HCKSAB ~ 01

Chapter – 01

Shortly before the end of the workday, Shao Sui received a text message from the hospital: “The little one’s injuries have improved a lot, but it’s not eating much and won’t drink water either. We still recommend taking it home for recovery.”

Attached below was a photo of the patient.

Shao Sui unplugged his computer, neatly stacked the students’ test papers together, and put them into his backpack. Then he poured out the remaining few goji berries from his cup, rinsed it clean, and inserted it into the circular slot.

With a soft click , it fit perfectly in place.

Beside him, Shu Yi asked, “That leather jacket you’re wearing today looks pretty sharp, Teacher Shao. How come you weren’t wearing it this afternoon?”

Shao Sui pushed his chair back under his desk. “Wouldn’t dare. The department head told me to dress more plainly.”

Shu Yi couldn’t help but laugh—she could only say that being good-looking came with its own set of difficulties.

She couldn’t help glancing at another female colleague, Cheng Ke. Earlier on, those two had been the office’s hot couple—both single and attractive, and Cheng Ke had seemed somewhat interested in Shao Sui. But ever since that incident happened, Shao Sui had been stripped of his homeroom teacher position, which had landed on Cheng Ke instead.

From then on, that couple had headed straight toward a BE ending.

After all, no one could keep smiling at the person responsible for dumping a pile of extra work on them out of nowhere.

“Leaving, Teacher Shao?”

“Yeah. Got something to do today.”

Shao Sui left the school before the dismissal bell rang. His home was nearby—just a ten-minute walk away. But his destination at the moment wasn’t home—it was the hospital.

As soon as he stepped inside, an indescribable odor hit him. Shao Sui pinched his mask tighter and furrowed his brow slightly.

The receptionist at the front desk glanced up, then went back to organizing files. “Go up to the second floor. The doctor’s waiting for you.”

The nurse remembered Shao Sui—after all, it was rare to see someone with such great proportions: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs, clearly at least 1.8 meters tall. But every time he came, he wore a mask, so she could never make out his face.

As Shao Sui walked up the side stairs, the nurse tilted her head for a second look. It seemed this pet parent hadn’t brought any chocolate today.

—

Shao Sui knocked on the ward door: “Knock, knock—”

“Come in.” The doctor turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and greeted him, “Mimi’s dad is here?”

Even though he’d heard it a few times already, the corner of Shao Sui’s mouth still twitched involuntarily. If he’d known the doctor would call him that, he never would have said the damn cat was named “Mimi.”

This was a feline ward—very quiet, with only the occasional weak meow breaking the silence.

The doctor said, “Cats are sensitive creatures. They won’t eat or drink if they’re not used to a strange environment. Especially Mimi—she trembles whenever anyone walks past her cage.”

They were facing a cat enclosure that was less than one square meter in size. The litter box and food bowl were placed a little too close together, and both the water and kibble in the bowls were still full.

Huddled in the farthest corner from the litter box was a small ball of cat.

Shao Sui thought to himself, *I’m a person too.*

He turned to the doctor. “May I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,” the doctor said.

Shao Sui raised his query with perfect courtesy: “If you were hospitalized and your toilet and dining table were in the same spot, would you be able to eat?”

The doctor was stumped for a long moment. “There’s no way around it—our feline ward only has single-level cages. The boarding area does have two-story little villas, though… but Mimi is just genuinely afraid of people.”

Shao Sui didn’t think that was cost-effective.

In ten days, Shao Sui had paid over three thousand in hospitalization fees for the cat—more expensive than human medical care. A hotel room of twenty-plus square meters cost only about two hundred a night for a person, and a regular hospital ward was at most three to five hundred a day.

The doctor explained beside him that pet hospitals didn’t receive government subsidies, rent and labor costs were high, they barely made any money, and they were all running a losing business out of their love for animals…

Shao Sui wasn’t really listening.

Originally, this cat had three different colors of fur perfectly arranged across its body, but part of it had been shaved off for treatment. Now it had bald patches here and there, irregular and patchy.

One of its legs was bandaged up due to a fracture, and its little head was wrapped in gauze as well. At this moment, it was curled up in the corner, wrapping its body around its head, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed—fixed intently on Shao Sui and the doctor—with its pointed ears flattened back in fear.

If you looked closely, you could see the cat was trembling slightly.

Shao Sui stood to the side, cool and restrained, showing none of the affection or concern a pet owner would normally have for their own fur baby—no petting, no holding, no cooing in a soft voice to soothe it.

Seeing him like this, the doctor couldn’t help recalling what the nurses had discussed earlier—that the cat’s injuries were clearly man-made, and at over a year old it weighed only five or six jin*, which made them suspect the owner might be abusive.

But that probably wasn’t the case. Shao Sui had already paid several thousand just for the cat’s treatment—someone who abused animals wouldn’t spend that kind of money. If the cat died, they’d just catch another one.

“Calico male cats are extremely rare, especially long-haired ones—only one in several thousand. They have gentle, docile temperaments, no worse than purebreds.”

The doctor might as well have written the words “cherish it well, don’t abuse it” in giant letters across his face.

Shao Sui pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I really have to take it home?”

“My recommendation is yes,” the doctor said. “An enclosed environment is better than an open one. And you’ve already spent thousands—if this continues, its immunity won’t recover… you understand what I mean.”

Meaning if it stayed hospitalized, it might still kick the bucket, and Shao Sui’s money would have been wasted.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Alright,” the doctor said. “If you do take it home, just apply the medication daily. Even though Mimi is very timid, she’s quite well-behaved.”

“Does it still need to take oral medication?”

“Yes. I’ll show you how to administer it later.” The doctor seemed eager to send the cat off and said vaguely, “Once you’re home, give it plenty of canned food—high nutrition, faster recovery.”

Shao Sui glanced at him and curled his lip slightly. “Do you sell that here?”

“Of course.” The doctor led Shao Sui to the retail area on the first floor. “Come to think of it, in all my years in this field, this is the first time I’ve seen a male calico. It really is gorgeous. How long have you had it?”

Shao Sui answered casually, “Not long.”

The doctor chuckled. “No wonder. The two of you act like you barely know each other.”

Shao Sui caught the probing tone but didn’t respond. They indeed weren’t familiar—they’d only known each other for about ten days, and including visits, they’d met just four times.

The doctor had no idea that this little calico was actually a stray. But when Shao Sui had brought it in, he’d told the doctor it was his own cat that had gotten lost and he’d just found it.

Shao Sui scanned the prices on the pet products. “I’m going outside for some air.”

“Sure thing.”

The weather was muggy today. After wearing the mask for a while, a fine layer of sweat had formed on his face. Shao Sui walked to the entrance, picked off a piece of fur that had somehow gotten stuck to his clothes, and let the evening breeze blow over him for a bit.

The hospital was doing good business. Probably because young people these days were tired of maintaining close relationships and sought emotional value without the burden—so more and more of them were getting pets.

But for Shao Sui, bringing a living creature home was an extremely difficult thing.

Most people’s first associations with cats and dogs were “companionship” and “shedding.” Coincidentally, Shao Sui didn’t need companionship, and he had a fairly serious case of OCD and cleanliness obsession. Just stepping into a pet hospital—a place thick with animal odors—was already pushing his limits. It was hard to imagine spending a long stretch of time living with that cat day in and day out.

A voice came from nearby: “Teacher Shao?”

Shao Sui looked up and saw his colleague Cheng Ke. He nodded and gave a polite greeting: “Teacher Cheng.”

Cheng Ke found it curious. “What are you doing here?”

Shao Sui felt it would be too much trouble to recount the whole story, so he simply deflected: “Are you here to pick up your cat, Teacher Cheng?”

“That’s right,” Cheng Ke said. “I dropped her off this morning for a vaccine booster, and now I’m taking her home.”

Shao Sui thought for a moment and asked, “How big of a cage does your cat live in?”

“Who keeps a cat in a cage?” Cheng Ke was a well-known cat enthusiast. “Cats are naturally active and need space to move around. They zoom around the house eight hundred times a day—they’d go crazy in a cage.”

Shao Sui thought of the calico’s fractured leg—it probably couldn’t do any zooming. “So they don’t need a den? Where do they sleep at night?”

“They sleep anywhere except their bed,” Cheng Ke said, glancing at the pet hospital sign. “What’s this? Our always-fastidious Teacher Shao is thinking about getting a cat too?”

“No,” Shao Sui said definitively. “There’s no way I’m getting a cat. I couldn’t stand it.”

Cheng Ke had indeed been somewhat interested in Shao Sui earlier on—first, because he was capable and had a good personality, and second, because he was exceptionally good-looking. But after spending more time with him, you’d realize that some of Shao Sui’s little quirks were hard for most people to tolerate—like his OCD, his cleanliness obsession, and the fact that underneath his warm surface, he was actually a very cold person.

Moreover, Shao Sui didn’t like small animals, which was completely unacceptable to Cheng Ke, who treated her cat like her own child.

Add to that the fact that Shao Sui had recently been stripped of his homeroom teacher title, and Cheng Ke had been reluctantly pushed into taking over the position, working herself ragged—she had completely lost any interest in pursuing Shao Sui.

The two of them were simply incompatible.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Cheng Ke pointed toward the hospital lobby. “Sorry, my cat’s probably getting impatient waiting for me.”

Shao Sui nodded. “Go ahead.”

An auntie walked by with a Samoyed on a leash. The Samoyed thought everyone was a good person and flashed Shao Sui a bright, cheerful smile.

Shao Sui stepped aside to avoid it.

The Samoyed’s smile vanished instantly. It turned its head away coldly and left a little fart behind.

“…”

When Shao Sui went back inside, the auntie was telling the nurse, “My Yeye has been farting a lot lately. Can you check if something’s wrong with his digestive system…”

Just like raising a child—at the first sign of anything off, they’d rush to the hospital in a panic.

In the feline ward, the little calico was still curled up in the corner, pitifully thin, which made its eyes look especially large.

At the sound of footsteps, the little thing flinched violently.

“Ingrate,” Shao Sui said, looking down at it with half-lidded eyes. “Not only did you bite me, but you also pulled a scam on me. I’ve spent thousands on your treatment, and this is the attitude I get.”

Whether it understood him or simply recognized that Shao Sui’s scent was familiar, the fear in the calico’s eyes lessened somewhat, though it still kept its gaze fixed on him.

“The doctor says you’d better come home with me, but you don’t seem too keen on that either.” Shao Sui thought of a perfect solution. “Tell you what—if you’re willing, raise your paw.”

There was no way a cat—especially one with two injured legs—could do that, even if it weren’t hurt.

Shao Sui let out a rare laugh. “Not raising it means you’re not willing—”

Before he could finish, the little calico trembled and raised its tail.

“…Impressive.”

Twenty minutes later, Shao Sui—who’d said there was no way he’d get a cat—stood at the hospital entrance with a carrier and a bunch of pet supplies, side by side with Cheng Ke, who was also picking up her cat. They exchanged a wordless look.

Shao Sui reiterated expressionlessly: “I’m not planning to keep it. I’m just looking after it temporarily until I find its owner.”

Cheng Ke was amused. “So you’re the handsome guy the nurses keep talking about—the one who brings chocolate for the cat every time he visits? But also the suspected abuser?”

The nurses here were friends with her, and they’d mentioned it several times before—a masked handsome guy had brought in a battered male calico, saying it was his own cat. When they asked for the cat’s name, he said it was “Mimi.”

Who in their right mind names a cat that? It was like naming a human kid “Zhang Wei”—the most generic name possible.

The most absurd part was that not only did he come to “visit,” but he also brought chocolate for the cat.

Shao Sui let out a light sigh. “It was already injured when I found it.”

The reason he’d brought chocolate was because he’d heard Cheng Ke mention in the office once that cats actually loved chocolate, but eating it could easily kill them.

And in the first few days of hospitalization, the doctor kept saying the calico might not make it, so Shao Sui brought chocolate every time he visited, figuring that if it was going to die anyway, he might as well satisfy the cat’s cravings.

Even death row inmates got a last meal before execution.

Cheng Ke asked curiously, “So it’s a stray? But you told the doctor it was yours?”

“I found it by the roadside,” Shao Sui said. “I was afraid that if I said it was a stray, the hospital wouldn’t treat it properly.”

Cheng Ke wasn’t sure how to respond. “You’re quite…”

Shao Sui said casually, “I spent that much money—I couldn’t just let it go down the drain.”

A very straightforward mindset.

As teachers, they worked like oxen and horses and only made so much in a month.

Too bad—if Shao Sui had said it was a stray, the hospital might have given him a discount. But the money was already spent, so Cheng Ke didn’t bring it up and make him feel worse.

“At least it survived. Once it heals and the fur grows back, it’ll definitely be adorable.”

Shao Sui glanced at the cat in Cheng Ke’s carrier—its fur was a patchy mess of gray and white, and with its round, chubby body, it wasn’t particularly pleasing to look at.

Adorable? Not at all.

As if sensing Shao Sui’s judgment, the fat cat hissed at him several times.

Cheng Ke patted it and asked, “How do you know it originally had an owner, instead of being a stray all along?”

Shao Sui said, “It had a collar when I found it. Looked pretty new.”

That day, it had been raining heavily. Shao Sui had been holding an umbrella, on his way to work. Because he’d just been removed from his homeroom teacher position, he’d had to hand over work to Cheng Ke while also dealing with the dean’s lectures—he was in a hurry and hadn’t been watching where he was going.

By the time he stepped on the kitten’s tail, it was too late. He’d instinctively said “sorry,” but the startled cat wasn’t inclined to forgive—it bit him right through his sock, right on the ankle.

Shao Sui ended up getting five rabies shots, and he still hadn’t finished the course.

The most absurd part was that the cat was already covered in injuries at the time—rainwater had washed the blood into a reddish stain, it was foaming at the mouth, and trembling uncontrollably.

And yet it still managed to lunge and bite—quite the temper, indeed.

After biting him, the cat collapsed at Shao Sui’s feet, clinging desperately to his pant leg. Rainwater dripped into its eyes but it didn’t blink, as if to say, if you don’t take responsibility, I’m not getting up from here.

“Pure scam artistry, you are.”

Shao Sui couldn’t pry its claws off, so he had no choice but to roll up his pant leg, use it as a sling, and carry the cat to the nearest pet hospital.

That had been one of Shao Sui’s most frustrating days recently. There’d been a lot of unpleasantness at home, dirty water had seeped into his shoes, cat hair had stuck to his pants, he’d been late for work, and after arriving, the dean had lectured him: “Xiao Shao, you need to understand—with the way things are these days, students can’t possibly be wrong. When something happens, it’s always the teacher’s fault. You get that, don’t you?”

All of these things had put Shao Sui in a thoroughly terrible mood.

What’s more, the cat didn’t just have external injuries—the examination also revealed several fine needles embedded in its body, a fractured leg, and it was poisoned as well. The doctor said the hospitalization, surgery, and emergency treatment together would come to seven or eight thousand yuan.

And the step he’d accidentally stepped on hadn’t caused any damage at all.

Shao Sui’s life principle was to fulfill his own responsibilities, have a clear conscience, and absolutely not meddle in other people’s business—especially not when it cost money, given how little he made in a month.

The doctor had also given him a warning: “We can’t guarantee we can save it.”

When those words were spoken, the kitten’s wide eyes shrank slightly, and its claws, which had been gripping Shao Sui’s sleeve, slowly loosened. As if it could understand, it actually showed a hint of human-like despair.

Shao Sui didn’t have to spend this money.

But probably because the doctor said they wouldn’t take it in, and he was in a hurry to get to class—or maybe because he’d gotten caught in the rain and had water in his brain—he actually asked a cat: “Do you want to live?”

Even the doctor was stunned.

Shao Sui said, “Meow once if you want to live.”

The cat, which had been on its last legs, lifted its wobbling head—like a traveler dying in the desert suddenly spotting a cat food can hidden in an oasis—and without hesitation let out a hoarse “Ah!”

It was the first time Shao Sui, who didn’t like small animals, learned that not all cats meowed with a “meow.”