023: Dingdong, a Cat Sends a Dream
Li Zhuren arrived at the police station looking like a storm about to break. Her expression was dark, her brows sharp, and the moment she saw Sang Zhao, she let out a single, explosive laugh.
“Hah!”
Sang Zhao touched the back of his head.
Even though he was one meter ninety, he moved with startling agility, ducking behind Tang Yu and tugging hard at the back of his shirt.
Boss… no, husband… no, boss, say something!
Tang Yu really was reliable. He immediately stood on Sang Zhao’s side, choosing people over principles. “It was the security guard at the badminton center who called the police. Li Zhuren, I really think this was a misunderstanding… probably.”
He still hadn’t figured out why Sang Zhao suddenly leapt up and assaulted someone.
Tang Yu insisted it was a misunderstanding.
The ex-boyfriend with the bruised tailbone did not agree. He was still clutching his backside, face twisted in pain.
“I don’t even know him! He ran up and hit me, how’s that reasonable?!”
Peeking out from behind Tang Yu, Sang Zhao bared his teeth. He also looked furious.
“You didn’t see her crying? You made her cry, then turned around and strutted off like nothing happened. What, you think she doesn’t have fa— doesn’t have people?!”
The ex-boyfriend sucked in a harsh breath. “When did I ‘strut off’?!”
He fell silent for a moment.
Then, facing the girl in the low ponytail, he hesitated. “…Were you crying?”
The girl nodded lightly. Then, seeing the guilt in his eyes, she shook her head as if saying it was fine.
In short: chaos.
Tang Yu kept shielding Sang Zhao.
Sang Zhao took advantage of the protection to make faces at the ex-boyfriend and kept sneaking glances at the girl, looking ready to pounce and beat the guy again the moment she showed distress.
The ex-boyfriend’s hand trembled as he pointed at Sang Zhao. He wanted to be furious, but with his ex-girlfriend watching, his lips simply quivered.
The girl hid her face, knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to help laughing.
The last bit of sadness faded from her eyes, replaced by quiet relief.
Still, the situation needed resolving.
Fortunately, first, the ex-boyfriend wasn’t the kind of jerk who kicked people while they were down.
When the girl explained the situation with a helpless sigh, Sang Zhao finally understood: the two had amicably broken up.
They’d even chosen to end their relationship at the badminton center where they first met.
No cheating, no betrayal, no drama. It was a clean, respectful breakup between two adults. The kind where you could still be friends after.
Because it was emotional rather than moral wrongdoing, the ex-boyfriend was guilty but not guilty.
He had been hit and scolded, but he thought Sang Zhao must be the girl’s relative. It gave him the bizarre feeling of a son-in-law meeting a future father-in-law.
A former son-in-law meeting a black-belt champion ex-father-in-law.
Anyway, with everything explained, neither side pushed further.
While the officer was mediating, Li Zhuren seized her chance and dragged Sang Zhao into a corner.
She lowered her voice, fuming.
“You are—! I really have no words for you. You tiny little cat, blowing up over a damsel-in-distress situation and ending up in a police station?!”
She truly couldn’t understand. “Do you even know her? Why would you attack her boyfriend?”
“It’s ex-boyfriend,” Sang Zhao muttered.
Was that the important part?
Li Zhuren almost glared a hole through him.
Sang Zhao hesitated, then reluctantly explained, “Of course I know her.”
He fidgeted a little, scratching his cheek.
In a small voice, he mumbled, “She’s… she’s my mom.”
“She’s called… He Sangchi, right?”
The Sang in He Sangchi’s name was the same Sang in his own.
Sang Zhao had lived as a pet cat twice.
His first owner, who carried him home wrapped in a little cloth, who fed him, raised him, and called him her baby, was the girl with the low ponytail who cried outside the badminton hall: He Sangchi.
She found him when she was eight.
He “died” and slipped away when she was eighteen.
Sang Zhao rubbed his face and whispered, embarrassed, “I didn’t try to see her. I haven’t seen her in ten years. When I was living with my second owner, I never saw her. Then after I left my second owner, I somehow turned into a human, so I couldn’t go find her anymore.”
He lowered his head, sniffed softly, and confessed with quiet obedience.
“I know… I know I’m not supposed to see my mom again because I’m not a cat anymore…”
“But seeing her suddenly, watching someone make her cry, what was I supposed to do? Why can’t I hit him? Why can’t I?”
Stubborn as a small donkey, he raised his chin.
“It was just one hit. Just one! I didn’t kill him!”
The first half made Li Zhuren soften with something like sympathy.
The second half made her explode again.
“Don’t hit people! Yelling at him would already be barely acceptable for a ‘normal human.’ Beating strangers in public, how is that ever okay?!”
He knew he’d been rash.
Yes, it wasn’t good. Yes, he shouldn’t have.
But if there were a next time? He’d still give that ex-boyfriend another big over-the-shoulder throw.
Finally, the officer wrapped up the mediation. The ex-boyfriend didn’t ask for compensation and hobbled away, holding his bruised tailbone.
He Sangchi didn’t leave. She looked at Sang Zhao, confused, but kind, and extended an olive branch.
“Regardless of everything, thank you.”
Then she asked, “It’s around afternoon teatime. Why don’t I treat you both to some coffee?”
She meant Sang Zhao and Tang Yu.
Sang Zhao agreed immediately.
The three sat down in a café.
Sang Zhao sat beside Tang Yu, across from He Sangchi.
She politely introduced herself and shook hands with them both.
Tang Yu only touched her fingertips briefly.
Sang Zhao, however, had to use every ounce of self-control not to press his head under her palm like the little cat he used to be.
He grabbed her hand with both of his and shook enthusiastically.
“Hello hello! I’m Sang Zhao!”
She was surprised at the coincidence. Sang wasn’t that common a surname. She smiled gently. “Sang, like ‘mulberry tree’? What a coincidence.”
Sang Zhao didn’t tell the truth. He just nodded.
He couldn’t drink coffee, so he ordered a Basque cheesecake. He ate spoonful by slow spoonful, glancing up at her every so often.
He had left her when she was eighteen.
He’d lived another joyful ten years with his second owner.
Now she was 28.
28-year-old He Sangchi was calm, composed, and resilient. Even after a breakup, she restored her mood quickly and gracefully.
“I know you meant well. Thank you,” she said with a soft smile, like a gentle cloud, like translucent ice.
She looked more mature than at eighteen, but her eyes were still bright.
Neither school nor work nor love had dimmed her spirit.
Sitting across from her, she still felt like the same girl who used to run home after school and scoop up her little orange cat.
Sang Zhao silently scraped up the last bit of cake.
He finally asked, slowly, “Then… are you still sad now?”
The little cat looked at her with worried eyes, full of concern.
Her gaze softened, like water.
Seeing how young he looked, she adjusted her tone, explaining slowly, like an adult telling a child about the truths of life.
“Being human is like that. Sometimes nothing changes, but you just can’t keep walking together.”
Sang Zhao didn’t understand.
But his face said he understood everything. His eyes were full of sympathy.
“I don’t get it, but being human is hard, right?”
It really was. Pretending to be human was already hard enough.
Being human must be even harder.
“…I know it’s rude to ask, but why were you so impulsive about helping me?” she asked quietly. “We don’t… seem to know each other, right?”
Tang Yu traced the rim of his coffee cup and listened silently.
Sang Zhao desperately tried to come up with a reason. Maybe he was clever, maybe he was stupid. Either way, he finally asked:
“Have you ever raised a cat?”
Tang Yu turned his head slightly, studying his profile.
He Sangchi didn’t know why he suddenly asked, but politely answered, “Yes.”
“I did. When I was little. It died the year I left home for college.”
Talking about her old cat loosened something in her. She continued softly:
“It was only ten then. In human years, that’s around sixty-five. It should’ve lived much longer.”
She murmured, “It should’ve lived many more years… Bad cat. Not long-lived at all.”
Sang Zhao stared down at the plate, at the few crumbs left.
It was the first time she hadn’t called him good baby, good cat.
And for the first time, Sang Zhao echoed her softly:
“…It was a bad cat.”
Sorry.
He couldn’t live many more years.
Ten was already the start of old age for a cat.
But he had looked young and his physical numbers were too perfect. If he didn’t “die,” someone would’ve grown suspicious.
He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t be exposed.
Little yaoguai had to live very carefully to survive among humans.
Just like now, he couldn’t tell the truth. He had to invent something.
Sang Zhao licked his dry lips and started spinning nonsense.
“The reason I hit your ex-boyfriend today was because I had a dream last night.”
He gestured as he talked.
“I dreamed of a little orange cat. He asked me to come. I think… I think he wanted to visit you in a dream, but maybe he picked the wrong person.”
He picked at his fingers, nervous.
Hearing this, He Sangchi’s head snapped up. She stared at him, utterly shocked.
“…Yes,” she said softly. “It was a little orange cat.”
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