Chapter 35

He carried three parcels onto the elevator.

The moment he stepped out, his front door swung open.

Ai Qing sighed. Convenient, sure—but Xiao Yu’s habit of flinging the door wide still made him uneasy.

At least only two apartments shared this floor, and the girl across the hall was Xiao Youqian. The lobby downstairs had a facial-recognition lock; no one could reach the eighteenth floor without a key or a face scan. Ever since the dreaded Cainiao pickup point opened downstairs, strangers never wandered up.

Still, he wished he could teach Xiao Yu to speak sooner.

“Stop staring; it’s all for you.” Arms full, Ai Qing shouldered inside. He meant to dump the boxes and close the door, but Xiao Yu darted past him, shoved the door shut from the hallway, and slipped back in before the latch clicked.

Click. Locked.

...Fine.

Ai Qing blinked. He had to admit—handy.

Since learning to take human form, Xiao Yu had been slow with speech and walking, but her wits had sharpened everywhere else. Bigger brainpan, maybe? He tried to frame it scientifically, then chuckled at himself. Discussing science in front of a shape-shifting cat felt like pseudoscience incarnate.

“Come on, unbox.”

He set the parcels on the coffee table and scooped Xiao Yu onto his lap. Pinning one fuzzy paw, he slit the clear tape—once, twice, three times—then dumped her back on the sofa and folded the flaps open.

Whether she understood or simply caught his mood, Xiao Yu nuzzled his arm, soaking up warmth until, still short of overflowing, she chose to shift.

A teenage girl in a white sundress appeared beside him. Ai Qing’s heart skipped a beat.

“Could you warn me before you do that?” He rubbed his temples, gaze drifting to her bare feet.

One discovery hadn’t made it into his diary yet—something he’d noticed last night. Now, before her toes touched the floor, he cupped her ankle and inspected her sole: pale, spotless, the size and shape of a Xiao-Pudding popsicle.

Not that he was a foot guy—he was running a cleanliness audit. Her feet were cleaner than his own sandal-clad ones.

Yesterday he’d tested her storage ability. The umbrella he handed her had rain-spattered stains; the side pocket of his backpack still bore a sticky cola mark. After a round-trip inside “cat-space,” both emerged spotless.

Apparently when she reverted to feline form, dirt got left behind.

He lowered her foot and checked her collar. “As expected.”

“The ink’s gone.”

Last night he’d drawn a tally mark on her dress; now nothing remained. Eyes shining, he gripped her shoulders. “You’re the perfect washing machine! Xiao Yu, you’re amazing!”

She blinked, catching only the praise. If Ai Qing was happy, so was she.

“Okay, shoes.”

He produced a pair of fresh white socks and patted the sofa. “Sit sideways—legs here.”

Weeks of vocabulary drills had paid off; short commands registered. Xiao Yu obeyed, laying her calves across his thighs. The steady warmth flowing from his skin felt heavenly, so she stayed still while he cradled one foot.

He’d never put socks on anyone, let alone a girl whose feet looked air-brushed. The socks slid past tiny toes and stopped just below the ankle—perfect for showing off slender ankles and, per Xiao Youqian’s fashion advice, elongating the leg. Next came white canvas shoes, size 35, already measured and bookmarked in his cart. He loosened the laces, eased them on, and tied neat bows.

“All set.” He clapped.

Xiao Yu didn’t budge, still basking in the heat radiating from his body.

“Earth to Silly Cat—up you get.” He tapped her forehead. “Try a few steps.”

He lifted her to the floor and steadied her hands. “Left, right. You’ve got this.”

She lifted a foot like someone testing ice, wobbled, and the instant he let go she flailed and crashed against his chest.

“Slow going, huh?” He exhaled. “Still a silly cat.”

“Mm?” Tilting her head, she stammered, “N-not... not dumb.”

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