Chapter 33
Lu Zeming lived in the residential compound right next to the school. It was usually a twenty-something-minute journey from his place, but Shang Che covered the distance in barely over ten minutes.
Unluckily, none of the elevators were on the ground floor. Unable to wait, Shang Che decisively turned around and sprinted up the emergency stairwell at the corner.
When he rang the doorbell, he was still catching his breath.
Wearing loungewear and with his glasses removed, Lu Zeming’s expression was as serene as ever.
He sized Shang Che up from head to toe—messy hair, a heaving chest, a forehead slightly glistening with sweat from biking, and an urge in his eyes that could not be concealed.
Tsk. Truly a rare sight.
If this guy hadn’t looked so genuinely anxious, he would have loved to drop a line or two of mockery.
“You got here fast.” Lu Zeming stepped aside, gesturing that he didn’t need to change shoes. “No one’s home.”
Shang Che nodded and crossed the threshold. Paying no mind to his clean new shoes, he kicked off the heels against each other and stepped onto the floorboards in his socks, his gaze scanning the living room without the slightest attempt at concealment.
“In the bedroom.” As if reading his mind, Lu Zeming pointed inside. “On the desk.”
He then very tactfully refrained from following him, turning around toward the kitchen to squeeze himself a glass of juice.
Familiar with the layout, Shang Che walked toward Lu Zeming’s bedroom and pushed open the half-ajar door.
A desk lamp was lit in the bedroom, casting a soft glow. On the desk, a tiny pink silhouette was leaning quietly and obediently against a large action figure, sitting straight as a ramrod. Its tuft of hair drooped wilted, its golden eyes dull and lightless, the entire Cotton looking thoroughly devoid of life.
What happened to it—
Shang Che’s heart tightened, and he strode over quickly.
Hearing the footsteps, the cotton doll slowly raised its head. Catching sight of the person walking toward it, those golden eyes lit up brilliantly with a sudden swish.
It scrambled up from the desk—or rather, scrambled and crawled at top speed toward Shang Che’s direction, its short legs churning rapidly, that silver necklace swaying back and forth with its movements.
The cotton doll was in such a rush, as if if it were a second late, the person before it would vanish once more.
Shang Che came to a halt beside the desk, his voice rasper than imagined when he spoke: “…Little creature…”
The cotton doll’s tiny body froze abruptly.
And then, it stopped at the edge of the desk, slowly raising its round head. The tuft of hair perked up with a swoosh, swaying subtly from sheer surprise, its cat-like mouth parting slightly yet unable to make a single sound.
Seeming unable to believe its eyes, it blinked repeatedly. Once it confirmed it wasn’t a hallucination, the surprise and excitement on its small face involuntarily took on a trace of grievance, insecurity, and unbelievable delight.
“Human…?” The cotton doll called out softly and tentatively, its voice soft, carrying a delicate tremor.
“Mm.” Shang Che offered a low response, then bent his upper body down.
He didn’t say “I came to take you home,” nor did he ask “what on earth happened.” He merely extended his hand, palm facing up, spreading it open before it.
The cotton doll raised its face to look at him, the familiar face reflected in its golden eyes as it stared daze-like at its keeper.
Shang Che waited for a long time without the cotton doll drawing closer. He thought: This little creature must be very disappointed in him, or perhaps… it didn’t want to go back with him anymore?
A wave of sorrow and regret suddenly surged into his heart. Just as he was about to withdraw his extended hand, suddenly—
A tiny, soft, somewhat fluffy touch lightly landed on his fingertip, followed by the other one landing on it as well.
The cotton doll used its two small round hands to hold onto one of his fingers cautiously, as if testing the waters.
Very light.
Yet very tight.
Shang Che lowered his eyes, his throat moving slightly, not daring to make any further movement for fear that this little Cotton might misunderstand something and refuse to get close to him again.
Looking at that familiar, broad palm, looking at his keeper’s eyes that were soft beyond belief at this moment, the cotton doll pounced forward violently. Its two small round hands tightly hugged Shang Che’s wrist, burying its face into his palm, its tiny shoulders rising and falling as if it were sobbing.
“Human… human came to pick Cotton up…” Its muffled voice drifted out from Shang Che’s palm, carrying a sob it couldn’t hold back, “Cotton thought… human didn’t want Cotton anymore…”
Shang Che felt the cotton doll’s tiny, trembling hug.
Clearly so forceful, yet so light—as if using up all its strength merely to confirm his existence, to express its reliance and longing.
The place in Shang Che’s heart that had been hollow for an entire evening was instantly filled to the brim by this tiny hug.
He gently closed his fingers, cupping the tiny creature entirely inside his palm. His thumb brushed over its soft hairpiece and that still-trembling tuft of hair with an exceedingly light touch, stroke by stroke.
“…I’m sorry,” he spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying a gentleness he hadn’t noticed himself. “I didn’t abandon you.”
The cotton doll raised its head inside his palm, its golden eyes wet and glossy, yet its cat-like mouth split open into a wide smile. It nodded its small head with force, its tuft of hair swaying joyfully, as if the previous desolation and heartbreak had never existed at all.
“Mm!”
Looking at its instant storm-cleared appearance, the indescribable panic and insecurity in Shang Che’s heart gradually dissipated as well.
—Truly a little Cotton that forgives humans so easily.
The cotton doll sat completely and utterly relaxed in Shang Che’s palm, rubbing its round head against his wrist. Then it hugged the finger it knew best—belonging to its keeper—and pressed its face against it once more, its tuft of hair brushing past until its keeper’s heart couldn’t help itching.
It really wanted to say: Cotton waited for you for a very long time.
It really wanted to say: Cotton thought you really didn’t want Cotton anymore.
It really wanted to say: Cotton missed you so much.
Yet in the end, the cotton doll merely hugged its keeper’s finger a tiny bit tighter.
Immediately after, it heard a very light voice sound from above its head, low and raspy, as if inhaling sharply to forcefully restrain something.
“Let’s go home,” Shang Che said.
The cotton doll nodded its head with force, its eyes sparkling brighter than the stars: “Mm! Cotton wants to go home with human!”
Had its keeper figured things out?
…Well, that didn’t seem very important anymore…
Because—its keeper had already come to pick Cotton up.
In the living room, Lu Zeming leaned against the sofa and looked over. His gaze circled between Shang Che’s face and the cotton doll held tightly and protectively in his palm, finally landing on his friend’s slightly flushed earlobes.
“Taking it back?” Lu Zeming’s tone was flat, though an extremely faint smile seemed to flash in the depths of his eyes.
“Mm, thanks.” Shang Che spoke briefly, holding the cotton doll as he made to leave.
“Hold on.” Lu Zeming stopped him, picking up a small transparent bag from the coffee table. Inside was the dirty outfit the cotton doll had changed out of. “Lin Zhi gave this to me, saying to trouble a certain ‘doll-mom’ to wash it clean himself.”
“…” Shang Che received it in silence. Looking at his friend who looked as if he had more to say, he asked: “Anything else?”
The corners of Lu Zeming’s mouth curved up subtly: “She asked a certain ‘doll-mom’ not to be so careless as to lose his cotton doll again.”
“Oh, right, she also said, ‘Your baby is very cute. You can bring it along to play together next time.'”
Shang Che’s earlobes flushed even harder. He didn’t pick up the conversation, turning around with the cotton doll in his arms and walking out.
“A-Che.” Lu Zeming’s voice carried over from behind once more.
Shang Che’s footsteps paused.
“Not every important thing that gets lost can be found again.” Lu Zeming’s voice maintained that same flat tone, yet Shang Che heard the earnestness inside it. “Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
Shang Che fell silent for a second, then nodded his head: “Got it.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Lu Zeming watched that silhouette walk into the elevator.
Before the elevator doors closed, he saw Shang Che slip the hand holding the cotton doll into his pocket without ever taking it back out, as if gently stroking something inside.
Pushing up his glasses, an extremely faint smile surfaced at the corners of his mouth.
The elevator descended.
Shang Che leaned against the cold metal wall. The cotton doll nestled quietly inside his pocket, hugging his finger.
He suddenly spoke, his voice very light, as if talking to himself: “…This afternoon.”
The cotton doll’s tuft of hair moved, brushing past his finger pad.
“I saw you.”
The cotton doll’s body froze ever so subtly.
“I didn’t pick you up, not because I didn’t want to…” Shang Che’s gaze rested on the jumping numbers of the elevator buttons, his speech very slow, as if peeling back a hard shell, “…I was afraid you’d think following someone else was better, afraid you didn’t need me. It was my own overthinking, my pride at play…”
Shang Che felt too embarrassed to go into detail. Squeezing these words from his throat had already consumed immense courage, to the point where he could only utter them when the cotton doll couldn’t see him: “…I was scared… not that you needed me, but that I needed you…”
The elevator continued its descent, numbers jumping constantly. It was very quiet inside the elevator, with only the subtle humming of mechanical operation.
Then, he felt that soft little creature inside his pocket move gently.
Using its two small round hands, the cotton doll hugged its keeper’s finger, slowly pressing it against its own chest—roughly what could reluctantly count as the position of a cotton doll’s “heart.”
The cotton doll raised its head, looking toward its keeper’s direction through the gap in the pocket fabric where faint light seeped through.
Its voice was very light, soft and squishy, yet held a whole lot of earnestness: “But… there’s only one human.”
“When Cotton opens its eyes… the human is what Cotton sees.”
“Cotton doesn’t know… what other humans… are like, and Cotton doesn’t want to know either.”
“Cotton only wants human.” It paused, its cat-like mouth curving into a tiny arc: “Regardless of whether human… needs Cotton or not.”
“Cotton will… always be here.”
With a ding, the elevator arrived on the ground floor. Night wind poured in, yet the thread of chill failed to extinguish the fire that had taken root and sprouted in his heart.
Shang Che stood in place, unmoving.
He looked down at the cotton doll in his pocket that was raising its small face, gazing at him with sparkling golden eyes. Then, reaching out his hand, he used his finger pad to gently stroke its cheek.
“…Silly Cotton.” Shang Che’s voice was very low, yet the corners of his mouth carried an obvious curve of melting ice.
The human finally smiled!
The human looked no good at all with a frowning face. Cotton still preferred how its keeper looked when he smiled~~~
It blinked its eyes, its cat-like mouth splitting open into a wide, brilliant smile as well.
Shang Che stepped out into the night, except this time, his pocket gained a tiny Cotton that would keep him company with chattering soft words.
The cotton doll called him in a small voice: “Human~”
“Mm,” Shang Che responded.
The cotton doll called him with dramatic surprise: “Human!”
“Mm.”
The cotton doll dragged out its tone, acting spoiled soft and squishy: “Huuu~man—”
Shang Che let out a chuckle, answering without a trace of impatience: “I’m here.”
