Zhiyan couldn't stop staring at the empty dish.
She knelt beside it, running a finger along the bottom. No traces of rice remained. The dish was clean. Too clean.
She turned to Xiaoxiao, lying on the shelf where she had placed it the night before. The doll's black button eyes met hers, unblinking. The stitched-up smile looked the same. But something about it felt… different.
Had it always been this wide?
Zhiyan shook her head. I'm overthinking this.
Still, she couldn't shake the unease curling in her stomach.
At breakfast, she barely touched her food. Her grandmother noticed. "What's wrong, child?"
Zhiyan hesitated. She wanted to tell Nai Nai about the doll. About the whispering. About the empty dish. But some instinct held her back.
Would her grandmother even believe her?
"…Nothing," she said instead.
That night, she almost didn't bring Xiaoxiao to bed. But the thought of leaving the doll sitting on the shelf, staring at her in the dark, felt worse.
She placed Xiaoxiao beside her pillow and wrapped herself tightly in the blankets. Maybe, if she ignored it, the whispering would stop.
But it didn't.
At midnight, a familiar voice slid into her ears.
"I'm still hungry, Zhiyan."
Her breath caught in her throat.
No. No, she wasn't going to feed it again. If she ignored it, maybe it would stop.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.
But the whispering didn't stop.
"Please."
"More."
"Just a little."
The voice grew insistent, tugging at the edges of her mind.
Zhiyan couldn't take it anymore.
She threw off the covers and grabbed the doll. "Fine!" she hissed under her breath. "Just shut up."
She crept downstairs, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This time, she grabbed a whole spoonful of rice and placed it in the dish.
Setting it in front of Xiaoxiao, she backed away slowly. "There. Eat."
Silence.
She climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
This time, she didn't sleep at all.
In the morning, the dish was empty again.
And Xiaoxiao's smile was wider.