He discovered that his dog had really turned into a spirit. It was a surprising and thrilling accident. However, this seemingly enlightened little thing turned out to be even more timid than he had imagined. He had only meant to scare it a bit, shake it up a little, but he hadn’t expected to frighten it to the point of falling ill. Seeing it burning up with fever, lying on the bed, groaning and whimpering, and the moment his hand touched its head, the little thing would instinctively nuzzle closer. Its pitiful appearance made one feel both distressed and amused.
This was probably the weakest spirit he had ever seen, though Lu Chenghe had only ever seen this one.
What was it like to raise a little spirit? Lu Chenghe had spent a long time carefully experiencing it and found that it wasn’t much different from raising a pet. Perhaps it was because Little Pudding had always been especially smart and human-like from a young age, and since he had raised it himself, just a look or a few soft whimpers were enough for Lu Chenghe to more or less understand what Little Pudding wanted to express. So even after the spirit’s identity was revealed and Little Pudding was able to express his needs more clearly, life didn’t actually change much.
What Lu Chenghe did find somewhat regrettable, though, was that in the future, he might no longer get to see the little thing pretending to act dumb to hide its unusual intelligence. But he didn’t stay regretful for long, because he found that after his identity was out in the open, Little Pudding only stayed reserved for a while before reverting to his old ways.
Watching the little thing enthusiastically ripping apart a stuffed toy, happily digging its innards out, Lu Chenghe set his teacup down on the table with a deliberate clatter. That little thing immediately sat up straight, one paw still resting on the plushie’s already torn-open belly, as if trying to hide its tiny crime, sneaking glances at him with those little eyes. Seeing that he wasn’t paying it any attention, it sat quietly for a few minutes before starting to claw at it again.
While Little Pudding was completely absorbed in disemboweling the big bear plushie, Lu Chenghe had quietly approached him. Suddenly scooping him up off the toy, he threatened playfully, “You little vandal. Do you even know this is a limited edition? There’s only one of this plushie. I could buy so many of you with it.”
Being suddenly picked up gave Little Pudding such a fright that his body stiffened, and even the tip of his tail curled up. He looked at Lu Chenghe, then turned to look at the crime scene—the plushie—then seemed to come to his senses, barking at him non-stop as if upset that his own worth wasn’t even as high as that of a stuffed toy.
Lu Chenghe teased him on purpose: “A spirit who can’t even speak human language, you’re really too weak.”
It was probably because he felt personally attacked—on the way to the dining room in Lu Chenghe’s arms, that little creature hadn’t stopped howling the entire time. There were many types of dog barks, but Little Pudding’s barking was very simple. In fact, it was even less varied than other dogs’. A short “awoo” meant he was happy. A “woof woof” was everyday communication. A drawn-out “ang ang” was him deliberately acting cute. But this kind of long, drawn-out howl that resembled a wolf’s howl, like the one he was doing now, usually meant he was unhappy. And if it turned into constant “woof woof” barking, there was no need to question it; he was either arguing with you or outright scolding you.
Seeing how he’d gotten addicted to howling, even drawing out a sort of melodious tune with it, Lu Chenghe grabbed his snout. “If you keep making noise, there’ll be no dinner tonight.”
Little Pudding stopped barking and instead stared daggers at him with his eyes. Those bright, expressive eyes practically turned into a reaction meme as they glared up at him.
Even before finding out that Little Pudding was actually a little demon who had cultivated into a spirit, Lu Chenghe had already prepared many things for him, at the very least ensuring that even if someday he wasn’t around, someone else could take care of him, and he could live a good life. After all, no one knew which would come first, tomorrow or an accident. But after finding out that he was a spirit with intelligence no less than a human’s, those preparations naturally had to change.
Lu Chenghe began consciously teaching him some human knowledge. When it came to daily life skills, Little Pudding learned fast—so fast that sometimes Lu Chenghe felt he was like a real person trapped inside a dog’s body. But that thought never lasted long, always shattered by some of Little Pudding’s subconscious reactions or the silly things he’d do.
If Little Pudding had truly once been human, then he definitely wouldn’t be the dog he was now—digging holes all over the place, burying bones with the German Shepherd, tearing the house apart, and sometimes getting so worked up that he would leap around wildly, completely uncontrollable. When he got cocky, he acted like he could fly; but the moment he caused trouble, he’d tuck his tail between his legs and obediently play the part of a dog. Honestly, how many people could pull that off? So in the end, he really must just be a dog that cultivated into a spirit.
Lu Chenghe had even set up a fund for Little Pudding and separately prepared a card just for him. Worried that Little Pudding’s brain didn’t have much capacity, Lu Chenghe would have him recite the PIN every now and then, teaching him how to use the ATM. He even held the dog’s paw to teach him how to write. That way, at the very least, Little Pudding could withdraw money and write things down on his own in the future, then carry those notes in his mouth to the convenience store to buy food. At least that way, he wouldn’t starve to death.
But every time he gave Little Pudding a lesson, the dog spirit would fix him with a long, disdainful look, as if he were teaching him something utterly foolish. Lu Chenghe finally couldn’t hold it in and flicked him on the forehead. “I’m teaching you all this for your own good. What if something happens to you in the future or you get lost? At the very least, you should be able to write something down—maybe a phone number—so someone can bring you back.”
As soon as Lu Chenghe finished speaking, Little Pudding, who had been sitting properly in front of the little desk, immediately pounced into his arms, resting both paws on his shoulders and rubbing his neck nonstop, letting out soft little whines.
Lu Chenghe held him, amused. “Are you saying you won’t get lost?”
Little Pudding wagged his tail: “Woof!”
“What if I get lost?”
Little Pudding touched his own nose, then barked at him several more times.
“You’re saying if I get lost, you’ll be able to find me?”
“Woof!”
Lu Chenghe pinched his chubby little face. “Rather than relying on your nose, I’d be better off counting on your paw. Come on, let’s keep practicing your writing.”
Just a moment ago, Little Pudding had been happily wagging his tail on Lu Chenghe’s chest. Now, in an instant, he flopped down like a dead dog.
It was probably because Lu Chenghe had poured too much attention onto Little Pudding. He often took him out to play, took him shopping, and bought him toys. This gave some people the impression that he was especially fond of dogs.
Once, Little Pudding seemed to catch the scent of another dog on him. He tugged at Lu Chenghe nonstop, dragging him toward the bathroom, insisting he take a shower and change his clothes. After the bath, that little thing snuggled into his arms, rolling around and covering him with kisses and licks, stopping just short of peeing on him to mark his territory.
Given how intense and intolerant Little Pudding’s possessiveness was—unable to accept even a grain of sand—Lu Chenghe, who used to sometimes pet other dogs out of a sense of general affection, had begun to actively avoid such things when he was out. What Little Pudding didn’t know was that, because of Lu Chenghe’s visible fondness for him, quite a few people had started trying to curry favor by giving him dogs—every breed imaginable. But each time, Lu Chenghe turned them down. People ended up thinking he only liked Samoyeds. Over time, he’d been gifted at least a dozen Samoyeds.
But that kind of thing absolutely couldn’t be allowed to reach Little Pudding’s ears. If he ever found out, there’d be no peace for a long time.
Lu Chenghe was very content with his current life—work was smooth, family relationships were harmonious, and every day he had a little spirit creature to fuss over and play with. His mother’s persistent and creatively varied attempts to push him into marriage had gone from something he calmly ignored to something he instinctively resisted. When it came to love and relationships, Lu Chenghe had never really held much expectation. This society moved too fast, so fast there wasn’t time to slow down and truly experience what love meant. Ninety percent of people in the world just lived life more or less like that: when they felt the conditions were suitable and didn’t dislike each other, they settled, and that was a lifetime.
As for what kind of partner he wanted in the future, Lu Chenghe had never seriously thought about it. He had even imagined that one day, when he felt the time had come, he’d simply pick a gentle, well-educated, quiet woman to spend a respectful, peaceful life with. But now, just the thought of introducing some strange woman into the life he shared with Little Pudding made him instinctively feel it was wrong.
Looking at Little Pudding, sound asleep on his chest, Lu Chenghe gently rubbed his ears, his mother’s words still echoing in his mind: You’re not young anymore. It’s time to settle down.
Lu Chenghe thought to himself, I still have a little spirit to take care of. How am I supposed to settle down? And then imagining a woman suddenly inserted into the life he shared with Little Pudding, it really was a bizarre picture.
Even before Little Pudding turned into a human, Lu Chenghe had already vaguely made up his mind. Spending a lifetime with a little spirit creature wasn’t such a bad thing. It was certainly better than forcing himself to live with some strange woman who, even at the mere thought of, made him recoil instinctively.
However, plans are always made to be broken. His Little Pudding wasn’t just a spirit; he was a spirit that could turn into a human.
Unfortunately, that little thing never learned its lesson. He actually went behind Lu Chenghe’s back and secretly transformed into a human without telling him. When Lu Chenghe discovered that Little Pudding could turn into a person, the first emotions he felt weren’t surprise or joy, but rather a quiet “I knew it”. Seeing that sneaky, guilty look on his face, Lu Chenghe waited—waited to see what tricks Little Pudding was hiding up his sleeve. If that little guy ever showed the slightest intention of running away after becoming human, Lu Chenghe swore he’d break his dog legs. After raising him for so long, he wasn’t about to let someone else reap the benefits.
But perhaps he had overestimated Little Pudding. Instead of catching him red-handed, what he got was a live transformation act in the bathroom. That cowardly look on his face. If he’d had a tail, it would’ve been clamped tightly between his legs right then.
Lu Chenghe wasn’t unfamiliar with Little Pudding’s human form. He even had an encrypted photo in his phone that he’d looked at countless times. But when that living, breathing person appeared in front of him in the flesh, Lu Chenghe almost couldn’t hold himself back. It felt like he had waited forever for this day. Waited so long that he wanted to press Little Pudding into his bones and blood, to become one with him.
Little Pudding liked him. This was something Lu Chenghe had known for a long time. Ever since he learned that Little Pudding was a spirit, the little guy had almost never hidden his possessiveness and affection. Every seemingly casual touch and affectionate act, if Lu Chenghe hadn’t deliberately gone easy on him now and then, Little Pudding would never have gotten away with so much. He enjoyed watching him racking his brain for ways to get close, that little head of his filled to the brim with nothing but Lu Chenghe himself. And that thought delighted him deeply.
After Little Pudding turned into a human, all those hidden impulses seemed to finally come to fruition. But for Lu Chenghe, that wasn’t enough. The word “like” was far too fragile. It could change too easily. So many so-called likes were eventually worn away by time. He wanted to turn that “like” into an obsession—an irreplaceable, lifelong obsession.
He had woven a net, encircling a little spirit creature. And once encircled, it would be for life.
Years later, Lu Chenghe lay on the beach of a private island. The once exquisitely handsome young man now bore traces of time at the corners of his eyes and brows, but to Lu Chenghe, he was still the version he loved the most.
Holding the sleepy little spirit curled up in his arms, Lu Chenghe gently pinched his soft ear. “Little Pudding.”
The person in his arms didn’t open his eyes. Still with his eyes closed, he gave a soft “Mmm.”
Lu Chenghe smiled and said, “Say, if a person’s obsession runs deep enough… do you think it can carry over into the next life?”
The person in his arms seemed to be thinking. After a long pause, he finally replied, “I guess it could.”
Hearing that, Lu Chenghe’s smile deepened. “Good.”
The one lying in his arms opened his eyes in confusion and looked up at him. “What’s good?”
Lu Chenghe gently pressed his head back against his chest. “Everything’s good.”
Hearing this puzzling answer, Little Pudding lay there dazed for a while, then, unable to resist the wave of sleepiness, drifted off again. Lu Chenghe lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head, whispering, “Then it’s a promise, okay?”
The one fast asleep couldn’t respond to him. Only the sound of waves rolling and crashing against the shore seemed to echo his words—It’s a promise. Carrying this obsession, we’ll reincarnate together.
