Chapter 16

The cat's cry turned somewhat mournful just then.

Liu Zhiyi slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed the cat's head.

Then she looked at "mama," a long, deep look.

"My mom wouldn't talk to me like this. She wouldn't force me to stay, either."

Way back when she'd graduated, she'd argued with her mother many times over working away from home, but her mother had never once asked her to stay like this.

Her mother would only lay out for her the advantages of working near home and the drawbacks of working away, trying to persuade her that way, but never asked whether she wanted to stay.

Honestly, if her mother had said just one word — or made herself a little clearer —

however unwilling, she'd have stayed.

But her mother kept it vague, so Liu Zhiyi simply turned a blind eye, pretending she hadn't caught the hints.

As time went on, it was Liu Zhiyi who lost her patience first; puzzled by her mother's vagueness, she came out and asked:

"Why don't you just say you want me to stay?"

Mom: "I do want you to work here at home, but I worry you wouldn't want to stay — that you'd be staying for my sake."

Her mother's brows knit as she said it, as if torn.

"Just do what suits you. Only… come home more when you have the time — too much takeout isn't good for you…"

Remembering this, Liu Zhiyi smiled, though she couldn't stop the tears.

"My mom… didn't keep me even then — why would she now?"

"Mama" stopped.

This "mama," even standing still as she spoke, would sway side to side, her head bobbing faintly — which gave off a sense of something off, out of joint.

And the features on "mama's" face stayed in a kind of stiffness the whole time; she'd react to Liu Zhiyi's movements and words, but only ever as far as a smile or a frown, without much feeling behind it.

Now that "mama" had stopped, her expression hadn't changed at all — only her eyeballs moved a little, her lips pulling into a flat line.

But Liu Zhiyi felt anger coming off "mama."

"Mama" was angry.

"Why won't you stay?"

"Mama's" eye sockets sank in again, and that gaze, shooting out as if from deep in a hole, set her heart trembling.

"Mama" opened her mouth.

A wave of sound burst from it, bouncing off the market walls, wave upon wave of echo rolling through the room.

"Why?!!"

"Why?!!"

"Why?!!"

Liu Zhiyi covered her ears; it was wet under her nose — a nosebleed, no doubt.

Even after several rounds of screaming, "mama" hadn't moved, as if pinned in place.

Liu Zhiyi remembered well how, at the start of the game, "mama" had gone to such lengths to wreck the safe room and catch her.

And now, all but face-to-face, "mama" suddenly wasn't rushing her.

Liu Zhiyi backed up a few steps, and heard "mama's" shrieking grow louder.

"Mama" couldn't move right now.

Liu Zhiyi was sure of it.

Why couldn't she suddenly move?

Backing into the crowd — since "mama's" head couldn't move — Liu Zhiyi roughly memorized the direction of "mama's" eyes, crouched to hide behind the produce stand, and edged bit by bit toward where "mama" couldn't see.

As she moved, she tapped into the watch's task screen.

Just about as she'd thought.

The grocery task had updated, several new lines beneath it.

[1. Ribs]

Liu Zhiyi looked at the number before "ribs."

A 1 meant there was a 2 — she needed more ingredients?

[Mommy has received the ribs her darling daughter brought back, but how can a meal be just one dish? It needs meat and vegetables both, a balanced nutrition — Mommy will wait for you here; you need to pick out a few more things.]

[Note: Mommy's patience is limited.]

Reading the update, Liu Zhiyi immediately turned and grabbed vegetables off the stand — it had to be the leafy green kind; her mother had always held that the table needed a plate of leafy greens, that that was what counted as a vegetable dish.

She grabbed a few handfuls; the grocery task gained another line, but its status was still incomplete.

Was something still missing? Did it need soup?

It seemed her mother made soup every time she came home.

But this season didn't seem to have ingredients especially suited to soup — the lotus root wasn't starchy enough yet, the white radish had a bitter edge…

Chicken, for chicken soup…

Liu Zhiyi thought back carefully for a while; she hadn't seen any chicken for sale in the market.

Grocery shopping really was a headache.

Liu Zhiyi lay flat and crawled forward, glancing toward "mama" between picking vegetables.

And in that one glance, she noticed "mama" had moved.

Just a small tilt of the head — Liu Zhiyi stopped what her hands were doing, but in the moment after she blinked, "mama" was gone.

Liu Zhiyi froze, but quickly checked her urge to lift her head and look, and slowly lay flat.

Over this stretch of maneuvering with "mama," she'd noticed a few things.

For instance, even after the location had plainly given away where she was, "mama," once she'd burst into the market, still couldn't find her.

Liu Zhiyi opened the location.

Ever since the feature had been turned on, she couldn't turn it off.

On the map, "mama's" red dot was still inside the market, except the market was just a small square on the map, and didn't show the dot's exact position clearly.

In short, the location wasn't precise enough.

It knew roughly which building you were in, but couldn't pin down exactly which floor.

With precision like that, no wonder "mama" kept failing to find her.

So right now, she didn't know "mama's" exact position, and "mama" didn't know hers.

Liu Zhiyi swept a look around, gazing at the empty market, only unsure whether such rough location was a good thing for her or a bad one.

As she thought it, she suddenly heard a cry.

She couldn't make out what the cry was saying, but the voice was very familiar.

Like… Zhi-Zhi?

Liu Zhiyi quickly pressed the watch; though she'd turned the volume down after Zhi-Zhi's earlier shout, she still felt uneasy.

Not long after she pressed it, a dialog box popped up.

Zhi-Zhi had sent over a few voice messages.

Liu Zhiyi fumbled to hold down the voice box, to see if she could turn the audio into text.

Luckily the watch had a voice-to-text function.

Zhi-Zhi: Mama…

Zhi-Zhi: Mama…

Even without hearing the audio, from these few messages Liu Zhiyi could tell something had gone wrong.

The crying grew louder and louder.

But soon Liu Zhiyi heard another sound.

—Splat.

—Splat.

Liu Zhiyi heard water, and the sound of something sticky slapping against the floor.

What was it?

Liu Zhiyi turned sideways, straining to make out where the sound came from.

But the crying stopped short.

At the same time, a new voice message popped up in the watch.

Zhi-Zhi: Don't eat my mama!