HCKSAB ~ 02

Chapter – 02

Among the people Shao Sui knew, only Cheng Ke had a cat.

He took the opportunity to ask: “Can cats understand human speech?”

Cheng Ke said, “Pretty much like dogs—they can learn to understand some simple commands with training, but they’re not very obedient. My blue-and-white sometimes even pretends not to recognize its own name and completely ignores me.”

Afraid that Shao Sui would dislike cats even more, Cheng Ke added, “But people are all different, and so are cats. Calicos are generally more gentle and well-behaved.”

Shao Sui gave a noncommittal “oh.”

Gentle, huh. The first time they met, it gave him a rabies shot gift package.

Inside the carrier, the calico was, as usual, curled up in the farthest corner. Its ears twitched slightly as it quietly listened to the humans discussing it.

“Poor little thing,” Cheng Ke said, crouching down to look at the calico through the carrier door. “It must have been really pretty originally—its face markings are very symmetrical. It probably ran into some animal abuser or horrible kid while it was stray.”

Shao Sui had asked the property management to check the security footage. The cat had crawled from the flower bed to the roadside on its own, already covered in blood. The security guard said small animals had a kind of intuition—maybe it wanted to get rained on so it would die faster.

Shao Sui, who’d been scammed and bitten, didn’t think so.

“Just unlucky.” It hadn’t even managed to find a kind person to scam—it had run into him instead.

“Stray cats rarely have happy endings—there are too many dangers around.” Cheng Ke asked, “Did you post a lost cat notice in the community group?”

“I also told the property management. No one’s claimed it yet.”

Shao Sui lived in a neighborhood with high turnover—a lot of migrant workers—and not everyone in the group chat was an actual resident.

Cheng Ke sighed. “My baby is way too jealous and doesn’t get along with other cats, or I could foster it.”

Cheng Ke knew very well that if no one had come forward after this long, the original owner probably wasn’t going to show up. And with injuries this severe, who knew how long it had been wandering.

She offered a compromise: “You can keep it for now. If you really can’t handle it, contact me—I can help find someone to adopt it.”

Shao Sui didn’t refuse. “Okay, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. We’re colleagues—it’s only right to help each other out.” Cheng Ke glanced at the pile of stuff by Shao Sui’s feet. “Did you drive here?”

“No.”

“I drove. Want a ride?”

Shao Sui declined, saying he lived close by—mainly because the cat on Cheng Ke’s back clearly didn’t like him and was about to lose its mind, hissing nonstop.

“I’ll head off then,” Cheng Ke said, ending the pleasantries and waving as she headed to the parking lot.

Bringing a cat home was indeed troublesome. A carrier alone was far from enough—he’d need a litter box, litter, and cat food. Considering the cat currently couldn’t lift a paw or jump anywhere, at least he’d save on a teaser wand.

Shao Sui borrowed a cart from the nearby parcel pickup station, loaded everything—including the carrier—onto it, and headed toward Building 8, where he lived.

Driving would have been more convenient, but that came with its own set of problems. If Cheng Ke hadn’t mentioned it, Shao Sui would have almost forgotten he even had a Volvo sitting in the underground garage—he hadn’t driven it in over half a year. He’d have to take it out for maintenance and inspection sometime.

Shao Sui’s place wasn’t big—a rented two-bedroom apartment, just enough for a single man.

He changed into his house slippers while searching online for “what to do after finding a stray cat.”

Most netizens who’d picked up strays already had resident cats at home, and since strays might carry fleas, feline distemper, or other contagious diseases, they usually quarantined them in the bathroom for a while.

For the sake of his own mental well-being as the “resident,” Shao Sui decided to put the cat in the bathroom too.

As someone with cleanliness OCD, Shao Sui’s bathroom was immaculate—not a single hair on the floor, every hard-to-reach corner spotless, with a faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air.

He put on gloves and got the calico out of the carrier.

The doctor had said that based on its teeth and bone age, the calico was over a year old but weighed only a little over four jin—it probably hadn’t had enough to eat while straying.

Shao Sui said, “You’ll stay here for now.”

The calico, hobbling on its injured legs, stayed motionless next to the carrier, cautiously observing its surroundings with its eyes. Once it confirmed that the place was a bathroom, its eyes inexplicably took on a hint of something that looked like humiliation.

Shao Sui figured he must have imagined it.

Little cats didn’t have that many thoughts.

He called out the most generic cat name in existence with zero emotion: “Mimi?”

The cat curled into a ball, resting its head on its tail, eyelids half-closed—whether it hadn’t heard him or simply didn’t want to accept that name was anyone’s guess.

“While you’re recovering at my place, there are rules,” Shao Sui said, sounding rather cold. “You can move freely in the bathroom, but you’re not to touch anything in here. Meow once if you understand.”

Silence.

Oh, so now it’s not the time to play the victim anymore.

Shao Sui said, “Second, you’re living under my roof now, so when I come in to use the bathroom, please hold it in. No biting me, and no scratching either.”

The cat still ignored him, as if it truly didn’t understand.

Shao Sui got up and washed his hands: “Lastly, no peeing or pooping wherever you please.”

The little calico didn’t let out a single mew. It huddled against the carrier, curling into a ball, its eyes carrying even more humiliation than before.

Shao Sui glanced back and seemed to understand: “You don’t want to stay in the bathroom?”

The little calico opened its mouth, as if clearing its throat, then let out a cry exactly like the first day: “Ah!”

Hoarse, like someone pulling on an old bellows.

“You really do understand human speech, don’t you…” Shao Sui narrowed his eyes. “Meow once and I’ll move you somewhere else. Meow—not that.”

The little calico closed its eyes, looking like it had resigned itself to fate. It gathered its strength for a long while before finally squeezing out a meow that sounded like nothing of the sort.

Shao Sui mocked, “That’s more than just a little ugly.”

Luckily, Shao Sui was a man of his word. He moved the cat to the study.

Shao Sui set up the cat bowls, filled them with water and kibble, and placed the litter box by the window for ventilation. He didn’t buy any canned food—one can cost ten or twenty yuan, more expensive than pork, but only had a few dozen grams inside. Total rip-off.

Shao Sui said coldly, “You’d better eat properly. If you starve to death, I won’t even be able to get the medical expenses back from your owner.”

He didn’t take Cheng Ke’s remark that “cats sleep anywhere but their bed” to heart. To keep the cat from shedding all over the place, he still splurged on a bed—over a hundred yuan.

To be honest, a hundred-plus could buy a single bed frame for a person.

From this, Shao Sui concluded that people who keep cats, just like people who raise kids, are all suckers.

He bent down, scooped up the cat, and placed it into the soft bed. Even through his gloves, he could feel the cat’s burning hot body temperature and rapid heartbeat.

Its bones were clearly defined, a bit bony to the touch.

“The three rules from earlier still stand. Don’t run around, and don’t touch my things.”

The calico turned its body around and pointed its rear end at him in response.

“…”

Shao Sui accepted the fact that he wasn’t popular with animals. After all, liking was a two-way street.

After settling the cat, he went out to return the cart to the parcel station, then stopped by the supermarket to buy some groceries for dinner.

Cheng Ke seemed a bit uneasy about him taking care of the cat and sent over some temporary cat-care tips—like making sure windows and doors were shut, and not leaving fragile items on the desktop.

Also, to wear thick gloves when changing the dressings. Injured kittens were usually more sensitive and might accidentally hurt someone, so to be as patient as possible.

Teacher Cheng: Whatever you do, don’t give it chocolate—it’s toxic to cats, and grapes too.

Teacher Cheng: It might not eat on the first day home, which is normal. Find a small room or bathroom for it to get used to the environment first, and don’t force a hold.

Shao Sui: Okay.

Shao Sui didn’t think he’d ever force-hug a cat—that was a joke.

Just from that brief moment earlier, his sleeve was already covered in several cat hairs.

Before bringing it home, he’d also considered having the vet shave all the calico’s fur off. But on second thought, being hurt while out on the streets was bad enough—if it turned into a bald cat too, wouldn’t it get depressed? Though he wasn’t sure if cats could get depressed.

Either way, if someone tried to shave his head, he definitely wouldn’t be happy about it.

Take that one dean who was hell-bent on making him go bald, for instance.

To get the medical expenses back from the cat’s owner, Shao Sui decided to treat this unlucky little creature decently for now.

Cheng Ke sent a voice message: “Oh, by the way, my nurse friend told me your cat isn’t refusing to eat, but it’ll only eat canned food—that’s why the vet wanted you to take it home.”

After all, when a cat is hospitalized, the clinic can’t exactly charge the owner extra for food, but they also can’t just stand by and watch it starve.

Shao Sui didn’t comment on the words “your cat.” He replied with a simple “Got it, thanks.”

Teacher Cheng: You could post some info about the cat on social media and see if you can find its owner.

Shao Sui: Okay, I’ll give it a try.

By the time he got home and had dinner, it was already late. Shao Sui still couldn’t rest—he had to grade the papers his students had taken that afternoon. But the moment he walked into the study, he found the cat was gone.

Shao Sui scanned the room and called out flatly, “Kitty?”

No response.

Shao Sui glanced at the screen window, which was made of sturdy metal mesh. The disabled little calico probably didn’t have the strength to claw through or open it.

He furrowed his brow, closed the door behind him, and started searching the room like a villain, calling out with zero emotion: “Kitty?”

Eventually, he found the cat in the rightmost compartment of the second-to-last shelf of the bookcase, curled up in the little triangular space between the books and the shelf. He had no idea how it had climbed up there.

Such a tiny little ball.

Now that it was discovered, the calico just stared at Shao Sui with its round eyes, its bandaged paw held stiffly in front of it, as if ready to draw blood if things went south.

Where exactly was the “gentle” in this?

The book next to the cat was still in its plastic wrap, untouched since purchase, so it wouldn’t get dirty. Shao Sui decided to leave the cat alone, sat down at the desk, and put on his silver-rimmed glasses. His whole demeanor instantly turned exceptionally cold and aloof.

“Relax, I’m not interested in you. Once we find your owner, we’ll go our separate ways.”

The calico trembled slightly, out of Shao Sui’s line of sight.

The human in front of it had been bent over, writing and marking nonstop. Aside from the sound of the pen scratching against the test papers, it was very quiet.

Probably safe for now.

The little calico stared at the human’s back, but in the end, it couldn’t hold out any longer. Its eyelids drooped, exhausted and sleepy. It tucked its paws together and curled itself into a ball.

Its consciousness slowly sank. Just as it was about to fall asleep, a “thump-thump” sound came from upstairs—like a child playing with a ball.

The noise was trivial to a human, but it jolted the calico wide awake. It propped itself up and warily scanned its surroundings. Just then, the human finished grading the papers and glanced back. Seeing the cat in that state, he completely misunderstood.

Shao Sui let out a scoff: “If only those students were all as afraid of me as you are.”

The cat food next to him was still full—not a single kibble seemed to have been eaten, by the look of it.

Shao Sui said abruptly, “Is starving to death really more comfortable than being poisoned?”

Logically speaking, a cat shouldn’t be able to understand such complex human speech, but the little calico in front of him trembled slightly and fell rather silent.

Shao Sui didn’t know why he was projecting expressions onto a cat. He shook his head, remembered what Cheng Ke had said about giving the cat time to adjust to its environment on its own, and decided to leave the study to the cat while he prepared his lessons in the living room.

At the study door, he asked politely, “Need me to leave the light on for you?”

“Okay, no need.”

Shao Sui flipped the switch off with a click.

“…”

Darkness gave the cat a sufficient sense of security. It was a long while before it jumped down from the bookshelf—only to lose its balance because of its broken leg and fall straight to the floor.

But hunger drove it to get back up stubbornly and hobble over to the food bowl, where it began chomping away at the kibble.

None of the hospital staff knew why it would only eat canned food—but this human had guessed it:

It wasn’t picky. It was afraid of being poisoned again. Only canned food that was opened right in front of it felt safe.

But this human it had run into this time seemed really poor—he couldn’t afford cans.

That day, the rain had been heavy. It was nearly dead and didn’t have the strength to pick and choose passersby.

Normally, it would have looked for a female human with nice pheromones and the scent of cats on her—like that teacher surnamed Cheng—rather than this broke male human who made fun of its ugly voice.

But Teacher Cheng already had a cat at home—and a fierce one at that.

It could understand. If it ever found a fragrant, wealthy caretaker who doted on it completely, it would want to keep them all to itself forever, never allowing a third party to intrude.

The little calico ate its kibble while letting out pitiful, spoiled little whines.

The kibble was so hard—it hurt its teeth.