Chapter 31
“As long as you don’t take the initiative to speak or move around, I can bring you out of school openly and honorably. How about it?” Lu Zeming said very calmly, sounding completely effortless and familiar.
Hearing this, the cotton doll’s eyes lit up, and it agreed with utmost promptness, even proactively trying to burrow into his bag, its movements appearing extraordinarily practiced.
A large hand stopped it in time.
“This isn’t called ‘openly and honorably.'” Lu Zeming picked up the cotton doll that was trying to burrow its head into the backpack.
Then what was ‘openly and honorably’?
The cotton doll tilted its head, its big golden eyes blinking in confusion as it looked at the human before it.
Lu Zeming pushed up his glasses, saying in all seriousness: “Let me demonstrate for you.”
“Mm!” The cotton doll waited obediently, its heart filled with anticipation.
Before long, it realized—the extent of this ‘openly and honorably’ far surpassed its imagination…
Lu Zeming held it openly in his hand just like an ordinary plush toy, crossing through the hallway, bounding up the stairs, and returning to the classroom. Meeting other classmates along the way, he even naturally picked up the cotton doll’s small round hand, pretending to greet them on its behalf.
“Brother Lu, is this your doll? It’s pretty cute.”
“I finally understand why Brother Shang said your capacity for accepting new things is extraordinarily high.”
“A guy who can hold a cotton doll is rare indeed—you’re a role model for our generation, Brother Lu!”
Lu Zeming smiled, neither confirming nor denying it.
The cotton doll, however, was so scared it didn’t dare to move a single muscle, its entire plush body frozen stiff like a little iron weight.
This… this… this human was far too bold!
He actually let Cotton be exposed out in the open!
What if Cotton got caught?
Sensing the cotton doll’s stiffness and somewhat terrified expression, Lu Zeming drew it a bit closer, looking at his palm with complete composure. Yet when he spoke words of comfort, it sounded even more like a businesslike explanation: “As long as you’re good, you won’t be discovered.”
Pausing, he added: “Didn’t A-Che tell you the exact same thing?”
—That was true.
The cotton doll nodded its round head in small motions.
But… Cotton didn’t always listen every time… and might not listen completely either…
Feeling a bit guilty, it covered its mouth with its small round hands, its golden eyes blinking as it tried hard to put on a front of ‘Cotton is very innocent.’
But this human wasn’t Cotton’s keeper; Cotton couldn’t… fail to be good…
Since Cotton had to be good…
Then… why couldn’t Cotton just listen to its keeper’s words?
A very complex problem seemed to arise in the cotton doll’s small head. It pondered the entire way, to the point where it didn’t even notice when Lu Zeming set it down on his room’s desk.
Seeing its face full of worry, holding its head and almost curling into a ball, Lu Zeming suddenly found it somewhat amusing.
He poked the cotton doll’s soft cheek, asking: “What are you thinking about? Thinking about when A-Che will come pick you up?”
Hearing his voice, the cotton doll twisted its small head, only then realizing that everything around it had long since changed—a foreign space, a foreign environment, and a foreign human who didn’t seem too foreign right now.
Its small mouth pouted subtly. Ignoring the first half of Lu Zeming’s question, it locked onto the key point of the second half: “When… will the human come?”
“At the latest, tomorrow,” Lu Zeming made a rough estimate, then pulled out his chair and sat down in front of it, manually straightening it out, pressing for an answer: “You still haven’t said what you were thinking about just now?”
The cotton doll’s cat-like mouth moved subtly. Only after a long moment did it slowly utter, word by word: “Thinking… why Cotton… doesn’t listen to the human…”
The instant Lu Zeming heard those words from the cotton doll, the corners of his lips couldn’t help curling up, repeating them almost playfully: “You don’t listen to A-Che?”
Immediately after, he nodded again: “Indeed. If you were obedient, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
The cotton doll felt this human was mocking it. Pouting its mouth, it didn’t turn its body away with a “hmph” to throw a temper tantrum as it usually did with Shang Che.
…This wasn’t Cotton’s keeper…
Cotton couldn’t act like that…
Even though it didn’t know why it harbored such a… magical thought either.
“Were you… trying to do something just now?” Light flashed across Lu Zeming’s lenses as he leaned back against his chair’s backrest, his posture casual yet carrying an air of seeing through everything.
The cotton doll felt this human was terrifying, able to read even its empty cotton head. Shaking its head, it pulled its small mouth into an X, putting on an appearance of refusing to admit it.
(=×=): “Cotton didn’t… want to get angry…”
Hearing this, Lu Zeming let out a meaningful “Oh~,” tapping a fingertip against the desk. Looking at this doll with a tiny body but a huge temper, he casually exposed it: “Sounds like you throw tantrums with A-Che quite often.”
How on earth did this human see through it…?
“…Cotton doesn’t…”
The cotton doll lacked confidence entirely, its voice soft and squishy.
“Disobedient and throws tantrums… yet kept for so long…” Lu Zeming tapped the desk slowly, then looked at this little thing, letting out a subtle laugh as he spoke in a tone that loved nothing more than stoking the fire: “Let me teach you a phrase. When you go back, ask A-Che what it means.”
The cotton doll looked at him in bewilderment.
Lu Zeming uttered word by word: “Spoiled… and… arrogant… from… doting.”
“…Huh?” The cotton doll opened its mouth blankly.
Afraid it wouldn’t remember, Lu Zeming patiently repeated his teaching: “Repeat after me: Spoiled, arrogant, from doting… Spoiled, arrogant, from doting…”
The cotton doll’s cat-like mouth opened and closed, repeating after him several times before nodding its head gently: “…Cotton remembered.”
“So smart,” Lu Zeming praised.
Hee-hee-hee…
Being praised made the cotton doll happy again, the tuft of hair atop its head swaying back and forth.
—Surprisingly easy to coax.
“By the way, what’s your name?” Lu Zeming asked it.
The cotton doll blinked, thoroughly confused by this unfamiliar word: “…Na… me?”
“Judging by your reaction, A-Che probably didn’t give you one.” Lu Zeming was equally baffled by his friend’s “irresponsible” behavior. “Then how does he usually address you?”
The cotton doll’s eyes rolled around as a mischievous idea popped up. It spoke in a soft, squishy voice: “…Cotton King.”
“…Alright, King.” Lu Zeming fell silent for a second, then called it by that title completely smoothly without a trace of awkwardness, pretending not to see the tiny, successful expression the cotton doll secretly revealed.
He suddenly understood why Shang Che was willing to keep this cotton doll.
This little creature genuinely possessed a unique magic that could make people feel happiness and joy.
Lu Zeming smiled: “King, do you have any other subjects?”
Hearing this strange question, the cotton doll felt question marks pop up over its head.
Its… subjects?
Did he mean cotton dolls that could speak and move just like Cotton?
“…None… like Cotton…” It straightened its tiny torso, speaking solemnly: “There is… only one Cotton.”
Puffing out its chest, the cotton doll looked extraordinarily proud.
An urge to tease it suddenly rose in Lu Zeming, along with a desire to test this little creature’s… determination on his friend’s behalf?
He intentionally said: “…If A-Che doesn’t come pick you up, how about you stay at my place from now on?”
The cotton doll’s expression turned terrified in an instant. Shaking its head frantically, it looked like a tiny rattle drum.
“Cotton doesn’t want to…”
“Forget it.” Lu Zeming understood himself completely. Leaning back against his chair’s backrest, his tone flattened out, “Novelty and curiosity are merely short-lived impulses for me. In everything I do, I calculate cost and return; spending time and energy on something for nothing is virtually impossible for me.”
His flat tone held absolute certainty: “Besides, my patience can’t compare to A-Che’s.”
Shang Che left the school almost as if fleeing.
Riding his mountain bike at top speed, the wind howled past his ears, yet failed to blow away the strange emotion—a mix of rage and envy—surging in his heart.
Opening his front door, the sensor light at the foyer turned on automatically, casting a warm yellow glow onto his shoes, finally bringing his chaotic steps to a halt.
His hammering heartbeat nearly burst through his throat, his breathing rising and falling heavily due to those unexplainable yet surging emotions.
Cot! ton! Doll!…
It was merely a cotton doll. What was there to care about so much…
Closing his eyes, he told himself: There was no need, it didn’t matter.
After calming himself down a few times, Shang Che tossed his mountain bike keys casually, letting out a crisp clatter as they hit the shoe cabinet at the foyer, sounding extraordinarily abrupt in the far-too-quiet house.
His movements paused—his brows furrowing ever so lightly—before he changed into his slippers naturally as if nothing had happened, walking toward the kitchen island.
Running water washed over Shang Che’s palms, which felt sticky from sweat. Scooping up a handful of water, he splashed it onto his face. The chill dispersed part of his inner heat, rendering his thoughts slightly clearer as well.
Where the cotton doll wanted to go and whom it chose to stay with were its freedom.
If he couldn’t take good care of it, someone naturally could take good care of that little creature.
He wasn’t as meticulous or gentle as Lin Zhi, not as thoughtful or reliable as Lin Zhi, nor did he possess that unreserved affection like Lin Zhi’s.
Finding a new, excellent keeper was a good thing for the cotton doll. What did he, as a former keeper, have to worry or be torn about…
Right, that was how it was.
He didn’t have to keep his heart in his throat for that little creature anymore.
Shang Che’s palms leaning against the edge of the sink pressed down unconsciously, his fingertips turning pale, a few shallow marks lingering on the inner sides of his palms.
—Every single one a testament to his inner struggle.
The bedroom door was pushed open, yet that usual cheerful, squishy little voice failed to ring out.
The cotton doll would always catch his door-opening noise at the very first moment, sitting on the rocking chair, staring at the doorway with those big golden eyes and a brilliant smile, holding both small hands high, flailing its arms and legs to welcome him home: “Human! You’re back!”
“Mm,” Shang Che offered a flat response. Just as the corners of his mouth were about to curve up slightly, he realized the pink figure was absent from the rocking chair within his line of sight.
Glancing rapidly toward the doll bed in the corner, the 40-centimeter cotton doll lay flat on its back inside. Those golden eyes—always so lively—were dull and misty at this moment, putting on a front of having lost its soul.
Shang Che walked over, pulling that 40-centimeter cotton doll up to sit properly, his palm unconsciously stroking the cotton doll’s round head.
Every time he proactively touched the cotton doll, that little Cotton would always flash a pair of starry eyes, rubbing against his palm with joy, muttering in a small voice under its breath: “Human petted Cotton~,” “Human petted Cotton~,” “Hee-hee~”…
Sometimes it would even give an inch and take a mile by stretching its hands toward him, putting on a front of absolutely demanding a hug from him…
So good at acting cute and playing the rascal…
It would surely know how to make others happy as well…
The two tiny outfits left over from last night’s selection were still sitting on the sofa at the foot of the bed. He had originally planned to change the cotton doll into a new set every few days, but now it seemed completely unnecessary.
…After all, that little creature wouldn’t appear here ever again.
Shang Che sat down on the edge of the sofa, his elbows propped on his knees, his body leaning forward slightly. He didn’t lean back against the backrest, nor did he pick up his phone, merely sitting like that, his gaze landing nowhere in particular.
It was far too quiet in the bedroom. The little Cotton waiting for his return was gone, and that soft, squishy, constantly noisy voice had vanished along with it, yet Shang Che felt that everything felt completely wrong everywhere.
—How strange. Wasn’t this the normal state of his past life?
The silhouette on the sofa sat silent and rigid like a statue, before finally lowering its head slowly amidst a nearly imperceptible sigh.
