024: Hello, Little Cat Guardian!
Sang Zhao nearly crumpled under He Sangchi’s gaze.
Yes, he’d changed his tone, shifted the angle, softened his delivery, but everything he wanted to say was still hidden in every line.
He looked at her. “It was a really small orange cat. A red mackerel tabby, all orange from his paw pads to the base of his tail without a single white hair. Short fur, not long, but very dense. From far away he looked like a little ball of gold. His paw pads were pink, and he loved eating tuna.”
With every detail he named, He Sangchi’s eyes brightened a little more.
“He came to me in a dream. He knew you’d be upset today, so he begged me to check on you.”
He Sangchi inhaled sharply. Her vision blurred instantly. She held her breath hard, insisting her tears stay in her eyes instead of falling.
She didn’t believe in any religion or superstition. If it were anything else, she’d have brushed it off and excused herself politely.
But this was about her cat. About the little cat who had died ten years ago, who would be silly enough to send a dream now and to the wrong person, no less. How could she not grab at every scrap of him she could?
Sang Zhao’s voice curled softly at the ends. “He wanted to tell you he misses you. He’s grateful you picked him up and raised him. He’s sorry he had to leave so early. He doesn’t want to see you sad.”
“And he thinks there’s nothing worth crying over, not even that man who made you cry.”
He lowered his head, hiding himself as he rushed through the rest. “So I thought… maybe it was just a random dream! But when I got here, you were actually crying, so I thought… well, I have to stick up for the little cat. If I don’t, who will? I don’t even like dogs anyway. Dogs are all… doggy. Bad creatures…”
He trailed off, rambling into nonsense, but she listened as if every clumsy word were a treasure.
“It’s unbelievable,” she whispered, smiling through the mist. “But I believe you. I really do.”
At this moment, if he asked her for two hundred yuan, she’d probably transfer it instantly.
Her eyes shimmered, but her smile bloomed warm and radiant.
“This is the strangest, most impossible-to-prove, most ridiculous, most adorable, funniest, and most miraculous thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her happiness infected him, and he grinned like an idiot too. Seeing her smile made him genuinely happy.
“Maybe,” she murmured, “maybe he didn’t pick the wrong person. Maybe he chose you on purpose.”
She leaned in slightly, thinking aloud.
“Look at us. My name has Sang in it, and your surname is Sang. And your hair…” She pointed gently.
“It’s the same color as his fur.”
She murmured on, half to him, half to herself. “If he were still here, and you came to my house, he’d like you a lot. He’d lie on your collarbone, pounce on your head, and play with your hair.”
Tang Yu had been quietly listening the whole time.
He noticed that even though He Sangchi spoke earnestly, Sang Zhao’s lips were twitching downward, like he was about to cry.
Before Tang Yu could comfort him, Sang Zhao poked Tang Yu’s leg underneath the table.
A signal.
They needed to leave.
He was scared that if they stayed, he really would let out a wail and throw himself into her arms screaming “mom,” and then nothing in the world could save the situation.
He sucked in a breath, abruptly stood up while dragging Tang Yu with him, and quickly said goodbye.
“So that’s it! You mustn’t feel sad. So… goodbye! And thank you for the cake and coffee!”
He grabbed Tang Yu and made a run for it.
He Sangchi hadn’t said enough. She hadn’t gotten his WeChat. She hadn’t, hadn’t done anything yet. Why was he already fleeing?
She shot up from her seat, words tumbling out raw and panicked. “Let’s add each other on WeChat! We can keep in touch!”
Her voice shook. “Have I really never met you? Do we really not know each other?”
But Sang Zhao had already made it several steps out.
And as an adult, she couldn’t chase him down. It’d be rude. It’d be strange. It’d cause a scene. So she froze, watching his back.
His bright orange hair was the most striking thing about that retreating figure.
Suddenly, she raised her voice.
“Sang Zhao! Sang—”
And then, softly, she added the final syllable.
“…Zhao.”
He didn’t look back.
In his long lifetime, he would always remember the year she picked him up, wrapped in that little cloth, giving him his first home.
She was eight, tiny. He was a newly awakened spark of life, tiny too, chasing after her slippers, meowing “mama.”
He couldn’t go to her on purpose.
He couldn’t seek out the human who once called him a good baby.
He could only rely on coincidence, on fate.
One unexpected meeting was enough for him.
He thought, because of all the rules and all the reasons, we can’t deliberately meet again.
We can’t look for each other.
So every time fate lets us meet by accident, I’ll protect you.
Which means:
I will throw every man who breaks your heart.
Every. Single. Ex-boyfriend.
Over my shoulder.
He vowed solemnly.
They stepped outside. Neither had the mood to play badminton anymore.
Tang Yu’s car was nearby, so they got in first.
Sang Zhao slumped in the passenger seat, curling up like a mushroom in a corner.
Tang Yu buckled him in, leaning close.
“Hey…” Tang Yu sighed gently.
He didn’t know what Sang Zhao was hiding, but he knew there was a lie somewhere.
Since he was the one who invited Sang Zhao and he picked the venue, there was no way Sang Zhao had dream-guided his way there.
So what was Sang Zhao covering up?
Right now, Tang Yu didn’t care.
He only cared about the dejected orange-haired person in front of him.
He connected his phone to Bluetooth and played soft piano music meant to soothe, but Sang Zhao still looked wilted.
Tang Yu set a warm hand on his tensed arm.
“How can I make you feel better too, Sang Zhao?”
You comforted that girl. What about you? Tang Yu thought.
How can you stop being sad?
Sang Zhao was sad, yes, but he bounced back quickly.
Meeting He Sangchi was a blessing.
Seeing she was doing well, aside from work troubles and a breakup, was a bigger blessing.
So after sulking a moment, his mood crawled upward again.
He finally turned his head toward Tang Yu.
And instantly spotted the little ponytail tied at the back of Tang Yu’s neck.
The fluffy little tuft. Round. Soft. Curled. An irresistible temptation for a cat.
His paws almost itched.
He wanted to touch it. Play with it. Curl around it.
But touching a boss’s ponytail seemed… extremely not what “acting human” required.
…Wait.
Wasn’t now the perfect time to make an unreasonable request?
So Sang Zhao rubbed his hands together, eyes burning.
He stared straight at Tang Yu, and finally voiced the desire he had held back since their first meeting:
“Let me play with your little tuft, okay?”
Tang Yu: “…huh?”
Unexpectedly, Tang Yu looked… frightened.
What ponytail?
His brain short-circuited.
He didn’t know Sang Zhao was a huge orange cat who just wanted to play with hair.
All he heard was a six-foot-three muscular man asking to “play with his little ponytail.”
What else could that possibly sound like?
Tang Yu stiffened.
No way…
It sounds like that, but it shouldn’t be…
No person should be this unreasonable…
What kind of outrageous—
Still stunned, he folded an arm across his chest as if instinctively shielding himself.
“I’m… not that generous,” he said carefully.
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