Chapter Twenty-Three: The Little Cabin

Cradled gently in Li Le’s palms, Tuantuan gazed up at her earnest expression with bright, beady eyes. Curling its tiny paws beneath its body, it replied with a soft squeak.

Hearing its response, Li Le’s eyes curved with a deeper smile.

To Li Le, names carried a special significance: they symbolized responsibility, bonds, and a sense of belonging. She never bestowed a name lightly. In her previous life, she had kept many pets, but only the Rottweiler who had accompanied her from birth to death was ever given a name.

In a sense, Li Le was a devoted and responsible soul.

Thus, by naming Tuantuan now, she revealed the expectations she placed upon this little creature: she hoped it would stay by her side, just as the Rottweiler once had.

Unaware of these thoughts, Ying simply chirped excitedly at Li Le’s voice:

“Why can you understand me? Do you know anyone else who can?”

“You don’t know how lonely I felt back in the tribe... No one understood me. None of my kin would pay me any mind...”

“I can understand you humans, but you can’t hear me... I don’t know why, either...”

Li Le had already laid a soft cushion upon the table before Tuantuan spoke. She gently set it down, letting it finish all the words left unsaid from its solitary days. Tuantuan chattered away, gesturing as it spoke, its eyes—black as sesame seeds—fixed on Li Le, shining brightly.

As Li Le unpacked her spoils from the day, methodically tidying the room, she listened intently to Tuantuan, responding briefly each time:

“Yes, I can understand you...”

“Mhm, from now on, I’ll always understand you...”

“It’s alright, we’ll find the answers together...”

Li Le’s voice was never especially gentle or coaxing; in fact, it carried a hint of coolness and indifference. But precisely because of this, her words held a kind of pride, as if stating an established fact.

While replying to Tuantuan, she carefully removed ornaments from her bedside table, wiped away the dust, spread a fresh cloth, and replaced the decorations one by one. At last, she retrieved a bone china vase from her pack and placed it atop the table. Glancing around, she fetched a broom from beside the storage room and swept the floor thoroughly.

She conversed with Tuantuan in fits and starts, cleaning as she went. Soft, pale golden light streamed through the window, bathing the room in tranquil warmth.

“Brother Bai, where did you find Tuantuan? Why did you pick it? It’s quite clever—I really like it.” At dinner, Li Le set Tuantuan on her shoulder and looked up at Brother Bai in curiosity.

Two pairs of eyes—one large, one small—gazed expectantly at Bai Ye, causing a rare warmth to flicker in his own.

“I saw the little fellow at the exchange and brought it back,” Bai Ye replied, pausing before continuing, “Is Tuantuan its name?”

Li Le smiled, her dark eyes lighting up with undisguised delight. “Yes, I named it myself.”

Beside her, Tuantuan glowed with pride, squeaking twice in agreement.

A hint of amusement surfaced in Bai Ye’s eyes. “Not bad. It’s a good name.”

Li Le’s eyes sparkled with pride at his praise. “Of course...”

Bai Ye shook his head helplessly. “Eat up before your food gets cold.”

Li Le’s lips curved. “Alright, Brother Bai.”

She promptly scooped a large spoonful of rice into her mouth, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, her inky eyes bright with satisfaction, the resemblance to Tuantuan on her shoulder uncanny.

Bai Ye couldn’t suppress a laugh, his stern features softening.

Li Le, busy devouring her meal, paused at the sound of Bai Ye’s laughter, casting him a puzzled glance before returning to her feast.

“Hic—I'm so full.”

That night, lying in bed, Li Le burped and sighed, “It’s all Brother Bai’s fault for cooking so well... I feel like I’ve put on a few pounds...”

“Don’t you agree, Tuantuan?” she asked, turning to look at the little creature lying on its tiny pillow beside her.

Tuantuan was basking leisurely in the tower’s gentle light. At the sound of Li Le’s voice, it nodded absentmindedly in agreement.

Li Le couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Tilting her head, she teased, “Agree with what? Did you even understand me, or are you just agreeing blindly? What a little dummy.”

As she turned, a few strands of her jet-black hair fell across Tuantuan’s face.

Tuantuan sneezed and reached out, clutching one strand with its tiny paw, protesting with a squeak.

Li Le stifled a laugh and relented, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. You’re not a dummy—you’re just on my side. Let go of my hair, or you’ll make me bald...”

Tuantuan loosened its grip a little but didn’t let go entirely, squeaking in protest.

Li Le’s eyes crinkled with amusement. She gently poked its soft grey fur with her finger. “Fine, if you want to hold it, go ahead. But mind how you sleep—don’t pull too hard.”

Tuantuan nodded enthusiastically, its little bean-like eyes shining with happiness.

Li Le smiled with narrowed eyes, offering a timely compliment: “Good boy. Now, sleep well. Tomorrow I plan to take you out for a stroll... In the next couple of days, I’ll make you a little ‘house’... Then, wherever I go, I’ll carry you with me... or rather, bring you along...”

Tuantuan had no idea what kind of little house she meant, but it obediently closed its eyes, full of anticipation for the surprise to come.