Meng Yiran finally got her wish and stayed by Tong Yuwu’s side.
Meili not only brought food but also some daily necessities that Meng Yiran needed, setting them down in the corner of Tong Yuwu’s bedroom. Meng Yiran was absolutely delighted—even the unsalted boiled chicken tasted more flavorful than anything she’d had before.
Once she had eaten her fill and groomed the fur on her body, Tong Yuwu took off her outer clothes and slipped into bed.
Meng Yiran eyed the soft cushion prepared for her rest, then glanced at the large, plush bed. In the end, she lacked the nerve to clamber onto it. After meowing “meow meow” twice to bid Tong Yuwu goodnight, she relaxed onto the cushion.
She didn’t have the habit of sleeping by day and prowling by night, and after expending so much energy in the restaurant that evening, she drifted off to sleep in no time.
That night, she had one dream after another.
In her dreams, she transformed back into a human and dressed and photographed a doll that looked just like Tong Yuwu. This BJD doll was more beautiful and exquisite than any she’d ever owned—she adored it endlessly, posing it over and over, losing all track of time. Toward the end of the dream, as she reached to adjust the doll’s pose once more, she cupped its face. But the skin beneath her palm felt far too lifelike, devoid of silicone’s stiff chill. Puzzled, she stared as the Doll Lady’s eyes suddenly fluttered open. The doll gazed right at her and asked what she planned to do.
An inexplicable pang of guilt struck Meng Yiran. She stammered, at a loss for words. In the midst of her embarrassment, she jolted awake. Morning light streamed through the high arched window, painting a geometric patch at the foot of the bed in the bedroom.
Birdsong drifted in from outside, the early risers trilling sweetly. The little white cat stretched with a lazy yawn, then bounded in a few light leaps onto the soft bed.
She peered over the edge and saw Tong Yuwu still sleeping soundly, eyes closed. In the shadowed corner beyond the sunlight’s reach, Tong Yuwu’s black curls spilled across the sheets, accentuating her porcelain skin—beautiful in a way words could scarcely capture. For a fleeting moment, dream blurred into reality, and Meng Yiran couldn’t tell if she was truly awake. Yet the slumbering Tong Yuwu was the life-sized BJD doll of her fantasies. Her body moved of its own accord, padding silently to the pillow and resting a paw pad ever so gently on Tong Yuwu’s cheek.
The skin was exquisitely soft, warmed by the gentle heat of deep sleep—more vivid and perfect than in her dream.
Meng Yiran yanked her paw back as if shocked, then licked it furtively, heart pounding like a thief caught in the act.
As the sun climbed in the east, the light patch at the bed’s foot crept silently toward the headboard, steadily claiming more ground. Inspiration flashed in Meng Yiran’s mind: a proper pet cat had to wake its owner each morning.
Seizing the excuse, she shed her hesitation. Boldly, she planted a paw on Tong Yuwu’s shoulder, cleared her throat, and unleashed a hearty “meow.”
At first, Tong Yuwu showed no reaction, merely furrowing her brow in sleep. Meng Yiran edged closer, perching on the pillow. A glimpse of Tong Yuwu’s exposed collarbone dazzled her; she stretched out a paw to prod it.
The collarbone felt different from the cheek—its slender ridge lent elegant contours to her lithe frame. Trailing downward, gentle swells rose and fell with each breath, their most alluring curves veiled by the rumpled, soft bedding.
Meng Yiran stole one quick glance before whipping her head away, swallowing reflexively. In the next instant, a hand seized the scruff of her neck—more precisely, clamped her throat—and hoisted her up.
Most people, picking up a kitten, mimicked a mother cat: pinching just a fold of loose nape skin. It kept the kitten calm without harm. But this hand ignored such niceties. Its owner gripped her neck outright and lifted.
Breathing grew labored at once. Meng Yiran kicked her hind legs, wheezing out pained grunts. The hand twisted at the wrist, flipping her body around. Amid her flailing, she locked eyes with the beautiful Doll Lady—those purple eyes now open wide, staring at her with blank intensity.
The little white cat shivered uncontrollably. In a heartbeat, her fur bristled fully erect, primal instincts screaming danger.
Tong Yuwu narrowed her eyes a fraction. Then she released her grip, and Meng Yiran dropped onto all fours amid the sheets.
She gagged a few times to ease the ache, regaining her wits at last. Grievously, she mewed a soft “meow meow,” protesting Tong Yuwu’s early-morning roughness.
Tong Yuwu seemed to shake off sleep’s fog at last. She gazed at the white cat on her bed and, as if only just realizing, lifted a hand to stroke Meng Yiran tenderly. She paid special attention to the abused nape, kneading and soothing it with care.
Comforted, Meng Yiran grew bold. She leaned in and lapped gently at Tong Yuwu’s chin with her pink tongue.
Sunlight had crept to the middle of the bed, stealthily nipping at the tip of Meng Yiran’s tail. Meng Yiran couldn’t see it herself, but Tong Yuwu caught the whole scene. She stretched out her arm, grabbed the Little White Cat’s tail, and rescued it from the sun’s assault, gently rubbing the imprisoned tip.
When Jenny arrived to attend to her, she found one person and one cat cozied up on the bed, sharing a tender moment.
She frowned. “How did this naughty little creature end up on your bed?”
Tong Yuwu gave her a glance but said nothing. Jenny didn’t dare press the issue and proceeded with her usual morning routine, helping her mistress rise.
As she dressed Tong Yuwu, Jenny noticed her noble young lady staring fixedly at the pillow on the bed—most unusual. Curious, Jenny followed her gaze, squinting until she spotted two barely noticeable white cat hairs.
Meng Yiran lounged idly on the quilt, licking her paws, blissfully ignorant of the havoc she’d wrought across the entire bed.
Jenny cinched Tong Yuwu’s corset and seized the moment to suggest, “I’ll have the servants swap out the bedding for you shortly.”
Tong Yuwu furrowed her brow faintly and parted her lips as if to speak.
She recalled the gaping hole scorched into the study by that potion. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the Little White Cat’s tail swaying lazily in the air. Pursing her lips, she murmured a soft “Mm.”
Just as Jenny reached for the outer skirt, Tong Yuwu turned her head aside. “Something else.”
Jenny blinked, assuming her mistress disliked the skirt’s style. “Which one would you—?” The words died as she spotted several loose threads that hadn’t been there before. Spreading the fabric across the chest, she discovered a handful of tiny tears.
Jenny understood at once—
Those rips were unmistakably from when Meng Yiran had clung to Tong Yuwu the night before, refusing to let go.
Forgetting the skirt entirely, she bent down in concern. “Miss, you’re not hurt, are you?”
Tong Yuwu looked puzzled. “Why would I be?”
Jenny exhaled in relief. She rummaged through the wardrobe for a fresh skirt, grumbling all the while. “This little menace has no sense of restraint when it plays. Those claws are vicious—it ruined one of your dresses today. Tomorrow, it might actually scratch you…
“You should lock it in a cage. Keep indulging it like this, and it’ll only grow bolder.”
Meng Yiran bristled at the words. She rose from the bed and let out an indignant meow at Jenny.
She would never hurt Tong Yuwu!
Thankfully, Tong Yuwu seemed unperturbed by Jenny’s complaints. She merely lowered her head, thoughtfully stroking the edge of her fingernail.
Meng Yiran relaxed, assuming the matter was settled. But to her surprise, Tong Yuwu soon developed an odd new habit—
She took a liking to squeezing Meng Yiran’s paws.
After a few trials, she knew precisely which spot on the paw pads would coax out the Little White Cat’s razor-sharp claws. For some inexplicable reason, she was fascinated by the deadly little weapons. Forcing them to extend wasn’t enough; she kept trying to brush her fingers against the tips.
Meng Yiran, of course, wouldn’t have it.
She tolerated the paw-pinching, but those claws were lethal—a moment’s carelessness could draw blood. Each time Tong Yuwu reached out, Meng Yiran tensed and retracted them into her pads.
Oddly, Tong Yuwu never pushed. She simply repeated the game tirelessly, tugging back and forth with Meng Yiran, heedless of time or place.
“Are you even listening to me?!” Tong Rencheng slammed his palm on the desk in the study.
Tong Yuwu missed her mark once more. With a regretful rub of the Little White Cat’s front paw, she withdrew her hand. At last, she spared her uncle a sliver of attention and tilted her head up. “No.”
Tong Rencheng’s face darkened through shades of green and black, a fearsome sight.
“I know you young ladies hate hearing your uncle nag,” he said, drawing a deep breath to steady himself, “but this is about your Coming-of-Age Banquet. You can’t afford to slack off.” He pressed on regardless. “Hand over the Family Emblem, and I swear I won’t bother you again.”
That last bit clearly tempted her. She actually dipped her head to fish the badge from her waist.
Meng Yiran panicked and planted both paws on Tong Yuwu’s hand, pinning it in place.
Tong Yuwu arched a brow and paused to look at her.
Seizing the opening, Meng Yiran whipped her head around and unleashed a fierce barrage of meows at Tong Rencheng. She meant to warn Tong Yuwu that the man before them was no good, but all that emerged were a few feeble “meow meow meows.”
Tong Rencheng nearly cracked. “What’s gotten into that cat?”
Tong Yuwu refocused. “It’s fine.”
“Fine? How?” Tong Rencheng grew agitated. “Where’s the emblem?”
Tong Yuwu reconsidered. “I’ll give the emblem to the steward. From now on, come to him with your requests.”
The young steward standing nearby hurried forward at once, accepting the task and denying Tong Rencheng any chance to stir up further trouble.
Tong Rencheng was livid beyond measure. He jabbed a finger at Tong Yuwu and demanded, “You… you’d rather trust a slave than hand the family emblem over to your own uncle?”
Tong Yuwu nodded, replying in a tone as casual as if they were chatting about the weather. “Yeah.”
Tong Rencheng’s rage lodged in his throat like a lump. His face turned beet red, leaving him speechless.
Meng Yiran watched the scene with utter delight, her tail held high.
The naive noble miss had an endearing honesty about her in certain respects. She especially loved how Tong Yuwu could render Tong Rencheng utterly speechless with just two or three words.
The family emblem was passed into the steward’s hands. No matter how reluctant Tong Rencheng was, he could only let the matter drop for now.
Before departing, he flung one last venomous remark over his shoulder. “Indulging in playthings will be your downfall! I’ll be waiting to see what good comes of your obsession with that cat!”
Meng Yiran rose to her feet and bared her teeth at his retreating back, dying to spit right in Tong Rencheng’s face. But once her show of bravado was over and she turned around, she found Tong Yuwu gazing at her quietly with her head lowered. Thinking her unladylike antics had been witnessed, Meng Yiran hastily composed herself into a proper sitting position and let out a soft, cute “meow” to prove she was being good.
Tong Yuwu pinned her in place, her expression grave as she declared, “I don’t like you.”
Meng Yiran’s body went rigid. She stood and stamped her feet several times in a mix of grievance and bewilderment.
Tong Yuwu leaned back against the wheelchair’s headrest, savoring her flustered state, then added abruptly, “Unless… you obey me. And no shedding fur.”
Meng Yiran let out a mournful wail. “Meow-ow—” Then she deflated completely, flopping onto Tong Yuwu’s lap. Even her tail, which had been raised in the air moments before, lost all spirit and dangled limply over Tong Yuwu’s knee.
Shedding fur—could a little kitten like her even control that?
Tong Yuwu took in every one of her movements and expressions, the corners of her lips curving up. In a voice clearly brimming with pleasure, she delivered the cruel verdict. “I knew you couldn’t manage it.”
Uncertain of what Tong Yuwu was thinking, Meng Yiran reached out a front paw to touch her hand. Tong Yuwu didn’t pull away. Instead, she took the paw in her own palm and gently toyed with it. Before long, Meng Yiran had forgotten all about their talk of liking and shedding fur, utterly lost in the Doll Lady’s beauty and tender caresses.
By afternoon, Tong Yuwu had led her out of the dim study and into the garden beyond the castle.
The weather was fine, and the afternoon sun bathed both human and cat in a lazy warmth. This meticulously tended garden burst with vibrant flowers and plants, the shadows of bees and butterflies flitting into view every few steps.
Tong Yuwu wasn’t simply out for a leisurely stroll. A thick book with a deep black cover lay open across her lap, claiming the spot that rightfully belonged to the Little White Cat. Meng Yiran crouched on her shoulder and peered at it for a while, but the contents were beyond her grasp. Giving up, she hopped down to the lawn and began chasing butterflies as they passed by.
It wasn’t long, however, before an unwelcome intruder shattered the idyllic afternoon peace.
At that moment, the Little White Cat had pursued a butterfly to a spot two or three meters from Tong Yuwu. She was pouncing with intense focus when she suddenly glimpsed a rotund figure lurking in the nearby bushes. Realizing what it was, Meng Yiran jolted in alarm. She abandoned the ink-black butterfly that had been within her grasp and bolted back to Tong Yuwu, planting herself squarely atop the thick tome.
Tong Rencheng’s son—the Fat Boy who had begged Tong Yuwu for Meng Yiran back in the restaurant—now appeared before the pair.
