After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 7

Samuel and Suter cleaned the table together. Suter even washed a small cloth and wiped the table with meticulous care.

While Samuel washed the dishes by the sink, he turned back occasionally to check on Suter. Suter was working hard, puffing as he wiped, ensuring every corner was attended to, not even sparing the seams where the table legs met the floor. This overly cautious posture reminded Samuel of the stray cats he had once rescued.

The hardworking cub was quickly rewarded. A piece of cool, sweet fruit was popped into his mouth. He chewed with bulging cheeks for a moment before swallowing. Looking up, his sparkling green eyes stared intently at Samuel. Samuel could not help but chuckle, thinking Suter looked like a little squirrel sneaking nuts.

Then, under an earnest and expectant gaze, a plate of Su Ye fruit, cut into perfect bite-sized pieces, was served.

“What is this? It is delicious.”

Suter picked up a piece with his hand, intending to feed it to Samuel, but he stopped abruptly just as his fingertips were about to touch Samuel’s lips.

“Wait, wait a moment!”

Little Suter pulled his hand back in a panic, his silver hair creating a streak of light in the air as he turned sharply. He dashed into the kitchen, his slippers pattering against the floor. Samuel heard the sound of drawers being pulled open and Suter’s quiet muttering: “Not this one. Ah, found it!”

When Suter ran back holding a toothpick, Samuel realized his own oversight. The little insect’s ear tips were so red they looked ready to bleed, yet he stubbornly skewered a piece of fruit on the toothpick and held it to Samuel’s lips.

“Is it good, Samuel?”

Suter’s voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. His emerald eyes, however, were strikingly bright, watching Samuel without blinking. Samuel deliberately chewed slowly, watching Suter hold his breath in nervous anticipation. The sweet juice of the fruit spread through his mouth, carrying a unique, refreshing coolness.

“Mm,” he reached out and ruffled Suter’s soft silver hair. “Very sweet.”

As the night deepened, only a warm yellow bedside lamp remained lit in the bedroom. Suter, who had finished bathing independently, held his new reward: a small bear plushie. His fingers tugged at its fluffy round ears, rumpling the fur.

“When did you get this?” Suter half-buried his face behind the bear, showing only his sparkling eyes. “How come I did not see it?”

Leaning against the headboard, Samuel watched the little insect try to act indifferent despite clearly loving it. He could not resist teasing him: “I am not telling you.”

Upon hearing this, Suter immediately hugged the bear tighter, his fingertips sinking into the fluff. He turned his face away with feigned coldness, but Samuel clearly saw him secretly nuzzle the bear’s head with his cheek.

“I will buy you something else next time.”

Samuel reached out and lightly patted Suter’s back, feeling the thin shoulder blades beneath his palm. The little insect’s body stiffened for a moment before slowly relaxing, like a young beast finally letting down its guard.

“Let’s sleep,” Samuel said softly, watching Suter curl up in the covers with the bear. Silver strands of hair scattered across the pillow, looking like flowing moonlight under the warm glow. The ruffled bear tilted its head, its black bead-like eyes shining gently in the dimness, mirroring the look in Samuel’s eyes as he watched Suter.

In the middle of the night, Samuel woke to find that Suter had somehow rolled into his arms. The little insect’s silver hair was spread across the pillow like a flowing galaxy. The tangible warmth in his arms gave Samuel a long-lost sense of home. Perhaps the rift in time and space was not so terrifying after all.

Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled shadows at the bedroom door.

Samuel looked at the teenager who had transformed overnight. The cub who had curled in his arms last night had now shot up like green bamboo. He stood tall and straight like a pine tree, his jade-like eyes filled with a complexity Samuel could not decipher, and his thin lips were pressed into a cold, hard line.

The ridiculous strawberry pajamas he wore somehow took on a sharp, commanding presence, like a keen blade wrapped in velvet. Suter’s rapid recovery brought Samuel a sense of relief, but also a touch of melancholy.

“Master.”

Suter called out to the dazed Samuel. His voice was much deeper now, carrying an uneasy stiffness. The morning light sliced into the bedroom, drawing a golden boundary between the two. Standing at the intersection of light and shadow, Suter’s slender figure was half-immersed in warmth and half-submerged in darkness.

Samuel stood up and walked toward the door. Each step made the lines of the youth’s back tighten further. Suter stared at the floor, his silver-white lashes casting crow-wing shadows beneath his eyes. Memories tore at his mind: the affection and closeness of his younger self who had hugged the bear last night clashed with the instinctive suspicion and alertness of his adult self who had spent years on the battlefield. Both fought for control of his body, nearly tearing him apart.

“Master,” he spoke again, just before Samuel entered his striking range.

Samuel stopped exactly one meter away from Suter. It seemed he had almost entirely forgotten the events of yesterday. Samuel sighed.

“I do not like that title.” He looked at the youth’s tense jawline and the veins bulging on his clenched fist. “You can call me by my name, just like yesterday.”

Suter was momentarily at a loss. Seeing his reluctance, Samuel did not push him further and offered a compromise. “Forget it. Just call me Mister.”

“Mister?” Suter sampled the word, his expression somewhat dazed. The unfamiliar term rolled over his tongue with a hesitant trial. His thick lashes fluttered rapidly, and he unconsciously licked the corner of his mouth: a small habit of the cub from last night when he was nervous.

It seemed he had not forgotten everything. Samuel’s heart felt slightly comforted.

Suter once again offered to cook, and this time Samuel did not refuse. Morning light scattered across the kitchen through the curtains. As Samuel approached, he saw Suter’s knuckles turning white as he held the spoon. The steam from the rice porridge rose, blurring the youth’s tense jawline.

Samuel curiously nudged Suter’s hand that was holding the spoon and said, “Try it?”

Suter scooped a spoonful of porridge and held it to Samuel’s lips, staring at him nervously. Samuel smiled. “You are just going to let me drink it like that? Aren’t you going to blow on it for me?”

Samuel deliberately trailed off, watching Suter’s back stiffen instantly. A blood-red flush crept up his ear tips at a visible rate, making even the faint blue veins on his neck stand out. Suter clumsily lowered his head to blow on the spoon, his movements very stiff.

“It… it is not hot anymore.”

Samuel noticed his eyelashes trembling violently, like the final struggle of a dying butterfly. His voice sounded as if squeezed through gritted teeth, yet the hand holding the spoon was exceptionally steady.

Seeing he was close to making the child cry, Samuel tucked away his smile and took a sip. The delicate texture of the porridge spread across his tongue. It was just a simple vegetable porridge, yet whatever he had added made it exceptionally delicious.

Suter brought the porridge and a few cold side dishes to the table, then stepped back half a pace with a slight bow, saying respectfully, “Mister, please enjoy your meal.”

“Aren’t you eating?” Samuel looked strangely at Suter, who was standing tall and straight nearby.

“Mister, a female is not permitted to sit at the table and dine with their Master,” Suter replied crisply, as if stating the most common fact. Only he knew that his uniform back was already soaked with cold sweat.

His memories of yesterday told him clearly: not only had he addressed his Master by name and let his Master cook for him, but he had also sat at the same table to eat and had very excessively demanded to eat strawberry cake today. He suspected he had been blinded by lard, though the orphanage never had such a high-end luxury.

“I do not have those rules here.” Samuel gestured toward the kitchen. “Go get a bowl and sit down to eat.”

Suter mechanically retrieved the bowl and chopsticks. He sat at the very edge of the dining table, only daring to take small sips of the porridge, never reaching for the side dishes. Samuel had no choice but to take action, placing food into Suter’s bowl.

“Don’t just drink porridge. Eat some vegetables too; balance your nutrition.”

Suter stared at the green vegetables suddenly added to his bowl, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He remembered the cheap and practical meals he often ate at the military academy, where the vegetable leaves were yellowed and soaked in muddy water. But here, the emerald-green leaves against the white porridge were so bright in the morning light they almost burned his eyes.

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