The sky was heavy like lead. Clouds hung low, pressing down so hard it felt difficult to breathe.
A dull roll of thunder came from afar. Gu Yucheng’s right eye twitched.
An inexplicable sense of unease rose in him. He took out his phone.
The red dot on the screen still showed his home.
Across from him, the old man held a doll and examined it repeatedly. “So you’re saying that during a fight with your cat, the doll got stained with your blood, and then you could hear his voice—and he turned into your cat?”
“Mm.”
“He turned into a cat,” the old man murmured. “This child has deep fortune.”
Gu Yucheng noticed he seemed to know something. His emotions were complicated. “Can he turn back?”
“That’s not my concern,” the old man said. “But this kind of situation isn’t unheard of. You should go find someone else. Outside the alley, there’s a cat café. Ask the owner. She’ll know.”
Gu Yucheng thanked him and followed the directions to the cat café.
The glass door was shut tightly. A colorful notice was posted on it:
“Our two-legged staff have escorted several furry CEOs to Yunnan Cat Island for annual strategic inspections (actually canned-food team building). We’ll reopen next year~”
Seeing this, Gu Yucheng felt a strange sense of relief—then immediately despised himself for it.
He knew the thought was dark, but sometimes he could not help wishing that Xia Lening would never turn back into a human.
As a human, Xia Lening had too many friends, too many kinds of love. He had a sister he fully trusted, a girl he liked, idols he admired.
In Xia Lening’s life, Gu Yucheng could only occupy a small, insignificant corner.
But if he were a cat, Gu Yucheng could have him.
He could rely on Xia Lening’s softness and selfishly ask him to stay forever. It was despicable—but effective.
Even if Xia Lening would not tell him the truth, as long as he stayed by his side, Gu Yucheng would not mind.
At first, he had thought that way.
But recently, as Xia Lening’s attitude softened, he had begun to indulge in delusions.
When he tested him earlier, he could not help thinking: if Xia Lening was willing to trust him, he would accompany him to find a way to turn back, even tell Xia Xiaoyao according to his wishes.
Tell me. Trust me. He silently begged.
But Xia Lening had only looked away.
At that moment, his phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.
A sharp “beep” sounded.
His heart sank instantly.
It was the alarm that the tracker had left a 500-meter radius from home.
As expected—Xia Lening had run.
“Run where?!”
Xia Lening shouted angrily at the retreating cats.
“I already said it! That person can abuse us so openly because human laws don’t properly control this kind of thing! In the end, they’re all accomplices!” Lingdang hissed impatiently. “We asked humans like you said—it didn’t work. Now listen to me. We rescue them ourselves.”
“That’s not appropriate…”
Lingdang frowned and left only one sentence before running off. “Wangcai, come with me. This little cat is useless anyway. Let him stay here and find help.”
Wangcai hesitated. “Stinky Biao, let’s split up. You stay and find humans, we’ll go rescue them first.”
How could they actually let two cats go rescue others?!
Xia Lening gritted his teeth and climbed onto Wangcai’s back. “I’m going too!”
At the very least, he knew how locks worked.
Lingdang led them through winding paths to a building. In the basement—more precisely the negative first floor—there was a small square window, barely a cat’s height above the ground. The glass was dirty, but a faint yellow light leaked from inside.
Xia Lening placed his front paws on the windowsill and looked in.
In that instant, his blood seemed to freeze.
The room was filled with iron cages.
Row after row. Top to bottom. Left to right. Neatly stacked along shelves against the wall.
Each cage held a cat.
Different colors. Different sizes.
The cages were too low for them to stand. They could only lie down motionless, staring forward with empty eyes—as if their souls had been stripped away.
Lingdang let out a barely audible whimper, claws scratching uncontrollably at the sill.
Several of the cats were familiar faces. Ever since Gu Yucheng had once opened a “buffet” on his balcony, stray cats nearby often climbed over to wait for food.
“Right now no one is here,” Xia Lening said quietly. “The cages are locked. We need to find the keys.”
Lingdang pulled the window open. A wave of moldy stench rushed out. Xia Lening held his breath and jumped in.
Lingdang walked to a corner cage. “Little Black, do you know where the keys are?”
The black cat stretched its head toward a cabinet but could only let out a weak whimper.
All three cats looked up.
An old iron cabinet stood there, looking like it would creak apart with a single push.
Xia Lening looked toward the door and nudged Wangcai. “Go lock it. Push that square thing under the handle to the left until it turns horizontal. Do it quietly.”
Wangcai stretched his tall body and easily reached the handle, locking the door.
“Good.”
Xia Lening pushed the cabinet open with his head. It made an unbearable screeching sound. The cats in cages trembled and covered their ears.
“Don’t be afraid. We’ll get you out soon,” Lingdang soothed.
The keys were on the second shelf.
Lingdang and Wangcai jumped up. The cabinet groaned loudly. All the cats turned toward the door.
Nothing happened.
Everyone sighed in relief.
“There are so many keys,” Xia Lening said. A huge ring of keys, scattered and numbered.
He bit through the string, sorted them under dim light.
He pulled out key number 1 and tossed it to Wangcai. “This one opens the white cat in the corner. Insert it and turn left.”
“Number 6, black cat on the second row.”
“Number 25, your Little Black.”
Lingdang muttered, “Stop talking nonsense.”
Cages opened one after another.
Cats stared in disbelief at their sudden freedom. Weak ones were carried out through the window by Wangcai. Stronger ones took keys themselves to speed up rescue.
The room was full of scrambling cats.
Only nine cages remained.
Then—
The door handle pressed down.
Stopped.
Squeaked.
“Ha… these little beasts learned to rebel?”
A man’s voice came—furious, but tinged with excitement.
BANG!
The door frame shook. Dust fell.
Xia Lening’s fur stood on end.
He was breaking in.
A tortoiseshell cat in the corner suddenly raised her head. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. She arched her back and hissed—but her throat had already been burned by chemicals, leaving only a weak breath.
“Don’t be afraid,” Xia Lening said quickly. He found her key and ran over. “Open it.”
The tortoiseshell shook her head, stumbling forward and grabbing the key, trying to save others instead.
“This one is for the orange cat next to you,” Xia Lening said urgently.
Two more crashes followed.
The door split open. Light from the hallway poured in.
Xia Lening distributed the remaining keys.
“Hurry and get out!”
The door fell completely.
A thin black shadow stood at the entrance.
Just one glance made Xia Lening’s fear spike to the level of seeing a horror figure appear behind a cursed elevator.
“So the little things have become clever—learning to lock doors, even open locks,” the man said, voice turning vicious. “All of you should die!”
The last cage opened. Xia Lening dropped the key and pulled out the exhausted cat.
“Go, go!”
The cat shook its head and used its last strength to push him toward the window.
“Playing the tragic hero?” the man sneered, grabbing the weak cat.
Xia Lening lunged forward, biting and scratching his hand.
At least Gu Yucheng had been good training practice—his strikes were sharp and accurate.
The man clicked his tongue and slammed the cat to the ground.
“Wangcai, get it out!” Xia Lening shouted.
Then he was grabbed.
The force lifted him easily—he had been picked up many times before, but never like this. This time, he felt real fear of being suspended.
“You can scream? So you weren’t the one I brought back,” the man said. “You released so many of my babies. How are you going to pay for that, little thing?”
“Wait!” Wangcai carried a cat toward the window.
But before he could escape, a familiar cry rang out.
He turned—
Too late.
He was pulled down.
Slammed to the ground.
Across from him, he saw the orange cat curled up, blood at the corner of its mouth.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
Young Master Xia had never suffered like this. Even his worst pain had lasted only minutes before he died.
Why did it hurt so long this time?
His consciousness blurred.
Damn it… Gu Yucheng told me not to run around.
If he comes home and finds I’m gone… he wouldn’t cry, right?
It’s all this bastard’s fault.
BANG.
The “bastard” fell.
And for a split second, their eyes met.
The man at the door was still a shadow, face unclear—but Xia Lening recognized him instantly.
It was Gu Yucheng.
His body was lifted.
The tension in him loosened.
His eyes slowly closed.
The last thing he saw—
Gu Yucheng’s eyes.
Not crying.
Good.
At least he wasn’t crying.
Because right now…
He probably couldn’t comfort him.