After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 29

“The General does not like that, right?”

The corners of Samuel’s eyes curved slightly, his amber gaze rippling with a subtle smile. His slender fingers clasped Suter’s tensed knuckles, their fingers slowly intertwining. He rubbed the pads of his fingers almost imperceptibly against the gun calluses on the web of Suter’s hand.

Suter’s hand was a size larger than his, with well-defined joints, yet at this moment, it remained obediently still as Samuel toyed with it.

“And besides,” Samuel leaned in closer, the warmth from his recent bath brushing against Suter’s jawline, “the gift I want to give the General is too precious. I have to save up my money properly.”

Suter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He spoke almost impulsively. “I have money.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he pressed his lips thin, the tips of his ears flushing a pale red. However, his eyes remained bright, staring intently at Samuel.

Samuel could not help but laugh. He led Suter by the hand toward the bathroom. “Using your money to buy a gift and then giving it to you?”

He intentionally dragged out the final syllable. Catching a glimpse of Suter’s regretful expression in the mirror, he found the man utterly adorable.

Under the warm yellow light of the bathroom, Samuel placed an alcohol-soaked cotton pad into Suter’s palm. Suter’s movements were overly cautious; the cotton pad felt as light as a feather brushing against him, sending a tingle down the back of Samuel’s neck.

“It itches.” Through the misty mirror, Samuel accurately caught Suter’s wrist, guiding him to apply more pressure. Their silhouettes overlapped in the reflection. Samuel could clearly see Suter’s furrowed brow as he concentrated and the unmistakable tenderness in those dark green eyes.

The evaporation of the alcohol brought a cooling sensation, yet Samuel felt the touched skin growing increasingly hot. Suter’s breath brushed behind his ear, causing his body to tremble involuntarily.

“It is all red,” Suter said gloomily, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. He met Samuel’s eyes through the mirror, his gaze swirling with self-reproach and heartache. “Does it hurt?”

Samuel did not speak. He suddenly turned around and leaned against the sink. He hooked his fingers around Suter’s wrist and pulled him forward. As Suter stumbled into his arms, Samuel wrapped his hands around that lean, powerful waist. The rising steam of the bathroom mixed with the cold scent of Suter’s skin. Samuel tilted his head back and kissed Suter’s slightly parted lips.

“General, show me some love,” Samuel whispered, his lips brushing against Suter’s moist mouth, his voice caught in their tangled breaths, “and then it will not hurt anymore.”

Suter stiffened for a moment before cupping the back of Samuel’s head to deepen the kiss.

Cold water droplets from the edge of the sink dampened the cuffs of their shirts, but neither cared to notice. Samuel chuckled during a break for air, his fingertips stroking Suter’s burning earlobe—it was so red it looked ready to bleed.

At dinner time, an inviting aroma drifted through the kitchen. The lotus root, corn, and pork rib soup bubbled in the clay pot, the broth appearing milky white while slices of lotus root drifted near the surface. Beside it, the roast chicken was golden and translucent, the honey glaze on the skin shimmering under the lights.

The only flaw was that Samuel had forgotten to wrap the easily charred wingtips and leg ends in foil. The tips and ends were burnt black, which somewhat marred the aesthetic. Samuel had no choice but to cut off the blackened parts and throw them in the trash before carving the whole chicken into bite-sized pieces.

Suter appeared focused on drinking his soup, but in reality, his peripheral vision never left Samuel’s movements. When the plate of golden roast chicken was brought to the table, he maintained his composure and took small bites. However, after the first piece of meat entered his mouth, he unconsciously accelerated his chewing. The chicken was tender and juicy, the sweet scent of honey perfectly blending with the savory marinade.

After the fragrant roast chicken and the pot of soup were served, Suter quickly finished most of it. Later, Little Su smelled the food and joined the fray.

Little Su waved a claw. “Is there nothing for me?”

Its mechanical arm gripped the edge of the table, and its electronic eyes blinked with a wronged light.

Samuel said good-naturedly, “What does Little Su want to eat?”

Suter replied, “There are chicken wings.”

He spoke while gnawing on a chicken leg Samuel had just given him, his mouth stained with honey. “Chicken wings are the best part.”

Little Su said simply, “Then I want chicken wings.”

Suter pushed the charred wingtips to the edge of the table and continued to tempt the robot. “The wing is the most delicious part of the chicken.”

Little Su used its mechanical gripper to pick up a wingtip and held it in front of its electronic screen. It took a theatrical deep breath, closed its eyes in ecstasy, and said, “Wow, it really smells so good!”

Samuel burst out laughing.

Little Su even played a chewing audio clip and added, “Fatty but not greasy, delicious, delicious!”

Samuel smiled but said nothing. He moved several large pieces of chicken from the platter to Suter’s plate, then refilled his bowl with pork rib and corn soup, scooping in a few extra ribs.

Suter’s cheeks were puffed out as he ate, making him look like an elegant hamster hoarding food from Samuel’s perspective.

“Is it good?”

Suter bit into the last piece of honey-glazed chicken, a kernel of corn still clinging to the corner of his mouth. He shot a quick glance at Little Su before nodding vigorously toward Samuel in a show of great affirmation.

Samuel tapped the right side of his own mouth. “There is a corn kernel on your lip.”

With lightning speed, Suter raised a hand to wipe away the kernel, then pulled a tissue from the box nearby to wipe his lips.

Having cleared the meal, the General offered his critique. “Everything was very delicious.” His gaze fell on the clean corn cob in his bowl. “The corn was very tender.”

After the meal, Samuel instructed Little Su to order several bags of fresh corn, some Yuling, and a small bottle of alcohol via the optical computer.

The Zerg did not have sweet potatoes, but Samuel had found Yuling, which was similar. This tuber plant unique to the Zerg had a dark purple skin but a golden-yellow flesh when cut open. Both its appearance and its dense texture after roasting were extremely similar to the sweet potatoes on Earth.

Samuel planned to buy some to roast for Suter tomorrow along with the corn.

Outside the window, the night had grown deep. Winter days were always exceptionally short; by five o’clock, twilight had completely enveloped the city. Samuel walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, his fingertips touching the cold glass. On the street, streetlights formed a winding ribbon of light, and the holographic signs of shops flickered in the cold wind. Further away was the darkness that swallowed all light.

The kitchen, however, was a scene of warmth and tenderness. Suter and Samuel stood side by side at the sink washing dishes. The faucet ran steadily as Samuel carefully scrubbed each plate, while Suter stood beside him drying them with a towel.

They stood very close, occasionally speaking in low voices. Suter talked about having dinner with a military doctor friend. Samuel listened, his lips curling up slightly. Samuel loved these moments—simple, quiet, as if he had returned to a long-ago time when someone was still waiting for him to come home.

Samuel also spoke about his experiences at his new company. The achievement of rising to the top in just a few weeks did not make him arrogant; instead, he observed the commercial rules of this world even more seriously. Sometimes he would stop and look at the profile of Suter’s face reflected in the glass of the kitchen cabinets, secretly making a resolution. One day, he would build a career here that belonged entirely to him.

It was not to prove anything, but simply to earn the right to stand shoulder to shoulder with the person beside him.

The evening hours were brief, passing in the blink of an eye. After Suter’s body recovered, Samuel took him back to the same doctor at the hospital for a physical examination. The results were generally normal, and his mental sea was recovering well.

Samuel still insisted that Suter go to bed on time at ten o’clock. Before sleep, he had to drink milk mixed with Suye fruit puree. The plain milk had been replaced by strawberry milk, which Suter preferred. After drinking it, Samuel watched him brush his teeth before he was allowed to go to bed.

Suter’s things were now closely packed together with Samuel’s. There were two pillows but only one quilt. The reason was that Suter loved to roll around at night, eventually rolling accurately into Samuel’s arms. Sometimes he would even arrogantly pin Samuel and the quilt together in his embrace, as if Samuel were his personal property.

Samuel indulged these childish actions but worried Suter would exhaust himself, so he simply replaced the bedding with an oversized down quilt. Suter said nothing, but he was clearly satisfied.

The bedroom floor was originally meant to have a carpet, but Samuel made a last-minute decision to switch to underfloor heating. There were now two small nightlights on the headboard. One was the original bedroom light, and the other had been brought over from Suter’s place to form a pair. Suter had braided the golden tassels on the lamps into little pigtails, a task he happily repeated several times before sleeping.

In the evening, as was his custom, Samuel warmed milk for Suter in the kitchen and took several Suye fruits from the refrigerator to cut into small pieces. When he emerged with the plate, he saw Suter standing at the corner of the stairs.

Suter stood silently with his head bowed, his figure perfectly divided by light and shadow. The warm light traced half of his silver hair, the strands shimmering with a cold metallic luster, while the other side was completely hidden in shadow. His lowered eyelashes cast thick shadows, and his dark green eyes were half-veiled, like a quiet and mysterious forest.

Upon seeing Samuel, the body that had been standing still for an unknown amount of time finally moved. His long fingers were pressing firmly against the edge of a gold-embossed invitation.

Samuel glanced at him, then looked down at the plate of fruit in his hands, suddenly remembering he had forgotten the forks. By the time he returned with the forks, Suter had walked downstairs and was standing straight by the table, staring at Samuel without a word.

“Eat the fruit.”

Samuel pointed to the plate of diced fruit. He had just stolen a taste; it was not as sweet as he imagined and even had a hint of sourness. He planned to search the Star Network to see if there were tools for making fried yogurt. The sour fruit paired with sweet yogurt should be much easier to eat.

The warm strawberry milk was pushed toward Suter’s hand, the condensation on the glass leaving a circular wet mark on the table.

Samuel said, “Today’s Suye fruit is a bit sour, but the milk is sweet.”

Suter picked up the glass, his Adam’s apple moving slightly as he swallowed. When he set the glass down, his lashes cast a shadow beneath his eyes.

“There is a charity gala tomorrow night,” Suter said.

His finger pressed on the gold-embossed invitation, slowly pushing it toward Samuel. “This is the invitation they sent me.”

The invitation glinted with a piercing gold light under the lamps, casting an ethereal glow over Samuel’s features and making him look as holy as a statue in a temple. Suter’s gaze lingered on the boundary between light and shadow, his knuckles tightening unconsciously.

He knew Samuel had been busy lately with the new company. This gala not only gathered giants of the business world but also many political figures. The connections Suter had accumulated over the years in the military could finally be put to use. He could inconspicuously introduce Samuel to several key figures—important people one could not normally meet.

But a more secretive thought swirled in his heart. He wanted everyone to see who was standing beside Samuel.

“I wish, I wish for you to go with me.”

The last word was almost too quiet to hear, but Suter stared intensely at Samuel, his eyes hiding an unyielding possessiveness. The position beside Samuel should have been his, and it could only be his.

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