A talking cat was obviously something straight out of a fantasy.
Lin Cheng reached out and pinched the scruff of its neck. “What’s it to you?”
“Just curious, that’s all.” The Black Cat swished her tail. “Humans are such strange creatures. A species that can survive just by fooling themselves. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Aren’t you seeing one now?” Lin Cheng patted Black Cat’s head. “Even though I’m not human anymore, I used to be one. Full of hard-earned life lessons from my human days.”
“What’s so great about being human?”
“Hey, you wouldn’t get it since you’re not one. Why don’t you give it a try?”
The Black Cat disdainfully nipped at her tail. In an instant, a glow flickered in Lin Cheng’s arms, and the cat vanished, transforming into a naked girl lying beside him, complete with black cat ears and a tail.
“Holy shit, change back,” Lin Cheng said, squeezing his eyes shut.
The girl the Black Cat had turned into looked far too childish. Despite her age being over a thousand years, she now appeared no older than twelve or thirteen.
“This kitty is still in my kitten phase, nya,” the Black Cat said flatly. She crawled around the bed on all fours for a couple of laps before shifting back into Black Cat with a shake of her head. “Turning human isn’t fun at all.”
“Then is being a cat fun?”
“I already told you, this kitty isn’t a cat.”
“So what the hell are you, exactly?”
“This kitty doesn’t know, nya.”
The Black Cat licked her paw. “Anyway, I’m not a cat. Have you ever seen a talking cat?”
Lin Cheng had no comeback for that. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his body. “I’m going to sleep.”
The Black Cat leaped away from his side and hopped over to the balcony to watch the sunset.
He’d been going out too much lately. Time for some serious R&R.
Lin Cheng holed up at home and binged games for four straight days. He’d wake up, order takeout, chow down, boot up the console, and when he got tired of gaming, he’d flop onto the bed to scroll through some softcore streamers. Every now and then, he’d roll around aimlessly while the sun rose and set outside.
He still shot Xu Wanyue the occasional message and sometimes tricked her into sending a pic or two of her white silk stockings, but he hadn’t called her.
He chatted with Lu Xiaoxiao now and then too. They didn’t have much to talk about, but they’d duo-queue a few games together. She spent most of her free time honing her swordsmanship. She’d even asked if he wanted to grab drinks that night, but Lin Cheng just wanted to crash at home.
Lately, though, Lin Cheng had one major headache.
Starting the day before yesterday, Jiang Li had been texting him, asking if he had time to grab a meal. He’d politely brushed her off, saying he was swamped and didn’t know when he’d be free—basically code for “never”—but she didn’t seem to pick up on it. Beyond dinner invites, she’d share songs, movies, books, or photos of scenery, flowers, and starry skies with him.
Sometimes Lin Cheng just left the chat unread, but by the end of the day, she’d sent a ton. Ignoring her felt rude. He didn’t mind the stuff she shared, but he knew deep down that he and Jiang Li probably wouldn’t cross paths again.
They were from different worlds, after all.
Bored as he was lately, Lin Cheng had ended up chatting with her quite a bit. He always touted himself as an artsy type, but it had been two or three years since he’d actually sat down with a book. Back then, fresh out of the military, he’d been plagued by nightmares and would hug a book to distract himself. But he read too haphazardly, and it often left him feeling down. Having someone to geek out about it with wasn’t half bad. He’d chat with her in the evenings sometimes. He swore it wasn’t flirting—he had zero ulterior motives. Then the screw-up happened that morning.
Groggy as hell, he grabbed his phone and, out of habit, found the top chat and fired off “Show me the white silk.” Yeah, every morning he sent that to Xu Wanyue like a daily lottery ticket. Sometimes nothing, sometimes a pic. He sent it and dozed off again, only to wake up later and realize… something was off.
Wrong chat.
Both Jiang Li and Xu Wanyue had cute cat profile pics. Lin Cheng stared at the photo Jiang Li had sent, lost in thought.
…How the hell was he supposed to play this off?
Jiang Li: Why would you suddenly… send that?
Jiang Li: Huh, this is weird… Why no reply?
Jiang Li: D-Do you want to see a specific kind…?
Jiang Li: I-I only have the white thigh-highs that go with the JK uniform…
Jiang Li: Or d-do you mean pantyhose?
Jiang Li: Is, is this okay? Why aren’t you replying…?
Jiang Li: 【Picture】【Picture】【Picture】
Jiang Li: You just vanished… That’s so mean.
Lin Cheng rolled around on the bed like a maniac. Social death had hit him out of nowhere. He desperately wanted to delete Jiang Li right then and there to escape the embarrassment hell, but he couldn’t. Staring at her photos—thigh-high white silk socks, sheer white pantyhose, mid-calf white silk socks—all slightly translucent against her milky-pale skin. It was like vanilla ice cream. And she was tall, with slender, elegant legs.
No, focus! That wasn’t the point!
Lin Cheng racked his brain but couldn’t figure out how to salvage “Show me the white silk.” Even if he owned up to the mis-send, it’d still sound weird. His whole artsy-guy persona had crumbled in an instant.
Talk about the dark side of the literary bro.
He raged at his screen for five minutes, fingers hovering over “Wrong person,” but then he thought about how she’d hesitated before sending those pics. How mortified would she be getting that message? His head throbbed even more.
Another five minutes of agonizing, and he typed, “Your legs are so slim.”
Even though it took him nearly six hours to reply, Jiang Li responded in under three seconds. “I’ve lost a lot of weight lately…”
“Eat more and pack it back on.”
“Mm-hm. I found this Western restaurant. Do you… have time tonight?”
“Sure.” Lin Cheng sighed in resignation. Guess he’d head out tonight.
He should’ve ghosted her sooner to avoid all this. Jiang Li wasn’t dumb; she’d have gotten the hint and backed off. But no, he had to be the nice guy, feeling bad about leaving her on read. A cold reply would’ve hurt her feelings and made him sound condescending, like he was above it all. So he’d hemmed and hawed and chatted for days.
What a softie Lin Cheng was.
Anime harem protagonists always had that gentle streak—hooked a ton of naive teens into thinking kindness alone wins girls. Not wrong, per se, but in the cutthroat adult world twisted by capitalism, a gentle loser was just pathetic.
Not that it was set in stone. Gotta keep the faith.
Jiang Li quickly sent him the restaurant’s location and confirmed the time. Ten minutes later, she snapped a photo. “Does this dress… look good?”
It was a warm-toned floral sundress with an off-shoulder design. On her slim frame, it draped perfectly, even if it didn’t do much for her chest.
“Looks great.”
A few minutes passed, and she sent a pic of a creamy white halter dress that hugged the hips. Lin Cheng liked it better—no need to force the bust, and it gave her an ethereal vibe. “What about this one?”
“This suits you even more.”
“Then this it is.”
Lin Cheng tossed his phone aside. It buzzed again soon after with photos of two pairs of heels. His head hurt. He picked one at random. A while later, another message from Jiang Li popped up.
“Do… you think I’m being annoying?”
She followed it with a tentative cat meme to ease the awkwardness. Lin Cheng typed, “Huh? Why would you think that?”
“Good, as long as not.”
Jiang Li sent another cute cat pic.
Lin Cheng forwarded it straight to Xu Wanyue. “Cat pic of the day! Where’s my white silk?”
All the cat pics he’d been sending Xu Wanyue lately were swiped from Jiang Li.
Seven o’clock that evening.
Summer nights weren’t exactly cool, so Lin Cheng kept it simple: T-shirt, jeans, a quick shave, washed hair, sneakers. He hopped on his motorcycle, helmet on, and rode to the mall. He parked on the first floor and pulled out his phone to text Jiang Li her location when he heard her voice.
“Over here…”
Her voice was soft, a touch shy. Lin Cheng looked toward the woman standing at the mall entrance.
She wore the halter dress she’d shown him, paired with strappy silver-gray heels. Her hair was tied up in the back, with a single strand loose at the side. She carried a creamy white leather clutch. The evening breeze tugged gently at her skirt hem, and Lin Cheng half-expected it to whisk her slender frame away. When his gaze reached her face, he noticed her exquisite makeup—her eyes bright and lively.
Compared to their last meeting, she seemed like a completely different person.
The previous time, Jiang Li’s eyes had been weary, dark circles heavy, her posture slightly hunched. Now she looked radiant and gentle, her slim waist held straight. Lin Cheng jogged over to her. “You got here early.”
He’d arrived a few minutes ahead himself.
“I just got here a bit ago too,” Jiang Li replied softly, falling into step beside him as they headed upstairs. Lin Cheng heard the click-clack of her heels on the floor. In the elevator, he leaned in and whispered, “Aren’t those heels kinda uncomfortable?”
“A little…” Jiang Li’s cheeks flushed pink.
Lin Cheng could see it crystal clear in the elevator’s reflection.
Her outfit was polished, makeup flawless, heels elegant, eyes soft and sparkling. It all sparked an almost perfect illusion. But dressing up was just that—an illusion. Even if Jiang Lingxue dolled herself up to the nines now, Lin Cheng wouldn’t be wowed; he’d seen her laze around naked, seen her shamelessly beg for a smoke while clinging to him. Too many glimpses behind the curtain shattered the fantasy. Pretty girls were just people too.
Still, Lin Cheng’s heart skipped a beat for a moment.
It was simple respect for the effort she’d put into looking this good.
