Chapter 7

When he lifted the paper away, the face underneath was even dirtier than before—ink or tear tracks, blotched on both cheeks, unbearable to look at.
Wen Xi’s hand stalled; he laughed with zero sympathy and finally got the joke: “Wash the kid and you can keep him.”
From crying so long and low fullness, the sprite was wobbling on his feet.
Like yesterday, Wen Xi found star candy, fed him, restored his stamina, then double-tapped the tub to run bathwater.
Over the tub: 【Bathe Wen Siran?】
Wen Xi confirmed.
Hot water gushed into the wooden barrel; steam rose—through the screen you could almost feel the heat.
Wen Xi stripped the sprite and dropped him in.
No towel, no bubbles, no demands—the sprite curled in the water and washed himself slowly.
The night wind was cold; Wen Xi’s hands had gone stiff.
When it was about time, he led Fuzai home. Inside the building, the cold was shut out; he warmed a little.
The sprite would soak a while yet. Wen Xi used the time to remove the old bed and install the new one.
The new bed was bigger—now the tiny room had even less floor space.
Wen Xi figured the house could expand later—otherwise who’d buy all that furniture in the mall?
By the time he was home, the sprite was almost done washing.
No surprise—Fenrir always showed up then to remind him to spend money.
Fenrir: 【Dear Master—little Siran still needs a lot of daily necessities. Come to the shop with me～】
The outdoor gold mailbox had 675 coins stored; Wen Xi claimed all of it and opened the mall—daily goods section.
Page one: bullet vibes.
Page two: massagers.
Page three: cock rings.
Page four…
Every style, every color—quite an education.
But… he was a respectable player here for towels!
Not until page eight did everyday items appear.
Prices were fair and gold-only; Wen Xi bought essentials and burned most of his coins, then left the mall.
Back on the main screen, the sprite had finished washing and was climbing out of the tub butt-first.
Wen Xi caught him in time, wrapped him in a bath towel, and “carried” him to sit on the bed.
Only then did the sprite notice the bed change—he looked down, shifted his hips, bouncing to feel the soft mattress.
Delighted, his legs swung on their own—good mood obvious.
Wen Xi kept working—laid out shoes, uniform, and the new pajamas one by one.
With each item, the sprite’s eyes went wider, mouth an “O.”
Wen Xi turned sound on; the sprite asked, “Shi ren de?”
The accent was odd—not as smooth as before—Wen Xi didn’t catch it.
The bubble translated in three characters: 【Siran’s?】
Oh—today he’d learned not just how to write his name but how to say it.
Though why couldn’t he tell his flat and curled tongue sounds apart?
Wen Xi put slippers on his feet, towel-dried his hair, then changed him into the new pajamas.
The whole sequence answered his question.
All for him.
Wen Siran visibly got happier.
He hopped off the bed, bent to touch every pair of shoes on the floor, admired the pajama hem forever, then hugged the uniform like treasure and beamed: “Shi, ren, de.”
【Siran’s.】
A statement this time.
One yuan flipped him from tears to smiles—too easy to coax.
Suddenly the sprite seemed to remember something; he set the uniform down, ran to the middle of the room, and looked up at the screen.
Wen Xi liked those pink eyes—they stood out.
The sprite bowed, held out a hand, lips moving in a long mutter—no translation from the system; Wen Xi couldn’t make it out.
Snap—a deep violet flame bloomed in his palm, shaped like a rose.
Carefully cupping the spark, he said haltingly to the screen, “You… give…”
Wen Xi: ?
Fenrir arrived right on cue: 【Oh～How romantic—little Siran wants to give back after receiving a gift. He spent today’s mana conjuring what he thinks is the prettiest flower—please accept.】
Wen Xi sometimes found Fenrir chatty—but without this tutorial NPC, the household would fall apart.
Wen Xi touched the “rose” with a fingertip and lifted it from the sprite’s hands—accepting the gift.
Midair, the flame-rose scattered like dust; motes twinkled and vanished.
The sprite panicked, palms open, trying to conjure another—but Wen Xi saw his empty mana bar and knew it wouldn’t work.
He patted the sprite—don’t fret.
The sprite looked at him with wet eyes again.
Seriously—cried at everything.
Wen Xi tapped his hand; the sprite obediently opened his palm. Wen Xi thought, then slowly drew a heart—telling him he’d loved the gift.
Getting the “heart,” the sprite’s ears went red; through the pajamas his heart thumped loud enough for Wen Xi to see.
Wen Xi chuckled; the sprite shyly ran back to bed and burrowed under the covers.
Watching that little lump, Wen Xi decided this game was a lot of fun.
“Ding～”
A system message popped.
System: 【You have auto-dress. Enable it?】
Of course—that had cost money too.
Wen Xi turned auto-dress on. Simple: drag outfits into the slot, set times—at the set hour the sprite’s clothes swapped automatically.
He set 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. for the uniform; evenings for pajamas.
No more manual dressing—convenient.
Leaving the menu, he saw the sprite under the covers lift a corner of the sheet and peek through the gap—those pink eyes gave him away instantly.
Wen Xi yanked the blanket away on purpose; the sprite flailed, trying to keep it.
Failing, he hid his head under the pillow, butt in the air like a turtle.
Wen Xi laughed again, tucked the blanket back over him, patted him—time to sleep.
The sprite poked his head out; this time his pupils were little pink hearts.
He stared at the screen and said softly, sincerely, “Xi xi…”
【Thank you.】
“Ni hao.”
【Hello.】
“Xi huan.”
【Like.】
“Zai jian.”
【Goodbye.】
So that was today’s homework.
Not bad—basic greetings down; accent would come with time.
Wen Xi quit the game—finally sleepy.
At 3:30 a.m., the light that had burned half the night went out.
Author’s note:
He slept dreamless.
Next morning, whining by his ear and weight on his chest woke Wen Xi—almost suffocating.
He pried his eyes open: Fuzai lay on him, “calling” in worry.
Wen Xi rubbed his head, voice rough: “Thanks—I’m still alive.”
Fuzai nudged him with his nose; Wen Xi got the message. “Fine, I’m up.”
Fuzai had an auto feeder and potty—this wasn’t hunger or bathroom. Purely: Wen Xi had slept so long the dog thought he was dead.
At least that was Wen Xi’s guess.
Heavy blackout curtains killed all light—he always felt like dawn hadn’t come.
He sat up slowly, ran a hand through messy hair, fumbled for his phone on the nightstand.
Oh—11:30 already.
Even after sleeping in, he felt flat.
He opened the curtains by remote. Twelfth floor—wide view; through glass streaked with rain, lead-gray clouds pressed the horizon into blurred towers—like a huge faded painting, no bright color anywhere.
Wen Xi sat on the bed a while, debating whether to walk Fuzai—he really hated rainy days.
As he almost decided, Fuzai brought his leash to the bed, whining and wagging hard—wanting out was obvious.
Wen Xi gave up on slacking, sighed long, “Fine—we’ll go in a bit.”
He grabbed clothes and hit the shower; hot water washed away the grogginess.
Coming out, he felt clean.
Since Fuzai, Wen Xi’s daily movement had more than doubled—before, he could stay inside all day.
Forget walks—even going downstairs for food was too much; everything was delivery.
That was a big reason his mom wanted him to move back home.