Chapter 330: A Sign of Affection

It was a sudden, sharp pain, a squeezing sensation of flesh that shot straight into Zhu Niao’s brain.

She bit her lip, not letting out a sound.

But for some reason, her nose felt a little tingly.

Taking a deep breath, Zhu Niao extended her other hand and, enduring the pain, pried the crab’s claw off her finger, once again enduring the agony.

And it wasn’t a quick pull either—Zhu Niao didn’t have enough strength, so she had to yank and tug for a while before the claw finally came off.

By the time it was off, the corners of Zhu Niao’s eyes were already flushed red in a pitifully beautiful way, with tears threatening to spill over.

Zhu Niao slammed the lid onto the steamer pot with a loud clang, also flipping the rebellious, freedom-symbolizing crab over so it couldn’t cause any more trouble.

After settling the pot, Zhu Niao finally looked at her finger.

It was her middle finger that had been pinched, and a vivid red mark had already appeared on it, accompanied by a burning sensation like peppermint oil dripping onto a canker sore.

So Zhu Niao gently pressed the injured area with her left hand, occasionally leaning down to blow on it, as if trying to soothe the pain that way.

Even in winter—a season when pain would likely be quickly numbed by the cold—Zhu Niao felt like her body was perhaps a little too fragile.

Sniffling, she held her injured little bird finger and composed herself, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

What’s a little pain like this? What does it even count for?

What she needed to do now was finish cooking this meal properly.

So she reached out, picked up the kitchen knife again, and began carefully slicing the cucumber, trying to get every slice to an even thickness.

But she was also worried about another incident in the pot.

It was a bit like a certain herd mentality—when the first crab starts resisting, maybe the remaining crabs will follow suit.

So she kept turning her head to check on the crabs in the steamer pot, afraid one might escape again.

She didn’t dare gamble on being able to shove the crab back in if it escaped again.

But clearly, she wasn’t a chef. She couldn’t slice cucumbers while keeping an eye on the pot at the same time.

That was nearly impossible.

Maybe the car-selling guy really should have trained Zhu Niao’s knife skills before teaching her to cook—at least how to hold the knife.

Too bad he didn’t, and Zhu Niao didn’t know either.

Under such distracted, three-minds-two-intentions circumstances, an accident seemed like a perfectly normal occurrence.

“Ah!”

A clattering sound rang out as the kitchen knife slipped from Zhu Niao’s hand and clattered onto the chopping board.

The culprit was a bright red gash on the index finger of the girl’s left hand.

Along with the searing pain, blood began to flow from the wound.

Frowning and staring blankly for a moment, Zhu Niao watched the blood run down her finger to the underside, about to drip off.

She reacted instinctively—not crying out in pain first, but pulling the finger about to drip blood far away from the half-cut cucumber on the chopping board.

This dish was already half-prepared; it couldn’t be ruined by something like this.

Only then did she register the pain.

Like a pain symphony, she tried raising her hand, but it didn’t slow the flow of blood.

Panicking, Zhu Niao supported her cut left hand with her right—the one that had been pinched by the crab—and walked out of the kitchen.

Then she grabbed some tissue paper, thinking she could wrap it like a bandage to stop the bleeding.

But pressing on the wound only made it hurt more.

Zhu Niao felt like her tear ducts might be a little too well-developed, because she couldn’t hold back her tears in a situation like this.

Her entire cute little face contorted from the pain, distorting her delicate features.

All that remained were pitiful tears that she couldn’t suppress, threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes.

But Zhu Niao held them back.

This was her own carelessness—she’d accidentally cut herself. It was entirely self-inflicted suffering, and she had no right to cry about it.

Besides, she still had to keep cooking.

She looked at her finger wrapped in three layers of tissue paper, where the bright red blood had already stained a blood plum blossom onto the originally white paper.

The pain seemed to intensify—cold and tearing, like sandpaper rubbing against her skin.

The girl crouched down, curling into a tiny ball on the floor.

She buried her head in her knees, her loose hair hanging down to block out everything, creating a small world that gave her an immense sense of safety.

But she just gritted her teeth inside, clutching her tissue-wrapped finger.

Actually, that method was wrong—Zhu Niao just didn’t know it.

All she knew was that she needed to pull herself together quickly and finish everything that was left.

“Meow.”

It was the little orange tabby cat, leaping down from the sofa and brushing against Zhu Niao’s calf, as if trying to comfort her in its own way.

Zhu Niao sniffled, forcing a faint smile, and patted the cat’s head with her uninjured right hand.

Then, she stood up.

Figuring the bleeding had mostly stopped, Zhu Niao walked to her bedroom, rummaged around, and found an unopened box of band-aids in the dressing table drawer.

There were white ones, pink ones, and some with cartoon designs.

She picked a white one—it would match her skin tone better and wouldn’t stand out too obviously.

Then she unwrapped the tissue paper wound around her index finger layer by layer. The piece stuck directly to the wound seemed to cling slightly, making Zhu Niao suck in another sharp breath.

Frowning, she pressed the band-aid onto the wound just as fresh blood was about to seep out, then smoothed out the wrinkles.

She felt a bit more at ease, though the pain was still there.

The cut wasn’t that deep—she’d stopped the moment she felt the pain and the foreign sensation, which was probably thanks to her lack of strength.

Zhu Niao looked at the band-aid on her hand and wiggled her finger a little.

It felt a bit unfamiliar, but thankfully it didn’t hinder her movements much.

She returned to the kitchen, continuing to slice the cucumber, occasionally glancing over at the crabs in the steamer pot.

But she was more careful now, moving a bit slower.

Perhaps because of the string of mistakes, Zhu Niao became extremely cautious afterward, and no more accidents occurred.

After finishing the smashed cucumber, she also placed the crabs on a plate, setting both plates on the dining table.

Then, Zhu Niao sat down at the table.

She let out an inexplicable sigh of relief.

The cat hopped onto her lap at that moment, as if trying to soothe her.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Then, she looked at the two dishes on the table and smiled gently.

Xun Yu should be home soon, right?