Chapter Thirty-Five: The Imprints of the Past

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Night had fallen, and the lights from the living room were blocked by layers of shadows, unable to reach the balcony.

Maomao curled up in the hammock, tilting its head as it gazed downstairs. Its eyes were shrouded in blackness, devoid of any glimmer. Its tail hung off the hammock, sprawling across the balcony floor.

The long tail, coiled like a python, occupied the entire balcony. The fur bristled, exposing clusters of black eyes embedded in the skin.

Crack... crack... crack...

These eyes slowly split open. Like chicks breaking out of their shells, black beaks emerged from beneath the eyes, matching their hue.

The beaks seemed to possess a life of their own, slowly growing until they became enormous, as large as the beak of a toucan, though glossy black, reflecting the living room’s lights with a metallic sheen. The tips of the beaks curved into hooks, resembling a pirate’s hand, capable of tearing out a human heart with ease.

Once fully formed, the beaks opened wide, revealing tongues—some slender, some flat and round. Each tongue was unique in shape and length, but all were covered in shimmering blue barbs, clearly capable of secreting deadly poison.

Suddenly, the blackness in the cat’s eyes receded like a tide. Its fur sleeked down, the open beaks snapped shut, and the hooked points drove into the tongues. The tips writhed violently as if stung, blue blood spattering out, only to be forcibly drawn back into the tail.

The long tail shrank inch by inch, returning to its original form.

The blue blood evaporated into the air, leaving no trace.

Click—

As the sound of the door opening echoed, Lu Meimei’s voice came from the entrance.

“This is far enough. You should head back now.”

“Won’t you let me say hello to Maomao?” Zhou Hai asked.

Lu Meimei laughed, pushing open the door and calling out, “Maomao!”

Maomao lifted its head but remained sprawled in the hammock, motionless.

“Maomao’s ignoring you. Haha. Hurry home now,” Lu Meimei said.

Zhou Hai sighed, “Alright. Next time I’ll spend more time with Maomao.”

“With me, not with me?”

“You’re second now.”

“Hehehe...”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Lu Meimei saw Zhou Hai off. As she entered the apartment, she recounted to Maomao what she and Zhou Hai had eaten for dinner. After washing her hands, she went straight to the balcony and scooped Maomao into her arms.

“Maomao! Are you mad? Upset we left you at home?” She ruffled Maomao’s head.

Maomao rested quietly against her shoulder.

Lu Meimei sat on the sofa, turned on the television, and asked, “What do you think of Zhou Hai? Do you like him?”

Maomao nuzzled her shoulder in silence.

“Like him? Not like him?” Lu Meimei tilted her head and brushed Maomao’s ear. “Or do we need more time to watch and see?”

Maomao stretched out its tongue and licked her chin.

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“Alright. We’ll keep observing,” Lu Meimei decided cheerfully, pulling out her phone. “Let’s tell Sister Ai Ai we need more time to decide.”

As she spoke, her finger hovered over the phone’s screen.

Her gaze settled on the call icon.

She recalled the call she’d received that afternoon.

A stranger’s voice had named a place she’d thought she’d never hear again in her lifetime...

“I still remember how tiny you were back then, too little to nurse from your mother. I wanted to steal my cousin’s milk to feed you, but my aunt caught me and gave me a spanking...” Lu Meimei suddenly said. “Lucky I didn’t manage to steal any, or you might have gotten a stomachache.”

“That day was my tenth birthday.” Lu Meimei gently stroked Maomao. “I was pretty naïve as a kid. When it was my cousin’s tenth birthday, her parents bought her a new backpack and a cake. I thought I’d get the same—how could I have? But I met you.”

Though the next day, when she went back to the nest, the cat mother and kittens were gone, and she mourned their absence for days.

Lu Meimei kissed Maomao’s ear.

Maomao turned and nudged her cheek with its nose.

She recalled the second time she’d met Maomao, a week later, in the woods among a litter of playful kittens. One was clearly smaller than the rest but was energetically pouncing on its siblings. When the kittens noticed her, most tried to flee, hissing and bristling, but the smallest only tilted its head, regarding her with curiosity.

Lu Meimei laughed at the memory.

She’d known nothing then, and reached out straight for Maomao; surprisingly, the kitten hadn’t shied away, but played with her. Tiny teeth gnawed on her fingers, a small tongue scraped her palm. Only when the cat mother rushed over and called did Maomao let go, glance at its mother, and, after one last nuzzle, scamper away.

“I wanted to bring you home right then. But my uncle and aunt would never have agreed. I squatted there for a long time, thinking that if you came back, I’d sneak you home and hide you well.” Lu Meimei lay back on the couch, lifted Maomao to meet its gaze, then hugged it to her chest.

That day, Maomao hadn’t returned. But for a long time after, Lu Meimei would often run into Maomao. She’d save bits of her school lunch to feed it, and with red, teary eyes beg the school nurse for alcohol and bandages to tend Maomao’s wounds.

Lu Meimei caressed Maomao’s tail.

Beneath the soft fur, scars still crisscrossed the skin.

She couldn’t heal Maomao, only watch as it dragged its tail behind it. She cried for a long time, powerless to do more than weep.

She couldn’t help Maomao; all Maomao could do was lick her, nuzzle her as she cried, offering comfort in its own way.

Lu Meimei pressed Maomao’s belly over her face, squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears, and hugged the warm body tight.

Thank goodness all that was in the past.

Maomao lay in her arms, green eyes darkening like ink. Its mouth parted under the pressure of growing teeth. From the lower jaw protruded tusks like those of a mammoth; from the upper jaw, saber teeth like those of a prehistoric tiger. It craned its neck upward, careful not to touch Lu Meimei, and glanced at the phone she’d tossed onto the sofa. In the stormy depths of its black eyes, something was gathering.

...

Sheng Yao spent half a day and caught another stray cat.

His swift movements frightened the plump ginger tabby. Once he’d grabbed the nape of its neck, the cat hung limp, limbs dangling, wide-eyed and scared, and made no resistance even as he placed it in the carrier.

This was the ninth stray he’d caught that week, investigating four pet hospitals near Lu Meimei’s home—much to the shock of Boss Le.

As Boss Le put it, even professional cat catchers weren’t this efficient. And Sheng Yao wasn’t doing this eight hours a day, either.

He hailed a cab to Pegasus Pet Hospital. The name was a mouthful, but the shop was large, with a lovely winged horse logo, and the interior was lavishly decorated. The medical staff’s skill was uncertain, but the advanced equipment at least gave an air of professionalism—and of steep prices.

The hospital was farther from Lu Meimei’s place, and its expense had put it lower on Sheng Yao’s list.

Lu Meimei was not wealthy; Sheng Yao had already gathered this from the neighborhood and confirmed it by tailing her to her workplace.

If there was anything unusual, it was that both apartments she’d rented or bought had previously been the scene of incidents—allowing her to move in at a discount.

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After learning this, a heaviness settled in Sheng Yao’s heart.

He remembered the fleshy tumor-monster that had grown from Liu Yu’s arm. If he hadn’t intervened, that creature would have killed Yu Guangchun that very night.

Had Maomao also grown a monster, killing the previous tenant and the landlord’s granddaughter?

Were those really just accidents?

Carrying the cat carrier, Sheng Yao entered Pegasus Pet Hospital, registered at reception, and explained his purpose.

He was assigned to a female veterinarian whose name was displayed on her badge.

“Hello, Dr. Wang,” Sheng Yao greeted her, setting the carrier on the counter. “Here’s the stray cat. I’d like it checked, vaccinated, and neutered.”

“Of course.” Dr. Wang lifted the fat ginger from the carrier. The cat glanced timidly at Sheng Yao, then turned away, presenting its backside and burying its face in the vet’s arms.

Dr. Wang laughed, “Did you scare it catching it?”

“Maybe...” Sheng Yao replied sheepishly. “Is it healthy?”

“Let’s see...” Dr. Wang began a careful examination, noting the cat’s stats.

“You mostly get purebreds here, right? Not many gingers or tabbies?” Sheng Yao asked casually.

“Some people do like tabbies. Some adopt strays, too,” Dr. Wang replied.

“Really? What do people usually name them?”

“Haven’t thought of a name for this one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“We have a ginger here named Chubby.”

“What about tabbies? Gingers count as tabbies, right?”

“Yes, yours is a tabby. This is only our second tabby,” Dr. Wang admitted shyly.

She’d previously claimed they treated all kinds of cats, but in truth, most patients were purebreds with pedigrees, often sold from partner catteries. The “Chubby” she mentioned was a show-quality Exotic Shorthair. In recent years, more customers had started bringing in rescues, but few registered as regulars or brought their cats in for checkups.

“Oh?” Sheng Yao said. “So there’s another tabby?”

“Yes. A gray tabby,” Dr. Wang said, her tone growing nostalgic. “It was quite lucky. Six or seven years ago, its owner brought in a similar tabby for emergency care. The cat was already beyond help. She’d tried several clinics, all recommending euthanasia. The cat had severe kidney failure, and the owner didn’t really understand proper care. It had been a stray, so she let it roam. She hadn’t realized how ill it was...”

Sheng Yao’s heart pounded. He had a gut feeling he’d finally found the right hospital.

“My mentor was the vet then, and advised euthanasia—it would be a mercy. The owner sobbed, unable to speak. The cat was skin and bones, weak, but still managed to crawl to her side and lick her fingers,” Dr. Wang sighed. “She ran out with the cat, and later came back with another tabby, claiming the cat had recovered. How could that be?”

“What was that cat’s name?” Sheng Yao asked, barely breathing.

“Excuse me?”

“What was the cat’s name?” He repeated, slowing his voice, struggling to keep calm.

“Oh... Maomao,” Dr. Wang smiled. “She said she’d met that cat as a child, always called it ‘Kitty,’ never gave it a formal name. When she registered here, she named the new cat ‘Maomao.’”