to it.
The downstairs living room was much more open than the bedroom it had been staying in. The high ceilings made the space feel even more expansive. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows was a neatly manicured garden, where sunlight poured in completely unobstructed, leaving bright patches of light across the light-colored rug.
The open kitchen and dining area had a cool-toned modern aesthetic, centered around a island made of a solid slate slab. Shang Che walked up to the counter and set the soft “accessory” in his arms onto the smooth surface.
“Human…” The cotton doll spoke in a tone still lingering with reluctance. It loved the feeling of being held by its keeper far too much.
“Ahem,” Shang Che raised his hand unnaturally, rubbing the side of his neck—where the strange, lingering touch left by the doll still seemed to remain. “I’m going to prepare breakfast. Sit properly by yourself and don’t fidget.”
Fine, human is too fragile to go without food.
The cotton doll had no choice but to forcefully suppress its urge to “snuggle” again, staring straight at its keeper instead.
After a little while, curiosity ultimately won out. It began shuffling inch by inch toward the direction where Shang Che was busy, carefully moving until it could observe up close the items its keeper pulled out from that cold “big box.”
The cotton doll reached out a small, round hand, touching a round object that looked remarkably like its own hand, and gave it a gentle push—
Gurgle, gurgle. The round object immediately rolled across the smooth countertop. Quick-eyed and swift-handed, Shang Che stretched out his long arm, intercepting it right at the brink of falling off the edge.
He picked up the egg, turning to the cotton doll—which wore a face that practically read ‘Cotton didn’t mean to’—and spoke in a slightly sterner tone than usual, sounding half like an educational lesson and half like a reminder: “This is an egg. It breaks easily, so you can’t play with it.”
“Eg… g…” The cotton doll nodded its head, indicating it had remembered. Then it touched a upright, rectangular box in front of it that had strange things drawn on it. Finding that it couldn’t push it, the doll tried to hug it with both hands instead.
Evidently, an unopened, large-volume carton of milk was not something a cotton doll could move.
“Human,” giving up on moving the object, it used a small round finger to point at the design on the box instead, “what is this?”
Shang Che was currently placing two slices of bread into the toaster. Pressing down the button, he glanced over upon hearing the question: “That’s milk. The picture on the box is a cow, which is also a type of animal.”
“Cow?” The cotton doll picked up new knowledge. It still remembered what Shang Che had taught it before: “Human said before… dogs go bark-bark… do cows do that too?”
“They do,” Shang Che replied offhandedly while preparing the frying pan. “Cows go mooo—”
Shang Che instinctively mimicked a cow’s call. His voice wasn’t loud, yet it sounded remarkably clear in the spacious, quiet kitchen.
Then, he froze on the spot, his movements coming to a sudden halt.
Immediately after, he felt he looked a bit stupid.
What on earth was he doing?!
Why was he mimicking a cow for a cotton doll?
A familiar wave of heat—a mix of embarrassment and absurdity—surged uncontrollably up to the tips of his ears once again with a sudden whoosh.
The cotton doll was thoroughly amused by this far-from-standard “moo.”
Those big golden eyes curved into crescents, and its stitched cat-like mouth split open wide, revealing a smile filled with pure joy.
“Mooo—” It mimicked the call, its voice soft and squishy, completely lacking power, yet perfectly imitating the strange and abrupt tone Shang Che had used earlier.
Clapping its small round hands, the cotton doll announced excitedly: “Cow sounds! So fun!”
Looking at the little creature before him that was practically bursting with joy over a single cow impression, the subtle embarrassment and awkwardness in Shang Che’s heart dissipated by more than half before he even realized it.
Shaking his head, he tapped the “rescued” egg lightly against the rim of a bowl, cracking it open with force so the egg whites and yolk slid into the white porcelain bowl. Tossing the eggshell into the trash, he dexterously pulled out a pair of chopsticks and whipped the egg rapidly.
The cotton doll watched unblinkingly, its golden pupils rotating back and forth alongside the swirling yellow liquid in the bowl, its head nodding along bit by bit:
(@o@!).
“Human, you’re so awesome~” It praised from the bottom of its heart, as though Shang Che were performing some incredible magic trick.
Shang Che shook his head without speaking. The butter melted rapidly in the pan, a rich fragrance wafting out and cutting through the somewhat cold, desolate air of the spacious house.
Sizzle—
The egg liquid poured into the pan began to solidify rapidly from the edges. Shang Che’s nose twitched slightly as he inhaled the faint, savory aroma.
The cotton doll seemed particularly mesmerized by this “instant transformation.” Its entire body involuntarily leaned toward the steaming pan in Shang Che’s hand, its round head getting closer and closer—
Until it was firmly blocked back by an arm extended by its keeper.
“…” The cotton doll blinked its big eyes, a little perplexed. “Human?”
“What are you doing?” Shang Che shot it a sideways glance, his hands not stopping for a moment as he deftly flipped the fried egg over.
The cotton doll pointed a small round finger at the “magic-performing” egg in the pan, its tone filled with wonder and awe: “So magical~”
Half-sighing and half-smiling, Shang Che’s voice was so light it was almost inaudible: “Silly Cotton.”
“…Mm?” The cotton doll responded, then slowly tilted its head to the side.
Shang Che found it funny to watch. Using his elbow, he lightly bumped that round head that was wobbling on the verge of tumbling into the pan, warning helplessly: “Sit properly. Don’t fall into the pan, or you’ll turn into a ‘pan-fried cotton doll.'”
“!!!”
The cotton doll’s eyes widened in an instant, its golden eyes filled with terror!
Was the human going to put it… into the pan just like this egg?!
No way! Cotton dolls were not edible!
Frightened half to death, its whole body shuddered. It immediately flailed its short arms and legs, frantically shuffling its bottom backward, almost tumbling off the edge of the smooth island counter in the panic.
To the point where Shang Che, having just scooped the fried egg onto a plate, turned around only to catch sight of this perilous scene. He hastily reached out to scoop it up: “…What’s wrong with you now?”
Scooped up into his hand, the cotton doll’s trembling voice sounded timid, pitiful, and aggrieved: “Human… can’t eat Cotton…”
Shang Che was almost driven to laughter by this cotton doll’s bizarre train of thought. Unsure whether to be angry or amused, he asked: “How on earth did you come up with something so absurd?”
Just as he was about to pull a stern face to “educate” this uniquely minded little creature, he looked down, only to meet the cotton doll’s face that was plastered with expressions of “flustered helplessness” and “weak and pitiful.”
“…” He was truly defeated.
Closing his eyes, he tried to persuade himself. When he opened his eyes again, only a wave of resigned helplessness remained.
“Listen,” he softened his voice, trying to make his tone sound as trustworthy as possible, “Humans do not eat cotton dolls.”
The cotton doll looked half-skeptical: “…Really?”
“Really,” Shang Che affirmed. Immediately after, that familiar, slightly disdainful tone returned: “Do you really think you look tasty?”
Human doesn’t eat Cotton! Human is good!
Having received an explicit guarantee, the cotton doll’s storm cleared in an instant. That pitiful little face immediately switched back to a beaming grin, its big golden eyes sparkling as it looked back up at its keeper, as if the one scared half to death and almost falling off the counter earlier wasn’t it at all.
Shang Che fell into silence as he watched the cotton doll change expressions faster than flipping a page—this little creature really seemed to have no brain.
A thought suddenly flashed across his mind.
His gaze landed on the cotton doll’s flat face, which only featured a stitched cat-like mouth. Without a nose, could a cotton doll smell scents?
The cotton doll suddenly saw its keeper place the porcelain dish holding the egg and bacon in front of it, asking with a touch of probing curiosity: “Do you think it smells bad?”
…Bad? What was that?
The cotton doll was clearly unfamiliar with the word.
It hesitated for a moment, its golden pupils rolling around. Looking at its keeper’s face, which seemed to be waiting earnestly for an answer, it arrived at a conclusion it considered thoroughly reasonable—its human keeper was seeking praise! Just like when it praised the human for being “awesome” earlier!
And so, it nodded its head forcefully, answering in a resounding voice: “Bad!”
Shang Che: “…” As expected, one shouldn’t hold any common-sense expectations for a lump of cotton.
Acutely sensing that its keeper’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment, the cotton doll felt its answer might have been wrong: “Human… did Cotton answer… wrong?”
Shang Che took a deep breath, holding up a finger to wave it before its eyes: “Not a single bit right.”
“First of all, this is called fragrant, not bad.”
“Secondly, this is a type of scent.”
The cotton doll looked utterly bewildered: “…Sce… nt?”
“Humans smell scents using their noses,” Shang Che nodded, pointing a finger at his own nose, then pointing at his mouth, explaining: “And taste flavors using their mouths.”
“Too bad a little Cotton like you doesn’t have a nose and doesn’t eat food, so you won’t understand,” Shang Che said with feigned regret.
Hearing this, the cotton doll silently brought its two small round hands together, covering its stitched cat-like mouth. Its two big golden eyes darted around, looking as though it were dizzy from its keeper’s complex explanation, yet also looking as though it were earnestly “digesting” these brand-new concepts.
Shang Che teased it no further, turning around to carry his breakfast over to the sunlit dining table by the window. He then walked back to the counter, easily picking up the carton of milk with one hand, while his other arm naturally wrapped around the still-“musing” doll to cradle it securely.
“Let’s go,” he said, “Your human keeper is going to eat his breakfast.”
The cotton doll and the milk carton were placed side-by-side on the dining table. It lowered its round head slightly, looking curiously at the breakfast before its keeper. A few seconds later, it couldn’t help extending its two small round hands, tentatively reaching toward the edge of the plate—
Shang Che pinched those “troublemaking” hands in time, wearing an expression of confrontation.
“Hehehe…” The cotton doll let out a guilty laugh. Even though it had been caught red-handed, it tried hard to puff out its little chest to make its reasoning sound more justified, “Breakfast… Cotton wants to eat too… Cotton wants to join human!”
Shang Che unconsciously rubbed its soft hands with his thumb, mercilessly rejecting it using the words it had spoken itself: “You said it yourself—only humans need to eat, cotton dolls don’t.”
“Mean human.” Poked right in its “vital spot,” the cotton doll pouted its cat-like mouth in disappointment. Yet those big golden eyes still stared unblinkingly and expectantly at the plate in front of Shang Che, brimmed with yearning and a persistent “I want to participate too.”
That gaze was far too focused, to the point where Shang Che, after taking two bites, ultimately surrendered.
After a few seconds, the cotton doll saw its keeper get up with a sigh, leaving and returning with an empty dish and a spoon, placing them in front of it.
Shang Che felt as if he were playing house with a child, saying awkwardly: “…You can eat air.”
Hooray!
Sunlight poured warmly through the glass window. Shang Che ate his breakfast slowly, occasionally raising his eyes to glance at the cotton doll opposite him, which was tirelessly controlling the spoon with its two small round hands.
The cotton doll was thrilled!
It reached out its two small round hands, working hard to touch the spoon beside the porcelain dish. Clasping its palms together with effort, it wobbly and slowly controlled the spoon—which felt a bit heavy and troublesome for it.
Then, it pretended to scoop up “air” from the empty dish, “feeding” it to its stitched cat-like mouth, letting out satisfied, subtle whimpers as if truly enjoying a sumptuous feast.
Whenever that disobedient spoon slipped from its clumsy little hands and fell onto the tabletop with a clatter, Shang Che would extend his slender fingers to give it a light nudge, accurately pushing the spoon back within the cotton doll’s reach.
In the yard outside the window, a white swing swayed gently in a passing breeze. Shang Che leaned lazily against his chair’s backrest, his gaze drifting lazily over before landing back onto the focused, pink little figure across from him.
He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the last lingering traces of grogginess from last night’s medication seemed to be thoroughly washed away by this unhurried breakfast, the bright, unclouded sunlight outside, and the silly little creature beside him mimicking human “dining.”
A long-absent peace and relaxation enveloped Shang Che’s entire body.
“Human…” The cotton doll suddenly put down the “heavy” spoon, raising its head to look straight at its keeper.
“Mm,” Shang Che responded, his voice carrying a gentleness he hadn’t noticed himself.
“Tomorrow,” the cotton doll thought about it very earnestly, then spoke in a tone that sounded almost like stating a matter of fact, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “From now on, Cotton will eat… together with you.”
It wasn’t a cautious plea, nor was it a bargaining probe; it was an expectation taken for granted.
As if in the cotton doll’s world, every single morning from now on ought to feature such a picture—sunlight, a dining table, its keeper, and the “air-eating” self.
Shang Che looked at this cotton doll that had suddenly barged into his life.
He looked at that brightly smiling, unclouded face; at those eyes that appeared increasingly crystal-clear in the sunlight; at the pink tuft of ahoge hair atop the cotton doll’s head that swayed back and forth as it spoke.
The human was defeated, completely as expected.
The hard places in Shang Che’s heart were warmed through by the sunlight filling the room right now, like melting butter, slowly opening up.
He didn’t say “okay,” nor did he say “not okay,” not even refuting it in a disdainful or cold tone as he usually did.
He merely reached out a finger, lightly tapping the cotton doll’s head, and then, under the cotton doll’s confused yet expectant gaze, spoke in a very soft yet clear voice:
“Suit yourself.”
