Chapter Thirteen: Little Thing

Li Le ate her meal while glancing at Bai, whose expression had softened a little, and asked, “Brother Bai, what duties do you usually have in the city? Are you always guarding the gates? Why did you come home so early today?”

Bai Ye’s stern features eased slightly as he replied, “The city gates are guarded in shifts. The district chiefs take turns.”

So, it was just his turn to rest, no wonder he returned early today.

Li Le’s eyes glimmered with realization; she didn’t dwell on it further, but continued to shovel rice from her bowl with her spoon, eyes squinting in satisfaction.

She had to admit, whatever recipe Bai used, the food tasted quite different from anything she’d had before—yet it was delicious, each spoonful making her reluctant to stop.

Bai Ye glanced at the girl, intent on her meal, his face composed, but a subtle warmth flickered deep within his eyes.

This child he’d taken in was indeed well-behaved, bringing a touch of vitality to the house. She did eat too little, but that was no great problem—some good care and she’d recover her strength.

He had to confess, this rare bit of liveliness indoors had made him return home sooner than usual.

After finishing, Li Le dutifully placed her bowl and chopsticks together, sitting upright, her brows curved in a gentle smile. “Brother Bai, I’ve finished eating.”

Bai Ye, looking at her obedient manner, cleared his throat and said, “…I’ll clean up.”

Glancing at her small bowl beside his own much larger one, Li Le nodded with equal compliance.

With swift, practiced motions, Bai stacked the bowls and spoons, even reaching under the table for a cloth to wipe the wooden surface.

Seeing her nod, his expression relaxed further. He picked up the dishes and headed toward the kitchen. Then, as if remembering something, he paused in the doorway and said, “By the way, Lele, in the next few days you can go with Lie and take some silver coins to Old Man in the Outer City to buy some ‘Major Medicine.’ If there’s anything else you want, you can bring it back too.”

He hesitated, then added, “…Just take some silver coins. Best not to carry any gold coins out.”

With that, he carried the dishes into the kitchen.

He could have just picked up the medicine himself on his way back—why send her out again?

Li Le was momentarily surprised, but quickly understood—he wasn’t asking for her help; he simply worried she’d feel stuffy cooped up in the house, and wanted her to get out and stretch her legs.

He’d even specifically reminded her not to bring gold coins, and suggested she go with Lie—proof of his thoughtful concern.

Her fingers curled slightly on the table, and she sighed, her gaze drifting around before coming to rest on a small, half-circular object aglow with candlelight.

The little thing was shaped like an oval dome, inverted on the wooden table, resembling a semi-transparent, ashen-grey cover. Inside, faint yellow light flickered warmly, casting a gentle, shifting glow over the room—quite a lovely sight.

Before entering, she’d noticed the candle-like light emanating from the window; it was this object.

Startled, she peered at the little dome, curiosity piqued. She hadn’t even noticed such a thing at the table earlier, too absorbed by her meal.

Relying on Brother Bai’s presence, she reached out and tentatively touched the dome-like, semi-transparent grey shell.

The moment her fingertip pressed into it, she paused in surprise—the shell yielded beneath her touch, soft and warm like polished jade, even radiating a gentle heat. At the same instant—

“Squeak—”

The little thing on the table let out a tiny cry as she poked it—a sound faintly reminiscent of a flower-tailed mouse.

Li Le’s expression turned odd. She eyed the “lamp” on the table, and instead of withdrawing, pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, lifting it up.

She wasn’t exactly timid; holding the ashen-grey object—smaller than her palm—she brought it closer, shaking it lightly up and down.

The half-dome “lamp” trembled, quivering like a bullied hamster, and let out a few more squeaks.

From the tone, Li Le could actually detect some indignation. She grinned, transferring the little thing to her left palm to examine it more closely, amused.

“You’ve got little claws…and your eyes are so tiny…like grains of rice…do you ever open them?” she teased, lightly prodding it with her right forefinger.

The little creature seemed to understand. It had been playing dead in her palm, but at her words, its small body shuddered and it squeaked rapidly in protest.

“Squeak—squeak—squeak squeak—”

Li Le’s smile widened as she watched the trembling, indignant creature. “Oh my, are you complimenting my looks because you want to tag along with me?”

The cries grew more urgent, the yellow lights inside it swirling in agitation, their glow flickering.

Feigning ignorance of its outrage, Li Le squinted and said, “…Alright then, I suppose I’ll reluctantly accept you.”

“Squeak—squeak squeak—squeak squeak squeak—”

Its cries became even more frantic, as if it were too furious for words.

Li Le continued to poke it absentmindedly, her lovely face wreathed in mirth. “So it’s settled—no one’s allowed to back out.”

Apparently driven beyond endurance, the little creature’s internal lights began to flash erratically, its indignation at its peak.

Li Le paused, taken aback.

With a faint puff, the room was engulfed in darkness as the little thing’s light abruptly went out, though it still squirmed in her palm.

Li Le stared, dumbfounded, cradling the creature.

From the kitchen, Bai seemed to hear the commotion and stepped out.

Li Le turned her head stiffly, meeting his rare, amused gaze—and, for a moment, wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her whole.