Chapter 7: The First Initiative to Draw Near

“An’an, are you hungry?”

Zhou Susu’s voice brushed gently across An’an’s heart like a feather.

An’an tilted her little face up, looking at the woman crouched before her.

Sunlight slanted through the open doorway, casting a soft golden glow over her beautiful face.

Her eyes sparkled like two black grapes, filled with a tenderness she didn’t quite understand.

It seemed she really didn’t mean to harm her.

An’an’s little mind was in a mess.

She glanced at Zhou Susu, then at the empty bowl in her hand—already licked clean by herself—and her face flushed red in an instant.

She must have eaten the entire bowl of steamed egg custard.

Was she eating too much?

Would “Mom” think of her as a “loser” again?

Thinking this, An’an’s recently relaxed little body tensed uncontrollably, and she instinctively tried to back away.

Zhou Susu keenly sensed the change in her.

“Oh, it’s my fault,” she immediately said, full of regret. “I was so busy chasing away the bad guys, I forgot that An’an hadn’t finished her breakfast yet.”

She pointed to the steaming bowl of millet porridge on the table.

“Look, the porridge is almost cold. Let’s finish it quickly, or your tummy might feel uncomfortable.”

With an utterly natural tone, as if it were only right and proper, she redefined An’an’s “gluttony” as simply “unfinished breakfast.”

This clever shift instantly dispelled An’an’s worries.

Right, I just haven’t finished eating yet.

At the perfect moment, An’an’s stomach gave a soft “gurgle,” reminding her that she was indeed still hungry.

Zhou Susu suppressed a smile and led An’an to the small stool by the table.

Since crossing over, this was the first time An’an had not resisted her touch.

Though her little hand was still a bit stiff, it was undoubtedly a huge step forward.

Zhou Susu’s spirits soared.

She pushed the warm bowl of millet porridge in front of An’an and slipped a small spoon into her hand.

“Eat up. You were so brave today; you need to eat more to grow tall.”

She coaxed her in a tone fit for a child.

An’an glanced at the porridge, then quickly stole a look at Zhou Susu, and lowered her head, imitating last night’s manner, eating in small bites.

The millet porridge was cooked just right, the grains blossomed, the broth thick and sweet with the purest essence of the grain itself.

An’an’s face flushed bright red, tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Zhou Susu sat opposite her, silent, just smiling warmly as she watched.

The sunlight was just right, the breeze gentle.

One eating contentedly, the other watching tenderly.

This scene was indescribably heartwarming.

***

After breakfast, An’an’s little belly was round and full, like a little mouse that had stolen some oil.

She let out a satisfied little burp, her face full of happiness.

Zhou Susu looked at the ring of rice grains stuck around An’an’s mouth and found it both adorable and amusing.

“All right, our little flower cat, it’s time to wash your face.”

Zhou Susu stood up and naturally reached to pick up An’an.

An’an’s body instinctively stiffened again.

Washing her face…

In An’an’s memory, “washing her face” was a frightening ordeal.

Before, the original owner never washed her face properly; they always used a cold, hard, dirty rag to roughly wipe her face, scrubbing so hard they could peel off a layer of skin.

If she dared to cry, they would rub even harder and curse.

So, she was very afraid of washing her face.

“Don’t be scared, this time it’s different.”

Zhou Susu seemed to see through her thoughts and softened her voice even more.

She took a brand-new small enamel basin from her spatial pouch, poured in some warm spirit spring water, and brought out a soft, pure white cotton towel.

Instead of rushing in, she first soaked the towel, wrung it out, then gently touched it to her own cheek as a demonstration.

“See? It’s warm and very comfortable.”

An’an watched her movements, then the clear water in the basin and the snow-white towel, and the fear in her eyes slowly gave way to curiosity.

Only then did Zhou Susu gently and tentatively place the warm towel on An’an’s little face.

The texture was soft, the temperature just right.

At the touch of the towel, although An’an’s body remained tense, she did not resist as fiercely as she had expected.

Zhou Susu breathed a sigh of relief.

Her movements were extremely gentle.

She first lightly wiped away the rice grains at the corner of An’an’s mouth, then her nose, and finally her eyes.

Each motion was like handling the most precious porcelain, careful and delicate.

The warm towel brushed over her cheeks, carrying a comforting warmth.

An’an’s tense body gradually, unconsciously relaxed under this gentle onslaught.

She even found it somewhat pleasant.

After washing, a fair and delicate little face was revealed.

Though still thin, the skin nourished by the spirit spring water radiated a healthy glow.

Long eyelashes fluttered like tiny brushes, paired with her large, glossy black eyes—a genuine beauty in the making.

“Our An’an is truly beautiful,” Zhou Susu praised sincerely.

She took An’an’s thin little hands and carefully wiped away the grime, bit by bit.

Having finished, she took from her spatial pouch a small box of children’s snow cream, lightly scented with milky fragrance, scooped a tiny amount, warmed it in her palm, then gently applied it to An’an’s face and hands.

“Smells nice. This way, our little face and little hands won’t crack.”

***

The milky scent lingered on An’an’s nose as she lowered her head to sniff her little hand, then discreetly glanced at Zhou Susu.

This “Mom” seemed truly different from before.

She not only made delicious food and chased away bad guys, but also gently washed her face and applied cream.

In An’an’s small world, the icy mountain of “fear” was silently melting, corner by little corner.

…

In the afternoon, Zhou Susu cleaned the house inside and out.

She diluted spirit spring water to wipe down the floor and furniture, filling the entire house with a fresh scent.

She then took several pretty cloth pieces from her spatial pouch to drape the bare table with a cloth and hang simple curtains on the windows.

The formerly shabby, dim home instantly became bright and cozy.

An’an obediently sat on the small stool, watching her busy like a diligent little bee, making their home increasingly beautiful.

As evening approached and the sun set in the west, Zhou Susu began preparing dinner.

With the “cooperation agreement” from last night, she spent money with righteous confidence.

She was planning to make braised pork and stir-fried greens to reward herself and An’an when she heard orderly footsteps and chants outside the courtyard.

It was the soldiers from Lu Zhan’s battalion returning from training.

Sure enough, before long, a tall, upright figure appeared at the door.

Lu Zhan came back from training, still carrying the scent of sweat and gunpowder.

He habitually pushed open the door, then froze in place.

The scene before him made him think he had entered the wrong house.

The previously dark and messy room was now bright and spotless.

The worn square table was covered with a clean floral tablecloth, on which two steaming home-cooked dishes were laid out: glossy braised pork and fresh green stir-fried vegetables.

From the kitchen came the fragrant aroma of rice.

His daughter, An’an, was sitting obediently on the small stool, her face washed clean, hair neatly combed, eyes wide and curious as she looked at him.

This was all so beautiful it felt like an unreal dream.

He even had the illusion that he hadn’t come home but stumbled into some unfamiliar yet warm family.

He stood at the doorway like an outsider, helpless and bewildered.

Just then, Zhou Susu, serving rice, turned around and saw him.

Her face bore no extra expression, only a faint lift of her eyes, her tone as flat as if greeting a roommate.

“Back?”

“Dinner’s ready.”