Chapter 36
Shang Che’s words were spoken very softly, but the cotton doll heard them clearly anyway.
Those golden eyes lit up with a sudden swish, its cat-like mouth splitting open into an extraordinarily brilliant arc as its entire plush body rubbed against Shang Che’s palm in a soft, squishy frenzy.
“Human!” It dragged out its tone, its voice sweet and soft. “You said it! You said you’ll… dote on Cotton!”
The tips of Shang Che’s ears warmed up another degree. He tried to pull his hand back, but the cotton doll held on tight, its two small round hands firmly encircling his wrist in a rascal-like pose of ‘if you don’t admit it, I won’t let go.’
…Where did a little Cotton get so much strength from?
“…I didn’t say I would.” He lowered his eyes, his voice sounding awkward. “I said if you think so, then so be it.”
What~
The mean human is putting on a tough front again~
The cotton doll pondered for a moment, puffing up its small mouth, and finally deigned to release its keeper’s hand. With its two round hands resting on its hips, it let out a completely justified “hmph.”
“Then Cotton thinks so!”
“Cotton is… spoiled and arrogant from doting! Human is… going to dote on Cotton!”
Shang Che: “…Suit yourself.”
He gave up arguing with this little creature whose logic formed its own self-contained system.
Now that everything had settled down, Shang Che, who hadn’t eaten all evening, finally felt hunger at this moment. Withdrawing his hand that had frozen mid-air, he strode toward the desk.
Seeing his keeper suddenly turn and walk away, the cotton doll called out anxiously: “Human, where are you going—”
Shang Che was merely taking two steps to grab his phone, yet this little creature grew anxious beyond belief. Letting out a sigh, he returned to the doll bed, sitting down cross-legged with crisp efficiency: “…I’m not leaving. I’m just hungry, checking what to eat.”
Seeing him return in front of it, the cotton doll perked up with joy, asking somewhat curiously: “Human, haven’t you eaten yet?”
“No,” Shang Che responded briefly.
The cotton doll tilted its head: “Why haven’t you eaten?”
Shang Che looked at it in silence for a few seconds, his tone revealing a touch of helplessness and a hard-fated resign: “…Because I wasn’t hungry earlier and I’m hungry now, so I need to eat, okay?”
…Well, humans are so strange.
Eating when hungry, yet getting hungry again after eating—wouldn’t that mean eating constantly and getting hungry constantly?
The cotton doll felt a bit troubled, and just as it opened its mouth to ask, it caught sight of its keeper’s furrowed brows and somewhat anxious demeanor.
…Forget it, Cotton isn’t that curious anyway.
Except, seeing its keeper engrossed in that rectangular phone, a tiny thought suddenly popped up. Shuffling its small bottom inch by inch, it drew closer, almost climbing onto its keeper.
Shang Che was busy browsing the food delivery app. By the time he noticed something amiss, he looked down only to see the cotton doll resting its round head on his thigh, its tiny hands playing with the star buttons on its pajamas.
“…When did you come over?”
The cotton doll raised a small round finger to point: “Right when human… was looking at the phone~”
“Human was so absorbed watching~ Hee-hee~”
Shang Che shifted his leg, though holding zero intention of shooing it away. The speed of his finger swiping the screen slowed down, splitting half his gaze to look at it as he said: “I was merely picking out food delivery.”
“Food delivery?” The cotton doll learned another new word, its eyes blinking: “What is that?”
Shang Che explained simply: “It means buying food prepared by others without having to cook it yourself.”
The cotton doll’s golden eyes widened into full circles, intensely surprised: “Then will the food… walk over by itself?”
Shang Che’s finger paused. Lowering his head to look at the earnest little creature, he went silent for two seconds: “…No. A dedicated person will deliver it over.”
“Oh—” The cotton doll dragged out its tone, nodding as if half-understanding, its head rubbing against his thigh as it asked: “Can Cotton watch? The food delivery… and the person delivering it?”
“Sure.”
It wasn’t a difficult task anyway, and Shang Che agreed with complete promptness.
“Woah!” The cotton doll raised both hands in joy, its eyes sparkling with light. “Human, you… dote on Cotton far too much!”
…Starting to use newly learned words recklessly already.
Looking at its appearance of having never seen the world, the corners of Shang Che’s mouth curved up subtly nonetheless.
The food delivery arrived very quickly. About twenty minutes later, the phone rang.
Shang Che looked at the cotton doll nestled on his lap, saying: “The food delivery you were curious about is here.”
The cotton doll scrambled up with a “heave-ho”: “Cotton wants to watch!”
“Mm, don’t get caught,” Shang Che said.
“Cotton knows!” The cotton doll covered its mouth with two small round hands, its golden eyes blinking to signal that it would be good.
Shang Che scooped it up from his lap with clean efficiency, holding it in the crook of his arm like holding an ordinary plush toy.
The cotton doll’s field of view shifted along with its keeper, heading downstairs, crossing the garden, and arriving at the front door.
Sitting upright and proper in Shang Che’s arms, it saw its keeper open the door, and an unfamiliar human wearing orange clothes suddenly appeared before its eyes.
Was this the person delivering the food?
A flicker of light flashed in the cotton doll’s golden eyes in the dimness.
“Whoa—” The human wearing orange clothes let out an exclamation of awe, then looked at Shang Che. “Your doll looks so lifelike—really pretty.”
A clear look of surprise crossed Shang Che’s face.
The human wearing orange clothes smiled: “My daughter bought several of them too, carrying them around every day just like you. Though it’s my first time seeing a boy carrying one like this, haha.”
Shang Che felt the second half of that sentence could have been omitted entirely. Receiving the food delivery with an unruffled face, he offered a word of thanks and shut the door.
Placed onto the dining table, the cotton doll immediately flailed its small hands, speaking excitedly: “Human! He praised Cotton for looking pretty!”
“Mm, heard it,” Shang Che responded while unboxing the food delivery.
The cotton doll lowered its head, its eyes staring unblinkingly as its keeper set item after item onto the dining table.
“Is this food delivery?” Curiosity filled its voice.
Shang Che attempted to explain it: “Food delivery is a collective term. Ordering through a phone like this and having it delivered over by a dedicated person—all of it can be called food delivery.”
A “long, complex sentence” defeated the cotton doll completely. Touching its head, it parted its mouth slightly, trying to comprehend, its eyes spinning into spirals: (=@@=)
Watching its appearance, Shang Che couldn’t help bending his knuckle to tap its cotton head, laughing: “Silly Cotton.”
After a moment, the cotton doll blinked, looking at the boxy container in front of its keeper, pointing a small round hand: “Human, what is this? There are… tiny white specks on it.”
“And this… green stuff…” Its two small round hands pointed left and right, “And this black… round, flat, sliced stuff… what is it?”
Asked a string of questions, Shang Che felt like laughing, yet answered with patience nonetheless: “This is eel rice. The tiny white specks on top are white sesame seeds. The green stuff is called wakame seaweed, a side dish used to cut through richness.”
“As for the black, sliced stuff—that’s sushi.”
The cotton doll’s eyes widened into round circles. Staring at these foods seen for the very first time, its cat-like mouth parted slightly, as if looking at something incredible.
“Can Cotton… eat it?” it asked softly, then added immediately, “Cotton knows… Cotton can’t really eat it, but can Cotton… pretend to eat it… like last time?”
“Hold on.” Shang Che suddenly bent his waist, pulling an item out from the insulated bag and placing it in front of it: “This is for you.”
The cotton doll looked at the round box placed in front of it by its keeper—inside sat a round, white, chubby ball that was even larger than its small round hand.
Extending its small round hand to measure against it, it asked softly: “Human, what is this?”
“A fruit daifuku.” Amused by its gesture, Shang Che looked at the cotton doll as if offhandedly, adding: “Strawberry-flavored.”
The cotton doll sat on the dining table, looking at the strawberry daifuku in front of it one moment, and looking at its keeper eating earnestly the next.
Shang Che’s hands holding the chopsticks were slender, his skin pale. Even sitting, his spine remained straight, making even eating appear extraordinarily pleasing to the eye.
The cotton doll stared dazedly like this, watching him occasionally pause to check his phone before continuing to eat, watching him wipe his mouth with a tissue with casual, natural movements.
These actions—which were completely ordinary to Shang Che—appeared like a wonderful picture in the eyes of the cotton doll.
“Human,” it spoke suddenly, “do all you humans need to eat?”
Hearing this, Shang Che nodded: “Mm.”
Cotton Doll: “Every single day?”
“That’s right.” Shang Che swallowed the last bite of rice, wiping his mouth.
The cotton doll tilted its head: “Do you have to eat… many times?”
Shang Che pondered for a moment: “Although the common saying is three meals a day, it’s not set in stone. You can eat whenever you’re hungry.”
The cotton doll lowered its head, looking at its slightly bulging, cotton-stuffed little belly, then raised its head to look at Shang Che, its golden eyes filled with confusion: “Then why doesn’t Cotton… get hungry?”
Shang Che let out a soft laugh: “Didn’t you say it yourself—’cotton dolls don’t need to eat’?”
“But Cotton wants to know…” The cotton doll pointed with a small finger, its tone sounding deeply regretful, “What does this stuff… taste like…”
Shang Che: “But you’re just a cotton doll, not a human.”
The cotton doll slowly lowered its head: “But Cotton can move, can speak, can miss human—why… can’t Cotton eat food?”
This question was far too sudden, and far too difficult to answer.
Looking at the cotton doll’s confused, aggrieved eyes and its slightly drooping tuft of hair, Shang Che went speechless for a moment.
It wasn’t an ordinary cotton doll—there was zero doubt about that.
But why could it move? Why could it speak? Why did it possess its own thoughts?
Shang Che didn’t know.
Or rather, even this little Cotton itself didn’t know why.
Shang Che looked at that tiny pink lump lost in earnest thought.
Not knowing how to comfort this little Cotton that looked somewhat sad, after several moments of consideration, he spoke gently:
“Because you are the Cotton King.”
The cotton doll froze for a second, slowly raising its head to look at its keeper.
“The Cotton King is the most awesome cotton doll,” Shang Che’s voice held a trace of implicit doting and praise as he raised a hand to stroke the cotton doll’s head. “So, there’s no need to eat food.”
“Really?” the cotton doll asked softly.
Shang Che intentionally adopted that “disdainful” tone: “Do you really think I’m coaxing you on purpose?”
How could the human coax Cotton on purpose?
Then what the human said must be true!
Shang Che leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms, secretly looking at this cotton doll that was nodding with force, its cat-like mouth slowly splitting open into an extraordinarily brilliant smile.
