Gu Yucheng came to pick him up right at 8 o’clock and even bought an annual membership at the grooming center.
Only then did Xia Lening learn that the pet shop charged 300 per hour.
How long had he stayed there today again? Twelve hours.
Heh. Heh heh heh. It would be best if he could drain all of Gu Yucheng’s money.
Li Zheng ran after them. “Hey, uh… are you going tomorrow?”
Xia Lening slowly turned his head, his eyes full of grievance. “What, is my funeral that hard to say out loud?”
“I’m going,” Li Zheng said.
His expression kept shifting, looking like he had a toothache.
Completely lacking any sense of shared suffering with his “son,” Xia Lening lay comfortably in the pet carrier, placed on the passenger seat, and fell asleep to his favorite music.
When he woke again, he was back in the cat bed.
Gu Yucheng was sitting on the sofa, lost in thought.
The room was still unlit.
Dim light slanted through the glass, cutting into the room and stretching the window-frame shadows across the floor like silent cages.
The person on the sofa had almost become part of the room itself—eyes lowered slightly, shoulders slumped, as if wrapped by an enormous sorrow. He simply sat there motionless, allowing that pain to swallow him from the inside out.
Xia Lening walked over. “Gu Yucheng, what are you pretending to be so deep for?”
Gu Yucheng did not look at him, as if he had not heard at all.
“Did your dad scold you? Honestly, your broken company—whoever inherits it doesn’t matter anyway. Why are you so upset?”
“Lost a lawsuit? Not likely… I’m not saying you’re amazing, but you haven’t even graduated yet. Would a law firm give you something that difficult?”
“Got rejected in a confession? That’s understandable. That girl just doesn’t like your fake gentleman act. Can’t force it. Congratulations to that unknown girl for escaping misery!”
“Or is it because my sister finally realized this cat was picked up by me and not stolen from you, and now wants it returned? That’s your fault, but you don’t need to be this upset. Just be more careful next time. You should be secretly happy you have such an understanding opponent like me.”
He talked until his throat went dry, but Gu Yucheng remained unmoved.
Frustrated, he wandered off to drink water.
Even drinking water was unfamiliar for him in cat form; his tongue coordination was poor, spilling more than he swallowed.
Then the “statue” finally moved.
“I saw at the pet shop today,” Gu Yucheng said flatly, “the staff said normal cats don’t splash water everywhere. It’s because they curl their tongue inward when drinking.”
Xia Lening froze.
Had he discovered something?
“But there are also stupid ones who can’t learn, so they can only splash it outward. Why are you so stupid? And so noisy.”
“…”
His pupils shook violently, like a betrayed father.
“I tried to comfort you and you call me stupid?! If you’ve got the guts, come be a cat yourself! You probably couldn’t even groom your fur!”
Gu Yucheng just quietly looked at him, his dark eyes seeming to pass through him toward something else entirely.
That gaze made the cat’s fur stand on end.
But the long-suppressed urge to fight back completely exploded in Xia Lening.
He stormed straight into Gu Yucheng’s room, rolled all over his clean bedding, then slipped out just before being caught. He jumped onto the desk, dipped his paws into Gu Yucheng’s “baby cup” to drink water, and finally, when Gu Yucheng came in with a dark face, he slid away toward the balcony.
“Wangcai! Wangcai!”
Wangcai rushed over. The two cats exchanged a glance and understood instantly.
Within moments, Xia Lening had ridden on Wangcai and escaped to the neighboring balcony.
He even turned back and stuck his tongue out at Gu Yucheng.
“Go wash your bedsheets again!”
Like a victorious rooster, he strutted through Wangcai’s climbing wall before accidentally falling down.
Only then did he casually ask, “So? Is he furious? Did he want to throw away the bedsheets?”
Wangcai shook his head honestly. “No. His glowing board rang. He said a few words into it and left.”
So he answered a call and left.
“Did he look angry?”
“Not really. That’s not how Xiao Zhu acts when he’s angry.”
“Oh, so same old face then.”
Wangcai tilted his head. “You want him to be angry?”
“He called me stupid!”
Wangcai hesitated, then nodded solemnly. “He was wrong.”
Elsewhere, Gu Yucheng stood under the eaves, staring at the empty alley.
“Brother Gu, this way.” Ouyang Xun waved from the alley entrance. “Master Mo agreed to see us.”
Gu Yucheng did not move immediately. He glanced at his watch—9:56 p.m. There were still nine hours until Xia Lening’s funeral. He should not have been here, should not have believed in such nonsense as communicating with the dead.
“You sure this person is reliable?” His voice was almost swallowed by passing cars.
“I’ve never tried it myself,” Ouyang Xun admitted, “but my cousin’s husband passed away last year, and Master Mo helped her through it. She said… she really saw the deceased.”
Gu Yucheng let out a faint, mocking smile—but said nothing. He followed him into the narrow alley.
At the end stood an old two-story building. A faded wooden sign hung at the entrance, painted in red: “Mo.”
Inside, the air was dim and heavy with incense and strange herbal scents.
An old, thin man sat behind an Eight Immortals table. His gray-white hair was tied loosely back, but his eyes were sharp—almost piercing.
“Mr. Gu, please sit.” His voice was hoarse but steady.
Gu Yucheng did not touch the tea. “They say you can let the living talk to the dead?”
“Not talk,” the old man said calmly. “The boundary between life and death is not so easily crossed. But I can open a window—let you briefly feel his presence.”
“I need proof.”
The old man took out a wooden box and pushed it forward.
Inside was a crude cloth doll, about twenty centimeters tall. It had no facial features—only rough black-thread outlines. On its chest was stitched a white cloth strip, and on it, written in red ink:
“Xia Lening.”
Ouyang Xun swallowed hard.
“What is this?” Gu Yucheng’s voice turned cold.
“A medium,” the old man said. “Mix the deceased’s ashes or blood, add yours, and it becomes a bridge between worlds.”
“Ashes?” Gu Yucheng’s expression darkened.
“It’s dangerous,” the old man continued, placing a knife and yellow paper on the table. “Whether you do it or not is your choice. But you must truly wish for him to return. Any hesitation… will attract something else.”
Gu Yucheng stared at the doll for a long time without speaking.
At home, the sound of a key turning interrupted the silence.
Xia Lening was lying on the sofa watching a replay when he immediately sprang up defensively.
But Gu Yucheng looked preoccupied, holding something that resembled a doll, mostly hidden from view.
He went straight into his room and closed the door.
Only then did Xia Lening relax and continue watching.
Later, he was called to the balcony by Wangcai and even got two boiled shrimp.
“I usually only get cat food and treats,” he chewed. “My servant never cooks for me. He’s so bad.”
“It’s okay, Shorty,” Wangcai said kindly while grooming him. “Mine can share with you.”
“Shorty?”
He almost choked.
Still, he lay down comfortably afterward, licking his paws.
“I’m going back. I’m sleeping early today. Tomorrow I’m attending my own funeral on time.”
“What is a funeral?” Wangcai asked.
“A farewell ceremony held by family and friends?”
Wangcai still didn’t understand.
“Honestly, I don’t really know either.”
He fell asleep soon after.
Dawn came.
He woke early and immediately went to Gu Yucheng’s room, finding the door open.
He walked in casually.
And then he saw something he would never forget.
In the dim light, a man stood with his head lowered, fingers white-knuckled as he held a cloth doll.
The faded cotton body looked like an unhealed wound.
And written clearly across it—
his name.