Ninsipan

“Be careful—if you pick it up with your hands, you’ll get cut… Ah—”

Before the warning even finished, the one who intended to pick it up himself frowned. Komprat looked at his finger where a shard of the broken bowl had sliced him, then rolled his eyes—slightly embarrassed. It’s just a tiny cut. He glanced at the tip of his finger, only to hear a snort of laughter from the woman crouching across from him.

He bared his teeth at her, then reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Don’t laugh at me. Go on—go get a broom.”

Ninsipan froze for a moment. She looked at him, his face half scowl, half smile, then rubbed her forehead before getting up to fetch what he asked.

But when she came back to sweep the broken pieces, her employer had already taken the broom and was doing it himself. She went to grab a rag, dampened it, and came back to wipe the floor—only for him to set the broom aside and take the rag from her hands.

When she turned to put things away, the man—who had already finished wiping—stood up, picked up the broom and dustpan, and went to put them away himself.

She could only stand there, watching him take over every task on his own, completely baffled—until he turned around and beckoned her casually.

“Grandma’s not awake yet. Come eat first.”

After calling her, he walked over to serve porridge into a bowl for her, sprinkled chopped scallions on top, and set it neatly on the table. When Ninsipan moved to get a glass of water, he tapped his long fingers sharply on the table twice.

“Sit. Eat.”