Chapter 1122: Chapter 1122 Tang_1
“Is that important?” Nathaniel Sumrs asked.
She thought about it seriously and said, “Not really important, but having a na makes one feel more like a person.”
With that, an expression of irritation crossed her face. “That old man always called ‘good girl,’ so tacky.”
People who raised ghosts usually referred to them as sons or daughters. Those who did so ticulously would give them specific nas. However, the old man she ntioned clearly made a profit by selling ghosts, so naturally, he wouldn’t bother to na them.
Nathaniel thought for a mont and asked her, “What na do you want?”
The woman curled her lip: “Of course you should choose the na. What’s the point if I pick it myself?”
Nathaniel smiled faintly, said nothing, put away the contouring powder, and then went to the bathroom.
He washed his hands carefully and, when he ca back out, found the living room empty.
Nathaniel stood silently in place for a long while, then went to the dining table, opened the lunch Laura Sumrs had brought, and ate in silence.
His ghost was becoming increasingly disobedient…
If it weren’t particularly fond of the woman’s body, he would have likely beco its food sooner or later.
As Nathaniel pondered his troubles, he finished lunch without realizing it and felt sowhat drained of energy. He went upstairs to his room to sleep.
He slept until dusk, with the sun slanting westward, and the dim room was cool as water.
Nathaniel opened his eyes to see an eight or nine-year-old girl squatting at the side of the bed, her face dirty, her fingers clinging to the edge of his bed, staring at him without blinking.
Nathaniel frowned. “Where did you co from?”
“Picked up from the roadside,” the little girl said with a beaming smile. “Pretty suitable, right? Kids are good. They can be used for a long ti.”
Nathaniel felt sowhat helpless as he sat up in bed, propping his forehead with his hand, while the little girl also stood up, her clothes ragged and her hair dusty clumps. It seed that she had picked up a little beggar.
“Go wash up,” Nathaniel said resignedly.
She tugged at her knotted hair, murmuring, “Seems not so easy.”
After thinking for a mont, Nathaniel took her to the bathroom, cut off her long, unkempt hair bit by bit with scissors, and then helped her bathe and wash her hair.
The little girl’s body was very thin and frail, like a malnourished sprout, her skin not as delicate as other children her age, slightly coarse.
But her eyes were beautiful, black and bright, full of life.
Nathaniel helped her stand in front of the mirror, and for a mont, he was lost in thought.
She frowned and looked at him, “I know you like those who look like her, but they’re hard to find, you know. I still think a child would suit better…”
“No need, this is fine,” Nathaniel said, draping a bath towel over her and walking out of the bathroom with an indifferent expression.
She hurried out after him, standing barefoot on the floor, her small body wrapped in the oversized towel.
“Hey, give a na,” she brought up the old subject.
Nathaniel turned back to look at her, pondered for a long while, and said, “Let’s call you Cherry.”
She asked, “How do you write it?”
“Co here, I’ll teach you how to write it.”
Nathaniel took her to the study and, holding her hand, taught her to write, “In the land of Catalpa, affections from the past still linger; under the shade of the cherry tree, old branches still grow.”
She grew impatient: “Why so many?”
Startled, Nathaniel ca back to his senses, threw aside that paper, and wrote a very neat “Cherry” character on another one.
She picked up the paper, pleased with herself, and said, “I want to learn how to write!”
Nathaniel gave her so paper and a pen, letting her fiddle with them. This ghost had a temperant like a stubborn child; whatever it wanted to do, it must do. He couldn’t control it, and so he didn’t bother trying.
Learning to write was better than going out to find a substitute body.
…
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