034: Dogs Are Fluffy Sheep Butts
Heaven and earth as his witnesses, Sang Zhao had really just blurted that out without thinking.
How could a dog take up that much floor space and still have such a tiny heart?
He wanted to hurry up and haul Xia Moye off Tang Yu’s leg. A little dog clinging to Corn Bean’s leg like that, what was that supposed to be?
But Xia Moye refused. The second Sang Zhao tugged, he started woo-woo-ing.
Not just any woo-woo. It was that low, humming “pre-bark” noise, the kind a dog makes right before guarding its food.
…It made Sang Zhao so mad he wanted to kick him. But with Tang Yu standing right there, he couldn’t just start a cat-dog brawl on the spot.
Fine! If Xia Moyè insisted on napping with Tang Yu, then great, honestly.
If he didn’t have to watch the kid, and also didn’t have to watch the dog, even better. Peace and quiet, that was exactly what he wanted.
He scratched his head and peeked at Tang Yu’s expression, then let out a small giggle.
“Then, uh, how about you go nap in the master bedroom with him? I’ll sleep in your room, and we can swap back at night.”
Tang Yu’s lashes lowered as he froze for a second.
What? Swap what? Swap rooms? Was Sang Zhao saying he was going to sleep in his bed for a while? How was Tang Yu supposed to sleep in it later?!
He hurried to turn it down.
“It’s fine. He’s still just a kid, he can sleep with me.”
Now it was Sang Zhao’s turn to blink.
He rubbed his cat brain cells together and asked,
“Sleep with you… means what exactly? As in, the same bed?”
Tang Yu ruffled the bird’s nest on Xia Moye’s head, his tone edged with a smile as he nodded.
“Of course.”
Xia Moye almost exploded from sheer joy.
It had been a long time since he’d slept with a human. Being invited to sleep in a human’s bed was an honor for a dog.
He wriggled and burrowed closer, putting on his best puppy act.
“Wooo! I wanna sleep with Uncle! I can sleep down by your feet, that would already be so, so satisfying!”
The look Sang Zhao shot him basically said: such a doggy little dog, no ambition at all.
If you get the chance to sleep with a human, why would you sleep at their feet?
The whole point is to sleep above the pillow.
You should be sprawled on a human’s head, belly pressed right to their skull, front and back paws wrapped around their face.
That’s what it means to sleep with a human. Sleeping at their feet? What kind of dominance is that supposed to be? No standards, this dog.
But clearly, Tang Yu was never going to accept an elementary schooler sleeping at his feet.
One look at the hopeful “let me be your footstool” expression on Xia Moye’s face was enough to startle him.
Tang Yu shot it down immediately.
“No, no, I’m not some noble lord and you’re not a tiny servant. Why would you sleep at my feet?!”
“You sleep next to me. The bed’s plenty big for both of us. Come on.”
He bent down and scooped Xia Moye up, carrying him into the room.
“Come nap with Uncle. I’ll tell you a story, okay?”
The truth was, Tang Yu had never really interacted with a child like this before.
Normally, he didn’t have this level of patience with anyone.
But with Sang Zhao, things were always different.
His nephew was good-looking, and Tang Yu was a tiny bit of a facecon. He liked pretty things. A kid like Xia Moye, delicate and well-behaved, not a crybaby, easy to reason with and not usually a handful, who wouldn’t like that?
So even though he knew perfectly well that summer camp kids weren’t toddlers, and that an eight-year-old didn’t need a bedtime story to nap, he was more than willing.
Sang Zhao watched the two of them go back to the bedroom, then stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips and spun himself in place twice.
His eyes were full of disbelief.
Ugh, so annoying!
Why didn’t anyone tell him a story? Why was he being so good to the dog?
It wasn’t necessarily jealousy. He just couldn’t stand watching a dog get doted on. Wasn’t this world supposed to revolve around small cats? Why was the fluffy dog also allowed to burrow around in a human’s arms?
He huffed to himself. Fine. No one was going to tell him a story? Whatever! He was a mature cat now. He could lie on the bed and watch videos on his phone all by himself.
Phones were truly wonderful things. After he started his career pretending to be human, he found his life most inseparable from his phone.
How could a phone be that fun? Short videos, ordering takeout, online shopping, etc. Everything he wanted to eat, drink, or play with could be handled with this little rectangle.
No wonder his old owner always had one hand petting the cat and the other hand glued to the phone.
He started by lying on his stomach, then rolled onto his back, phone held overhead as he flicked through clips one by one.
The algorithm really understood little cats. Since he usually watched pet videos, eight out of ten clips were of animals.
“Guys, I picked up a cat too! Long-haired calico beauty! I’ve never seen such a pretty kitty…”
Wow, thought Sang Zhao. Calicos really are prettier than those plain white cats and dogs.
“Five signs your cat thinks you’re their mom…”
Pretty accurate, actually, he thought, impressed. Humans really have their cat psychology down.
“The Jiangyuan City Zoo is insanely photogenic! I got the best pictures of my life with the pandas!”
Pandas aren’t cats. They’re bears. Stop pushing them to me, the cat thought.
At first he was just swiping mechanically, not really taking anything in.
Until a bright, bouncy voice came out of the speaker.
“Guys! Can we talk about who invented sea otters chewing and chewing like this? They’re too cute! Floating on the water, using a rock as a little table to eat off, cracking open shellfish to snack on…”
“Huh,” murmured Sang Zhao.
Something felt off all of a sudden.
He replayed the clip, watched it through. Then watched it again. Still felt weirdly familiar.
“So familiar… sea otters… where have I seen that before…”
This time he actually watched the video closely.
It was a little explainer about sea otter habits. How they liked to float on the water, resting a stone on their chest to crack shellfish, how they liked to rub their faces to show friendliness.
When a bunch of sea otters were together, they’d hold each other’s paws.
Frowning, Sang Zhao mentally rewound everything that had happened earlier that day.
That kid had toddled right over and grabbed his hand, clinging on. At the time, he’d just assumed it was some random child drawn in by his catly beauty. But looking at it now… that action might have a different meaning?!
Face rubbing, floating, smashing oysters… the more he thought about it, the more the pieces clicked.
Sea otter? Oh right, Tata. Ta-ta.
So that’s what “Tata” was.
He’d originally assumed maybe the mom always talked about construction sites, so they’d named the kid “Tata” after building towers.
But it turned out to be “otter”?
Holy crap, no way.
He’d come all this way to accompany a Samoyed on a third-grade summer camp trip, gotten away from the Yao Administration Bureau and Director Li, and he still ran into wild yaoguai?!
He was a stray cat, Ye Ye was a stray dog, fine. But now there was a wild sea otter too?
Sang Zhao rolled off the bed in one go and scrambled up. Panic rising, he immediately wanted to drag the dog into an emergency council.
Where was the dog? The dog needed to come confirm whether this theory made sense. Was this kid really a sea otter, or just a clingy human child mesmerized by his looks?
But the dog was napping.
The dog was taking a nap while listening to a gentle human tell a bedtime story.
Fuming, Sang Zhao dug his fingers into the oyster shell.
An hour later, when Xia Moye finally woke from his nap, he shuffled out, yawning and wobbling toward the water.
And promptly got grabbed and hauled off by Sang Zhao.
When serious business came up, Sang Zhao had his own cat rules.
For example, he’d never tell Xia Moye that An Tihu was actually a bird. Sister Xia An from work was part of his professional circle. The whole “secretary office ghost story: they saw a supernatural dog” incident was already a one-in-a-million coincidence; things like that didn’t just keep happening.
But this time was different.
This time, they were sharing a hotel with a sea otter. Who knew if this sea otter might suddenly snap and attack someone?
What if the otter turned out to be a bad yaoguai? There were uncooperative, dangerous supernatural creatures out there, and the Yao Bureau’s cells were full of them.
The sea otter videos he just watched made them look pretty fierce. What if the kid decided to stop smashing oysters and started smashing Tang Yu’s head instead?
He rattled the whole situation off in a rush, and Xia Moye got worked up right away.
“Right, right, right! No wonder I didn’t like him the moment I saw him. It’s because he’s not human!”
In a little dog’s worldview, there were no truly bad people. If something seemed off, odds were it wasn’t a person at all.
“You only disliked him because he looks more like a dog than you, and you’re jealous,” Sang Zhao said mercilessly. “I get it. Anyway, stop with that and think of what we’re supposed to do!”
Xia Moye had no ideas either.
After a while though, Sang Zhao found a new loose thread.
“Hold up. How does he have live, offline, moving-around-in-person parents?”
Xia Moye also had a sudden, dim epiphany.
“Right! How come he gets to run around all day and doesn’t have to go to kindergarten?”
“Right?” Sang Zhao got sidetracked, full of indignation.
Why didn’t that kid go to school? Just because he was three or four? Then what about his parents?
Their thoughts lined up nicely.
Stomping his foot, Xia Moye said, “Exactly! His parents don’t have to work either. Look at them, spending all of Friday afternoon, a workday, just taking him out to play.”
“I heard the staff say they’re regulars. They come all the time.”
“If they never have to work, they must be rich. Like, really rich,” Xia Moye muttered.
“Oh, so he’s a second-gen rich kid then?”
The two of them stared at each other in silence.
And in each other’s eyes, they saw deep, deep envy.
Covering his chin, Sang Zhao closed his eyes as if to shield his own pain.
“How come that kind of rich second-gen life didn’t get assigned to me? I could pretend too!”
Xia Moye was equally outraged, dog logic blasting out.
“We’re pretending to be human, he’s pretending to be a rich second gen. How’s that fair?”
He thought some more, then added, “But it’s fine! You’re not bad either! Cats must make tons of money when they go to work, right?”
“Mm…”
Sang Zhao opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out.
“Alright, say one more word and I’m reporting you for cat abuse,” he finally managed.
Of course, it was all still guesswork.
Unlike with An Tihu, they didn’t have suspicious behavior or unresponsive calls as evidence this time; they only had a hunch.
A cat and a dog were land creatures while an otter was an aquatic creature. They’d never interacted before and barely knew each other. There was no reason to just grab him, poke his back, and rip his cover off based on nothing.
They muttered back and forth for a while and still didn’t land on a plan.
But having no plan could also be a plan: play it by ear. That worked too.
You could say they had reached a conclusion.
The cat and dog who’d just been sulking at each other suddenly held an emergency meeting. Meeting adjourned, the air grew faintly awkward again.
A 1.9-meter office worker and a third-grade elementary schooler, both secretly treasured their friendship.
But cats were a little tsundere. Dogs weren’t. Dogs had no concept of awkward. A dog’s love was naked and scorching.
Ye Ye grabbed Sang Zhao’s hand and shook it, taking the initiative to break the ice. In his tiny body, he tried to coax Sang Zhao.
“Ye Ye wasn’t throwing a tantrum at you.”
Head tipped up, face blank, Sang Zhao was actually quietly pleased. As if he’d ever really hold it against Ye Ye.
“It’s fine. I was stereotyping,” he said sincerely. “You’ve definitely… changed.”
“Changed”… what?
“I. Have. Not!” Ye Ye almost butted his head into Sang Zhao’s belly. “Ye Ye is not eating it anymore!”
That only made sense in his little dog brain.
Satisfied, Sang Zhao stopped teasing him, but he still had a wicked idea.
He looked at Ye Ye and held out a hand.
“Then turn into a dog and let me pet you. Once I’m done, we’ll be even and still good friends, okay?”
To Xia Moye, that wasn’t even a request. Of course he could change anywhere, anytime.
They just didn’t want to risk transforming in the living room in case the still-napping Tang Yu passed by and saw, so they opted to move the operation to the bathroom.
Once there, Ye Ye turned into a huge white fluff-ball.
Even though they’d known each other for three weeks and he’d seen both dog and human forms many times, even gotten roped into being his “uncle,” helping him out of trouble and sharing meals.
Sang Zhao had never properly petted him in full dog form.
Now, “Xia Moye” the human name could be set aside. Standing in front of him was one fat, fluffy, white Samoyed.
Clearing his throat, expression still a bit reserved, Sang Zhao began to pet the dog.
He held Ye Ye’s ears and stroked them backwards, scrubbing the Samoyed’s head until it tilted, making his ears wobble back and forth.
Ye Ye cooperated beautifully, dark eyes locked on him.
Their gazes met: one cat, one dog. The dog’s nose was damp, his mouth open in a wide silly grin, tongue darting out to lick his lips before retreating again. A tiny strip of pink stayed peeking out, so his fur was white, his nose was black, his tongue was pink: three-color dog.
He was like a marshmallow, like a cloud, like a fluffy sheep butt.
His head was the most fun to pet. It was soft and puffy, like a delicious little sponge cake. When his head stayed still but his ears got rubbed crooked, he just sat there, grinning foolishly.
After a while, Sang Zhao wrapped a hand around Ye Ye’s muzzle.
Holding his snout like an ice cream cone, he gently lifted it and examined him carefully.
This is annoying, he thought. The more he looked, the more he felt… crap, this little dog thing was actually kind of cute.
Having a small dog to pet might really not be so bad.
Expression stern, he let go of Ye Ye’s muzzle.
“I take it back. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”
“No no no no!” Ye Ye almost stuttered from panic.
Standing straight, Sang Zhao raised his voice and declared, “I want you to be my dog!”
“Eh?” Ye Ye thought about it. Wasn’t that perfect? He was a dog anyway.
“Okay okay!” He happily launched himself forward, that big white fluff ball rolling right into Sang Zhao’s arms.
He was just about to ask: now that the cat had a dog, did the dog get a cat too? Had the era of mutually owning each other as pets finally begun?
He never got the chance.
There was a knock at the door.
Tang Yu had woken up and, passing by the bathroom, had clearly heard the voices inside.
He hadn’t heard the beginning of the conversation, but he had heard the part where Sang Zhao asked Ye Ye to be his dog, and Ye Ye happily agreed.
…That alone was enough to cause significant emotional damage to someone with fragile nerves.
He knocked and said quietly, “I don’t know what you two are doing in the bathroom, but please stop saying… things like that.”
There was more rustling inside, and then Sang Zhao and Xia Moye emerged.
Tang Yu’s expression was complicated, like he had a lot to say but couldn’t. He turned to Sang Zhao and stressed, “You cannot treat your nephew like a pet dog.”
No need, thought Sang Zhao. He’s already a dog.
Out loud, he argued, “What’s that term called again… oh right, ‘dog persona.’ I’m just a fan of his dog persona.”
Tang Yu had reached the end of his rope. He took a deep breath.
“Xiao Ye, come here to Uncle.”
Once he went over, he got water and head pats.
Then they tidied themselves up, and their little “family of three” headed out for the afternoon activity.
To the water park!
The moment they stepped into the water park in the afternoon, the kids went feral. The parents couldn’t catch them no matter how they chased.
Sang Zhao had no intention of playing himself.
He announced proudly, “My elegant, golden, radiant fur must not get wet.”
Tang Yu looked at the way his orange hair gleamed even brighter in the sun and had to admit he wasn’t lying. That bright orange color was really stunning.
Under the sunlight, every layer of color was more distinct, the orange locks flaring with radiance, making Sang Zhao’s face look brilliantly eye-catching.
Tang Yu let his gaze linger on him for a long, long moment.
Sang Zhao didn’t play, but everyone else went wild.
Going to a water park in summer was hot, but unbelievably fun.
The place had tons of facilities and great service: artificial waves rolling in like a fake ocean, a lazy river wrapping around the whole park, and slides of every shape and size.
Huge loop slides, vortex slides, ones you rode bare, ones with rafts, boards, or rings.
Xia Moyè especially loved the slides. Halfway through playing, he sprinted across the park to breathlessly tell Sang Zhao that he needed him to check if his tail had popped out.
“I’ve been sliding and sliding, I keep feeling like my tail slipped out.”
“You’re fine,” snapped Sang Zhao. “Nothing’s out.”
Off Ye Ye went again, pattering away to play.
Sitting on a float board, Sang Zhao lounged and watched the chaos. He watched Tang Yu trying to steer a duck-shaped ring around, chasing after Xia Moye and failing to catch him.
He was just about to gloat when the large tipping-bucket feature above him dumped a sheet of water straight down.
But a cat was a cat, reflexes sharp. He arched his back, flung himself backwards, and lay flat on his board, gliding under the water curtain against the current in a dramatic evasive maneuver.
Only after he’d gotten clear did he slowly sit up and pat his still-dry hair and clothes with satisfaction.
Exactly like that.
He was very pleased with himself.
They stayed until dinner time before finally leaving.
Their trio was one of the last to go since Xia Moye really was hard to catch.
Still, the dog was obedient at heart. Even if he was reluctant and kept looking back over his shoulder, he still followed Sang Zhao and Tang Yu to go eat.
Because while he loved playing, he loved eating even more, hehe.
After dinner, it was time for that day’s summer camp “enrichment activity.”
The hotel conference room was decorated to be as cute and childlike as possible. Parents and kids sat on tiny stools, packed close together.
Several foreign teachers had come to lead the evening, and as soon as they entered, they switched entirely to English.
Which meant that, for Sang Zhao, it was time to sit back and watch. Listening was pointless, he didn’t understand a thing.
The structure was obvious enough, though: the teacher would call a name, the kid would go up to speak. It was clearly some kind of self-introduction.
Tang Yu, being nice, professional, and just a bit OCD, had even prepped an English self-introduction for Xia Moye during dinner.
Shame that the dog barely remembered any of it and only managed two sentences.
With an English vocabulary worse than a grade-schooler’s, the phrase he was most fluent in was still “okok.”
He didn’t understand a word, but when his dog friend stood onstage introducing himself, Sang Zhao’s eyes still shone. When he finished, he clapped like crazy.
It never crossed his mind that “too much praise might spoil a child” or that he should “teach him humility.”
Cats did not have such complicated thoughts. Cats only wanted their friends to be happy.
Sitting beside him, Tang Yu watched him cheer and whoop for Ye Ye, then watched him grab the boy in a hug when he came down.
“You spoke English! You spoke English! You’re our pride!!”
Xia Moye was so excited he shook.
“I’m basically not even me right now!”
Tang Yu: …Please calm down.
Two sentences, the shortest of all the kids, with so-so pronunciation. And this was… fine? More than fine?
He couldn’t help mulling it over. What kind of parenting style is this? So… cheerful. How can they be this cheerful?
Compared to every other household in the room, the way Sang Zhao handled things was completely different.
Other parents: “Why was your pronunciation so slurred? Didn’t you memorize it better?”
Sang Zhao: “You spoke English! That’s amazing! Look, I even took photos, got your coolest angle on record!”
Other parents: “Hurry, get ready for the second-language segment, don’t just sit there.”
Sang Zhao: “Wanna eat something? I saw an ice cream stall up on the terrace.”
Other parents: “Go talk to the foreign teachers. Be confident, don’t shrink back like that.”
Sang Zhao: “Wow, I replayed it in my head, you were so cool. Think about it, you’re incredible.”
Honestly, Tang Yu wasn’t sure where the “incredible” part was.
But this… this was the type of parent he’d only ever seen in his dreams.
He’d wondered before what kind of family could raise someone like Sang Zhao.
Not very bright, obviously not highly educated, a bit limited in book-smarts, but never once self-loathing or eaten up by anxiety.
Like he had his own inner world, putting real effort into living, inhabiting his own dimension, only paying attention to the wildflowers and reeds and seeds sprouting in his own little patch of earth.
Now, watching him, Tang Yu finally understood their family’s style.
And he found himself a little envious.
He tore his gaze away from Sang Zhao and looked back toward the front.
After all the kids finished introducing themselves, the staff invited the parents to say a few sentences in their second languages. The atmosphere became pseudo-academic, foreign languages echoing all over the room until they made Sang Zhao’s head spin.
The foreign teachers led everyone in simple activities; they taught basic greetings and thank-yous in different languages.
Later, they moved on to short poems, trying to spark the kids’ interest in foreign languages.
Classes weren’t really his thing, especially language classes. Within minutes, Sang Zhao started getting sleepy. All those unfamiliar sounds were just noise to him, nothing recognizable.
Tang Yu sat beside him, reading along with the teacher and guiding Ye Ye line by line.
Ye Ye’s recitation was a disaster, sounding halfway between a shout and a gag. Every syllable veered somewhere it shouldn’t go. It was very creative. Very lethal.
Sneaking his hands up, Sang Zhao covered his ears for a bit.
But then he dropped them again.
Because Tang Yu had started reciting as an example.
His reading was beautiful. Even though the words were obscure and meaningless to Sang Zhao, there was a natural rhythm to them, like he was singing.
Chin propped on his hand, Sang Zhao sat on the tiny stool and listened, utterly absorbed.
He didn’t understand any of it, but he was biased: whatever Tang Yu read sounded much better than Ye Ye’s attempts.
After a while, Tang Yu focused on teaching Ye Ye, demonstrating and correcting.
Ye Ye, of course, started slacking. He was supposed to be standing there reading from the little card, with Tang Yu sitting and holding it steady on his knees, one hand on his shoulder.
But he didn’t learn a thing, too busy twisting around, trying to wriggle away and go play with his friends.
Eventually, Tang Yu had to let him go. The second he did, Ye Ye shot off like a loosed arrow.
Shaking his head, Tang Yu turned back to spacey Sang Zhao. “He’s just here to play. You’re not worried he won’t learn anything? Won’t that be a waste of all this money?”
Sang Zhao couldn’t care less.
It was Ye Ye’s money anyway. He spread his hands.
“It’s fine. As long as he’s happy, who cares? Look.”
He pointed to where Ye Ye was sprinting around.
“Look how happy he is.”
Happy for his friend, he was happy too.
Tang Yu went quiet for a moment.
It was true. The kid was thrilled.
If he was having that much fun, what else did he need?
His gaze drifted over the room, landing on that eight-year-old form dashing through the crowd.
Watching the boy, it was like seeing himself in summers long past.
He let out a soft sigh in Sang Zhao’s direction.
Just a single, quiet sigh, like it had traveled through time and washed away all those heavy expectations, finally coming to rest in this gentle moment.
Then Tang Yu quietly said something in Spanish.
The tail of the word landed softly, like bursting a crystal soap bubble, and through the shattering droplets you could catch a glimpse of seven-colored light.
Immediately on alert, Sang Zhao lifted his head.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t understand the word, phrase, or sentence, and latched onto Tang Yu, demanding an explanation.
There was a hint of mischief between Tang Yu’s brows as he said, “It means, ‘we’ll go back and eat supper together later.’”
“Really?”
He wasn’t that easy to fool. Little cats did not just take Corn Bean’s word at face value.
He grumbled to himself. Something still felt off. If it was just about a midnight snack, why had Tang Yu’s expression gone so soft?
Did he really feel that strongly about supper? He liked supper that much? Enough that just mentioning it made his eyes go all clear and melty, like thawing snow?
Something wasn’t right.
Sitting there sulking, he heard Tang Yu chuckle beside him.
When he finally caught on, he yelled, “You’re bullying me!”
Still smiling, eyes crinkled, Tang Yu waved both hands in denial.
“How am I bullying you?”
He wouldn’t admit it, but that was fine, Sang Zhao had his own logic.
“You’re smarter than me and using that to trick me. How’s that not bullying? What does that phrase mean? Huh? Were you secretly calling me names? What did you call me?”
In his mind, if Tang Yu refused to explain it, he had to be quietly insulting him.
Otherwise, what could possibly be unspeakable about it? Was that line of Spanish some super nasty phrase?
Tang Yu inhaled like he was choking and pressed his fingers to his temple.
Without another word, he gave him a long look, sighed, and then stood up to go hunt Ye Ye down again.
Which only made Sang Zhao even more sulky.
What, so now he wasn’t going to talk about it? Not explaining anything? Terrible Corn Bean.
Worst of all, his memory was mediocre at best. He hadn’t even memorized the sound of that Spanish phrase. He had nothing to search, nowhere to look it up.
While he was silently stewing, a quiet little classmate who’d been sitting nearby the whole time dragged his tiny stool over and poked his arm.
“Big brother, I can teach you.”
Kids loved being teachers when they knew something. He was so eager his eyes were shining as he pointed and gestured, desperate to pass on the knowledge rattling around in his head.
“Ahem!” The boy cleared his throat on purpose. “That just now was a Spanish nickname.”
“It means ‘little one,’ like a little kid, a little sprite.”
“Oh…”
Sang Zhao pressed his lips together, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and said softly, “Thank you.”
The boy lit up at the grown-up’s thanks and scooted his stool back to his spot, leaving Sang Zhao to sit there repeating the translation to himself.
He looked up at Tang Yu’s back and caught sight of the little ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck.
That small tuft of hair curled softly, the ends fluffy and springy, swaying every time Tang Yu moved.
The little orange cat’s gaze was immediately hooked, batted around like a cat toy.
Getting batted around, he still thought, So that’s it. I’m a little kid? A little sprite?
Weird. Tang Yu hadn’t called him “cute,” hadn’t said “beautiful,” but somehow it still felt like being praised.
0 Comments