Chapter 26

At exactly one in the afternoon, Ai Qing stepped out and arrived at the entrance of Qianxin Pet Hospital.

The hospital’s doorway was already flanked by two neat rows of celebratory fireworks, and the wall beside them was plastered with grand-opening specials. Because it was Sunday, plenty of people were out strolling; anyone walking a dog or cat couldn’t help but drift over to see what was going on.

As more pets and owners clustered at the door, Xiao Youqian and her staff sprang into action—handing out flyers, offering discounts—looking impressively busy.

Ai Qing watched from the sidelines for a moment, then slipped inside without bothering Sis Qian. The first thing he saw was Kong Fugui and the girlfriend he’d recently picked up. She was gorgeous as ever: long hair dyed light yellow, a Shiba Inu on its leash, full make-up, and—because why not—pink pajamas.

Kong spotted him, waved, and called him over for introductions. Ai Qing couldn’t have cared less; heaven knew whether the girl would still be Kong’s girlfriend next week, so he didn’t waste a single neuron on her name.

“You free tonight?” Kong sent his girlfriend off to one side, pulled Ai Qing into a chair, and asked.

“Why?”

“Drinks, man.” Kong slapped his shoulder and grinned. “Bring your girlfriend along.”

Ai Qing blinked. Only then did he realize the “girlfriend” Kong meant was Xiao Yu.

Take a cat to a bar—sure, why not?

“Pass.”

“Come on, when do we ever hang out? Didn’t you say we should go camp outside Lao Wu’s place?” Kong pressed. “We could head over this afternoon.”

“Next time. Seriously tied up today.” Ai Qing shook his head, then cobbled together a decent excuse. “It’s, uh... my girlfriend’s birthday. Promised her a quiet night—just the two of us. Drinking can wait.”

Truth was, Ai Qing never liked alcohol. Back when he, Kong, and Wu Yong first experimented with it, they were just teenagers chasing the hazy thrill of a light buzz. These days he preferred a clear head; it made the words flow when he wrote.

“Fine, fine—birthday it is. I won’t crash the party.” Kong sighed. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Sigh...

Ai Qing stared at the clinic ceiling, speechless.

Out of nowhere, he’d acquired a girlfriend.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“What are you two plotting?” Sis Qian had finally escaped the crowd and walked over.

Her expression was perfectly normal—no hint of anything odd—yet Ai Qing felt her gaze linger on him like she knew something.

How on earth could he explain the women’s clothes he’d bought? Just thinking about it gave him a headache. He could hardly tell her he’d got himself a girlfriend—especially since he had zero romantic feelings for Xiao Yu.

“Planning a drink tonight,” Kong said, palms up, “but this guy ditched me. What do you say, Sis Qian?”

“No time. You see how swamped I am?” She rolled her eyes. “Ask me after the dust settles.”

“Sure, sure—everyone’s busy, everyone’s busy.” Kong exhaled, patted his thigh, and put on a tragicomic smile. “Busy is good, busy is good.”

Ai Qing: “......”

Sis Qian: “...You’re asking for a slap.”

......

And so Qianxin Pet Hospital opened on schedule. Judging by the turnout, it had already made a small splash in Jinpan Yunting Residence.

Ai Qing hung around until three, then lifted himself off the sofa and left. Kong, accepting that tonight’s bar crawl was dead, draped an arm around his girlfriend and headed home. Both families lived in the South District, but the new girlfriend didn’t, so Kong fired up the car and drove to her place.

......

A cat’s ears are sharp.

Xiao Yu’s ears were sharper.

She didn’t know why. Maybe the more times she shifted, the more her inner Warm-Flow burned. In that constant drain she’d sensed something—an opening—and tried to seize control.

Her goal was simple: stop the leak so she could switch from human back to cat before the flow ran dry. If she could do that, she’d decide her own shape from now on.

So far, no luck.

But she’d stumbled onto a side benefit. She could nudge the Warm-Flow, channel it. Send a little extra to her ears and she’d hear farther, catch finer textures of sound.

Before, when Ai Qing came home, she’d hear the elevator, sprint to the door, and wait. By the time his footsteps reached the mat, she knew they were his.

Now she recognized the rhythm the instant he stepped out of the lift.

Unable to wait, she sprang, hooked both forepaws over the handle, and yanked the door open.

Ai Qing froze mid-stride, heart lurching—then saw the little cat head poking through and exhaled. He walked up, crouched, and tapped her on the skull.

“How many times have I told you—no opening the door yourself?”

He was genuinely worried. What if she did it while he was out and wandered off? The thought made him uneasy.

Xiao Yu only stared, bewildered and a bit hurt. She’d heard his footsteps and simply wanted to help. Why the scolding?

They might as well have been two foreigners without a translator—big eyes meeting small ones.

She could grasp a few words she heard often. “Door,” for instance, probably meant this thing that opens.

That was about the limit of her understanding.

Then an idea struck: what if she steered the Warm-Flow into her head?

While she experimented, Ai Qing had already reached the kitchen, opened the fridge, and was scrolling on his phone, ordering birthday supplies.

“I’m cooking you something nice,” he called. “After all, you’re one year old today.”

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