028: Puppy Begs the Kitty
Human beings can grow blond hair, or red hair, but they absolutely cannot grow hair as bright-orange and sun-lit as Sang Zhao’s.
It was very orange, very bright, very vivid, the proud and dazzling color of a red tabby orange cat.
It wasn’t dyed. It grew out one bite of rice and one bite of meat at a time, as he worked hard to feed himself and grow strong.
But he couldn’t brag to Tang Yu and say, “My fur is the cutest and most brilliant in the whole world.” That would raise suspicion, expose his identity as a yaoguai, and wreck his whole pretending-to-be-human career.
So Sang Zhao had no choice but to force out a very unwilling, very pained admission: “Yeah, I dyed it.”
Not something he grew himself. Nope. It was created using your human hair dyes.
Dyed into this bright, blazing, layered orange, dyed into this tiger-stripe shimmer, dyed into this shade that Tang Yu couldn’t stop staring at.
Tang Yu nodded and even said, “Your stylist is really skilled. You should introduce them to me sometime.”
He ran a hand through his wolf-tail haircut. The layers tapered neatly down his head and gathered into that tiny tuft at his nape, the whole style looking clean and handsome.
This kind of haircut obviously came from a fixed hairstylist, someone who maintained it regularly.
If that stylist slipped even a little, this entire look would instantly turn into a messy bird’s nest.
But Sang Zhao didn’t have a hairstylist to introduce him to.
Ugh, what was the point of going to a salon? He didn’t even need grooming, just lick himself and call it a day. He was his own best hairdresser. No, hairstylist at all!
Still, even though he thought that, he could only admit he touched up the dye every week.
Only dyeing that often could explain why he had zero visible dark roots after nearly a month.
Tang Yu felt bad for him. “Touching it up that frequently must be rough on your hair.”
Sang Zhao cheerfully lied, “It’s fine, I really like orange hair. I really, really like it! And my hair quality is great!”
Tang Yu stared at that fluffy orange head.
Honestly… it did look soft.
And then, inspiration hit Sang Zhao. He leaned in closer and moved their faces into dangerous proximity.
“If you touch it, you’ll know, gege. My fur—hair. The texture isn’t normal at all.”
Tang Yu tried to act like a respectable adult. He really did.
But he failed.
He couldn’t help it. Sang Zhao had touched his hair earlier, even if that touch had been more like a slap than a stroke. But now he had the chance to touch Sang Zhao’s hair? For real?
How could he refuse?
Tang Yu lifted his hand and brushed lightly across the top of Sang Zhao’s head, smoothing down until he reached the back of the neck. Then he panicked at his own boldness and quickly lifted his hand away.
A moment later, he gave in and ruffled the top again.
It really was soft. Like cotton fur, smooth and fluffy, with so much volume that it felt less like “puffy hair” and more like “a whole orange.”
Looking up through Tang Yu’s palm, Sang Zhao stared with bright, catlike eyes.
Fluffy, soft, beautiful hair, a whole orange.
Tang Yu’s voice softened like bubbles in a lychee soda, airy and clear. “It’s really pretty. Like the sun.”
Being complimented made Sang Zhao very happy. He raised himself a bit and pushed into Tang Yu’s hand.
But he purposely kept a little tsundere edge. “The sun? The sun’s just a stupid giant fireball that makes the weather hot. I’m not the sun.”
Tang Yu didn’t get annoyed. His voice dropped even lower. “Of course not. You’re Sang Zhao.”
The soft ending of his name felt like a popped soda cap releasing sweet fizz.
Orange was beautiful. No question. Every time he saw it, Tang Yu wanted to compliment it again.
But he still looked Sang Zhao over and said, “Honestly, with your features, you’d look amazing with your natural black hair, too.”
First of all, it’d be gorgeous.
Second, it’d spare his scalp from constant chemical torture.
Tang Yu was old-fashioned like that. He didn’t mind dyeing your hair, but dyeing it so often, and refusing to let even a millimeter of root show? That felt harmful to hair and health.
Plus Sang Zhao had only just started working. He couldn’t have much money saved up.
Constant touch-ups drained both health and wallet, so Tang Yu didn’t approve.
But instead of nagging, he used the kindergarten-level psychology techniques he was somehow a master of using praise instead of criticism.
“You’re Chinese. Your features have a hint of heroic sharpness to them. Black hair would really bring that out. Especially someone as beautiful as you… I’d love to see how you look with black hair, Sang Zhao.”
Staring back with round, upturned cat eyes, Sang Zhao was stunned.
Heroic? Him? Really?
But since it was Tang Yu saying it, he believed it a little.
He imagined himself with black hair and probably very cool! Very dashing!
Then his fantasy shattered and he deflated. “…Oh.”
Black hair? Now that he’d actually have to dye.
And if he dyed it black, new roots would grow out orange…
A reverse pudding head is completely unnatural. Instant exposure aka dead.
So Sang Zhao slumped, holding the laptop stand Tang Yu had given him like a condemned cat.
He walked back to his desk, miserable.
Admin came around asking for lunch orders. Sang Zhao ordered Guilin braised-meat rice noodles, no cilantro, no scallions.
Then he set up the laptop stand and propped his computer on it.
Then he plant-collapsed forward and rested his chin on the keyboard, staring blankly at the screen.
…Within minutes, he was sleepy.
He slapped his cheeks awake, peeked around to make sure no one was watching, and slouched right back down.
Why didn’t he have anything to do?!
Was this ostracizing the small cat?
Was this workplace bullying?
He was seriously considering it when his phone buzzed.
It was Xia Moye calling.
He picked up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Yeye never bothered him at work, not unless something important happened.
And today, something important had happened.
The Samoyed stuttered, anxious and excited. “Cat-cat-cat! Our classmates asked me to go out and play! I really wanna go!”
Sang Zhao stared out the window. “Then go. Why are you calling me?”
“Oh! You want pocket money from your uncle?”
“Fifty bucks okay? Your uncle’s broke.”
“No! No!” The Samoyed panicked.
Only after listening did Sang Zhao understand.
Yeye was entering fourth grade in the fall, and the school, being a fancy key elementary, loved its “well-rounded education.”
Meaning they never let students rest. They even assigned tons of summer camp activities.
This one, Summer Golden Childhood · Water Adventure Camp · Three-Day Foreign-Language Fun, required both money and parental accompaniment.
And the school didn’t provide chaperones, so you had to bring your own adult.
Money wasn’t the issue since the Border Collie upstairs had chipped in, but an adult was required.
In the whole family tree, who had shown up at parent-teacher conference and met his classmates?
Sang Zhao, the jiujiu.
And when Sang Zhao heard the name of the camp? His soul already started walking out the door.
“Water camp? Ugh! I hate water! I’m not going to a pool or water park with you!”
Cats hated water more than anything.
Normally, saying this would make any reasonable person back off and apologize for disturbing him.
But Yeye was not a reasonable person.
Yeye was a dog.
A dog now rolling on his floor. Sang Zhao could hear it.
“Cat-cat-cat, this one’s different! My best friends are going! They all invited me!”
His voice rose like an air-raid siren.
“Humans need to be sociable and Yeye is so popular! Why can’t Yeye play with friends? Yeye wants to go!”
Sang Zhao held the phone away and glared at the sky.
“What time?”
Instant silence. Yeye had hope.
“This weekend! Friday, Saturday, Sunday! You don’t need to take time off! Just take me after work Friday! Yeye can skip one day, no problem! Totally no problem! Yeye’s fine! FINE!”
Sang Zhao nearly died of secondhand embarrassment.
He wanted to slam the call down, but fine, fine, whatever. The poor dog struggled enough in human society.
And socializing with other kids was… probably good?
“Fine. I’ll go.”
He expected ecstatic barking.
Instead, the Samoyed suddenly got quiet.
Skittish, like he had something to confess.
“Just… Cat… because this is quality education, the parents… they also… have to help run some activities… it’s not purely for fun…”
“Speak clearly!” Sang Zhao snapped. “What are you mumbling?”
The Samoyed whispered quickly: “Parents need English! And a second foreign language to participate!”
Silence.
Yeye panicked. “Cat-cat? Are you there?”
Of course he was. Just… not okay.
Then Sang Zhao’s voice slowly slid out, dripping with doom.
“How are 又? I 么饭, thank 又, and 又?”
Then came the despairing wail of a dying soul:
“You expect my English to survive an all-English parents’ event?!”
“Did I offend you somehow? Stupid dog! Are you trying to kill me?!”
He was furious.
“Xia Moye! Your heart is so ruthless! Actual dog-hearted!”
The Samoyed sobbed. He knew he messed up.
“But—but Yeye wants to play with humans… Yeye wants friends… Yeye’s not a bad Yeye with no good dog friends or human friends… I…I just…”
He cried harder.
Sang Zhao didn’t feel sorry at all. Cats weren’t sentimental like dogs.
“Stop crying! Stop!”
He massaged his forehead. “Tch. Idiot dog.”
“Only stupid dogs care about friends.”
Even so… by the end of the crying, he asked:
“Does Spanish count as a second foreign language?”
“…woo?”
“What woo?!” Sang Zhao snapped. “Do I owe you something, you dog brat?!”
He gritted his teeth.
“Fine. Wait. I’ll go beg someone for help.”
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