Chapter 1016: with translation of chapter title

NO．139: Even so, the hands will still wither.

In this world, there is a kind of evil term, called "young wife".

Originally it referred to a wife much younger than her husband, i. e., an underage married woman, but it is also used to describe a married woman who looks young in appearance or is a little-girl married woman.

In ACG circles, as the combined attribute of a little girl and a married woman, it is favored by a considerable number of particular fetishes.

The especially petite wife bustling in the kitchen, even having to find something to prop herself up just to barely stretch out, is most welcomed by this bunch of assholes.

But it is worth emphasizing that Aomo does not have such a fetish.

Not only does he not have it, but he also feels that letting a person with a child's physique busy at the stove is entirely sinful.

So Molisen from back then deserved to be stared at by Aomo with a gaze like looking at trash.

But he never imagined that there would come a day when he would return to the kitchen again at this height.

What's more, he never expected that the person being stared at with that trash‑looking gaze would actually be himself.

"Miss Xintiao, what's the matter?"

Honestly speaking, the more nervous one is, the more the childlike impulsive thoughts surge, specifically manifesting as "I want to run away immediately," "I think I'm not wrong!," "I want to sleep, thanks for turning off the light," etc., reverting to the beastly nature of a hibernating snake or a koala.

But even as a child, Aomo still understood restraint in that way, and would even unconsciously reflect on himself in the other's look of disdain.

And yet he still felt he was not wrong!

"These are the dishes everyone wants to eat." With a few flicks of the fingers, the list of dish names was transferred from one screen to another.

Miss Qian smiled so much her eyes bent into crescents, just a little decoration away from becoming a nice face.

Too bad she couldn't.

That smile wrapped anger, as her finger pointed at tiny Aomo, who personally saw the big sisters purchasing those big and small bags of ingredients.

Looking back now, I realized I had fallen into the trap from the very beginning.

It's all the mistake of being too young, ah; tiny Aomo desperately needs a kitchen helper.

"Um… uh… Aomo?"

The boy who had the iron‑gallant train hero running in his head forgot that there was still someone else in this expanded kitchen.

Although Chen and Shijia like to jump around outside, Gui She and the badger still have stable food and lodging here, the latter often running to the kitchen, just like now.

"Do you also want to order?"

"No no no… I just wanted to ask if you need help…" The badger obviously is also a normal person with a sense of guilt, she just chose the wrong way.

"Besides, I haven't really learned how to cook… Oh, how about I help you get the things that are hard to reach?"

With a height of 175 cm that can be called outstanding among the women of her hometown, placed among the several adult guests who are tall and sturdy, only Qianming's 173 cm can barely match.

Looking at the short young boy, she could hardly blame herself for thinking that.

But when she tentatively reached up toward the upper cabinet, she also unconsciously prompted the 1.2‑meter‑tall young boy beside her to lift his head.

So big… I can't even see it……

"…Badger‑chan, this is something the little snake should make himself; you being here just hinders him, so go out first!"

The pink‑haired high school girl standing at the doorway, with a somewhat broken smile, pushed that conscientious person out.

Left behind was the speechless young boy staying in place.

"Well, if I really have to rely on just myself…"

Little Aomo tried to raise his hand; a ferocious magic claw, similarly shrunk a few turns for energy consumption, with an untrustworthy pale blue translucent sheen, scooped open the upper kitchen cabinet.

But just like someone with poor vision, scooping out the utensils and putting them back, over and over… so my kitchen cabinet was actually down there all along……

Standing on the little wooden stand unused for seven years, tiny Aomo, who repeatedly made mistakes yet remained patient, finally saw a magic‑clawed limb grab the ladle, but the different feedback of the magic structure made him startle a moment.

Only then did he notice that within the pale blue magic claw appeared a more illusory, faintly present slender tail.

That tail nimbly grasped the ladle, lowering its height and bringing it to him.

When he took the big spoon, it, like a hand, used the tuft‑crowned upper end to slant over and pat his wrist encouragingly.

Far from the feel of a ponytail, it was closer to the dark blue mane of sable fur, and brushing against the back of his hand it even felt a little itchy.

"What do you mean?" but tiny Aomo didn't let the action slide, "Why not come help directly?"

"Well, I'm not good at cooking; you'd better go find my brother."

From nearly transparent illusion to a slightly more solid outline, the blue‑haired drunkard who never parts with his gourd had clearly drunk quite a bit, his speech carrying a hint of accent.

"I heard your brother isn't here…" As soon as the words left his mouth, tiny Aomo's expression turned strange.

"Haha… your brother… indeed," she also noticed this obvious pun and laughed, "He… is still more devoted to teaching people over there, branching out; once those generations have been taught well enough, he'll probably come by to have a look, but on this side there's actually a sister who can help you."

"Now? I'm extremely urgent." The boy looked at his wrist, feeling it might not hold up for this meal.

"No way, no way, she's coming—I won't be able to stay."

She seemed to sober up instantly.

"…You've been showing up frequently lately—could it be because of her?"

"Ah, someone's coming—don't speak."

It's hard to say whether this is the young boy changing the subject, watching the brown long ears first slip through the doorway, then slowly peek out; at the moment of successful eye contact, the latter withdrew.

"Pfft… pretty cute little girl, you must think I should be busy and want to sneak a peek, right?"

Aomo hadn't reacted yet, Ling hadn't held back; although he didn't laugh out loud, this strange sound and the following words actually didn't reach the other's ears.

Still in that dream‑like state… the boy noticed a slight haze around his vision.

She didn't appear directly; instead she let Aomo enter a state between sleepwalking and half‑awake, half‑asleep—present in reality yet still lost in a hazy dream—making this trick let her remain perfectly unseen by anyone's eyes, and her words only reach the ears of the half‑awake.

How did she pull down the ladle…… is it real or illusory?

Noticing that Aizhi's footsteps made no sound, still at the doorway but without speaking up to expose her, tiny Aomo pondered the limits of this free‑wandering ability.

Then he heard someone cough twice:

"Cough cough, need help?"

Aimu Zhiji reappeared, looking as if nothing had just happened, leaving little Aomo's gaze unusually speechless.

By his ear still rang the unabashed, booming laughter.

"What kind of look is that?"

"Looking forward to the helper's gaze, then what are you good at? Miss Aizhi."