Shang Xuci remained unmoved.
The little white cat blinked its large, clueless, dewy eyes at him. It stretched out a soft paw—claws retracted—and let out a few urgent “meow meow” sounds.
Hurry and eat! Once you eat it, it won’t hurt anymore!
Wrapped in a slightly transparent candy wrapper, the deep red candy had no stick and no visible brand. It was the prettiest one Jian Xun had picked from the tabby cat’s stash.
Under sunlight, the candy wrapper reflected multiple layers of color. Once Shang Xuci finished the candy, Jian Xun planned to retrieve the wrapper and save it in his cardboard box.
From the cat’s gaze, Shang Xuci saw a sense of expectation. Amid the absurdity of the moment, a strange warmth unexpectedly bloomed in his chest.
The last time he’d eaten a candy like this was when his mother was still alive.
As if under some inexplicable compulsion, Shang Xuci unwrapped the candy and placed the unknown sweet into his mouth.
Seeing the man eat the candy, Jian Xun was so thrilled he nearly jumped up. The last time he failed to give away the cookies had been such a letdown.
Now, the whole little cat sat upright on the chair, head tilted up, tiny paws pressed together, happily swishing its tail.
In his mind, the progress bar on their relationship panel had just ticked up!
Hehe, even if it’s just by one point.
Shang Xuci didn’t notice the little white cat’s joy from his small action. The sweet-and-sour flavor spread across his mouth, and as he swallowed the sweetness, it felt like time was pulling him back to his childhood.
His mother had always liked to keep candies nearby. Every time she saw him, she would hand him one—until she found out he had cavities, and never gave him another. Young Shang Xuci had once asked what kind of candy it was, and his mother had told him she made it with magic.
After she passed away, Shang Xuci tried countless candies—but none ever tasted like the one his mother gave him.
And today, somehow, he’d tasted it again.
He looked down at the little kitten. The kitten had the candy wrapper in its mouth, its rear end sticking up as it tried to hide the wrapper among the flowers.
He would come back for it when it was time to go home.
After hiding it, the kitten turned around—only to meet Shang Xuci’s deep, unreadable gaze. Jian Xun looked up nervously, took two small steps forward to close the distance, and waited anxiously for a reaction.
But the man said nothing. Instead, he took out his phone and made a call.
“Are you coming back to the country?”
“Yeah, in the next few days. My contract’s about to end.”
“I’m at Huapai Tree. Come here once you’re back.”
“…Has the condition worsened again?” the man overseas asked, frowning and adjusting his glasses.
“You’ll know when you get here.”
Gu Ming was the only friend Shang Xuci could truly trust. Their mothers had been best friends, and the two families used to live next door when they were little. Gu Ming was a few years older and often played with him. Because Shang Xuci was frail, Gu Ming once told him that when he grew up, he would become a doctor and cure him. Shang Xuci had thought it was just a comforting lie—but Gu Ming actually did become a doctor. A genius doctor, at that.
After Shang Xuci’s mother passed away, the Gu family immigrated overseas, and Gu Ming left as well. But they never lost contact—their bond remained just as strong.
In his previous life, after dying such a tragic death, perhaps only Gu Ming had shed a few tears for him.
He remembered the day he ended up in a wheelchair—the argument between Gu Ming and the attending physician. That was when he found out someone had been poisoning him since he was a child. If Gu Ming had been the one to treat him from the beginning, his legs might never have become paralyzed.
It was all the doing of his dear stepmother and the people behind her.
Shang Xuci’s eyes turned cold with disgust.
After hanging up the phone, he glanced sideways and saw the little white cat carefully grooming its fur.
“Do you want some milk?”
“Meow?” Jian Xun tilted his head.
Shang Xuci stood up and went inside to pour some food and milk for the cat.
Only after the cat began eating did he take out his own medicine. He glanced at it but didn’t take it, then closed his eyes to rest.
Next to him, Jian Xun munched happily, feeling like the luckiest kitten in the world. He even thought about moving his whole nest here—but then remembered that the boss wouldn’t stay here forever and gave up the idea.
On the way back, the little white cat walked in an awkward same-paw-same-foot gait, wearing a blissful smile. His head was held high like a king patrolling his territory—if one ignored his disabled hind leg.
He was full of joy and completely at ease.
Completely unaware that Shang Xuci was following him.
The man’s gaze was complicated.
So the cat really was crippled.
A scrawny little stray—who knew how it had even survived—and it had even brought him things.
And dared to hit people.
Perhaps this little white cat was the first living creature to show him kindness since his rebirth. Shang Xuci found himself deeply curious about it.
He followed the cat through a series of left and right turns, finally arriving at an abandoned building in the sanatorium grounds. The cat turned into a hidden corner.
There sat a square cardboard box with the words “Peace and Safety All Year” written on it. The top of the box had collapsed slightly and was propped up by a small stick. When the little cat crawled inside, its tail carefully avoided the stick. As it entered, the box let out a creaky sound—it looked like it could collapse at any moment.
Shang Xuci frowned slightly. The living conditions were terrible, and the box looked downright dangerous.
But Jian Xun had no idea what Shang Xuci was thinking. He was clever—hadn’t he reinforced the box with a stick like a pro?
Had anyone ever seen a cat smart enough to do that?
Well, he could!
Jian Xun lay in his cardboard box thinking: Today, the boss ate my candy—so that means he’s acknowledged me as his cute little cat! If I keep spending time with him, acting all adorable and pitiful, getting into his house is just around the corner!
He was so happy he wanted to roll around!
Meanwhile, Shang Xuci silently examined the poor living conditions, completely unaware that the little cat in the box was plotting to move into his life. The man walked around the area once, and after confirming that the surroundings were shabby but safe, he left.
…
One week later, at the Huapai Tree Sanatorium.
Gu Ming stood in the hospital room holding Shang Xuci’s medical file. After reading the long list of test results, the grave look on his face finally eased into a faint smile.
“I thought your condition had worsened, but it’s actually the opposite.”
“I was never that seriously ill to begin with,” Shang Xuci said calmly. His gaze shifted from the little white cat licking milk by the window to Gu Ming. Reaching into a cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of medicine.
“This is what the Shang family gave me. When you have time, test it and see if there’s anything wrong with it.”
Gu Ming froze as he took the bottle. “You mean…”
But Shang Xuci simply shook his head in silence. Gu Ming clenched the bottle tightly and didn’t press further. He knew bits and pieces of Shang Xuci’s situation—and this wasn’t something that could be soothed with a few comforting words. All he could do was help him however he could.
“When can I be discharged, given my current condition?” Shang Xuci asked softly, lowering his gaze. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”
He’d been resting too long. Every time he was hospitalized, it lasted at least half a year. He hated the smell of disinfectant.
“One month,” Gu Ming replied, looking him in the eye. “From now on, I’ll be your attending physician. Whatever’s been going on with your body, I’ll investigate and resolve it personally. Just trust me.”
“Brother Gu, thank you,” Shang Xuci said sincerely.
Gu Ming smiled and shook his head. “There’s no need for that between us.” He was an only child and had always wished for a younger sibling, but that wish never came true. After meeting Shang Xuci, he genuinely saw him as a younger brother.
Noticing that Shang Xuci kept glancing toward the window, Gu Ming looked over—and was surprised to see a small white kitten.
Jian Xun, though busy eating, was also carefully listening to their conversation. In the novel, Gu Ming was Shang Xuci’s only true friend, but he didn’t appear until later in the story. Jian Xun was genuinely happy that someone had arrived early to help Shang Xuci this time.
“I remember you have a veterinary license,” Shang Xuci said.
“I do. I got it back in college,” Gu Ming replied. He had a photographic memory, which made studying medicine much easier. He loved anything related to the field, and veterinary science was one of the areas he’d pursued.
“Take a look at its leg injury for me,” Shang Xuci said, pointing at the little kitten by the window.
Gu Ming was surprised that Shang Xuci would actually care about a cat. He walked to the window to look at the little white kitten, who didn’t shy away. There were two bowls on the windowsill—clearly placed there by Shang Xuci.
But Gu Ming knew that Shang Xuci had never shown any interest in furry animals growing up. He probably just got bored and decided to feed it on a whim.
Gu Ming reached out and petted the little white cat. The cat let out a soft meow.
Huapai Tree Sanatorium was an exclusive facility run by the Shang family, catering to the wealthy. Some rich housewives liked to keep pets, so the sanatorium also had a veterinary department.
Gu Ming carried the obedient cat to the pet exam room.
Shang Xuci came with him.
On the examination table, Jian Xun watched the man who carried him change into a lab coat, put on gloves, and begin disinfecting tools.
His eyes widened instantly—he had a rough idea of what was about to happen. His little paws trembled involuntarily. He glanced at the syringe in Gu Ming’s hand, then at Shang Xuci standing in the doorway, blocking the only exit, and a primal fear welled up inside him.
But he also knew that Gu Ming and Shang Xuci meant well. He stayed frozen in place, not daring to move, staring unblinkingly at the cat in the next room being held gently by its owner, who was speaking to it in soft, comforting tones.
Jian Xun was envious.
When he had been human, lying in a hospital bed with tubes inserted, the sharp pain had felt like it would pierce through his lungs. He had been in agony, gasping for breath, with no one by his side. All he could do was clutch the sheets, clenching his teeth as silent tears streamed down his face.
Now that he was a little kitten, he just wanted to let go and act spoiled. He desperately wanted someone to hold him and comfort him.
But…
He looked longingly at Shang Xuci, the light in his eyes dimming slightly.
He still wasn’t the boss’s kitten.
Shang Xuci noticed the little white cat glancing at him over and over again—sometimes with bright, hopeful eyes, other times with a hint of disappointment—as if it cared deeply about his reaction.
He stepped into the room and said to Gu Ming, who was holding the syringe, “Try not to hurt it too much. It’s still very small.”
“Feeling soft-hearted?” Gu Ming teased with a smile.
“Look at it—it’s trembling with fear.”
Jian Xun let out two soft, pitiful meows, doing his best to act brave while clearly overwhelmed.
“You really are taking this little cat seriously,” Gu Ming said, gently laying the stiff, pancake-like kitten down on the table. He first used a machine to run a full-body scan, then moved on to examine the leg.
“Its stomach is full of garbage. A kitten’s digestive system is very delicate—it can’t just eat anything,” Gu Ming said, his tone turning serious. Fortunately, the little cat’s condition wasn’t severe, but its leg would require long-term treatment to fully recover.
At this, Shang Xuci’s body tensed slightly. He frowned and said in a low voice, “I fed it cat food and milk.”
He had never raised a pet before, but his younger cousin had purchased the supplies, and the quality should’ve been decent. Judging by the cat’s health, though, it must’ve had a very rough life before—it had probably eaten anything it could find.
Thinking back to the little cookie and candy from before, Shang Xuci let out a sigh.
What right did he have to blame a stray cat for eating random things? It was already a miracle that a stray cat could survive at all—especially one that had been abandoned. It had no one to rely on but itself.
The dazed little kitten lay motionless as the cold needle pierced into his body. In a fuzzy haze, he heard Gu Ming say, “It’s really well-behaved. What do you think? I think you should adopt it.”
Gu Ming corrected himself, “No—I mean, I recommend you adopt this kitten.”
Cats could soothe and heal people, and he thought Shang Xuci could benefit from that.
Hearing those key words, Jian Xun perked up. But no matter how hard he tried to stay awake, his eyelids kept growing heavier.
Just a little longer… just a little longer and I’ll hear the boss’s answer…
So sleepy… so very sleepy…
Shang Xuci’s voice was calm: “I don’t keep cats.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the little white cat closed his eyes.
…
When Jian Xun woke up, he was lying in a soft, clean cat bed. Instinctively, he looked around for someone, but the room was completely empty. He shifted slightly—his injured leg was bandaged.
Meow meow?
He felt a little scared… being a lone cat in a strange place.
In the following weeks, Dr. Gu treated him regularly, and Shang Xuci would occasionally come to visit.
Soon, the first stage of his treatment was complete. He still walked with the same limp as before—but at least it didn’t hurt as much now.
Jian Xun became even more convinced that Shang Xuci was a really good person—at the very least, his greatest benefactor!
One day, under the guidance of his big brother, the tabby cat, Jian Xun learned a few basic self-defense moves.
The key point was: even if you weren’t strong, you had to act like you were.
While sunbathing on the windowsill, Jian Xun noticed Shang Xuci packing his things. That’s when he realized—the boss was being discharged today.
A luxury car pulled up at the sanatorium entrance.
Jian Xun saw a middle-aged man step out of the car and take Shang Xuci’s suitcase, speaking to him as they walked. Then Shang Xuci opened the car door and got in.
“Meow?” The kitten immediately stood up.
“Did you forget about me?!”
Jian Xun dragged his injured leg as he hurriedly ran out.
Just as the driver stepped on the gas, he glanced at the rearview mirror and asked, “Young Master, is that your cat?”
“No,” Shang Xuci replied, his gaze fixed steadily on the laptop in his lap. His fingers paused slightly, but he didn’t glance back even once.
“Let’s go.”
The moment the car pulled away—
The little white cat ignored the bandages on his hind leg, gritting through the pain as he ran after the car.
He limped and chased with all his might, running desperately!
Staggering and stumbling, meowing as he went. Soon, the white gauze on his leg began to seep with blood. The kitten fell to the ground, watching helplessly as the car grew farther and farther away. A heart-wrenching, desperate wail tore from his throat.
“Meow meow meow!”
Don’t leave me!
Jian Xun was on the verge of tears, his cries urgent and full of sorrow.
He collapsed, pressing his face against his paws, tail drooping. Lying on the ground like a trampled flower, he gradually lost all strength—completely still.
Shang Xuci caught a glimpse of the fallen kitten in the rearview mirror.
His heart clenched violently.
He suddenly remembered those dewy eyes… that collapsing cardboard box… that little piece of candy…
Shang Xuci’s expression darkened.
“Turn back.”
El no me dejes dolió y mucho 😢
Si lloré 🙁