Chapter 11. The Little Pitiful One’s Intelligence Comes Online

When Cheng Songer was about to reach home, she saw Cheng Qingzhi sitting blankly at the doorway, his gaze scattered towards the distance, lost in thought.

Upon seeing Cheng Songer, his dazed eyes suddenly focused with a spark of light, and he hurriedly stood up to greet her.

“You’re back.” Cheng Qingzhi’s tone carried a slight joy that he himself wasn’t aware of.

He considerately helped her with the heavy basket: “I’ve already prepared the meal.”

“Mm, I caught a rabbit and some small fish. Tonight we’ll have an extra dish, let’s eat rabbit meat.” Cheng Songer said happily, holding up the rabbit by its ears.

“Alright, I’ll go prepare it now.” Cheng Qingzhi took the rabbit, stroking its soft, thick fur.

“Then I’ll go chop the firewood I just collected.” Cheng Songer said, rubbing her slightly sore shoulders.

Cheng Songer’s cooking skills were extremely poor. Even in modern society with abundant seasonings, she could barely reach an edible passing grade.

She still remembered when she was young, her grandmother often teased her about this: “Songer, with such poor cooking skills, how will you find a husband and get married in the future?”

She replied carelessly: “If finding a husband and getting married is just for washing clothes and cooking, I’d rather not get married. I’m fine living on my own.”

Now that she had transmigrated into the world of the book, with Cheng Qingzhi cooking for her every day, obedient and docile, it was the only comfort of her transmigration.

Cheng Songer quickly finished chopping the firewood. Thinking that the rabbit meat would still take some time to cook, but it was already dark, and the kitchen was originally dim, cooking in the dark wouldn’t do, as she might get burned by the red-hot pot.

She lit an oil lamp, intending to take it to the kitchen for lighting.

But looking at this dim light, she remembered the leftover rattan paper from patching the window, and suddenly had an idea.

She decided to make a lampshade. First, she fixed the basic frame with tree branches, then covered it with rattan paper, gluing it on with paste. A very simple lampshade was done. The rattan paper was white and originally had light-transmitting properties.

With the oil lamp enclosed inside, the light from the oil lamp diffused through the rattan paper lampshade, clearly brighter than before.

Although this was far from reaching the brightness of modern lighting equipment, it was already a very good lighting tool in ancient times.

She carried the small paper lamp into the already dark little kitchen: “Brother, is it very dark in the kitchen? I’ve brought you a lamp.”

Cheng Qingzhi was rubbing the stir-fried rabbit meat when he looked up to see Cheng Songer walking towards him with a lamp. The gentle beam of light illuminated her slightly smiling eyes and brightened the dark room, making the entire kitchen light up.

And that gentle, diffused light in her hand was just like moonlight.

“What’s this?” Cheng Qingzhi looked at the rattan paper lamp in her hand.

“I made it with rattan paper, how is it?” Cheng Songer’s eyes sparkled like a student showing a handicraft to a teacher.

“It’s… it’s good.”

“Is it a bit too plain?” Cheng Songer looked at the lampshade, remembering that ancient lanterns were usually painted with various flowers, birds, and figures.

Cheng Songer had learned some basic painting before, but now she didn’t even have ink or brushes, let alone paint.

Suddenly, Cheng Songer’s eyes lit up as she looked at the smoke-blackened stove. She took a chopstick, rubbed some black ash on the rattan paper, and started sketching. Soon, a simple ink bamboo appeared on the paper.

“How is it? Is my drawing okay? Do you like it?” Cheng Songer held the ink bamboo close to Cheng Qingzhi.

Seeing her childlike innocence at this moment, Cheng Qingzhi felt a warmth rising in his heart.

He smiled slightly: “It’s beautiful… I like it very much.”

“I’m glad you like it, I made it for you to use for lighting.”

“But I don’t need an oil lamp here… it’s too extravagant.”

Cheng Qingzhi had only heard of rich families using such lanterns, but for poor families like theirs, who worked from sunrise to sunset, doing hard labor during the day and sleeping shortly after a hasty meal at night, there was no need for lighting.

Even if they did use it, it would be used sparingly, at most burning a few more lamp wicks during the New Year.

They certainly wouldn’t be like Cheng Songer, giving him a lamp for lighting while cooking, he could manage with the fire from the kitchen stove, as he often did before.

And they definitely wouldn’t go to such lengths to make a lampshade like Cheng Songer did.

“How is this extravagant? What if you get burned or splashed with oil while cooking in the dark?” Cheng Songer placed the lamp by the stove, her gaze sincere.

The black stove instantly became clear and bright under the lamplight.

Cheng Qingzhi touched the pad of his left finger, the pain from the recent burn still present. He was used to this, but seeing the tender look in Cheng Songer’s eyes as she spoke, for a moment, he was suddenly struck with the illusion that he too was cherished.

“Brother, shouldn’t you add water now?” Cheng Songer gently reminded.

Cheng Qingzhi, like someone suddenly awakened from a deep dream, hurriedly scooped a ladle of water from the water vat and poured it into the pot.

A puff of white steam instantly rose from the pot, gathering and rolling at the ceiling before quickly dissipating.

When he finally calmed his emotions, he saw that Cheng Songer had already brought a small stool and sat by the stove.

The thin light, diffusing like moonlight, illuminated her profile, the smoke and fire accumulating at the corners of her eyes, as if veiled by a thin gauze, adding a soft, moon-like, misty quality to her features.

If this had been half a month ago, Cheng Qingzhi would never have dreamed that Cheng Songer, who had always abused him, could have such a gentle and beautiful side.

In the past, villagers used to say that in terms of looks, Cheng Songer was the most handsome youth in ten miles.

But at that time, Cheng Qingzhi never felt this way, he only thought Cheng Songer was terrifying and ferocious like a god of death.

But now that she had shed her fierce exterior, he understood that the villagers were right.

In the past, because of her violent temperament and fondness for gambling and lust, people overlooked her good looks, and all the men in the village avoided her. Now that she had reformed, once the village men realized this, there should be quite a few actively coming to propose marriage.

Thinking of the future, Cheng Qingzhi’s heart suddenly paused for a moment, his own future was bleak.

He looked at Cheng Songer sitting on the small stool for a long time, then said, “Songer, I can watch over things here, you should go inside and rest.”

Cheng Songer shook her head: “I’m free anyway, might as well help you out. Is there anything I can assist with?”

“How can that be? Women shouldn’t do these things, they shouldn’t even enter the kitchen.” Cheng Qingzhi said instinctively.

“That’s all nonsense from those people outside, don’t listen to them.” Cheng Songer said carelessly.

Cheng Qingzhi was stunned.

In the past, Cheng Songer wouldn’t even enter the kitchen, considering it unlucky to even touch it. How had her attitude reversed so completely now?

His doubts grew deeper.

“Then…” Cheng Qingzhi paused for a moment: “Then could you help me prepare the cilantro?”

“Sure.”

Cheng Songer used to often help her grandmother, so simple tasks like preparing cilantro came naturally to her.

She took the bunch of cilantro and, lowering her head, began to prepare it skillfully in the lamplight.

Yet she didn’t know that Cheng Qingzhi’s gaze became extremely profound the moment she took the cilantro.

A person’s personality might suddenly change overnight, but those habits hidden in the minutiae of daily life don’t easily disappear.

Cheng Songer didn’t eat cilantro at all.

She hated cilantro the most, not just touching it, even smelling it made her nauseous and want to vomit.

Cheng Qingzhi still remembered when he first came to the Cheng family with his father, just because he added cilantro to a dish for flavor, Cheng Songer kicked him into a corner. That kick was heart-piercing and bone-chilling, he still remembered it, could never forget it.

She wasn’t Cheng Songer.

Cheng Qingzhi suddenly had a shocking thought.

No wonder her personality had changed so completely.

No wonder her behavior was so different from before.

No wonder she, who had never touched pen and paper before, could casually draw a picture with just a chopstick.

…But if she wasn’t Cheng Songer, then who was she?

A demon possessing a human body to consume human yang energy?

His face instantly turned pale, frightened by his own absurd thoughts.

“Brother, you look terrible, are you alright?” A pair of warm, dry hands grasped his wrist.

This warmth sent a great shock through Cheng Qingzhi’s body, a chill invading from his feet to his entire body, but when he met Cheng Songer’s gaze and saw the unmistakable concern and worry in her eyes…

It was care he had never experienced in his life.

She seemed to be enveloped in a gentle aura from head to toe, a gentleness so intense it was almost scorching, burning his entire body red-hot.

The bone-deep chill was gradually evaporated by this scorching sincerity, as if his body was filled with an undispersible mist, forever enveloping him, making him sweat profusely, impervious to all cold.

“Brother, are you sick?” Cheng Songer worriedly pressed the back of her hand against his forehead to check his temperature.

The warm body temperature pressed close, and Cheng Qingzhi held her hand, his complexion returning to normal.

He said softly: “I’m fine… Have you finished preparing the cilantro?”

Seeing his color return to normal, Cheng Songer relaxed: “It’s done, here you go.”

“If you feel unwell anywhere, tell me, don’t hide it. You can’t let it drag on, or a small illness might become serious. I would be very worried.” she said.

Cheng Qingzhi had been tormented by the original owner and her birth family for so many years, his body must be severely depleted, so she had been constantly worried.

“You’re worried about me?” Cheng Qingzhi turned his head to look at her, his hair sliding from his shoulder onto the swaying magnolia on his collar.

Cheng Songer nodded, as if it was a matter of course: “Of course.”

Cheng Qingzhi smiled, his exquisitely beautiful face stunning in the misty light.

This was the first time since Cheng Songer’s transmigration that she had seen Cheng Qingzhi smile so freely and unrestrainedly.

“This is enough.” he murmured, lowering his head. His fingertips caressed the magnolia petals, the delicate texture blooming under his touch.

Over these years, he had endured every humiliation and torment. If it wasn’t for the person before him suddenly possessing the body of the original Cheng Songer, he would have long been sold to a brothel and died in disgrace.

It was the person before him who saved him.

It was the person before him who gave him days of ample food and clothing.

It was she who stood up for him and supported him when he was bullied.

It was she who gave him hope to live on, who gave him the warmth he had longed for but could never obtain.

She wasn’t a demon.

She was a deity who came to save him.