I walk into the living room, wiping my hands on the kitchen napkin. Without a word, I snatch the remote from him, flip the channel, and glare at him.
"Idiot. You can't help her, and it's a baby horse she's giving birth to. You don't need to watch the wildlife channel."
His antennae twinkle twice. "Why?"
"Doesn't matter why. Ugh. Look—watch this." I jab a finger at the TV. A C-drama is playing.
"You said you wanted to learn how to be a boyfriend, right? Watch this."
His eyes sparkle like a kid in a candy store. His antennae shoot up, standing tall and twitching like they're about to throw a party. He stares at the TV screen, pure wonder on his face.
"Is this… what BF means?" he asks, awe dripping from his voice.
"Yes, yes!" I jab at the screen again. "See this guy? He's the boyfriend. And this cute girl? She's the girlfriend!"
"Oh!" he nods seriously. "They are playing BF and GF too?"
"Yeah, they're actors."
He tilts his head. "So… we are actors too?"
I groan, flopping back onto the couch. "Not really. But yeah, if we want the nosy auntie patrol to back off—congrats, space boy, you're in a drama now."
He sits cross-legged in front of the screen, way too close like an overgrown five-year-old, eyes glued and expression dead serious. "They are so stupid. Why is she crying when he is leaving?"
I head back to the kitchen, waving the now-crumpled napkin like a white flag. "You're the stupid one here, idiot. When someone you love is going far away—somewhere you can't follow—it hurts."
He glances at me, then turns back to the TV. His antennae dim slightly.
"Now I understand why the revolutionaries left behind these… inefficient emotions," he mutters.
I sigh, scrubbing the last dish like it's personally responsible for all my life choices. In the living room, he's still glued to the C-drama, eyes wide, antennae gently twitching with every plot twist.
At least he's not breathing down my neck like a clingy space koala anymore. Small blessings.
I slam the last plate into the rack, wipe my hands dry, and head toward the fridge, already dreaming of cold leftover dumplings—
Only to yelp as I'm suddenly yanked back.
He spins me around like I'm a shopping cart, pins me right against the fridge, his hands on either side of my head like we're in some low-budget C-drama remake.
"Wh… what are you doing?" I squeak, staring up at his way-too-close alien face.
He leans in, eyes sparkling with dramatic intensity. "Yunhua… I won't go anywhere. My home is where you are!"
My brain short circuits.
Bwbwbwbwb— What?! What is he saying?!
I shove at his chest, pushing him back like he's on fire. "Dude, what?!"
He looks confused, like I'm the weird one. "Eh? That boyfriend in the device said the same thing to his girlfriend. She was happy. Why are you not?"
I gape at him. "Because you are not supposed to copy everything! It's acting! Not real!"
"But we are also acting," he says earnestly. "I thought it was part of roleplay."
"Yeah well, there's acting, and then there's giving your fake girlfriend a heart attack!"
He tilts his head, thoughtful. "So you do not want me to say this yet?"
I shriek and slap a dish towel over his mouth.
He blinks, pulling back slightly, his expression weirdly serious. "Did my acting… not good enough?"
I slap my palm over my face, dragging it down slowly. "Ugh. Listen, you little—" I jab a finger at his chest. "I said act like a boyfriend in front of others. Not when we're alone!"
He nods thoughtfully. "Oh. Right. Then I should do this when someone is watching us?"
I nearly scream. "No! Do not pin me anywhere like that ever again! I don't care if the whole neighborhood is watching with binoculars!"
He tilts his head, his antenna twitching innocently. "Understood… I'll go learn other boyfriend things."
Then he just… walks off like he didn't just throw my entire nervous system into a blender.
I slide down the fridge, hand on my chest.
Oh yeah. Great. Perfect. Just what I needed. A clingy, overly dramatic alien boyfriend who thinks C-drama scripts are actual relationship manuals.
Why do I feel like I'm going to die of secondhand embarrassment before the government even finds out I'm harboring an extraterrestrial?
After all that drama, I try calling Mr. Xian again—ninth time today. Still no answer. I glare at my phone like it personally betrayed me.
"Maybe he is really involved in this case…" I mutter, dropping the phone on the table with a loud thud.
Ugh. It's already evening. I rub my temples, dragging my feet toward the kitchen like a tired zombie.
Should think of dinner now… I'll figure out the rest after I go to the research center tomorrow.
Behind me, I hear a loud crash and a "Yunhua! I've learned about hand-holding!"
I freeze mid-step.
Nope. Not dealing with this tonight.
I walk into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering in. "Aren't you hungry?"
Of course, here he comes. Like a shadow with no respect for personal space. He hovers behind me so close I can feel his weird alien breath on my neck.
"Yunhua…" he says, voice low and oddly mournful. "They stopped showing that boyfriend-girlfriend thing."
I glance back at him. His antenna droops, light barely flickering like a dying firefly. Oh great. He looks like a dead flower now. A tall, sparkly, overly dramatic dead flower.
"Yeah," I say, pulling out an tomato. "That was an old episode. The new one comes out next week."
He gasps. "A whole week? But the girl just said she loved him while he was dying!"
I blink. "…That wasn't dying, he just had a cold."
"Same thing," he mutters gloomily, leaning against the counter like his whole world just ended.
I grab a pan and sigh. "You want fried rice or noodles, Mr. Overly Attached Alien Boyfriend?"
"I want you," he says without missing a beat, antenna lighting up like a damn Christmas tree as he smiles proudly.
I nearly drop the tomato.
"Tsk…" I slam the carton down and glare at him. "What is it now?"
"The boyfriend in that device said the same thing," he says, like he just unlocked the secrets of human romance.
"Firstly, it's called a TV," I snap, pointing a spoon at him like a weapon. "Secondly, stop saying that stuff when we're alone!"
He blinks, confused. "So... I should only say it when someone is watching?"
"No!" I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "Stop copying the TV boyfriend! You're gonna get me arrested for alien-induced heart failure!"
He tilts his head. "Is that a serious condition?"
"It will be if you keep this up."
I start cutting veggies, focusing on not losing a finger, and this guy—this walking violation of personal space—leans in so close his nose is basically touching my wrist. He watches every slice like it's a national event.
His antenna hovers dangerously near the chopping board.
"Come here, dear boyfriend," I mutter sweetly, not even looking at him. "Let me cut those antennas too while I'm at it."
He jolts back like I just threatened to disarm a bomb. "No thank you!" he says quickly, antenna flickering in panic. "They are sensitive organs essential for perception!"
"Exactly. So keep them out of my stir-fry zone or I will turn them into garnish."
He inches back… but not far enough.
I'm cutting veggies, then reach over to grab the rice to wash—when suddenly, he grabs my hand.
I groan and yank my hand free. "I'm trying to cook, not hold hands with a romance-obsessed alien toddler."
He blinks. "But holding hands is very important. Builds intimacy and emotional connection, according to the dialogue of Episode 12."
"Yeah? Did they hold hands while slicing vegetables with sharp objects?"
"No… they did it while walking through a flower field."
I slap the wet rice into the bowl with unnecessary force. "Then go find yourself a damn flower field. This is a kitchen."
He tilts his head, antenna wobbling like confused spaghetti. "So… I should wait until you take me for walk?"
I freeze. "Wait—what? Are you my dog now?"
He beams. "What is dog? I didn't see any in that TV. Is that another boyfriend thing?"
I smack a hand to my forehead. "God save me from the romance-education channel from hell."
He perks up. "Is that on the next episode?"
I'm seriously reconsidering ever turning that drama on.
"Listen, my lovely boyfriend."
His antenna sparkles like a firefly on caffeine, and his whole face lights up. Eyes wide, smile stretched all goofy and proud—like I just called him the chosen one.
"You wanna be a good boyfriend?" I raise an eyebrow, holding back a smirk.
His antenna blinks twice in rapid excitement, and he leans forward eagerly. "Yes!"
"Good." I jab a finger at him. "Then you know what boyfriends do? They cook delicious meals."
He blinks. His excited expression falters, brows scrunching. "They didn't show that in the TV thing."
I cross my arms and give him the flat stare of ultimate authority. "Well, I'm telling you. That's what your girlfriend loves, okay?"
He straightens like a soldier, face serious now. "Yunhua loves?"
I nod and poke his chest. "Yes. Yes—I love it."
His eyes go wide with sparkly determination. His antenna flashes like a disco light. "Understood! I will cook delicious meal for Yunhua!"
"Good." I smirk and slap a carrot into his hand. "Start by peeling this."
He looks at it like I just handed him an alien artifact. "Peeling… how?"
"Oh for the love of—give it here." I grab the peeler, demonstrate one stroke, then hand it back. "Just do that. Over and over. Don't stab yourself. Or me."
He nods solemnly and begins peeling with the intensity of someone disarming a bomb.
I turn to wash the rice, muttering to myself. "Great. Now I've got a sparkly alien boyfriend with a knife. This can only end well."
Just a minute into washing the rice, he suddenly calls out behind me, "Yunhua, this red thing you gave me—it's gone!"
I turn around, confused. "Huh? What do you mean it's gone?"
Then I see it.
He's holding the poor carrot, or... what's left of it. He's peeled it down to a sad, skinny stub. Almost nothing remains.
Oh great. I asked him to peel a carrot, not send it to the afterlife. Is this what alien efficiency looks like? Because my dinner just got emotionally traumatized.
I blink. "I didn't tell you when to stop, did I?"
He looks up at me, eyes shining like a proud golden retriever. "Right. Did I do a good boyfriend thing?"
I sigh, biting back a laugh. "Yes, very good thing. Incredible. Carrot assassination: successful."
He beams like I just handed him a Nobel Prize. His antenna does a little wiggle. "Then I will peel more carrots for Yunhua!"
"No no no—stop! That was my last carrot!" I lunge at the trash bin and rescue what little orange shavings remain.
He looks confused. "But you said you love delicious meals."
"Yeah, made of food I still have!" I slap a hand to my forehead. "Okay, new rule: you only peel when I say so, and I supervise. Got it?"
He nods enthusiastically. "Understood. Supervised peeling only. I am learning very fast."
Oh yeah. At this rate, we'll open a Michelin-star kitchen right after I lose my mind.
"Come here. Watch—just peel it like this. Got it? Now do the rest of these. Peel, then cut. I'm trusting you with a knife, don't make me regret it."
He takes the knife like it's some sacred alien artifact, eyes gleaming with determination. His antenna straightens proudly as he examines the potato like it holds the secrets of the universe.
"Cut… like this," he mumbles, mimicking my motion with intense focus.
I watch him for a second—he's holding the knife upside down.
"No, no—other way! You'll slice your hand off!"
He flips it around quickly. "Right! Right! No slicing hand. Just potato."
"Exactly. Good boyfriend doesn't bleed in kitchen," I mutter, stepping back cautiously.
He flashes me a proud smile. "Yunhua is teaching me well. I will make potato proud."
Yeah. Potato's spirit will live on… hopefully in cubes and not chaos.
I let the rice cook and turn around—"Ouchie!" I hiss, rushing over as I see him flinch and look down at his finger.
"You idiot, I told you to be careful!" I grab his hand, expecting blood—but just as quickly as the cut appeared, it closes up like nothing even happened.
"Don't worry," he says casually, "we heal faster. It's the invisible cloth thing I mentioned before. It patches us up instantly."
I stare at him, wide-eyed. "Wow... high-tech, advanced, and super cool. We really need that kind of tech."
He grins proudly. "Yes! Very helpful."
"Okay, okay... I'll handle the rest," I sigh, turning to the cutting board—only to freeze.
"Wait... what's this blue liquid on the potato?"
"Oh, sorry," he says sheepishly. "That's my blood."
I just stare at him. Blue blood. On my dinner potato.
Appetizing.
"Uh, do you mind doing the rest of the potatoes?" I say, trying to keep my voice casual as I scoop up the blue-blooded one. "I'll just throw this one out."
He nods innocently. "Okay, Yunhua! I'll do it better this time!"
Uh-huh. Sure you will.
I walk calmly toward the bedroom, but the moment I turn the corner, I hustle. I shut the door quietly, grab a clean lab glass container from my supplies, and slice off a tiny section of the potato—the part stained with his mysterious blue blood. Carefully, I drop it into the container and seal it tight.
Alien blood sample secured.
I place it inside a small metal box lined with cotton, hiding it in the drawer with the rest of my old research tools.
Because yeah, he's adorable and clueless… but he's also not human. And I'm not letting that blue goo go unexamined.