“Right, you’ll have to stay with me during this time.” The man on the other end of the line confirmed her statement and, with a detached tone, made a cold-hearted joke: “But don’t worry—your job is to take care of the cat. I’m a human; taking care of me isn’t part of your job description. You can completely ignore me.”
As he spoke, Fang Huajun seemed to think of something deeper, and he said with a straight face, “Of course, if my presence as a man makes you feel unsafe, you can bring a bodyguard, a can of pepper spray, or a knife when you come—whatever you need.”
Hang Sheng casually grabbed a folding utility knife and slipped it into her jacket pocket. After warning Hang Tian not to use violence against the other “family members” while she was away, she headed out and boarded the subway bound for the western part of the city.
She and this suspicious cat dealer lived at opposite ends of the city, more than thirty li apart; she’d have to transfer subways three times to get there.
Of course, Hang Sheng didn’t think this trip—unlike her previous ones—was just another futile chase after that “work” bait laced with virtual fish food. Her sole purpose had always been the kitten’s safety; as long as she could see the situation for herself and get a definitive answer—good or bad—it wouldn’t be a wasted effort.
After two hours of bumpy travel, Hang Sheng finally got off the subway at 2:00 p.m. She still had to walk about one kilometer to reach the villa complex indicated by the location—it was really quite remote.
Contrary to her expectations, this wasn’t some strictly controlled, high-end villa complex; Hang Sheng strolled right in under the security guard’s nose.
Something’s off! Something’s definitely off!
Hang Sheng cautiously took half a step back, then plucked up the courage to ask the security guard, “Excuse me, sir, do you happen to know which direction Building 37 is in?”
The security guard put down his phone—which had just congratulated him on winning MVP for this round of the game—and, clearly in a good mood, answered his question right on cue.
“Building 37, huh? Just keep walking straight ahead to your right—it’s the one at the very end.”
The grinning security guard leaned his head out the window of the guardhouse, took a careful look at Hang Sheng’s young, vibrant, and sweet face, and asked with a hint of curiosity, “Are you the girlfriend of someone who lives there? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
“You’ve never seen me, yet you let me in…” Hang Sheng muttered under her breath.
The security guard chuckled twice. “My boss just told me to watch out for bad guys—he didn’t say not to let strangers in. You don’t look like the type to commit a crime, so why would I stop you?”
If he found out she had a knife in her pocket, he’d probably stab her right there on the spot to earn a medal, Hang Sheng shuddered, not daring to bring that up. She shook her head and quickly got back to the point: “I have nothing to do with Building 37. I’m here for an interview. Do you know what kind of person he is?”
The security guard thought about it for a moment, then clicked his tongue and said, “Come to think of it, I really don’t know him that well, but he seems pretty strange.”
“Strange?”
“Yeah, he hardly ever goes out. I’ve been working here for over a year, and I’ve only seen him a few times. I heard he keeps a few hundred cats at home and spends all day surrounded by them. He even hired someone specifically to take care of that whole bunch of cats. I have no idea what he’s up to. The last time I ran into a homeowner who never left the house, he was actually plotting social revenge right there in his own home.”
The more Hang Sheng listened, the more her heart raced; no matter how she looked at it, this Mr. Fang didn’t seem like someone who was up to any good.
Seeing her face go pale, the security guard kindly reassured her, “But you don’t need to worry too much. At least when the person before you left, she looked perfectly fine to me.”
Perfectly fine… The perch looked perfectly fine too when it landed on her dinner table.
Hang Sheng was starting to have second thoughts, but with every step she took back, she felt the wails of a kitten echoing in her ears—it was unbearable.
In the end, her conscience got the better of her. She figured that since she’d already come this far, there was no reason not to see it through to the very end.
But Hang Sheng was absolutely afraid of dying. With safety in mind, she paid the security guard 200 yuan to secure his special attention for the time being. She made a deal with him: if she ran into trouble within the next hour, he would immediately grab his trident and rally his colleagues to come to her rescue.
With her safety net secured, Hang Sheng set the security guard’s contact information as her emergency contact before nervously continuing deeper into the villa complex.
This was a somewhat aged neighborhood, nestled in the quiet suburbs west of the city. The white walls of the houses had been tinged with a pale yellow by the ever-changing light of the sun and moon, and weathered by wind and rain, they bore mottled marks resembling the growth rings of trees.
The villa complex wasn’t in the best location, and there weren’t many buildings, but it made up for this with an extremely low building density and ample green space. It was mostly inhabited by elderly residents living out their retirement years, making it a very peaceful place.
Of course, it was also perfectly suited for some under-the-table dealings.
Building 37 is the last building in the villa complex, situated at the farthest end of the north-south road. Along the path leading to it, common trees—such as osmanthus and ginkgo, some evergreen and others that shed their leaves in winter—are planted in alternating rows. Only at the entrance to Building 37 is there a small patch of reddish-brown cypress trees that seem to be stuck in autumn, like a blaze in the winter.
This tree is called a taxodium; its single, straight trunk rises far higher than a three-story building. Its leaves are flat and feather-like, gradually turning a vibrant reddish-brown in the fall and winter. When the wind whistles through them, the soft, feathery leaves sway and drift to the ground, unhesitatingly offering their lives to the barren, yellow earth, adorning it anew with vibrant colors that don’t belong to winter.
Hang Sheng hesitated at the doorway for a long time. When a feeble meow drifted through the worn-out crack in the door, she adjusted the hidden camera on her chest before mustering the courage to knock.
With a long, creaking sound, the door swung open from the inside.
Standing inside was a tall, slender man with skin so pale that even Hang Sheng—who prided herself on her own fair complexion—would have to concede he was a cut above her.
He had a handsome, chiseled, narrow face: a high bridge of the nose, deep brow bones, and single eyelids. Perhaps because she was looking up at him, the whites of his eyes were slightly visible below the iris, giving him a cold, aloof appearance.
The man showed no emotion whatsoever—not even curiosity—but simply stared calmly into the large, round, bright eyes before him. This made Hang Sheng feel somewhat uneasy, and she fumbled restlessly with her hands in her coat pockets.
“Hang Tian, are you feeling for a knife?” ” Fang Huajun suddenly spoke, his voice lacking the hoarseness of the night and carrying a faint, clear coolness.
Hang Sheng, who had just reached the knife’s hilt, froze for a long moment upon hearing that name before suddenly remembering that, for the sake of privacy, she had temporarily adopted the name Hang Tian.
She subconsciously pulled her hand out of her pocket and stood at attention, replying a beat too late: “Ah! Haha, not at all.”
The pockets of her women’s clothing were so shallow that the knife inside fell to the ground with her movement, giving her away completely.
Fang Huajun looked at the flustered young woman in front of him, a faint, ambiguous smile playing at the corners of his lips. He glanced down at the GoPro, which was almost hidden by her collar, said nothing more, and simply stepped aside to let her into the house: “ “Grab your knife and come inside.”
Hang Sheng changed her shoes somewhat reluctantly; after all, once she stepped inside, she’d be completely at a disadvantage. Even if the man was a trustworthy, good-looking guy, it would only alleviate half of her fear.
She had indeed brought something for self-defense, but the height difference—he was a whole head taller than her—didn’t seem like something a craft knife could make up for.
Hang Sheng shot a furtive glare at the man’s back ahead of her, exhaled heavily, and—adopting a “what’s the point” attitude—kicked off her shoes. She slipped on the disposable slippers Fang Huajun had prepared and strided straight over to the spot he’d indicated, plopping down boldly.
She nearly sat right on a huge, ugly cat sprawled out in a haphazard heap, so Hang Sheng quickly pulled her butt back.
Fang Huajun said, “That’s just one of them; the others are all hiding.”
Hang Sheng looked up and met a pair of glowing eyes at the top of the cat tree. Then, as more and more “daytime high beams” flooded her field of vision, she realized that this apartment actually had over fifty hidden doors, each engraved with a cat’s eye that was watching her from every angle.
Some of the bolder ones ventured out to sniff her hand. Without exception, these cats were all surprisingly ugly— a small number due to purely surface-level flaws, but the majority because of physical abnormalities caused by various disabilities or injuries. Take, for example, the cat that had already grown accustomed to her and was now lying in the palm of her hand: it had extensive burns on its back, leaving the fur unable to regrow, and the scarred skin beneath had become thickened, resembling several rough vines twisted and parasitizing its frail body.
Hang Sheng bit her lip until it turned white; amid the lingering scent of mandarin oranges, she could almost smell the scent of blood.
“Would you like something to drink?” Fang Huajun suddenly interrupted her as her sharp teeth raged.
Hang Sheng released her grip on her lips and snapped back to her senses. “Oh! Anything’s fine!”
Fang Huajun nodded and headed for the only enclosed space on this floor.
Perhaps to keep a close eye on the cat, the kitchen door was made of clear glass, allowing Hang Sheng to see the man’s broad, straight shoulders. He was wearing a brown, horizontally striped Gelato Pique loungewear set—Hang Sheng had the same one, but she didn’t have to worry about wearing the same outfit as her boss once she started work. After all, her own set had been thoroughly saturated with perfume thanks to Hang Tian’s mischief; it would probably take a month of hanging outside in the breeze to completely rid it of that pungent scent.
Fang Huajun came out carrying a cup of coffee. When Hang Sheng met his light brown eyes, she blushed for no apparent reason. Damn it, why was she already thinking about what would happen after she started work?
Hang Sheng rubbed the dark circles under her eyes to prevent those “windows to her soul” from giving away anything embarrassing. Her mom had always said her eyes couldn’t keep a secret.
Fortunately, Fang Huajun showed no interest in prying. He set down the coffee, picked up the cat snoring soundly on the chair, and gestured for Hang Sheng to sit back down.
“As you can see, these are the cats you’ll be taking care of. They aren’t in the best of health, so they always need extra attention.”
Burns, blindness, missing limbs… It was hard to say how many of these injuries were caused by humans, and Hang Sheng felt a pang of unease.
She sighed and asked, “Where did they all come from?”
Clearly, the cats’ affection for him suggested he wasn’t the one who’d harmed them, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was simply a kind-hearted person acting out of goodwill.
“Most of them were rescues, though I occasionally buy one,” Fang Huajun said, casually scooping up a calico kitten that was staggering as it walked, its eyes and nose almost squished together. Speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, he added, “ “Her name is Zhuye. A friend found her while hiking. When she was found, a thin bamboo stick twenty centimeters long was stuck in her right eye. We all thought she wouldn’t survive, but she’s more resilient than anyone—like a leaf that remains lush and green even after being separated from the bamboo.”
Just thinking about that scene sent shivers down Hang Sheng’s spine—enough to make her want to dig up the graves of the villain’s ancestors for eight generations and curse them all.
Fang Huajun’s demeanor remained cold, making him seem like anything but a good person, but Hang Sheng quietly gave him credit in her heart for his kind deed.
“Almost all the cats here have gone through similar ordeals. If you join us, the most important thing is to keep an eye out for any physical abnormalities. Of course, you won’t need to perform any medical procedures—they have their own regular veterinarians. You’ll just need to observe them closely and report any issues promptly.” ” Fang Huajun looked up at her; perhaps because of his fair complexion, his eyes were a pale shade as well. “Since you have experience raising cats, I won’t go into the basics. I’ve outlined the specific duties in the contract—you can take a look.”
As he spoke, he pulled out a thick stack of contracts and signed his name neatly in the “Employer” column: “Starting tomorrow, the total duration is forty-four days. Considering your health condition, you’ll be granted two days of paid leave during your employment. If you choose not to take the leave, it will be converted into triple pay. We’ll also purchase separate insurance for you, but there’s a stipulated penalty clause of 300,000. Are you willing to accept these terms?”
Whether out of financial need or compassion, Hang Sheng had already decided to take this short-term job. For someone currently unemployed, it was undoubtedly the best transitional option—but…
“You haven’t even asked about my situation…” Hang Sheng asked, feeling a bit uneasy.
In this city of low wages and high living costs, a high-paying job had just fallen into her lap out of the blue. Was this northern Myanmar or something?
Fang Huajun pointed at the large group of cats that had already emerged from their hiding spots and looked up at her. “I didn’t call you here to meet you—I just wanted them to make the decision. If they agree, I have no objections.”
Looking at the group of disabled cats sitting in a circle at her feet, Hang Sheng felt an almost impulsive urge to sign her name.
Fang Huajun clenched the pen he’d set down back in his hand and pushed the contract in front of her: “Take a look at the contract first.”
The stack was nearly as thick as a ream of A4 paper, but the actual job requirements took up only two pages. The work itself wasn’t particularly difficult—at least not for a cat lover like her—and the remaining pages were mostly descriptions of the cats’ conditions. The only clause in the entire document that was unfavorable to Hang Sheng was the 300,000 penalty for breach of contract, but as long as she stuck it out until after the Lantern Festival, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. besides, that 300,000 was a constraint on both parties, not just her alone.
Another point to consider was her own cat—she couldn’t just neglect her wayward son at home just because she was going out to earn money and spread kindness.
Fang Huajun said, “You can bring it along. These cats are used to people coming and going. Of course, if it’s very timid, you can keep it in your own bedroom.”
Hang Sheng suddenly asked, somewhat out of the blue, “Then when I leave, you can’t say that it’s actually your cat, right?”
There was a brief silence. Presumably finding her question baffling, Fang Huajun gave a soft snort: “If you’re worried, you can add that clause to the contract.”
Finally, after confirming there were no unfair or exploitative terms and carefully checking the other party’s ID information, Hang Sheng signed her name.
Fang Huajun looked at the name in the “Party B” column and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Only then did Hang Sheng realize she’d made a mistake—she’d just called herself Hang Tian…
If the enemy doesn’t move, neither do I. Since Fang Huajun didn’t bring it up, Hang Sheng hung her head guiltily and pretended nothing had happened.
As she was about to leave, Fang Huajun suddenly called out to her.
“Hang Sheng.” It was the first time he’d called her by name, and his pronunciation was very clear.
“Hmm? Is there something else?” Hang Sheng turned to look at him, a faint sense of unease from her deception lingering in her heart.
But Fang Huajun didn’t bring it up. He looked into her eyes and simply said, “You must come tomorrow.”
A few strands of multicolored cat hair fluttered among the man’s chestnut-brown hair, lending him a softer, gentler air. Was this a request? Just as Hang Sheng was softening her stance to agree, she heard him continue.
“Otherwise, please have 300,000 ready in advance. My lawyer will come by to collect it.”
“……”