Chapter 12 - 2#

I wanted to stop the story here, with the feeder who never grows up and his silly lover, but I am just a cat, who would listen to my decree? That year, as soon as the college entrance exam results came out, the teacher’s office was crowded with people checking their scores. His lover’s score was lower than expected, while the feeder performed exceptionally well, his scores in every subject were just short of being annotated with “bumper harvest and celebration”. Not long after, these two people with similar scores actually received admission notices stamped with the red seal of the same school.

That day, the feeder smiled like a flower. He rushed into the room and lifted me high up, tossing me around like a ball, then held me tight and carried me everywhere, like a mother kangaroo carrying her baby, or a father seahorse. He kept calling my name: “Fugui! My little darling, you are my God of Wealth, my lucky star, my money tree and treasure bowl!” There were times when he put me down, leaving me alone, while he jumped up and down on the iron bed: “Same university! Same university! Yan Wei, I admire you so much, you are a genius!”

He shouted like this while taking off his jacket, waving it over his head like a fan, jumping and waving: “Oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!” His grandma had bad hearing and let him make a fuss, until the doorbell rang. The feeder quickly jumped off the bed, hurriedly put on his clothes, smoothed his hair with his hand, and then trotted to open the door.

His lover stood outside the door, asking anxiously: “Did you receive the admission letter?” The feeder nodded with feigned reserve. His lover looked even more nervous, lowered his voice and asked: “Weiwei, which school is it, the same as mine?” The feeder pretended to be calm and nodded again.

That person suddenly blushed with excitement, grabbing the feeder’s hand tightly. After a long while, he gently uttered a sentence: “Weiwei, that’s great, that’s really great.” I saw the feeder’s eyes were surprisingly bright, his face covered with a thin layer of red, but his expression was awkward: “What’s this, is it worth you being so happy?”

They looked at each other dodgingly for a while, then suddenly pounced on each other and hugged. That person lifted the feeder slightly, still saying: “That’s great.” Fortunately, no one was around. I saw his lover’s eyes filled with undisguised ecstasy, just one step away from tears. The stone that had been pressing on my heart suddenly loosened. These two silly people are simply a match made in heaven. I am wise and deeply affectionate, and at that moment he was only a little bit worse than me. I believe he truly likes him, what I don’t believe is God’s eyes.

Not because they later grew old, but because such love could not last until old age.

That day, I was still nestled in the cardboard box as usual. There were a few old clothes worn by the feeder in the box, full of his scent. Dreaming while burrowed in the clothes, I always dreamed of trees full of transparent flowers. When I woke up, there was no one in the room. The dusty lampshade hung from the ceiling, the light bulb broke free from the lampshade, revealing the wire connected to its butt. When the lampshade shook, my heart skipped a beat.

I scrambled up the window sill and pressed my face against the glass to look around. The big iron gate was also locked. Seven or eight iron wires were strung across the yard, covered with colorful clothes. When the wind blew, it was surprisingly beautiful—as long as the sun didn’t set. Once it set, those bright colors would instantly darken. I waited on the window sill for a long time, but no one came.

When the feeder’s grandmother came back and saw me, her cloudy eyes moved. She heated up the food with some difficulty and brought it to the low table. I ate the fish bones placed under the table, only wanting to ask her, where is the feeder? I was so anxious that I couldn’t sleep, rummaging through the room. Has he already come back, just trying to scare me, so he hid? Hiding in the bucket, the wardrobe, or behind the door. I looked, but he wasn’t there.

After waiting for a whole day, the phone suddenly rang. I jumped down from the window sill, pulled the feeder’s grandmother’s pant leg with my teeth and claws, dragging her all the way to the phone, watching her pick it up. I don’t know what was said on the other side, but suddenly veins popped out on her hand. After hanging up the phone, her hand was still trembling.

I felt like I was back in the rainy season, with torrential rain pouring down, thunder rolling, and bolts of lightning tearing open the darkness. Not long after, many relatives and friends suddenly came to the house, gathering together. They pushed and argued. When the phone rang again, a shrewish woman snatched it up first: “You took him out! Why should we pool money!”

“You harmed him!” I heard the woman’s voice, inciting many echoes. In the crowd, only his grandmother was arguing: “I still have my coffin savings. If you don’t give money, I still have my coffin savings.” Many men’s and women’s voices laughed: “Mom, don’t interfere, he should pay.” I didn’t understand anything, only heard them talking about money. They are all students, where would they get money?

“Don’t interfere, listen to us.” Those people repeated this sentence countless times. Later, seeing the old lady was anxious and couldn’t be persuaded, they changed their tune: “Mom, look at what you’re saying. Sister passed away early, leaving this only child. If you don’t love him, who will?” After discussing for a long time, one of the feeder’s uncles finally agreed to go to the hospital to see him. I felt like I had a glimmer of hope and followed closely behind that person. His lover was sitting in the corridor, looking like he had lost twenty pounds in two days, hunching his back, eyes full of bloodshot veins. Seeing someone coming, he stood up immediately. But the first thing the visitor said was: “You harmed him.”

The last bit of warm light in his lover’s eyes went out just like that. His face was pale, and after a long time, he actually replied: “Yes. It was me.” His uncle looked like he had won several rounds of mahjong, tilting his head proudly: “My family is not rich, whoever harmed him pays the medical expenses.”

Hearing this, the lover immediately said: “Of course, as long as I have it!” After a while, he finished his sentence in a low voice, “I only scraped together over three thousand, gave it all yesterday.” As if scared by the amount, his uncle laughed awkwardly: “Why look at me, I’m tight on money too.” He hemmed and hawed a few words, then left in a hurry.

I looked at the feeder’s lover. If he wasn’t in a desperate situation, how could he beg others? This person stood there blankly. After a while, he saw me. Seeing me, he had no other reaction. I wailed at his feet, where is the feeder, where did he hide him?

The lover stood for a while longer. A doctor came out of the ward with a medical record: “Can you get the money? The surgery can’t be delayed.” He came back to his senses, nodded hurriedly, and walked out of the hospital. I had to follow him, asking him carefully all the way, where is the feeder, where is the feeder. I followed that person all the way to his house. He rummaged through boxes and cabinets in his house, found all the bankbooks, held them in his hand, suddenly closed his eyes forcefully, stuffed them back into the drawer as if burned, and after a while, took them out again, squeezing them tightly in his hand. I really wanted the feeder to come and see, see his ugly state. He turned out not to be omnipotent! For the first time, I found that he wasn’t that tall, not that amazing, not that mature, not that confident. He actually fell with a push, actually couldn’t even stand steadily but was just holding on. The security door suddenly rang, and the sound of a woman taking off high heels came from the door: “Yu Lin!”

He froze for a moment, then looked at me. His hands were cold. He picked me up and stuffed me into the wardrobe: “Fugui, be good, don’t make a sound.” Only a moment later, the woman rushed in. I stared outside through the crack in the wardrobe. I thought he would rush to put the bankbook back in its place, but he kept holding it tightly.

“Mom.” I heard his voice.

“What do you want to say,” the woman looked at him with gritted teeth for a while, then suddenly said: “I went to check the exam papers today.”

The feeder’s lover was stunned: “Check what papers.” The woman trembled with anger: “I was afraid the teacher calculated it wrong for you! What kind of score is that! Who knew…”

His lover said in a low voice: “Knew what. I really didn’t know how to do those empty big questions.” Before he finished, the woman grabbed something nearby and smashed it over his head: “You really think I don’t know anything!” The sound of shattering glass rang out suddenly. It became quiet outside, only the sound of blood dripping from his forehead. The woman panted for a while, then suddenly kicked her son’s stomach hard twice, followed by a loud slap, and another slap. I never thought his lover would be stupid to this extent, just because the feeder said he wanted to go to the same university as him.

If I were really rich (Fugui), it would be great. Whoever raises me, provides for me, treats me like a Bodhisattva, I would give them money, give them fame. Whoever wants to be rich and powerful can rise straight up. Poverty makes everything sad, I don’t want them to suffer this torture.

After that, a full eight years and eleven months passed. Suddenly one day, I went from winter to spring again. That day was the same as usual, neither sunny nor cold outside, only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. I squatted in front of the mirror looking at myself. The mirror reflected my shadow. After so many years, I have become a senile cat, hair loss, presbyopia, forgetfulness, lethargy, frequent urination, loss of appetite, I have all the ailments of middle-aged and elderly males.

Everything has changed, people, places to live. Looking down from the window, a floor is built every three days, high-rise buildings spring up, followed by greenery. During the day, cars flow like water, and at night, it is a city of lights that never sleeps. My feeder changed and changed again, and became the original one again. On nights when the lights were not on, I curled up in my nest, smelling the air freshener, and in a trance, I thought I was still a ball of yarn, and they were still two little trees leaning on each other. I raised my tail and passed through the window sill full of flower pots. The scent of Aglaia odorata rushed towards me. Looking back suddenly, I could see the feeder jumping onto the iron bed barefoot, stretching, and waving at me. With a shiver, I remembered that I was no longer a ball of yarn. I became a watermelon. The past feeder’s lover, now the feeder, has also risen straight up, and I followed him to great wealth.

High-end pet cages, high-end cat litter, cat teasers custom-made for me. I squatted amidst a pile of high-end and custom-made goods, missing the canned dace with black beans, fish bones, clay flower pots, and the small jasmine tree. Those yellowing stories rushed towards me from a certain day eight years ago, accurately passing through those times, smashing everything in their way to arrive in front of me. I was as soft as a lump of plasticine in front of the past, letting it mold me big or small, whether young or old and decrepit. As long as the floodgates of memory opened, I was responsible for wailing loudly.

“What time is it, why is your cat calling in heat all year round!”

“Complain all you want.” The new feeder kept a straight face and closed the door unceremoniously. He looked at me, and after a long time, walked up to me and kicked me lightly with his foot wearing a cotton slipper: “Fugui, stop it.” Looking at the new feeder in his suit and leather shoes, I remembered how he used to wear a white school uniform shirt, looking clear-browed and holding the bicycle handlebars. I screamed even more hoarsely, crying bitterly, suddenly hearing that person say: “Careful or he’ll take you for a vaccine again.”

I pricked up my ears instantly, squatting tremblingly in place. The new feeder squatted down, and after a while, suddenly looked at me and smiled, pressing his hand on my head: “Still don’t understand?” I still didn’t understand, only felt a bit itchy in my ignorance, as if many little mice with pink tails suddenly ran out and danced in a circle. I stretched out my claws to pounce, but hadn’t decided which one to pounce on.

The new feeder was still smiling, his eyebrows surprisingly gentle. He held my paws, cupped them in his palm, shook them gently, then straightened up and walked slowly out of the room. My heart was beating fast. I couldn’t sleep all night, woke up early, groomed myself in front of the mirror, licked the fur to cover the bald spots, and waited eagerly on the second floor, but forgot to ask who was coming. I don’t know how long I squatted at the top of the stairs, suddenly heard a timid voice on the first floor: “Fugui, hey, Fugui?” I shuddered all over. Watching that voice coming up step by step, my hair stood on end and I retreated a few steps. Turning my head and seeing my cage, I scrambled into it in a panic. I turned my back to the stairs, trembling all over, only hearing footsteps one after another, stopping carefully by the cage, tapping the wire and calling me: “Fugui?”

“Fugui, my sweetheart, my little tail, my money tree, my treasure bowl.” They say one feels more timid when near home. I have thought about these sentences hundreds of times day and night. As soon as he opens his mouth, he can make the dry eyes surge with uncontrollable warmth, making a tree bloom with transparent flowers. He reached his hand through the cage door towards me. Being touched by the warmth of his palm from head to toe, I trembled all over, my legs so soft I could hardly stand.

Coming back to my senses, my first reaction was to pounce fiercely and bite his hand hard! Breaking the skin and drawing blood!

I waited for him for a full eight years! I spent a lifetime waiting for him! How many eight years can a cat have!

He covered his hand, looking at me dumbfounded, and after a long time, his lips trembled and he uttered a sentence: “Damn, even you forgot me.”

I felt like I was hit by a bamboo pole, staggering to the ground. Before I could cry out, many other bamboo poles fell one after another, hitting my stomach and head. I panicked and protected one spot, but other places suffered even more heart-wrenching pain. I forgot him? I stared deadly at this person in front of me, a clean white face, two long thin arms—he leaned against me with a tired face, lying on the thick carpet, hands cushioned behind his head, eyelashes straight and long, half-covering his amber eyes, only the line in the middle of his lips was a heart-pounding bright red. I walked around him twice, twitching my nose with effort, smelling the scent on him, grinding my teeth, eyes red with hate. I was like a person crazy with hunger, facing a hard-won half-ripe green apple, racking my brains on how to take a big bite, yet hesitating for fear of the sourness. He lay there for a while, turned his head, and looked at me disheartened.

Little fool, don’t look at me like that.

Not long after, the two of them indeed started arguing, either avoiding each other or glaring at each other. The new feeder always liked to stand in front of the old feeder’s door when it was locked. He didn’t knock, just quietly pressed a hand against the door panel. He often stood like that, his secret thoughts blatant, but acting vividly in front of others: “Weiwei, we are late.” He always said this, but clenched his fists, no light in his eyes. Tactics that hurt the enemy a thousand but self-inflicted eight hundred were used over and over again.

Since the old feeder was bitten by me, he always looked awkward when he saw me. Occasionally, he would be bold enough to come over, hold my paw and weigh it, being extremely careful: “Fugui, do you remember me?” I pulled my paw back in exasperation, jumped onto the cabinet next to me, arched my back and roared at him! After two or three times like this, he never came close again. I just couldn’t figure it out for a moment. As long as he was willing to coax me a few more times, I would definitely go with the flow. Unexpectedly, one day, he suddenly stopped coaxing.

I waited for him in the corridor with my tail between my legs. Finally, when he came out of the room, he walked hurriedly without even looking at me. I was stunned for a while. Taking advantage of the door not being closed, I used my forehead to push the door crack open and squeezed into his room bit by bit. The originally empty bookshelf was unknowingly filled with potted plants, cactus, sacred bamboo, palm-sized money trees and alocasia, each one green and lush, at least dozens of them. Just looking up like this, I saw the lush greenery pressing down overwhelmingly.

I seemed to smell the scent of the small jasmine tree and Aglaia odorata, jumping down tremblingly from mid-air. My body was terribly soft. I aimed at his neatly folded bedding, pounced hard, landed steadily on it, then hooked the quilt with my claws and rolled a few times. The bedding with his scent, together with the bed sheet, formed a stable and reliable eggshell wrapping me tightly inside. It was so good. I felt like I was still hugging him, and he was hugging me too.

I don’t know how long I hid inside, suddenly heard someone’s footsteps passing by the door, then stopped. I arched my head, made a crack, and looked out, finding the new feeder standing at the door, also staring blankly at the green-filled bookshelf, as if just discovering that inside the door panel, it looked like this. That seemed to be a vibrant wall, a novel seed, rolled by the wind from a faraway place, landing in the castle of reinforced concrete, calmly stretching its branches, making the neon lights pale in comparison. The new feeder walked in quietly, stood in front of the shelf for a while, and a smile slowly appeared on his face. He found a glass, filled it with some clear water, and watered every pot of flowers. The leaves rolling with crystal water droplets were surprisingly beautiful.

I curled up in the quilt and slept groggily for a while, only feeling the dark green shade on the ground becoming lighter and lighter. Looking up again, the setting sun hung obliquely. I woke up instantly, scrambled into the cardboard box under the bed. Not long after, the doorbell rang indeed, and the old feeder’s footsteps were lifeless. I heard the new feeder following him all the way, calling in a low voice: “The food is heated.”

No one answered him, the footsteps went straight into the room. The bed shook, followed by the sound of shaking the quilt, and the door was locked immediately. I knew the old feeder was sleeping above my head, my heart beating fast. When it was quiet late at night, I quietly crawled out of the cardboard box again and jumped onto the bed. I saw him lying on his side, pressing a corner of the quilt, both feet exposed. I wanted to cover him, used all my strength for a long time, but the quilt didn’t move a bit. I slowly squatted on his belly, found a comfortable position, feeling like there was a cup of clear and bright water in my heart, shaking gently in the cup, making a pleasant sound. Just about to close my eyes with satisfaction, I opened them to glance at him, closed them again, opened them again, feeling extremely peaceful, yet always uneasy.

I simply stood up, shook my fur all over, and walked a few steps forward. My paw pads pressed on him, soft, almost unable to stand straight. I tried to squat on his chest, but as soon as I squatted up, the old feeder’s expression became quite painful, as if he couldn’t breathe. I knew I was a bit heavy, but didn’t expect to be heavy to this extent, so I had to run down awkwardly. I changed many positions, and finally found sleeping in the shoulder hollow was the most comfortable. When I woke up the next day, I found myself still wrapping my tail around his neck, pressing my paws on his face. Before the old feeder woke up, I quickly ran under the bed to hide again.

The next day the old feeder left. When the new feeder folded the quilt, he saw a bed full of cat hair, and pulled me out with a gloomy look: “It was you, right.” My expression was dull, eyes lifeless, thinking secretly, the face of a jealous man is truly terrible. After a while, he brought my cat cage to his room and locked me in again. I was instantly furious. How many days do I have left? How many months can I live? I do whatever I want, who can control me! I banged against the cage door, roaring and screaming, peeing everywhere. The new feeder’s face was livid, helpless for a moment, and said after a long time: “He is still sick.” Bah! Even if cats and dogs are not good for recovery, I can watch from afar, why lock me up!

That night I curled up in the cage, unable to sleep. The old feeder fell asleep quickly and deeply, but he tossed and turned half the night. I don’t know how long passed, I suddenly saw him sit up abruptly, shouting: “Weiwei, there’s a car!” I shuddered all over, only knowing to look at him foolishly. He opened his eyes, realized after a long time, trembling all over, panting heavily, and later fell back, paralyzed on the bed, his chest still heaving violently. I suddenly felt like falling into an ice cave.

He deserved it, buying a villa halfway up the mountain, making the night particularly cold and quiet. But I don’t understand, I am just a cat, there are things a cat can’t say, why can’t he say them either. I thought of the old feeder again. I actually have the feeder in my heart, full of the feeder. I am just sad, he woke up late, I live short. Once I die, who will remember my waiting, my prime and my senility, how long can we still rub against each other.

I remember the old feeder left me several times. From being wet behind the ears to gray-haired, my state of mind changed again and again, each time more difficult than the last. Suddenly one day, both of them disappeared. No sign of them for two whole days. When they came back, only the new feeder was left. The new feeder saw me, walked over step by step. He was terribly thin, only his imposing manner remained, his eyes so black there was no light: “Fugui.”

His voice was hoarse: “He’s not coming back.” After he finished, seeing I was still squatting in place after a long time, he said again: “He’s not coming back.” I shrank in the corner shivering, feeling that the few remaining good times were exhausted bit by bit in these five words. If I could be a few years younger, I would definitely tear my heart out and jump into the pouring rain to run naked to the other end of the street. I would look for him year after year, even to the ends of the earth and the end of time. But I am old, can’t run, scared silly and can’t cry. I always feel like there is a cup of water in my heart. Every time he leaves, half a cup of water spills out. He leaves again, and another half cup spills out. Spilled to the end, the cup is empty. An old cat with dying breath holding a drifting dream, whose look back can it earn?

After that day, I became completely old. I couldn’t hear people clearly, couldn’t see people in front of me clearly, my brain was groggy, no distinction between dream and waking. Others put milk and boiled-to-mush cat food in front of me, I still lay there stiffly, unchanging even if Mount Tai collapsed. I heard someone touching my head saying: “Dying soon, right.”

Someone else said: “Lived so long, it’s not strange to die.” Others turned me over, gave me a few shots of nutrients, all to no avail. I heard noisy piano sounds and car horns ringing non-stop. The cup in my heart was empty, no one was willing to pour some water into it. I don’t know how many days I endured holding the empty cup, finally heard the new feeder call my name: “Fugui.” I was clumsily lifted into mid-air by him. He borrowed a bicycle from somewhere, carried me downstairs, and put me gently into the basket. I was like a big ball of dough, deformed by the net bag, woke up from fright no matter how bad my spirit was, stuck in the basket wailing.

The new feeder swung his leg over the bicycle, supporting the handlebars with both hands, one foot on the ground and the other lifelessly on the pedal, instructing me with a gloomy look: “Fugui, behave.” I shuddered, thinking he must be afraid I would die in the house, specifically taking me to dump my body in the wild. I hurriedly twisted around, tail stiff, but couldn’t beat the new feeder patting my head hard: “Sit tight.”

He really started pedaling. After so many years, surprisingly he still remembered how to ride. The wheel track skewed a bit, then twisted forward, faster and faster. He was used to driving cars. As soon as he left the villa area, he pedaled furiously towards the small car lane, coming to his senses at the last moment and honestly riding back to the bicycle lane. The sun was gentle, the ground covered with copper-coin-sized gold spots. I looked up in the basket, seeing his hair blown back by the wind, the milky golden sunlight brightening his forehead.

While shivering in the wind, I heard the new feeder tell me: “Fugui, don’t always stay at home, you’re getting sick from it. From now on, every few days, I’ll take you out to sunbathe.” This is a knot in my heart, pent up inside, what does he know. The rows of street trees by the road are lush and strong as back then. On the ground, our shadows, one person and one cat, are dragged long. I am deeply affectionate, and he can barely be counted as a good person. Just squinting my eyes, I heard the new feeder laugh low again: “If only he were here too.”

Fool, I can’t chase anymore, why don’t you chase.

He rode the bicycle, carrying me all the way to where the sea could be seen. Having traveled so far, even he was panting slightly. The new feeder locked the bicycle by the road, clamped me like a briefcase, and scrambled down from the road embankment more than a meter high. He shook me, straightened my head, and said in a low voice: “Fugui, it’s the sea.”

I opened my eyes and saw behind the strange-shaped reefs, a thin blue line running towards me from the distance. When the new feeder’s feet touched the ground, sand got into his shoes. He squatted down, took off his leather shoes, walked a few steps barefoot, then squatted down again, rolling up his trouser legs. The road under his feet changed from uncomfortable gravel to soft golden-white fine sand.

My mind suddenly cleared. Howling, I jumped down from his arms, pounced into the glittering shells all over the ground, and rolled on the sand. In every handful of soft sand, there were always a few grains with bright colors. I dug with my claws, wanting to separate them from the sand pile. Just separated a few grains, but found myself covered in sand. Illuminated by the sun, every grain was sparkling.

I suddenly felt that this life is like this ground of sand. A ground of sand, only a few grains glowing, only a few grains sweet, but a ground full of bitterness. They are mixed together, buy one get one free bundle sale, forcing people to taste everything. The gaps between fingers are too wide, time is too thin. The fierce wind and flying sand grind edges onto youth, then grind the edges round. The treasure dug out with great difficulty is suddenly lost again. I looked at the sparkling fine sand all over me, only feeling my eyes blurred with tears.

The new feeder walked slowly on the beach with bare feet. Seeing beautiful shells, he bent down to examine them carefully. I followed him for a few steps, leaving a string of plum blossom footprints behind. The new feeder suddenly stopped, looked back at me. His face was against the light, only seeing a pair of tired and gentle eyes: “Fugui, I dreamed of him again last night. I dreamed he didn’t have a car accident. I was cooking porridge in the kitchen, he was peeling garlic next to me, just like real.”

He looked at me, behind him were the brown hideous reefs and the gentle blue sea. The salty and pungent smell of the sea breeze rushed straight into my nose. I heard the new feeder say again: “If you leave too…” True, if I leave too, apart from old photos, who will remember what you looked like when you were young.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt I couldn’t die yet. For so many years, my brain has held a thick photo album. This drawer of old things is all photos. Some photos the new feeder hasn’t seen, some photos the old feeder hasn’t seen either. I really want to open them one by one, point them out to them one by one: Look, this is what the old feeder looked like back then. He said on the surface he wasn’t happy to see you, but actually got up early to wash his face, comb his hair, and exercise his muscles. He picked what you liked to eat when buying groceries, and burned his hands every time he heated food for you. Look, this is the new feeder carrying you on his back. When you didn’t wake up, he held your hand and cried by the bed every night. As soon as you turned around, he started peeking at you. He watered the flowers and grass you raised, he picked the best food for you when buying groceries, and always burned his hands cooking for you.

I watched the new feeder standing on the beach, holding a goose-yellow nautilus in his hand, carefully pressing it to his ear, listening to the woo-woo sound of waves inside. So silly, the sound of waves is right beside him, what else does he want to listen to.

I moved step by step to his feet. Sunned by the sun, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier, less and less strength to lift. If I die, who else will remember.

Someone shook me, shouting anxiously: “Fugui, Fugui!”

After a while, the person said again: “So he fell asleep.”

I was carried up, put into the car basket, bumping along with the bicycle, back to the starting point. I ate when I should, drank when I should. Maybe one day when I wake up and open my eyes, the old feeder will be back again. We will meet alive. At that time, he will be in his prime, and I will be old but strong.

I always think, I must have been a money tree in my previous life. Others lined up to come, shook the branches, and I would shake off a branch full of copper coins. As for this life, I am definitely a lucky cat. As long as they have been touched by my fairy aura, one day they will be rich and powerful. Needless to say about this guy in a suit and leather shoes beside me, once I exert my power, even the old feeder can’t be spared.

That was an afternoon a few months later. I was sitting in the passenger seat. The new feeder took me and secretly looked at the old feeder through the car window—he didn’t know how long he had been back. He walked past the front of the car dressed brightly, clear-browed and full of vitality. I seemed to smell the scent of jasmine flowers blooming, instantly spirited, scratching my current feeder desperately in the car: “Why not chase him?” The new feeder’s eyes were unusually focused, watching him walk past quietly in the fully dark driver’s seat. Just watching quietly like this, his face was so soft it could drip water. He failed the organization’s ardent expectations of him.

It took a long time for the new feeder’s gaze to fall back on me, attempting to drive me back to the seat: “Fugui.” I was still lying on the car window, a fat face squeezed out of shape on the glass, sliding down the glass after a long time. I jumped onto his knees, holding his paws with my two front paws. Go chase him, fool.

The new feeder was stunned for a long time before saying: “Fugui?” I looked at him intently. He asked me gently: “What happened.” Go chase him, fool, I lend you all my luck of this life.

Sure enough, not long after, the new feeder disappeared. I fell into the hands of a doctor. This period was like a nightmare. But if he treated me badly, I could return it ten or a hundred times. I peed on his bed, pooped under the pillow, knocked over the water cup he placed next to the laptop, finally torturing him into calling for help. Listening to his meaning, he was finally going to give me away. I was rejoicing on the surface and gloating in my heart. Anyone who bullies us elderly people must be skinned! I was put into a cage by the doctor, locked up all the way by this doctor, traveled a long distance by car, and then entered a coffee shop. The doctor put me on the table. When I was drowsy wrapped in the air conditioning, I saw someone push the door and come in, another person guarding outside. In the bitter smell of coffee, I smelled the scent of jasmine trees and olives filling the shop.

I looked up suddenly and saw the visitor’s eyes like coffee-colored fruit candy, black and white distinct and sparkling. That face looked like a white date from afar, and like a peeled egg up close. His voice was full of energy, rising and falling like singing. The doctor asked: “It’s you. Where is Yu Lin?”

“Just outside, carrying things for me.”

My heart beat like a drum. From the first glance of the visitor, I showed my joy and disdained to hide it. The new feeder indeed did not disgrace his mission, worthy of following me! That person took me out of the cage, saying while taking me out: “You bad cat, bite me again if you have the ability.” I stared at him fiercely, sharp teeth itching to move, but also a bit reluctant.

If I were not just a cat, I would want to hug him.

After a long while, he laughed low: “Fugui, hold me looser, I can hardly breathe.”