Quick Transmigration and Childbirth: The Target is Not Human

The Elven race does not have the concept of cooking; they prefer the most natural way of eating.

This roasted honey fruit undoubtedly gave him a completely new experience, and he couldn't help but take a few more bites, and then a few more, until the glass was empty.

He ate slowly and deliberately; it took him almost half an hour to finish a single fruit.

The girl smiled throughout, as if watching him eat was a pleasure to behold.

Samuel: "There's a chair over there, please sit down."

"No need, I can stand."

"Please sit down. Elves have never had a hierarchical system. I am very happy and honored that you picked the fruit for me and took the time to cook it."

"Holy Son, you're too kind..."

Refusing any further would be too aloof, so the girl took a deep breath with a resolute expression.

She carefully placed her bottom on the wooden stool, using her thighs and knees to support herself as she slowly, very slowly, lowered herself down.

[Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch—!! Waaaaaah... My butt's going to split in two...]

Samuel paused slightly in the hand holding the wooden spoon. Was he injured?

His gaze swept to the elegantly seated girl, who grinned with a bright, sunny smile: "The chairs here, Your Holiness, are softer than those elsewhere."

Samuel: "..."

If it were yesterday, he wouldn't have cared at all whether this stupid human's buttocks were four or eight pieces.

But now... before she dies, he still wants to enslave this human so that he can taste more of the food from human kingdoms.

After all, the taste was really good.

This was the first time he had used his second skill of mind reading—tracing back to the source.

In short, it means grasping a thought or feeling, and following the clues that lead back to any scene that can be linked to that thought or feeling.

Amid the girl's cries of pain, he grabbed a strand of spider web and pulled himself into her memory.

In the center of Nantao Garden, on the tallest and most lush fruit tree, a small, pale yellow figure is struggling to climb the towering trunk.

Her little face was dusty and gray, but her eyes sparkled like stars as she slowly approached the top of the tree.

There were low-lying fruits within reach beside her, green and red, but she didn't even glance at them. Instead, she hugged the tree trunk with her arms and legs and continued climbing.

Then some other little elves came and picked fruit. As if to make things difficult for her, they also picked the yellow-skinned, red-tipped fruit that was right next to her.

But she still ignored it, because those weren't her goals at all.

She climbed and climbed, and finally reached out and picked the very top fruit, the one she loved most.

Just as she was feeling overjoyed, a strong gust of wind suddenly blew her off balance, causing her to fall.

She was stopped by several crisscrossing branches during the process, but she still landed on her bottom, her face contorted in pain, and she rolled on the ground clutching the fruit.

After a long while, when the pain subsided, she picked up the celestial fruit with tears in her eyes and murmured to herself, "Only the biggest, sweetest, and reddest celestial fruit is worthy of the Holy Son."

Afterwards, she borrowed fire from the fire spirit, poked at the bee's nest, and burned three or four bamboo tubes before she could make this delicious and visually appealing bowl of food. She then happily went to find him…

Samuel pulled away, and before him were the familiar Eternal Night Flower and the silver vine carvings on the bed frame.

Only then did I realize that the glass cup I was holding in my palm had warmed me up nicely.

A strange feeling welled up inside him—shock, confusion, and, more than anything, an indescribable stirring within him.

He placed the cup on the table beside him and then took a miniature white jade bottle from the bookshelf on the other side.

"Come here," Samuel said suddenly. "Here, take this and drink it today."

The girl, as if granted a pardon, jumped up, her eyes sparkling, and leaned forward to take the white jade bottle with both hands: "Holy Son, what is this?"

"A beverage that all elves drink."

"Your things are definitely much more valuable than what I gave you, this isn't right..."

"Nothing's wrong—"

"Thank you, Holy Son!"

Before Samuel could even utter the word "good," the girl had already bowed and thanked him, a warm smile spreading across her face.

[My sweetheart gave me something! I'm so happy! He's a million times kinder than an angel! Hahaha, spinning around and around~~]

Samuel: "..."

After a while, she tilted her head, blinked, and pointed to the corner of her mouth, saying, "Holy Son, there's still a little bit of... at the corner of your mouth..."

Samuel frowned slightly: "What?"

He extended his tongue, the remaining juices were silkily drawn into his mouth, leaving a glistening water stain on his lips.

[Such a delicate pink tongue, I want to kiss it...]

Suddenly, Samuel's expression turned strange. He looked at the girl and saw that she was staring intently at his lips, her throat moving as if she had swallowed.

Samuel's usually placid face frosted under her gaze, except for a hint of blush at the tips of his ears.

"Get out!" he said in a cold tone.

Xia Yangyang suddenly came to her senses, and was so intimidated by that gaze that she unconsciously took two steps back.

A wave of annoyance washed over her. It was all her fault for being so reckless. She had lost her composure so easily. How could she have so brazenly pointed out that the beauty's lips were dirty?

Don't beautiful women have pride?

She silently condemned herself, but to her surprise, the Holy Son before her grew even angrier and trembled: "Get out. Don't come any closer until we lure out the mastermind behind the murder of the Grand Elder. Take care of your own safety first."

Now it was Xia Yangyang's turn to turn pale.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, she really angered the beauty.

She wanted to explain because she didn't find it shameful to have food stuck to her mouth; on the contrary, she found it extremely cute.

But then I feel that these kinds of embarrassing things are only more memorable the more you bring them up, and the more you try to explain them, the worse they get.

Previously, the best course of action was to go along with him.

"Then, Your Majesty, please rest well..."

Clutching the glass bowl, she looked back at him repeatedly, like an abandoned little fox, her dark eyes welling up with tears, turning into pitiful, gear-like eyes.

Just as she opened the door and stepped out, she was called back from behind.

He seemed to realize his lapse in composure, and his voice returned to calm and solemnity.

"What's your name?" Samuel asked.

"Yangyang, Xia Yangyang, Holy Son, you can call me whatever you like." Xia Yangyang instantly spun around, her face blossoming into a smile, like a blooming, fragrant yellow rose. "And what is the Holy Son's name?"

Samuel paused, his name.

A gentle breeze blew in through the window, brushing away the stray hairs that had fallen onto his face.

The butterfly-shaped wind chime hanging from the ceiling swayed in the wind, playing a melodious tune.

"Ding-dong~ Ding-ling~~"

Does anyone care about his name? Anyway, the Holy Sons of the Elves change generation after generation, and each elf just calls him Holy Son. What difference does it make if they know his name or not? He, as a Holy Son, doesn't even know the name of the previous Holy Son.

There is no point in telling a human your name.

Telling someone he intends to get rid of his name is completely unnecessary.

Therefore, he won't tell.

but--

"Samuel".

He heard his own lips move.

"Samuel Adrian." He raised his eyes, like a demon waking from a dream, a flash of crimson light passing through them, his fingernails, hidden under the quilt, digging into the flesh of his palms.

Xia Yangyang silently repeated it to herself, then smiled and said, "I understand, Lord Samuel."