After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 5

The cub, released into the snack aisle, quickly returned to Samuel’s side.

At that moment, Samuel was holding a small plastic bag, his fingertips nimbly sorting through a pile of fruit. He had researched on his optical computer that this fruit, called Su Ye fruit, was highly beneficial for military females with damaged mental seas. However, because it was expensive and required long-term consumption, it was not favored among the nobility. They preferred to invest vast amounts of energy and wealth into drug research rather than pinning their hopes for mental repair on a piece of fruit.

But Samuel had always raised children with the philosophy that it was better to believe in a remedy than to dismiss it. Well, raising an insect cub was the same. Since research on the Star Network indicated that Su Ye fruit was good for the body, he decided to take a dual approach. Besides, this was for a child, and one could never be too careful with what a child eats.

“I have made my choices,” Suter’s voice came softly from behind.

He had sensibly avoided the expensive snacks. Based on his guess of Samuel’s preferences, he had chosen a bag of dried strawberries and a bag of number-shaped biscuits. Hearing the voice, Samuel turned around to see Suter looking like a dragon cub guarding a treasure, clutching the two bags of snacks tightly to his chest. His overly cautious posture made it seem as if he were holding the last of the world’s rations.

Samuel’s gaze lingered briefly on the portions. Suter, as expected, had taken only a tiny, restrained amount. Samuel tilted his head helplessly. They were both promotional packs from the very edge of the shelves. The dried strawberries were only the size of a palm, and the biscuits were a clearance item nearing their expiration date.

He did not intend to say much about it. His relationship with Suter was destined to be a long process that could not be rushed. Samuel always advocated for an encouraging style of education. He leaned down, indulgently stroking Suter’s head, and told him in a low voice that he had done a great job before placing the items in the cart.

Samuel packed two full bags of Su Ye fruit but did not stop there, picking up samples of every type of fruit in the section. Throughout the process, he kept questioning Suter.

“Do you like this one?” Samuel asked. “It is fine,” Suter replied with restraint.

Samuel held up a comically shaped thorn-fruit, feigning amazement. “This one looks so ugly.” “Indeed,” Suter echoed. “Then let’s take two.” “…”

Suter pursed his lips and shook his head. “Do not take that one; it is not ripe yet.” Samuel put it down and picked a new one.

When they passed the strawberries, Suter’s pace faltered slightly. Samuel pretended not to notice him peeking at the shelf and purposely gave a reminder.

“There are strawberries. Should we take a basket?”

He said it casually, but Suter’s shoulders tensed instantly at his words.

“Go ahead and get a basket; I feel like eating some too.”

Suter walked over, moving his arms and legs in stiff unison. He tried to act like an expert strawberry picker, comparing different brands at the shelf. He picked up the same box for the third time to inspect it and finally decided on it. Turning his head, he found Samuel five meters away in the deli section studying sauces. Simultaneously, Samuel looked back, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

Their gazes met in mid-air. Samuel winked at him, his lips curling into a gentle arc. Suter looked down as if burned, staring at the plump, round strawberries in his arms. How Samuel had concluded that “strawberry cake is your favorite” remained a mystery.

Samuel walked over to study the “strawberry problem” with him. “It does not matter if we take an extra box. The surplus can be used to make a strawberry cake with extra toppings.” He could not help but reach out to rub Suter’s head again; the roundness was quite addictive to touch. He added, “We can use these little shark biscuits as decorations.”

Suter stared at the ridiculous strawberry embroidery on his socks. As he looked, an unfamiliar, aching soreness welled up in his nose. Samuel had already turned away to pick green leafy vegetables, leaving an unguarded back to him.

He must be… a liar…

The joints of his fingers whitened as he gripped the strawberry box, the plastic film let out a strained creak. All promises eventually turn into chains; it was only a matter of sooner or later.

As Suter grimly moved the large and small bags into the house, he continued to dwell on this thought, repeatedly confirming his own answer. He mechanically repeated the gripping motion until a poor strawberry burst in his palm. At that moment, he felt a strange sense of relief. See, beautiful things always end up shattered in his hands.

The pink juice snaked down his wrist, staining his sleeve with a pale pink wet mark. Samuel had not let Suter carry anything heavy, giving him only the light snacks and some portable deli items and fruit. Samuel, having just finished the physical labor, had fine beads of sweat on his forehead. His physical condition lately had not been great, and it seemed to be the same here.

“How did this happen?” Samuel took out a wet wipe, knelt down, and held Suter’s hand. He wiped the sticky juice from the palm and between the fingers.

Suter watched the other man’s well-defined fingers wrap around his own through the wet wipe. There was no blame, only a gentle inquiry filled with concern. The remains of the crushed strawberry lay at their feet, its juice seeping into the cracks of the floor tiles. Samuel acted as if he did not see it, his expression calm, as if he were accustomed to such situations or perhaps expected them.

“Are you tired? Let me do it,” Samuel said.

Suter lowered his head, his eyelashes trembling slightly. He opened his mouth but found it difficult to call out Samuel’s name. Before he could process his thoughts, he was lifted into the air. Soft blankets wrapped around him in layers, and the warmth of Samuel’s palm transferred through the fabric to his skin.

Suter thought he must look like a giant sushi roll right now.

He was carried into the house and saw a small domestic robot. Its model and grade were not very high, but it was tolerable. It was currently scurrying around on its short mechanical legs, helping Samuel move the items left at the door. Suter suddenly felt a sense of crisis. He struggled, trying to show his worth, indicating that a small blanket would not be a stumbling block to his progress.

“It is too cold outside. Sit here and wait quietly.”

His hair was ruffled like a puppy’s. Suter immediately curled up obediently in the blanket, his dark green eyes half-squinted. His body was warmed by the heater, making him so comfortable he was about to fall asleep. Through his blurring vision, he saw Samuel’s moving figure leave warm afterimages on his retina.

His brain was growing rusty. Suter sluggishly shifted his gaze, thinking: Why did he bring me back? Why is he so good to me? He is so good, like an insect that should not exist in this world. If only, if only he could always…

Suddenly, as a sharp pain split his chest like lightning, Suter was curled at the edge of the sofa. His fingers convulsed, clutching his collar. The pain was like countless blunt knives churning in his chest; every breath brought out the metallic scent of blood. He rolled onto the floor in distress. Within a few breaths, his onesie was soaked with cold sweat. His silver hair clung to his deathly pale cheeks; he looked like a broken mast in a storm.

When the pain finally receded and he tremblingly propped himself up, he found his collar had come undone. The savage scar running across his chest was exposed to the air; it had not shrunk or faded with his regression like the rest of his body.

I cannot let him see it.

This thought was sharper than the pain. He did not even realize why he cared so much about the opinion of a stranger male.

The round little robot had finished the heavy lifting and was now standing at the door on its short legs, waiting for its master to return. Seeing Suter collapsed miserably on the floor, his silver hair matted with sweat like a piece of jade about to shatter, it cautiously approached. First, it introduced itself:

“Hello! I am the first home-style intelligent robot designed by the top mechanical engineer of the Imperial Star, Shen Jixing.” “Just now, Master gave me a new name. You can call me Xiao Su.” It waved its mechanical arm. “It is the ‘Su’ as in Sesame Pastry!” The little robot suddenly leaned in close and said seriously, “Do not get my name wrong!” Then it asked, “What is wrong? Do you need me to help you up?”

In Suter’s blurred vision, a round-headed robot appeared, with emoji-like expressions dancing on its display screen. It clumsily waved its mechanical arms, its white dot-like eyes blinking vividly.

“You do not look very high-end,” Suter said in a hoarse voice.

The moment those words left his mouth, Suter himself was startled by the malice in his voice. It was as if the pain had forced open a valve, and all the sharpness he had suppressed in front of Samuel had found an outlet. He curled his lips, watching the emoji on the robot’s screen change from ( ^_^ ) to ( ╬ ﹏ ).

The lingering dizziness from the pain made him pull an ugly smile. All the submissiveness he had feigned in front of Samuel turned into thorns. “Once he finds something better, you will be thrown into the junkyard.”

Snowy static flashed across the little robot’s screen. Its mechanical claws trembled, and its radiator let out an overloaded hum. After searching its database for a full three seconds, it finally squeezed out a sentence with electronic noise:

“Wicked! How wicked!”

Suter began to laugh lowly, the laughter pulling at his unhealed wounds and turning into a suppressed cough. He watched the robot’s frantic retreating back and suddenly remembered the garbage piles at the orphanage. Those obsolete old-model robots were just like that, letting out their final cries before being scrapped.

Perhaps neither of them could escape the fate of being cherished and then abandoned. Suter felt a sense of twisted gratification.

Suddenly, a beep from the fingerprint lock came from the foyer. Suter froze instantly, the thorns that had just been bristling retracted at once. He curled back into the blanket, disguising himself as a weak stray cat.

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