Chapter 43
On a weekend morning, inside a dim room, a human and a cotton doll slept head-to-head.
Shang Che was lying slightly on his side, his arm resting over the cotton doll’s body, resembling an intimate embrace.
Sunlight slipped through the gap at the bottom of the curtains, drawing a bright, wavy line across the floorboards.
The cotton doll stared over at that spot for a long while, its golden eyes rolling around. As the Cotton King who didn’t need to sleep, it now possessed a brand-new hobby—pretending to sleep, and then waiting for the human to wake it up.
Except every time the human “woke” it up, the method was somewhat different: sometimes he would squeeze its hands, sometimes he would pat its head, and sometimes he would lift it straight up…
Of course, sometimes its keeper would intentionally not wake it, letting it wait until it couldn’t stand it anymore and opened its eyes on its own, only to catch that deliberate smile on its keeper’s face.
And only after its string of “mean human—” accusations would he pick it up in his arms.
Hmph, mean human.
Cotton wants to see how you plan to ‘wake Cotton up’ today.
As it pondered, the cotton doll closed its eyes.
After its eyelashes fluttered a few times, Shang Che slowly opened his eyes.
What came into view was that round, pink head that had snuggled over at an unknown moment.
Raising his head slightly, he lowered his gaze—the cotton doll’s two small hands were resting on his arm, its eyes shut tight, though the tuft of ahoge hair atop its head swayed ever so gently, unable to contain itself.
Little creature, waiting for its ‘wake-up’ service again.
Shang Che looked at that tuft of hair that wavered on the verge of moving. After a few seconds, he reached out a hand and stroked it lightly.
The tuft of hair swayed back and forth following his finger, while the cotton doll continued playing dead.
The corners of Shang Che’s mouth curved up. Choosing not to expose it, he lifted the blanket on his own and got out of bed.
The moment he stood up, the cotton doll couldn’t hold out any longer. Its golden eyes snapped open in an instant, its small round hands raising as its mouth opened in immediate “blame”: “Human, you… didn’t wake Cotton again today!”
Shang Che turned around, pressing one knee onto the edge of the bed. Supporting himself with a palm, he leaned down to “thoughtfully” help tuck the cotton doll in: “Because it’s the weekend today, so you can sleep in.”
Suppressed by the hands resting over the blanket, the cotton doll’s short legs and tiny hands flailed around frantically, its cat-like mouth loudly accusing him of this “evil deed.”
(=XX=): “Mean human! Picking on Cotton!”
“Mm,” Shang Che responded with absolute candor, then pulled the blanket up to cover it completely. “This is what’s called ‘picking on you.'”
By the time the cotton doll managed to crawl out of the blanket with great effort, Shang Che had already finished washing up and was standing in front of the wardrobe changing his clothes.
Its little pajamas had become messy from all the wriggling around. The cotton doll looked down at them, attempting to fix them with its small round hands.
When its attempts failed, its small mouth collapsed, its eyes transforming into sinister inverted triangles, its entire plush body looking thoroughly puffed up in a huff.
( ??? #): Vicious keeper!
“Little Cotton, which one do you want to wear?” Shang Che spoke suddenly.
What ‘which one to wear’?
Cotton didn’t care what the human wore at all!
…Wait, the human seemed to be asking which one Cotton wanted to wear?
The cotton doll snapped its head up with a swoosh.
Shang Che was holding one tiny outfit in each hand, gesturing for it to pick for itself: “I’m taking you out in a bit. See which one you want to wear.”
In truth, this was already the result of Shang Che’s pre-selection: one set was a black-and-white letter-print hoodie paired with jeans, accessorized with a black hooded cape; the other set was a pink-and-white sweater with tiny shorts, along with a bunny hat featuring long ears.
Two completely different styles, making it hard for Shang Che to decide.
Pausing for a moment, he added a line: “For the 10-centimeter one.”
Then, he cast his gaze toward this dazed, silly cotton doll.
What?!
Cotton gets to change into new clothes again~
The cotton doll looked left and right, and then it raised its left finger to point: “Cotton wants to wear this one!”
“Same as the human!”
Shang Che looked down at the loose black-and-white T-shirt on his body, then looked at the doll clothes in his hand, letting out a helpless laugh: In this little Cotton’s eyes, as long as the colors were the same, it counted as being the same.
“Then this one it is,” he said.
The cotton doll watched its keeper put that new outfit onto its 10-centimeter self.
This time, its keeper seemed much more adept, his fingers flexibly slipping the top and pants onto it, and finally wrapping that black cape around, securing it with a triangular pin.
Shang Che smoothed down the uneven hems of the shirt, saying: “Alright, come over.”
“Cotton is coming~” The cotton doll responded with joy. With a blink of its eyes, it burrowed into that tiny body. The 10-centimeter cotton doll blinked, “Human, are we… going to buy a smartphone for Cotton today?”
Shang Che lowered his eyes, looking at the little creature sitting in his palm with an expectant face, nodding his head: “Mm.”
The tuft of hair on the cotton doll’s head perked up in an instant, the entire Cotton exuding an aura of ‘Cotton is so happy.’
“Really?!” the cotton doll asked.
Shang Che: “Really.”
The cotton doll’s voice was excited: “Going right now?!”
Shang Che lifted it up, placing it carefully into his chest pocket, answering: “Right, perfect timing to go grab brunch.”
The pocket wasn’t deep, allowing the cotton doll’s head to poke out right at the midpoint. It had only heard of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, hearing this word “brunch” for the very first time.
Clinging to the edge of the pocket with its small hands, its mouth pressed against the fabric, its voice sounding muffled: “What is… brunch?”
Shang Che: “It’s the meal you eat when you sleep until you wake up naturally, missing breakfast, but before it’s time for lunch.”
“Oh—”
The cotton doll clearly didn’t quite understand.
Shang Che’s voice held an obvious laugh: “Silly Cotton.”
Where was Cotton silly!
The cotton doll fought back: “Mean human!”
“Silly Cotton!”
“Mean huuu~man—”
As expected, everywhere was packed with crowds on the weekend, the traffic lanes blocked to the point of being impassable. At times like this, a mountain bike displayed a distinct advantage.
Shang Che parked his bike after navigating through twists and turns. The closer they drew to the shopping mall, the more swarms of crowds and noisy chatter flooded over.
He instinctively shielded his chest pocket with his hand. Inside, that tiny lump of cotton remained motionless, good and obedient beyond belief.
The corners of Shang Che’s mouth curved up subtly as he stepped onto the escalator.
The humans inside the mall were even more diverse—young parents holding children, couples holding hands and whispering to each other, friends gathered in groups of three or five chattering away…
Shang Che rested one hand on the escalator handrail, while his other hand gently cupped that tiny lump of cotton.
With the gradually rising height, the cotton doll took in everything before its eyes with curiosity, its gaze captured by something floating that grew further and further away from it…
Suddenly, Shang Che felt the little creature in his pocket move gently.
Lowering his eyes, a small pink head sat right at the position of his heart, its head tilting slightly as if unable to restrain itself.
Shang Che immediately pressed down on the cotton doll’s small head with his hand, then raised his eyes to look over—in that direction stood a young couple with a child. Tied to the child’s wrist was a blue balloon floating in mid-air, bobbing up and down along with the child’s bouncing movements.
Shang Che lowered his head, his lips coming to a stop not far above the cotton doll’s head, the noisy environment drowning out his intentionally lowered breathy voice.
Using a voice that only the cotton doll could hear—one that seemed to carry a coaxing tone—he spoke:
“That’s a balloon.”
“Be good. I’ll buy you one in a bit.”
