Chapter 41: Father, Give Me A Minute

“Shut up, Green Pea! You’ve ruined my reputation again! I have to teach you a lesson today!” the crow shouted at the parrot, exasperated.

“Stop calling me Green Pea.” The parrot was a little displeased. “And your clothes are falling down.” She pointed at his leaf under the cage.

The crow lowered his head. A leaf was falling slowly.

“Oh!” His eyes widened immediately, and he quickly covered his body with his featherless wings. “Excuse me, sir, could you please pick up my clothes for me?” he asked urgently.

Amy giggled merrily. She walked over to the leaf and picked it up. “Black Coal, your clothes are in my hand now. I’ll give them back if you behave; otherwise, I’ll take them with me,” she said, smiling.

“I… I…” Black Coal looked at Amy and didn’t know what to do. Just then, a puff of autumn wind came blowing in, and he shivered in spite of himself. He nodded immediately as he looked at the leaf in Amy’s hand. “I’ll behave!”

Amy nodded delightedly. “Okay. Remember your words.” She stood on tips of her toes to hand the leaf over to the crow, but the cage was too far out of her reach. She was a little anxious.

Mag stooped down and lifted her up. Now she was as high as the birdcage. “Now you can reach it.”

“You’re the best, Father.” Amy kissed Mag on the cheek and gave the leaf to the bird. “Here, stupid Black Coal.”

“I accept your favor.” Black Coal took the leaf from Amy’s hand and wrapped it around his body again.

Amy disentangled herself from Mag and waved at the two birds. “Bye, Black Coal and Green Pea.” Then she left with Mag.

“Bye. But please call me Sunny next time,” Green Pea said.

“Perhaps she is pretty adorable. I’ll grant her request for now,” Black Coal muttered reluctantly as he watched Amy leave.

After they left the magic potion shop, Mag and Amy walked towards the middle of the Aden Square. It was a huge round square. In the middle was a wide and round open space with several plots of land around it. Each piece was occupied by sculptures or gardens which had characteristics of each species.

It was said that the Aden Square was like a big map of the Norland Continent in the middle of which lay Chaos City surrounded by different species.

The square was more bustling as they went farther eastward. A lava demon child covered in flaming cracks ran past them, his hair made of flames, looking like a torch.

He was chased by a forest troll kid with a blade of grass on his head, followed by two dwarf boys with hammers.

In Chaos City, parents could never guess whom their children would play with.

When those children ran past Mag and Amy, they would each slow down and look at Amy for a while.

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In times like these, Mag would scowl at them and give them an admonitory glare, and then he would turn sideways to block their view.

She was his little girl. He would never let them play with her.

Amy was very happy, though. For the first time, she was being looked at by many children with envy.

Mag rested on a stone chair with Amy for a while. As they rose to start walking back, a human girl around five who wore her hair casually in a bun stopped beside them. “Father, I want to wear my hair like her. Please!” she said as she swung her father’s strong arm. He was around 30 and neatly dressed.

The man took a glance at Amy’s beautiful braids and was left in a difficult position. “Well… Ya Ya is already very pretty now.” How could a warrior like him weave braids that beautiful?! He had already outdone himself!

Then he cast Mag a jealous glance. He has such great skills. Or, he has a good wife who will do their little girl’s hair, unlike mine. He was told to take his daughter out because his wife was gambling.

“But this hair bun is ugly. I want braids too.” The little girl stroked her bun unhappily. “I want braids like hers!” she said as she pointed at Amy with envy. Then she started crying.

The man wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry, baby girl. I’ll buy a lot of good things for you.” He gave Mag a sullen look.

Mag looked at him compassionately as the man was trying his best to comfort his daughter. It was fortunate for me that Amy didn’t go out with her hair bun yesterday. That man’s sullen look made him a little proud, though. I’m amazing because I can braid my girl’s hair! Then he picked up Amy’s hand, and said, “Let’s go, Amy.”

“Father, give me a minute.” Amy walked to the little girl and wiped her tears with her little hand.

She is pretty caring. Mag was very happy.

The man breathed a sigh of relief too. Hope she can comfort my girl.

“Don’t cry. Only my father can make these braids; your father couldn’t make them for you even if you cried louder,” Amy said solemnly as she took her hand back.

The little girl was about to stop crying before Amy spoke. Then, she was taken aback by Amy’s words. She looked up at his father, and then at Mag. Suddenly, she felt so sad that she burst out crying.

I… didn’t expect that… Mag was surprised by this sudden turn of events. His little girl was indeed not a normal girl. He glanced at the girl’s father, who was just as shocked as him and took Amy’s hand quickly. “Sorry about that.” Then they walked off immediately.

On their way back, Mag stopped at a pancake stall by the roadside. It was owned by an old man who had a big oven shaped like a cylinder and a large basin full of dark yellow cornmeal paste. He snatched up some paste and slapped it on the side of the oven, and after a little while, it was done.

His business was very good. Many people were lining up in front of his stall, and most of them were little children. They were holding one or two copper coins in their hands, looking around, waiting. Other kids who had no money in their pockets were squatting on the ground, staring at them with a longing look.

His trade was easy. Maybe he could sell about a thousand pancakes in one day. It was cheap, but it was not very hard for him to make 30,000 copper coins in a month, like the old man who sold shaobing ¹ in his previous life.

Suddenly, Mag remembered that when his predecessor once went out looking for Amy, his little girl was squatting on the ground like those sallow-skinned skinny kids, staring at the fresh-baked pancakes. He tightened his grip on Amy’s hand. “Let’s go home, Amy. Tomorrow morning, I’ll make you roujiamo which would be a hundredfold better than pancakes,” Mag said with a smile.

Amy nodded vigorously. “Thank you, Father. The food you make is the best.” She obediently left with Mag.