Liang Xue understood the situation, and she couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood up and spoke.
Liang Wei looked back and saw his brother glaring at him.
“Brother, why are you here?” Didn’t he say he was inspecting this area today? Why hadn’t anyone announced it?
Liang Wei instantly cowered.
“If I hadn’t come, how would I have seen this?” Liang Shuang snorted. “Do you always use your authority to bully your subordinates?”
He turned his gaze to Jian Xun—a thin, small man with clear eyes and an innocent, harmless expression. He didn’t look like someone who would steal anything.
Knowing his brother’s nature, Liang Shuang was certain the young man was being wrongly accused.
Liang Wei argued, “That kid’s a complete liar. Brother, don’t believe him.”
“Then how much is missing?” Liang Shuang asked, speechless as his eyes fell on the bags of dried fish scattered on the ground. There weren’t many—worth less than a hundred yuan. A fight over such a trivial matter was undoubtedly caused by his spoiled younger brother.
It was clear he must have taken a dislike to this kid.
Just thinking about it gave Liang Shuang a headache. He stood up and said, “It’s just a few bags of dried fish. No need to make such a big deal out of it. Let’s just forget it.”
Xu Tutu frowned, his previous good impression of the man gone. “What do you mean, ‘just forget it’? He hit my brother! Shouldn’t he apologize? Besides, my brother didn’t steal anything. Shouldn’t he be cleared of all charges?”
Jian Xun caught the boss’s displeased smile, quickly tugged at Xu Tutu’s sleeve, and whispered, “Brother, let’s forget it. The boss said so.”
“You fool! It’s one thing for the master to bully you, but how can we let these people take advantage of us?” Xu Tutu said angrily. “No matter what, an apology is necessary.”
Liang Shuang glanced at Liang Wei, who immediately said, “I was beaten too. Shouldn’t he apologize as well?”
Seeing his brother getting truly angry, Liang Wei—feeling frustrated—stepped forward and said to Jian Xun, “Little boy, I’m sure you didn’t steal it. Liang Wei is just like that. Don’t take it personally. Just work hard. Our factory won’t mistreat anyone.”
Xu Tutu let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Won’t mistreat anyone? What a statement… tsk.”
Jian Xun shook his head, looked at Liang Shuang seriously, and said, “I’m just a part-time worker. After something like this, if my name isn’t cleared, I’ll have to leave. Besides, he’s your relative—the boss’s family. If you leave today, he’ll definitely make things difficult for me. I just hope you can have my wages paid.”
He spoke his mind, completely oblivious to the possibility of offending others.
This matter could be serious or minor, but Jian Xun valued his reputation. If Liang Wei dared to treat him like this now, who knew what he might do later?
After what happened, Jian Xun had no intention of continuing to work at this factory.
The money had to be taken.
Liang Shuang knew her brother’s temper, and seeing Jian Xun’s insistence, she decided not to keep him here any longer.
Coincidentally, someone from the Finance Department was following him today. He waved them over, had them fetch the cash, and put it in a bag, which he then handed to Jian Xun.
The heavy bag felt substantial. Jian Xun, who mentally calculated his earnings every day, could tell from the weight that it was quite a bit.
He opened the bag in front of everyone, counted out twenty bills, and handed the rest back to Liang Shuang. “I’m working part-time—one hundred yuan a day. I’ve worked exactly twenty days this month, so a total of two thousand yuan.”
The boy’s beautiful almond-shaped eyes blinked, his long, curly eyelashes fluttering. His clean demeanor and upright behavior made this skinny child’s soul seem even more noble.
“I just want the money I earned through hard work—the money I deserve.”
It was the first time Liang Shuang had ever been refused money, and he found himself admiring Jian Xun even more. Taking back the extra cash, he smiled and said, “I remember you wrote on your employee list that you have a cat. Go pick up a few bags of dried fish from the front desk later. They’re not worth much, so consider them payment for your work this morning.”
Jian Xun nodded firmly, dumped the bag of dried fish from his backpack onto the table, packed up his things, and—without so much as a glance at the people he’d just argued with—slung his backpack over his shoulder, tugged at Xu Tutu’s sleeve, and walked out.
The sun was setting, its fiery red light slipping quietly behind the mountain peak. The dim moon hung hazily in the sky, patiently waiting for night to fall.
Jian Xun walked side by side with Xu Tutu, clutching his purse.
He said, “Although cats like dried fish, we don’t usually steal it.”
Xu Tutu nodded. “It’s okay. We’ll boycott this factory and buy dried fish elsewhere.”
“Yeah.” Jian Xun still felt it was a pity; he’d quite enjoyed this easy, slacking job.
The young cat’s ears drooped, his tail motionless. His voice was low. “You’ll have to find me a new job.”
Xu Tutu comforted him. “Take your time. It’s fine if you can’t find one. I’ll support you.”
Jian Xun’s eyes brimmed with gratitude. “Brother Tutu, you’re so kind!”—words he had repeated countless times.
Xu Tutu patted his head. “Come on, I’ll treat you to fish.”
…
Xinyu Office Building
The desk was cluttered with documents; a cell phone was carelessly tossed aside, and a fine mist of steam rose from the coffee cup.
Shang Xuci reached for the cup, his narrow eyes narrowing slightly. A hint of annoyance flickered in his gaze, and his demeanor grew even colder.
After reviewing the last document, he stood, grabbed his bag, and left work.
Driving home, Shang Xuci stopped at a nearby supermarket for groceries. Passing by an overpass, he spotted a fortune teller.
The man was young, wearing sunglasses and the latest designer clothes. He sat at a small stall, cracking sunflower seeds.
Because his presence felt so out of place among the sleazy crowd around him, Shang Xuci gave him a longer look—and was promptly stopped.
“Sir, you look troubled. Have you lost something?” The young man straightened, met Shang Xuci’s eyes, and smiled. “I can tell you anything.”
Shang Xuci glanced at the sign indifferently. Just as he took a step forward, the man said, “Lost cats, for example.”
Shang Xuci paused and turned to look at him. The man pointed at the sign and said, “I’ll be setting up here every Friday this month. You’re not allowed to come looking for me. No charge.”
Shang Xuci sat down in front of him and got straight to the point. “Can you find my cat?”
“Of course. But you’ll need to tell me roughly when your cat went missing, as well as your birth chart,” the man said confidently.
Half-doubtful, Shang Xuci wrote down the information on a piece of paper.
After a few minutes of thought, the man began, “Your cat is male, white, and should be a lion cat that’s just reached adulthood.”
“There’s more?” Shang Xuci asked. This wasn’t hard to guess—anyone who knew him knew he’d lost a lion cat. The story had been in the media just a few days ago, and the high clue reward had gone viral.
“Your cat… huh?” The man’s expression shifted slightly. After a few seconds, he continued, “He’s in good health. You haven’t had him neutered yet, have you?”
“No.”
“Where can I find him?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not the right time to meet him yet. You’ll see him on the weekend after the Lunar New Year holiday.”
Shang Xuci lowered his eyes, frowning slightly. The Lunar New Year was still nearly a month away.
“He left home on his own and will return on his own.”
“Left on his own?” Shang Xuci repeated, then asked, “Why?”
“You can’t predict a cat’s thoughts. Maybe he wants freedom, maybe he’s been wronged, or maybe he’s just out playing for a while,” the man speculated casually. Then, noticing his guest’s serious expression, he glanced back at the divination and said in surprise, “Oh, check your study when you get home. You might find something unexpected.”
“How much?”
The man pulled out a payment code. “First-time special. Don’t pay 888—just 88.8.”
Shang Xuci took out his phone and paid.
“Come again next time.”
After shopping, Shang Xuci went home and answered a call from his school advisor.
Once he finished, he went to the study to get his things. Remembering the fortune teller’s words, he carefully checked the floor around his desk and found a note near the table leg.
It was addressed to him.
Shang Xuci’s face darkened, his eyes cold as he unfolded it.
In crooked, bug-like handwriting—
I’m leaving, but I’ll be back.
Don’t worry.
Oh, I borrowed a pair of your pants. I’ll return them. ^＿^*
The signature was a red, plum-shaped cat paw print.
Shang Xuci sat for a long time, clutching the note.
His cat had left on its own.
They had promised not to be apart.
He couldn’t remember how many clothes and pants he’d bought over time, but when he checked his closet, he found that a pair he often wore was indeed missing.
Taking inventory of the cat’s belongings, he found some food missing, and the cardboard boxes—save for a small blanket—were empty.
A premeditated departure.
A cat leaving a message was absurd. Shang Xuci didn’t want to dwell on its meaning; all he could think about was that the cat had left on its own. He couldn’t understand why Sui Sui had run away.
His gaze drifted to the cat’s toys, then settled on his tablet.
It was no longer possible to judge Sui Sui’s thoughts using ordinary feline logic. He opened the tablet and checked the browsing history of the few websites the cat had visited.
[How to be cute and endearing?]
Shang Xuci’s eyelashes fluttered. He remembered how Sui Sui used to collapse in front of him just to act cute—scratching his ears, winking, tilting his head, and making those sticky, clingy little cat sounds.
One post read: If my cat could cook and do chores for me, I don’t know what a happy and blessed poop-shoveler I’d be! I love cats so much!! —and it had received a like.
Then came related searches for [cooking and housework].
Obviously, the results were unimpressive.
Shang Xuci’s heart gave an involuntary tremor when he saw the post [What if your cat initiates affection, but is rejected?]. His chest felt tight, and his fingertips—gripping the tablet—turned pale. He closed his eyes, then opened them again.
[Cat toy prices.]
[How much does it cost to raise a cat per month?]
Shang Xuci fell silent. This cat knew everything.
His long, beautiful knuckles flexed as he scrolled further, clicking through more of the browsing history. The next few posts made him pause.
[How to find a good cat owner?]
[How to scam rich people and become a wealthy second-generation cat?!]
Shang Xuci’s eyelids twitched several times, and he fell into deep thought.
What? Was this what Sui Sui really wanted?
…
After being given a new life, few things could stir Shang Xuci’s emotions. Even his hatred for Shang—the vengeful feelings that came from a god’s perspective—brought him no pleasure.
The only variable was his cat.
Others might simply say to get a new cat when one is gone, but they don’t understand how wonderful Sui Sui is. He makes his bed and curls up to sleep soundly in his arms at night—utterly adorable.
He knows he likes cleanliness, so he mops the floor, learns to cook, and accompanies him at work. Even when he’s in a bad mood after his rebirth, the cat can sense it and stays quietly by his side, baring her belly.
A kitten’s heart sparkles like a diamond—precious, beautiful, and the most endearing thing in the world.
Now that he’s gone, his heart feels empty.
He still has his grandmother and his friends, but in Sui Sui’s world, he seems to be everything.
Cats can’t speak; they use their actions to please and care for their humans. Unlike people, they can only read their owners’ moods through emotions and gestures.
He knows Sui Sui is special—different from other cats.
What kind of mood was he in when he searched for all that information?
Where is he now?
Is he hungry?
Is he cold?
Will stray cats bully him?
Will I… miss him?