Chapter 41: The Canary's Self-Cultivation (6)

Night had fallen.

Ling Qiong was sleeping soundly when someone suddenly shook her awake.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, still groggy and more than a little grumpy. “What is it?”

Standing by her bed was Shen Handeng, dressed like a ghost.

Was he some kind of night wanderer, prowling about instead of sleeping?

“Midnight snack,” he stated.

“I’m not hungry,” Ling Qiong grumbled, flopping back down, trying to resume her sleep.

“Get up,” said Shen Handeng.

Ling Qiong mumbled, “I said I’m not eating. You’re so annoying.”

“I want to eat.”

…Well, if you want to eat, then eat. Why bother me? I’m not hungry!

…

It was entirely Shen Handeng’s fault that Ling Qiong was awake at this hour. If it weren’t for that absurdly good-looking face of his, she would have—

Yawning, she began to prepare a midnight snack for her troublesome charge.

Raising a child was truly a challenge.

[Sweetie, do you need—]

No need, I’ve got this. I can handle it.

[…]

Shen Handeng stood nearby, phone in hand, cold and stiff as an icicle.

Ling Qiong was so sleepy she couldn’t help but lean against him while she waited.

Shen Handeng edged away.

Ling Qiong pulled him back. “If you dodge again, you can make it yourself.”

…

Shen Handeng endured and didn’t move away.

He hadn’t eaten much all day, so he finished everything Ling Qiong made.

Exhausted, Ling Qiong didn’t bother with small talk once he was done. She returned straight to her room.

…

Ling Qiong couldn’t help but admire the witch, in a way.

No matter how Shen Handeng messed up his room, by the next day everything would be neatly arranged again.

That must be why she was a witch.

Time passed quickly here—days seemed to slip by.

Shen Handeng’s temper was truly strange; he would lose it out of nowhere, overturn tables at the slightest provocation.

But…

For some reason, he had developed the very bad habit of standing by her bed in the middle of the night, demanding snacks.

Even locking the door was useless.

Shen Handeng had a key.

Could he be any more brazen? Really!

If he weren’t her own charge, he’d have been beaten to death by now.

The witch, meanwhile, was suspicious of Ling Qiong and liked to keep an eye on her, lurking about with that perpetually gloomy face.

Ling Qiong had been startled more than once.

So…

One night, Ling Qiong snuck into Shen Handeng’s room. He rarely locked it, so it was easy to get in.

He was already asleep. Ling Qiong leaned over and called softly, “Shen Handeng, wake up.”

He was a light sleeper; at her call, his eyes opened, gaze cold and shadowed.

“What did you call me?”

“Young master,” Ling Qiong smiled, not caring about the title in the least. “Do you have the key to the witch’s room?”

“No.”

Shen Handeng turned over, facing away, making it clear he didn’t want to talk.

Ling Qiong clambered over the covers to his other side. “Then how do you have a key to my room? You must have it!”

“No,” he said again, rolling over.

Ling Qiong switched sides again. “You do.”

…

A scream pierced the calm of the villa.

The witch burst out of her room, hair disheveled, her perpetually dour face now stricken with fear.

Ling Qiong, clutching a pillow, opened her door. “What’s wrong? It’s early—don’t you people want to sleep?”

The witch snapped to attention at her voice, turning toward Ling Qiong.

The girl stood there in her pajamas, hugging a pillow, looking sleepy.

The witch took a deep breath, regaining her usual composure. “Nothing. I saw a cockroach.”

“Oh… You’re afraid of cockroaches?”

…

Ling Qiong suddenly offered, “Want me to catch it for you?”

…The witch had the feeling Ling Qiong was up to something, but she refused with her usual sour expression. “No need.”

Ling Qiong replied, “Alright,” and turned back toward her room.

Just as the door was about to close, a small head poked out through the crack.

“You’d better be careful. If there’s one cockroach, that means there are hundreds hiding where you can’t see them.”

With a click, the door shut.

The witch was speechless.

—

Ling Qiong noticed the witch called in exterminators. She really was afraid.

Since that was the case…

Ling Qiong decided to give her a little more to worry about.

The witch woke up in the middle of the night to find her room crawling with cockroaches, and the door wouldn’t open. Her shrieks sounded like someone being murdered.

But that was just the beginning. From then on, a cockroach or two would pop up at random—dead or alive.

The whole experience left the witch jumpy and distracted.

She suspected Ling Qiong, but Ling Qiong always had an alibi—and put on her most innocent face, dragging Shen Handeng in as her shield.

At last, the witch couldn’t take it anymore. One day, when Shen Handeng was out, she cornered Ling Qiong. “Ye Qingtang, think about your father.”

“Why should I think about him?” Ling Qiong was genuinely puzzled.

“You don’t want to be mourning at his funeral, do you?” The witch’s threats were truly frightening.

Ling Qiong blinked. “I don’t want that.” After all, they barely knew each other.

“So don’t stir up trouble. You’d best behave,” the witch said, thinking her threat had worked. “Your father’s fate is in your hands.”

Ling Qiong’s eyes flickered. “…So what do you want me to do?”

The witch snorted. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

“Oh.” Ling Qiong pushed her plate toward the witch. “Then can I have another piece of steak?”

…

Satisfied, Ling Qiong skipped off to Shen Handeng’s room.

For some reason, his room was a mess. Ling Qiong hopped over the obstacles and found him in bed.

She pulled back the blanket, revealing… his foot?

Shen Handeng shifted position.

Ling Qiong circled to the other side, this time uncovering his head.

“Young master.”

…

He wasn’t asleep; he’d known the moment she came in, but he couldn’t be bothered to move or acknowledge her.

“Listen,” Ling Qiong whispered sweetly, lying beside him. “That witch definitely wants me to do something bad to you.”

Shen Handeng opened his eyes, meeting her clear, dark gaze.

“You’re not going to do as she says?”

“How could I be that kind of person?” The girl’s eyes went wide, and she patted her chest in earnest. “I’m on your side, young master.”

Shen Handeng’s tone was odd. “On my side?”

“Of course.” Ling Qiong nodded vigorously.

“Why?”

Ling Qiong produced a card and placed it in front of him, looking up expectantly—Pay up.

For some reason, Shen Handeng understood immediately, and felt… exasperated.

[Sweetie… isn’t this a bit much? Not only are you not spending on the target, you’re squeezing money out of him. Are you even human?]

What’s wrong with that?

He has money he can’t spend anyway. I might as well help him use it up.

Besides, in the end, I’ll be the one supporting him!

Better for me to profit than someone else.

No one else’s happiness is as important as my own.

[…]

You and your twisted logic—so long as you’re happy.