Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Night thickened, and Jiang Li's drowsiness crept in like a rising tide.
If you asked what had changed in his body after three years in the other world, the answer was simple. Beyond better reflexes and defined muscles, his very biology had been blessed—like a quiet kiss from a god. Now, around seven or eight o'clock, his eyelids grew heavy; the moment his head touched a pillow he was out, and when he'd slept enough his eyes snapped open on their own. Any overworked drudge would call that a miracle.
Almost time. Jiang Li yawned and glanced at Kakayan curled on the sofa.
She still wore her clothes from the other world. Curled sideways, her luminous pink hair spilled over her shoulder like liquid light. Beneath her hooded cloak, a black corset rested over an off-shoulder top, outlining her slim arms and the gentle rise and fall beneath—curves soft and sharp in perfect contrast.
Her bare toes pressed against the plush cushions, the arches of her feet curved like a waning moon. There was something forlorn in the pose, as though she'd been forgotten.
Jiang Li shook his head. "All the hardware's top-notch, but the CPU's a little slow."
Kakayan blinked at him, not following.
What does he mean, slow?
"You go take a shower first. I'll make the bed."
Without letting her think it over, Jiang Li nudged her off the sofa. "Your clothes are soaked and smell like mud. After sweating all day, you're kind of... ripe."
"What did you just say?!"
No one had ever told Kakayan she stank. She lifted her arm and sniffed, incredulous.
All she caught was the lingering scent of instant noodles—nothing else. The real odd odor, she decided, came from Jiang Li's apartment itself: the dusty smell of rooms long neglected.
"Come here."
Jiang Li didn't actually care whether she smelled; he just wanted her out of those conspicuous clothes. Out on the street, in that outfit, she'd draw every eye. If a subway officer asked for ID, they'd be sunk.
Better to look human.
He led her to the bathroom and pointed at the shower handle. "Push this in, water comes out. Twist toward the wall for hot, away for cold."
A quick demonstration later, Kakayan leaned in like a curious cat, eyes wide. Such a skinny pipe—no room for firewood—yet it produced hot water? If this was water magic, it was wonderfully convenient.
"This makes bubbles when you rub it—use it on your hair. Uh, just don't get it in your eyes; I'd rather not come rescue you." Jiang Li hesitated, then slid the shampoo back inside. "Forget it. Just rinse with water."
Kakayan: ???
Women, it seemed, had an instinct for anything fragrant. She'd already caught the scent from the bottle—richer than any perfume she'd collected back home. Clearly the good stuff. Clearly Jiang Li being stingy.
"Why put it away?"
"It's toxic. Better not risk it."
Jiang Li scratched his cheek. He could hardly tell her she was too clumsy for shampoo, or that it stung like hell if it hit your eyes. Safer to skip it tonight.
Watching his evasive glance, Kakayan quietly noted the bottle's location.
"This is called a toilet. When you're done, flush." Jiang Li wadded up a piece of toilet paper, tossed it in, and pressed the button. A vortex formed with a loud whoosh, and the paper vanished.
"S-spatial magic!"
Kakayan clapped a hand over her mouth, startled.
"What if you fall in? That's dangerous!"
The roar made her step back.
Cramped bathrooms do amplify the sound. Jiang Li understood—he'd jumped the first time he'd heard it as a kid. But imagining someone actually falling in? That was next-level paranoia.
We're not toddlers.
With a sigh, Jiang Li sat on the toilet fully clothed and mimed the entire procedure like a silent actor. Kakayan's eyes lit up; she clapped once and nodded. Both moved on, wordlessly.
"This is the sink. Push this bottle, rub your hands together for a minute, then rinse." Jiang Li demonstrated, then stepped aside. "Your turn."
"Oh..."
Copying him, Kakayan pumped soap into her palm and lathered up. Suddenly she paused, formed a circle with thumb and forefinger, and blew a ping-pong-sized bubble.
"Well?"
"Nice." Jiang Li gave her two perfunctory claps.
No idea what she's so pleased about. Thinks she discovered fire, probably?
A minute later she cupped her hands and sniffed—faint green notes, soothing and clean. The corners of her mouth lifted. Scent, it seemed, was comfort in any world.
Jiang Li returned with clothes and a towel. "Wear these for now. We'll buy you something tomorrow." He set an old white T-shirt and a bath towel on the counter, then rattled off bathroom pointers: turn off the tap, aim the showerhead, keep wet and dry areas separate.
Kakayan wasn't dense—just unworldly. She nodded, and Jiang Li tactfully withdrew, flicking on the bathroom light as he left.
Click—white light flooded the room.
Kakayan's startled face glowed under the bulb. She glared at the ceiling, then at Jiang Li, fur bristling.
"Don't scare me like that!"
"Announce your holy magic first!"
She slammed the door with a huff.
"I told you, it's not magic," Jiang Li muttered, pressing his temples.
Still, he understood. To Kakayan, flipping on the light looked like a mage casting without an incantation. He'd dealt with plenty of sneak-attack types himself—he got why she was mad. If someone flashed a torch in your face without warning, you'd flinch too.
The sound of running water drifted through the door. Jiang Li stepped into the spare room—storage space with a camp bed. A little dusting, a mattress, and some bedding would make it livable. Summer didn't need thick quilts; a winter sheet would do.
While he wrestled with the folding frame, a shriek sliced through the bathroom wall.
"My eyes—it hurts!"
"Wuu, Jiang Li, what do I do?"
He froze, then yelled back, "Rinse them with water, dummy!"