Chapter 7
The moment the door swung open, a brightly colored, overly flamboyant figure barged right into Shang Che’s line of sight.
Shang Yan, who was leaning against the peephole, stumbled slightly, grinning to reveal a row of bright white teeth: “Good morning! My dearest Little Uncle!”
“It would be even better if you didn’t come to disturb me,” Shang Che let him in, leaning lazily against the wall. “Instead of sleeping in at home, what are you doing running over to my place?”
Shang Yan skillfully found his designated guest slippers, completely ignoring the teasing and awkward annoyance in his little uncle’s tone. After setting down the thermal food container he had been holding steady, he pouted: “My mom—your cousin—spent all morning brewing soup, and she instructed me to personally deliver it and watch you drink it all up.”
“Black chicken soup~” Shang Yan said in a sarcastic tone. “Super nourishing~”
Shang Che stared at him for two seconds before offering a mechanical smile: “…You can drink that bowl yourself later.”
Don’t think he didn’t know what this brat was plotting.
Shang Yan had a weak constitution and constantly refused to take his medicine, so the family could only resort to dietary therapy. Unfortunately, the brat hated drinking tonic soups. That was until the adults discovered that this rebellious kid—who refused to call Shang Che “Little Uncle” to save his life—hated Shang Che while simultaneously imitating him in everything.
Whatever Shang Che ate, he would eat; whatever Shang Che played with, he would play with.
Thus, Shang Che, who had no need for tonics in the first place, began intentionally drinking the soup in front of Shang Yan. Playing along with the adults for several years, they managed to build up Shang Yan’s health quite decently.
However, this trick stopped working as Shang Yan grew older, and the brat even learned how to turn the tables on him.
Even though they didn’t live together, the tonic soup still had to be drunk. It was just reduced to a weekly delivery, and the person delivering the soup was none other than his “filial” little nephew. Under the fine excuse of, “The soup is so delicious, I want to drink it with Little Uncle!”
In reality, he just didn’t want to drink it himself, so more than half of it was shoved into Shang Che’s stomach.
“Don’t, don’t, don’t—” Shang Yan couldn’t bear to hear that. Having finally found an excuse to escape the clutches of the tonic soup, he quickly pressed his hands together in sincere pleading: “I was wrong, Little Uncle!”
Shang Che looked at him: “To tell the truth, back then, you were only willing to start calling me Little Uncle so I would help you drink the soup, right?”
“Hehe~” Shang Yan wore a look that practically said ‘I can’t believe you figured it out.’ Although he had accepted the reality, he still felt indignant: “Who told us to be the exact same age, yet they always make me call you ‘Uncle’? Naturally, I wasn’t convinced. Why should I… when I was born two months earlier than you…”
“Because my generational rank is higher than yours,” Shang Che crossed his arms, chin raised. “Kid, go to the kitchen and grab the bowls and chopsticks.”
Shang Yan made a face: “Acting like an elder without the dignity.”
“…”
The ancient tale of Kong Rong sharing pears was vividly materialized right at this moment.
Shang Che looked at the huge bowl of black chicken soup in front of himself, then at Shang Yan’s shallow splash of soup that looked as if he were wine-tasting. Speechless, the veins on his forehead throbbed. He held up two fingers, saying coolly, “Not nourishing those two extra months you were born earlier?”
“I really can’t drink any more. I can only drink a little less by using the excuse of delivering soup to you every week,” Shang Yan pressed his palms together above his head, bowing devoutly. “Please, Little Uncle!”
“Begging won’t work.” Despite saying that, Shang Che still picked up the porcelain spoon and added half a bowl of soup to Shang Yan’s dish. “A small half-bowl, and eat the meat too. Stop dumping everything you dislike onto me.”
“…” Why did those words sound so familiar? It was practically the tone of an elder.
Shang Yan said with a deadpan face: “You’re making me look like an unreasonable child.”
“It’s a good thing you have self-awareness.” Shang Che assumed the air of an elder as well.
Two seconds later, the little uncle couldn’t help but chuckle, and the little nephew burst into loud laughter as well.
The cotton doll didn’t know where the human had gone or why he hadn’t come to see it yet. Even though it had spoken clearly just now, the human hadn’t paid it any mind. Could it be that the human’s ears were bad too?
…How come this human seems not so great in every aspect…
But it was okay, Cotton didn’t mind!
The human had bad eyesight, but Cotton had big eyes; the human had bad hearing, so Cotton would just speak louder. But the human was always walking around, coming and going in a hurry…
The cotton doll pouted, its oval bean-shaped eyes lowering slightly, looking rather unhappy. That’s really mean. Cotton doesn’t know how to walk yet.
As a powerful Cotton, it was now going to do a great deed—learn to walk independently.
Since Cotton could stand up on its own, how could walking possibly stump Cotton!
No sooner said than done. The cotton doll shuffled its bottom, moving itself inch by inch to the edge of the blanket. Then, practice making perfect, it leveraged its weight to stand up, after which it stood like a guard on duty, clueless about what to do next.
…How do humans walk…
The cotton doll suddenly recalled those legs that were so much taller than itself. Human legs were so long; it looked down at itself, and Cotton’s legs were so short.
You must hang in there, Cotton!
Once it learned to walk, it could give the human a big surprise.
Cheering itself on, the cotton doll tentatively moved a leg that was as stiff as a piece of wood… Wait a second, which leg should Cotton move first?
The cotton doll looked to the left: This one?
Then it looked to the right: Or this one?
It didn’t even know where to put its hands, keeping them raised at its sides while flapping them slightly.
Forget it, Cotton is going all in.
The cotton doll’s tiny face scrunched up as it mustered its courage and stretched out its right leg. Only when it landed on the smooth floor did it blink tentatively.
O(? ? ?)O: Awesome, the first step is a success. Cotton is so great.
Next, as long as it moved the other leg over as well, Cotton would have successfully taken a step!
Immersed in joy, the cotton doll completely ignored its top-heavy head and its wobbly body. Excitedly, it tried to replicate the forceful kick of its “walking” operation, but the moment it moved, its body sank out of control. Its two short little legs split one forward and one back, while its hands scrambled to support itself on the floor, propping its body on both sides.
Cotton Doll: “Eh—”
It tilted its head, unable to understand what strange pose it was currently in. Why could it only see one leg when it looked down now?
Where did Cotton’s leg go?
Would the human dislike a cotton doll with only one leg?
After all, it wouldn’t be cute anymore like that…
Cotton Doll: ^ .
Failed to learn how to walk, and lost a leg on top of that. How can Cotton be so miserable?
Why couldn’t it get up even though Cotton’s arms pushed so hard? Why could Cotton’s legs only swing in tiny motions? Why was walking so hard!
Walking so much every day, the human must be working really hard.
The cotton doll decided to forgive this human who hadn’t heard it speak.
A golden light flashed in its eyes. The 20-centimeter cotton doll lay flat on the crumpled blanket, its bean-like eyes blinking suddenly. The 40-centimeter cotton doll that had been “doing the splits” lost its vitality, collapsing to one side and reverting to its obedient sitting posture once more.
Using this smaller body for the first time, the cotton doll was still a bit excited. It struggled to get up from the blanket, but as soon as its limbs moved, crisp “creak, creak” sounds echoed from its body.
Cotton Doll: ? (OAO?)?!
What happened?!
Freezing in place, the cotton doll tried to move again, and sure enough, the “creaking” sound rang out once more.
Cotton can make squeaky sounds!
Shang Che didn’t know why this brat was idling on the sofa today and refusing to leave. Holding the washed thermal container, he waved it in front of the kid’s eyes, making no attempt to hide his desire to kick him out: “The soup is finished. Go home.”
“Hey, hey, hey, why are you kicking me out the moment you come over?” Shang Yan acted like a rascal, looking completely fearless. “What, do you have something to do again?”
“On weekends, you’re either sleeping or on the way to sleep,” Shang Yan said with an air of complete understanding, offering thoughtfully: “You go ahead and sleep. I promise not to make a sound.”
Shang Che rejected him point-blank: “You’ll disturb me.”
“I’ll wear headphones and play games. I promise not to make a peep.” Shang Yan made a zipping motion across his mouth.
Shang Che paused, his tone somewhat unreadable: “Having an extra breathing thing at home will also disturb me.”
“…Why don’t you just tell me to beat it directly, Little Uncle?” Shang Yan finally got the picture. He wanted to keep his little uncle company, but his little uncle found him annoying; turns out he was the clown all along.
Thud!
A dull impact exploded above their heads. Shang Yan was clearly startled, snapping his head up to look at the ceiling: “What was that noise?!”
“Nothing, you misheard.” Shang Che reacted extremely fast, keeping his voice steady. “This house is so old, it’s not strange for it to make some noises.”
Shang Yan looked suspicious: “Really?”
“Yeah.” Shang Che answered without a hint of hesitation.
“You’re lying.” Shang Yan held up a finger close to the bridge of his nose. “A person like you, who struggles to fall asleep and doesn’t sleep well when you do, how could you possibly tolerate occasional noise pollution?”
Shang Yan said with certainty: “You’re hiding something from me!”
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…
This time, the sound was even clearer, sounding like something round with a certain weight rolling across the floor.
“…” Shang Che really didn’t know how a little piece of cotton could make such a commotion.
Shang Yan spread his palms with an ‘I guessed right, didn’t I?’ look, intentionally asking: “Little Uncle, did you hear any strange noises?”
“…” Since it had been heard anyway, Shang Che took a deep breath and said slowly: “Actually, yesterday… I picked up a cat…”
“What?! I want to see!” Shang Yan said, preparing to rush upstairs with an attitude that suggested he wouldn’t rest until he saw the kitten.
Shang Che’s heart throbbed heavily with his movement, terrified to imagine how chaotic the scene would be if Shang Yan saw a moving cotton doll.
“Sit down,” Shang Che’s voice unconsciously raised, carrying a hint of sternness as he grabbed Shang Yan’s arm. “What’s there to look at? The cat is too small, hasn’t been vaccinated, and is very fierce. Be careful it doesn’t scratch you.”
“Aiya, I’ll just take a look. As long as I don’t get close, it’ll be fine.”
“No. You’re allergic to cat fur. Why are you joining in on the chaos?”
“Ahhhhh~” Shang Yan let out a few token wails, then patted his rear, preparing to leave. “Fine then, I’m off.”
Shang Che, who was just thinking of what excuse to make, froze. Was this kid so easy to persuade today?
Shang Yan: “What kind of look is that? Do I look like an idiot to you?” It was obvious he had a secret he didn’t want others to know.
“Don’t you hate these fluffy things the most?” He patted Shang Che’s shoulder, speaking with painstaking earnestness: “Even if you said you hid a Little Auntie upstairs, it would be more believable than saying you picked up a kitten.”
Ignoring Shang Che’s darkening face, Shang Yan said triumphantly: “How about it? Don’t I look pretty much like an older brother like this? Say ‘Older Brother’ and let me hear it.”
“…Get lost.”
