Chapter 28 Part 1

Flower shadows layered thickly, sunlight struggling through the cracks to illuminate the bedroom.

The Noble Miss, roused from shallow sleep a little earlier than usual, reclined halfway against the headboard. A thick black-covered book lay open across her lap. The yellowed pages rustled softly with each turn, prompting the Little White Cat beside her pillow—who lay sprawled on her back, belly exposed—to paw lazily at her own face. Without so much as glancing over, the Noble Miss extended her right hand and landed it precisely on the cat’s cheek, gently stroking along her whiskers to soothe her.

The Little White Cat let out a contented purr. Even in her dreams, her body shifted instinctively toward the touch, her breathing soon settling back into a steady, languid rhythm.

Tong Yuwu turned several more pages. This time, a strand of silver long hair caught between them, drawing a slow furrow across the brow of the Noble Miss, who had been reading intently. She pressed her index finger down on the hair and tapped it rhythmically, but her mind had already drifted far away. The lively spark in her purple eyes stilled, her gaze growing vacant as it fixed on some unseen point in the void.

In a hazy, gray world, hundreds of eerie easels stood scattered across the small plaza, each one facing a different direction. The paintings they held were bizarre and varied, yet all shared one chilling trait: they left the viewer profoundly uneasy.

As Tong Yuwu passed one such easel, her peripheral vision caught sight of a woman with a scar across her face. When she turned for a proper look, the scar had shifted to a new position, and the woman’s features gradually morphed into a face from her memories.

The woman on the canvas spoke first. “Good child, Mommy misses you so much.”

Her tone was gentle, devoid of scorn or madness.

In that moment, Tong Yuwu even paused to recollect, confirming she hadn’t laid eyes on such a mother since she was eight.

Yet no matter what her mother was truly like, Tong Yuwu had always yearned for her.

The underground palace knew no daylight, year-round. Beneath the flickering flames moved squads of rigorously trained servants, their actions as rigid and mechanical as puppets. They tended strictly to their duties without a single extraneous word. Only the woman’s visits brought sounds beyond the relentless drip of water. Sometimes she came every day; other times, vast intervals passed before her return, her body carrying the warm scent of sunlight—far warmer than Tong Yuwu’s own blood.

The face on the canvas performed with earnest vigor, and Tong Yuwu watched closely. At first, it was mere curiosity, but soon a flicker of genuine nostalgia stirred within her.

The painted woman resembled her mother not in voice or visage, but in the purpose they both harbored.

Their “reunion” was then shattered. A silver-haired girl stood at the edge of the plaza, calling out Tong Yuwu’s name.

She had lied to the others, claiming they exchanged names amid the miasma. Tong Yuwu spun many such falsehoods—in the miasma and beyond it.

Yet her intentions remained an enigma, the polar opposite of the woman on the canvas.

A creaking door from downstairs snapped Tong Yuwu from her reverie. When she refocused, the strand of hair beneath her fingertip had been twisted into a tangled mess. She snapped the book shut and turned to find the Little White Cat’s lower half draped in a light blanket, her snowy white fur tinged pale gold by the sun. The cat’s soft belly rose and fell with each breath, the golden strands swaying gently—one teasing stroke after another against the nerves.

A sudden premonition gripped Tong Yuwu. She leaned down and buried her cheek in the cat’s belly. The fur shared its basked sunlight selflessly, enveloping her in a pool of cozy warmth.

Though the Noble Miss straightened up quickly, the Little White Cat jolted awake. Blinking her upward-tilted eyes in confusion, she stared dazedly at her own belly. Spotting Tong Yuwu nearby, she flicked her tail to shield between her legs and rolled nimbly onto her side.

“Meow—”

Tong Yuwu slipped both hands beneath the cat’s belly and hoisted her up.

“No sleeping in today.”

Meng Yiran’s four legs flailed wildly in the air as she struggled, her lingering sleepiness scattering like startled insects.

After breakfast, a white-robed healer arrived at the small building.

Upon learning her patient was a pet, the healer’s lips pressed into a tight line. But her impeccable upbringing carried her through the scheduled examination and treatment. In truth, the Little White Cat was in perfect health without a single ailment, yet the exacting Noble Miss insisted she cast a full healing spell regardless.

Meng Yiran couldn’t help feeling she possessed the makings of one of those “disaster-bringing seductresses” from ancient tales. But once she learned the Doll Lady was charged the same exorbitant fee whether treatment was needed or not, her opinion flipped: the Doll Lady was thrifty and efficient—a true model sovereign!

In the afternoon, Tong Yuwu carried her to Clarity Magic Academy.

Meng Yiran had never imagined returning to the place so soon. Held in Tong Yuwu’s arms as they surveyed the dormitory, she was still struggling to process it.

Tong Yuwu set her down on the fresh dorm bed and asked, “What do you think?”

Meng Yiran let out a soft “meow.”

To be honest, though this place couldn’t even compare to the Tong Family’s small building—let alone the grand castle they’d once lived in—it was top-tier by the standards of student dorms.

A standalone little villa, a single-occupancy room, exquisitely decorated and fully equipped.

The little white cat patrolled her territory like a queen before contentedly finding a sunny spot to curl up and rest.

Tong Yuwu said, “We’ll live here from now on.”

Meng Yiran lifted her head. “Meow?”

Tong Yuwu added, “You can’t go running off.”

Meng Yiran meowed “meow-meow” in superficial agreement, but in her mind, she was already scheming how to dodge the head wife—er, no, her own Doll Lady—so she could meet up with the Ling Family siblings.

Tong Yuwu squatted down in front of her, those purple eyes staring deeply into hers.

“If I come back from class and you’re gone, I’ll break your legs.”

The little white cat froze for a moment, then extended a front paw to gently press it against her nose, testing whether the lying Doll Lady’s nose would grow like in the stories.

Tong Yuwu curved her lips into a smile. “With broken legs, you won’t be going anywhere.”

The little white cat reached out with her other front paw, covering Tong Yuwu’s mouth.

After this little heart-to-heart, mistress and pet reached a unanimous decision to move into the dorm. They’d stay on campus most of the time for Tong Yuwu’s classes and head back to Rose Street on breaks. Jenny was a touch uneasy—after all, Tong Yuwu hailed from high society and had never been without attendants—but she ultimately backed her young mistress’s magical ambitions. The moment she heard the news, Jenny sprang into action, packing up all the essentials and enlisting the school guards to haul everything to the dorm.

On their first night at Clarity Magic Academy, the two lay side by side on the bed.

Moonlight streamed in clear and bright. Gazing out the window, they could see the academy’s iconic main gate standing sentinel in the darkness, majestic and enigmatic. The Clarity school badge showed a keen blade piercing a massive stone slab, a symbol of the countless obstacles on the path to mastering magic—and the sharp resolve needed to overcome them.

With their magical journeys about to begin, Meng Yiran brimmed with excitement. She turned to Tong Yuwu, only to find the Doll Lady’s face serene, utterly undisturbed. Meng Yiran nuzzled her hand and let out encouraging “meow-woos.”

Tong Yuwu glanced down at her, stroked her little head, and murmured, “Time to sleep.”

That night, Meng Yiran dreamed a jumble of fragmented scenes, more like flipping through a slideshow than any coherent story. One moment Tong Yuwu stood atop the Clarity school badge; the next, she loomed beside a heap of shattered stone.

When she woke, the little white cat was bursting with vigor. She took the dreams as splendid omens: Tong Yuwu would be one of those legendary figures etched into the academy’s badge, hacking through brambles to become Clarity’s pride and joy.

After breakfast, Tong Yuwu set off for the Academic Building—without her little white cat in tow.

She tried to shut the cat in the cage she’d brought the day before. But the instant Meng Yiran was inside, she craftily latched onto Tong Yuwu’s wrist with her paws and began meowing, each one softer and more pitiful than the last.

If Tong Yuwu yanked her hand free, Meng Yiran would simply dangle from her forearm and escape with her, forcing Tong Yuwu to offer her hand back inside.

Mistress and pet deadlock lasted a full two minutes before Tong Yuwu spoke. “Let go.”

The little white cat gazed up with wide, innocent eyes, as if she hadn’t a clue, then delicately licked her wrist twice.

Tong Yuwu didn’t budge. Undeterred, the cat flicked her tail to snare a finger and clung fast.

In the end, the cage door clicked shut—but the cat had already relocated to the soft cushion by the window.

Tong Yuwu bent to slip on her shoes. The little white cat craned her neck and meowed commandingly, every bit as upright and dignified as the castle’s young, impeccably professional steward.

Tong Yuwu gave her a flat look, said nothing, and strode out the door.

But Meng Yiran soon realized her freedom was still an illusion. The dorm door and every window were securely locked—a puzzle no little kitten could solve.

Luckily, a faint noise sounded at the window not long after Tong Yuwu departed.

Meng Yiran dashed over and spotted Ling Ze beckoning her from outside. She leaped through the gap he’d created, landing outdoors before ducking into the bag he’d prepared.

Ling Ze walked with a steady gait, but inside the bag, Meng Yiran still jostled about.

At last, she emerged into the light and poked her head out, discovering a cramped room stacked floor-to-ceiling with books. Ling Ze stood beside her, and across a massive desk sat a plump middle-aged woman.

The woman sipped her tea with evident relish, her eyes narrowed to slits amid the generous padding of her cheeks. Spotting the little white cat, she lit up with joy and half-rose from her chair.

Meng Yiran meowed once, recognizing her as Teacher Liya, the one she’d met before.

Liya approached Little White Cat and scooped Meng Yiran up with practiced ease, leaving her no room to even think of resisting. Cradling her close, Liya gently stroked the fur along her back and sighed in admiration. “Tsk, what pure coloring.”

Ling Ze gave a brief explanation. “I placed an Energy Binding Spell on her earlier. Could you please lift it for her later?” He gathered his things. “I’ve got a class to teach, so she’s all yours.”

“Go on, go on,” Teacher Liya said with a wave of her hand. Ling Ze soon opened the door and departed.

With the door securely shut once more, the distinctive ink scent of books grew even thicker in the room.

Teacher Liya carried her through a small side door into an adjoining Secret Chamber. The space was modest, with a narrow bed against one wall and the rest cluttered with peculiar Magic Items.

“Many of our Golden Marten Clan are scattered across the world, but few ever make it back to us,” Teacher Liya said as she laid Meng Yiran on the bed. “You’re quite impressive, little one—managing to take human form through your own accumulated energy. But more than that, you’re lucky. We found you right away and brought you to safety.”

“Though the Golden Marten Clan has faded from human sight in recent years, discovery would mean a fate no lone kit like you could imagine.”

Meng Yiran let out a soft “mew.”

In truth, from her earlier encounters with Ling Ge and Ling Ze, she’d already sensed their deep wariness toward humans. Hearing it confirmed from Teacher Liya’s lips only validated her suspicions.

“The Golden Marten Clan possesses innate gifts independent of the magical system, along with lifespans nearly a century longer than a human’s,” Teacher Liya continued, her fingers lightly caressing Meng Yiran as she spoke in a steady, soothing rhythm. “Some people believe they can use magic to graft these traits onto themselves, gaining enhanced abilities and extended lives in the process. So many years ago, they hunted us down like madmen for their experiments. Not a single captured clansman ever escaped alive.”