Chapter 32 “Little Fish Orphanage”

Chapter 32: "Little Fish Orphanage"

Under the shabby window, Xiaoyu stared blankly at the heavy night.

After being woken up, she couldn't fall back asleep.

So she simply got up, dragged her small stool to sit under the eaves, feeling the cool night breeze brush past her hair and brows. The little one, who should not have known sorrow, suddenly felt a strange melancholy rising in her heart.

She had been away from Little Fish Orphanage, away from the familiar children and the orphanage director, for several days.

Except for when she was adopted, Xiaoyu had never been away from everyone this long.

Her little fingers twitched slightly, gently pinching her own cheek that felt a little less chubby, and she couldn't help puffing up the other side.

Just then, a cold finger carefully poked her puffed-up cheek.

Xiaoyu tilted her head in confusion, meeting a pair of clear, sparkling eyes that seemed to speak.

"Xiaoyu, couldn't sleep? Did you wake up?" Xiaoyin clasped her hands together and tilted her head to one side, asking with concern.

Xiaoyu nodded, then shook her head.

"I'm a little homesick," she said softly, adding in a small voice: "Just a little bit~"

Because home and here, aside from being a bit more familiar, weren't really any different.

"Home? Is it very, very far?" Xiaoyin walked her fingers a few steps along her arm, looking at Xiaoyu in confusion.

Xiaoyu watched her fingers walking and sighed like a child: "I don't know where home is either."

"We don't have a home." Xiaoyin slowly shook her head at Xiaoyu.

Xiaoyu looked at her clean eyes that seemed to hold so many unspoken things, then glanced at the children shrouded in the night. She made Xiaoyin lower her head and whispered in her ear: "There will be a home. Every child will have their own home. It's just that some children are born with one, and some children have to wait until they grow up."

This was something a big sister who had left and then returned to Little Fish Orphanage told Xiaoyu.

Xiaoyu had secretly remembered it for a long, long time.

When she was even younger, Xiaoyu had secretly fantasized about growing up to find her parents and having a complete home.

But Xiaoyin paused, then smiled and shook her head again.

"Xiaoyu, I can't grow up."

Xiaoyin crouched in front of Xiaoyu, a tiny figure, her eyes clear and vivid, reflecting Xiaoyu's slightly bewildered face.

Xiaoyu understood what Xiaoyin's gestures meant, and that understanding made her confused.

She instinctively reached out and gently stroked Xiaoyin's soft, cold head, her voice as light and soft as the night breeze:

"Then what can we do?"

She murmured to herself, as if unaware she was speaking.

Though she was looking at Xiaoyin, her gaze seemed unfocused, and she asked slowly: "If you can never grow up, then what will become of you?"

Xiaoyin felt the warmth of the little hand on her scalp and squinted contentedly like a kitten, then leaned forward to gently rest her head on Xiaoyu's knee.

Xiaoyin didn't know what to do, but Xiaoyin really liked Xiaoyu.

She liked Xiaoyu when she was angry, liked Xiaoyu when she thought up fun games.

What she liked most was this moment—Xiaoyu stroking her head, feeling sad and lost for her.

No one had ever felt sad for Xiaoyin. Not once.

Even in the orphanage, she was always the silent, transparent child—one who never made a sound to draw attention, whose gestures no one could understand, and no one would ever pat her head to ask what would become of her if she couldn't grow up.

Breathing in the faint sorrow and worry from Xiaoyu, Xiaoyin closed her eyes in contentment, only hoping that the little hand on her head wouldn't leave too soon.

Xiaoyu didn't know how much Xiaoyin craved this affection.

She rubbed Xiaoyin's hair again, then bent down, pressing her warm, soft cheek gently against Xiaoyin's icy-cold one.

The two little ones, one above and one below, their cheeks—one left, one right—pressed quietly together.

As if this gesture could give Xiaoyin more tender comfort.

This was instinctive for Xiaoyu. In her mind, it was probably the closest thing to what a "mother" would do.

Xiaoyu had been a "mother" to many children.

With a mother there, a child's tears and sadness would be gently caught.

She hoped she could catch Xiaoyin's sorrow.

It didn't matter if she liked it here or if the other kids had isolated or bullied her.

Because Xiaoyu had known, as long as she could remember, that parentless children had to survive by bullying others and becoming bad kids.

Xiaoyu stayed cheek-to-cheek with Xiaoyin, holding her for a while longer.

Until Xiaoyin's cheek seemed to have absorbed some of her warmth, until Xiaoyu's own cheek turned cold and numb, she lifted her head and, just as she had pinched her own cheek, reached out to pinch Xiaoyin's.

"I've thought of a way," she said, lowering her gaze, then looking at Xiaoyin with bright eyes.

Xiaoyin was still dazed, feeling the soft lingering warmth on her cheek, like a kitten that had been suddenly picked up and kissed, staring wide-eyed and dumbfounded at Xiaoyu.

Xiaoyu touched her face again and coaxed her softly: "It's okay if you can't grow up. You all stay here, and when I grow up, I'll come back to be your mother, okay?"

She childishly raised one little hand, looking into Xiaoyin's dazed eyes, she made a solemn, earnest vow: "I'll eat a lot, grow really tall, become the strongest adult who can protect all of you, and then I'll come back to be your mother. That way, you can always be my babies and never have to grow up."

Xiaoyin opened her mouth silently, trying to say something, but no sound came out. She could only feel a strange, bitter surge of emotion inside, her eyes red as she looked at Xiaoyu, who was raising her hand in a vow.

"That would be really hard," said Tongtong, who had been standing behind Xiaoyu for a while, watching and listening.

Xiaoyu looked up at her.

But Tongtong flusteredly turned away, sniffled, and continued in a muffled voice: "Besides, it'll take forever for you to grow up. Maybe, maybe before you do, some other parents will have already taken us home."

Xiaoyu's face scrunched up in a troubled expression. After thinking for a moment, she replied: "Then there'll be even more people to love you! The orphanage director said that children who are loved will always have a home wherever they go, and they'll never be homeless~"

"..." Tongtong seemed a little convinced.

Maybe not convinced, but she couldn't think of anything else to argue.

So she decided to change the subject.

She grabbed Xiaoyu's wrist, nudged Xiaoyin, who was still clinging to Xiaoyu, and said: "Come play my game! It's super fun!!"

She couldn't wait to watch Little Fish play the game.

The humans she had played with before were all cowards—every time they grabbed a box, they would scream and yank their hands back, refusing to touch any other box. This left Tongtong deeply disappointed, so bored that she had sneaked over to eavesdrop on Little Fish and Xiaoyin's conversation.

Hearing this, Xiaoyin's eyes lit up slightly, and she quickly pointed at herself.

She also had a fun game she wanted Sister Xiaoyu to play.

Little Fish didn't agree right away.

She looked at Xiaoyin, then at Tongtong, and finally turned her gaze to the adults who had been secretly watching her from the shadows. After thinking for a moment, she nodded.

"Okay~" she replied earnestly.

Tongtong immediately took her hand and led her away from the eaves, pulling her all the way to the small table where five black boxes were set up. Then, eagerly, she began explaining the rules of her game.

After finishing, her light gray eyes sparkled with bright anticipation, staring straight at Little Fish without blinking.

Wanna play? Wanna play? Wanna play? It's really fun, you know~

Actually, as soon as Xiaoyin had run toward Little Fish, every pair of eyes in the orphanage had already fallen on them.

Some watched from afar, others secretly guessed—everyone was curious about what Little Fish had woken up to do and what she had said to Xiaoyin.

As for what happened next, they couldn't quite understand. Why had Little Fish suddenly pressed her cheek against Xiaoyin's?

Was it some kind of strange ritual?

Many guesses crossed the players' minds, but they didn't dare to get too close and pry.

Now that Tongtong had pulled Little Fish into playing a game, they could no longer contain their curiosity—and their concern for the BOSS. So, one by one, they subtly moved closer.

After all, the game rules said nothing about watching the BOSS play, right?

So, pretending to be casual, they edged nearer, their eyes all fixed on Little Fish as she began taking on the games that had tormented them to the point of misery.

"What prize will I get if I win?" Little Fish asked, more rational than any emotion-driven child.

Tongtong froze, then, under Little Fish's curious gaze, moved her lips and answered instinctively, her mind blank: "The prize... is a little red flower?"

"Okay~" Little Fish nodded happily. The next second, she tiptoed, steadied herself with one hand on the table, and reached straight into the box with the other.

Tongtong: "..."

Players: "..."

Huh? Just like that? That reckless?

That was a little red flower!! The same as a player's life-saving clearance item! Why was it that basically all the little red flowers in the entire dungeon were concentrated in the hands of the dungeon BOSS? Wasn't that some kind of absurd dungeon bug?!

But all their silent complaints came to a halt the moment Little Fish reached inside.

Little Fish touched something slimy and slippery.

Curiously, she squeezed it. The texture was a bit strange, yet somehow familiar. Feeling it coil and wrap around her fingers, she moved her fingers to push it aside and continued feeling around inside the box.

A few seconds later—after who knows how many creatures had licked and coiled around her fingers—Little Fish calmly withdrew her hand and shook her head at Tongtong, who was watching with eager anticipation.

"There's no glass bead in this box," she said.

Tongtong immediately got excited, nodding vigorously. "Mm-hmm! It's not in that one; it's in the other four!"

So Little Fish reached into another pitch-black box.

This time, the touch was different—it was something sharp. As soon as her finger poked in, her soft fingertip seemed to be pierced through the skin. A brief, sharp sting made Little Fish's face scrunch up instinctively, but she didn't pull her hand back.

When she withdrew her hand, her originally fair palm was covered in tiny, bleeding puncture wounds. Bright red blood dripped from her fingertips, and Xiaoyin, standing beside her, instantly looked alarmed.

"Author's Note"

Today is Little Fish Baby, who is going to be a mom to other kids, hahaha

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