Tang Miao squeezed out through the gap.
The fish stall lady had just finished a rush of customers and was leaning back in her folding chair, resting.
Tang Miao hopped onto the cutting board and padded up to the eldest sister.
She placed both furry front paws on the older sister’s arm, and her little paw pads bloomed open and closed in a steady rhythm.
Left, right. Left, right.
In her past life, she’d watched videos of cats kneading on the internet—it was the highest form of trust and dependence a cat could show.
She’d thought it looked pretty silly back then.
But now, the paws of this little cat body were kneading all on their own, little flower-shaped pads opening and closing.
So comfy~~ (≧≦)
The older sister froze, staring at her for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
“What are you doing? What’s all this fuss?”
Tang Miao felt a wave of human embarrassment wash over her, and her body stiffened.
She quickly withdrew her paws and, in a clumsy attempt to cover it up, lowered her head to lick the fur on her paws.
Then she nudged her head into the eldest sister’s palm once before hopping off the cutting board and darting away.
Next stop: Grandpa Zhang’s pastry stall.
Grandpa Zhang was wearing his reading glasses, arranging the steamed flower rolls he’d made.
Tang Miao slipped out from under the counter and circled around his legs.
She hooked her tail around his calf, rubbing back and forth seven or eight times.
Grandpa Zhang’s eyesight wasn’t good. He looked down for a long while before he spotted her.
“Oh, Orangey’s here?”
He bent down unsteadily, took half a warm flower roll from the steamer, and set it on the ground.
Tang Miao didn’t go for the roll.
She pressed her head against Grandpa Zhang’s foot and rubbed for a good long while.
“What’s gotten into you?” Grandpa Zhang patted her back. “Being awfully clingy today.”
Old Liu happened to be passing by and saw the scene. He snorted.
“This ungrateful little thing—usually eats and sleeps, and now she’s all lovey-dovey? Did she get scared last night?”
“Meow…”
Tang Miao let out a soft cry, trotted over to his meat stall, sat up straight, and waited politely.
“Here we go again, coming to mooch off the pork head meat.”
Old Liu grumbled, but his hands moved quickly, slicing off a piece and setting it on a small plate.
Tang Miao lowered her head and ate.
Much slower than usual.
She chewed every bite carefully.
She was memorizing the taste.
The saltiness of the marinade, the sweet aftertaste of star anise, the faint bite of cinnamon bark, the deep richness of a master broth stock twenty years in the making.
This flavor—she’d never taste it again.
When she finished, she jumped onto Old Liu’s shoulder and rubbed against him again and again.
Old Liu froze, caught off guard.
He usually got meat scraps and blood all over himself when chopping, and the smell could knock a person out.
This cat normally wouldn’t touch him.
“Alright, alright,” Old Liu picked her up and set her on the ground. “Stop rubbing. I’m dirty.”
Tang Miao went to the fruit stall, the vegetable stall…
One stall after another, she rubbed against them all.
At each place, she lingered for a good while.
Rubbing, meowing, or rolling over to show her belly for a pat.
She spent the entire day visiting every single person in the market who had ever been kind to her.
As the older sister was packing up for the day, she asked Old Liu, “What do you think’s gotten into this cat today?””
At ten o’clock that night, the market closed.
The stall owners left one by one.
The old security guard was especially alert tonight. He checked the doors and windows three times and added an extra chain to the side door in the back alley that had been pried open the night before.
Tang Miao began her usual patrol.
The seafood section, the meat section, the vegetable section, the dried goods section…
She spent over two hours crouching in ambush at every corner of the market.
One by one, she took down the three most troublesome rats.
Biting them dead.
Then lining them up neatly beside Old Liu’s meat basin.
Three of them, in a row.
This was the highest form of gratitude a cat could offer.
When she finished, Tang Miao turned and headed toward the seafood section.
She wanted to sleep one last good sleep in her little nest.
As she slipped through the gap, her nose twitched.
Something was off.
There was a new smell.
Deep in the crevice, on top of her little nest—the one the eldest sister had padded with old cotton—there was something extra.
Tang Miao moved closer to look.
A small knitted pouch, about the size of a palm.
The stitches were rough but sturdy, and the two cord straps were just long enough for a cat to wear around its neck.
The opening was fastened with a plastic button.
Tang Miao used her paw to flip the button open and pulled the pouch apart.
It was stuffed full.
The big sister’s homemade dried fish!
Sun-dried, with the heads and tails snapped off, leaving only the middle sections—salty, fragrant, and crispy.
Old Liu’s braised meat jerky!
Cut into little finger-sized cubes, air-dried until hard, able to keep for days.
And two pieces of Grandpa Zhang’s corn cakes, crumbled and tucked into the gaps.
Apple slices dried by Grandma Liu from the fruit stall, thin and rolled up in curls.
There was even a small pinch of Old Sun’s five-spice dried tofu, carefully chopped into bite-sized bits perfect for a cat’s mouth.
Tang Miao’s eyes stung.
They’d noticed.
They could tell.
Her rounds during the day hadn’t been about being clingy.
She was saying goodbye.
These people—the fishmongers, the butchers, the vegetable sellers, the pastry makers—who had spent half their lives scraping by in this northern county town’s market, had understood a cat’s farewell.
They hadn’t stopped her.
They hadn’t locked her up, hadn’t tried to shut her in a cage to “protect” her.
They’d packed her a pouch of food for the road and sent her off with their most heartfelt wishes.
Tang Miao crouched beside that little knitted pouch and didn’t move for a long time.
Her eyes were wet.
A cat’s tear ducts are underdeveloped—she could barely squeeze out a few drops.
But her nose was bright red, and something was lodged in her throat, preventing any sound from coming out.
People say Northeasterners are rough, thick-skinned, and carefree.
But when it comes to their own fur babies, their care knows no bounds.
Tang Miao couldn’t wait to paw open the strap, poking her head through the loop.
She adjusted the position—the weight was just right, wouldn’t hinder her movement.
The little pouch hung securely across her chest.
She turned back for one last look at that gap.
The iron stove had gone out, though a trace of warmth still lingered at its base.
There was a crack in the ceiling above, where sunlight would leak through in a thin strip every day at two in the afternoon, landing right on her napping spot.
She left her old nest there. Someday, another stray cat might move in and become the new household darling.
Tang Miao turned and headed toward the alley behind the vegetable market.
In this small northern town in late February, the night wind still cut to the bone.
But it was far better than the day she’d been reborn.
She’d grown a size and a half rounder, her fur was thicker, her little belly plump, and her four legs full of strength.
The knitted pouch around her neck swayed gently with each step.
…
3:30 AM.
The back street of the vegetable market—the logistics distribution hub.
Though the city was small, its location sat right at the intersection of several major freight routes in North China.
In her past life delivering food, she’d made plenty of trips to the logistics park.
Those big-rig drivers would hit the road at midnight, and when hunger struck, they’d order food on their phones.
Tang Miao slipped through a gap in the chain-link fence.
Over twenty large trucks sat in the lot, long and short—some box trucks, some flatbed trailers.
All engines were off, the cab curtains drawn tight, with the occasional snore drifting out.
Tang Miao wove through the rows of vehicles, picking and choosing.
When she reached the seventh truck, her steps halted. She couldn’t move another inch.
Beijing A!
A Beijing plate!