The street lay hushed, streetlamps leaking dim amber like tired fireflies. Ouyang and White Cat jumped down while the car idled like a dozing beast.

“Mraow~ Freedom…” The cat’s voice drifted like wind slipping a leash.

“Shut it.” Ouyang’s snap cracked like a dry twig.

Gurgle—gurgle. Their stomachs drummed like hollow gourds in a cave.

Hunger hit first, sharp as winter air, then the bickering came. Their souls argued like two sparrows pecking over a crumb.

“So hungry… not a single late-night stall? What kind of busted city is this?” His gripe fell like pebbles in a well, but he knew it was just steam. Even if there was a stall, he had no coins, like pockets full of smoke.

“Ouyang… I’m starving. Let’s pry a door. Those houses must hide food.” White Cat’s whisper slinked like a stray through alleys.

At that, Ouyang’s eyes lit like lanterns, and drool slipped like a little river. “Good idea… mm—no, focus hurts, I get hungrier just picturing it. White Cat, fetch something to pry with.” His impatience fluttered like moths around a flame.

White Cat rolled its eyes, the gesture sharp as a flicked fan.

Ouyang scanned the block, gaze gliding like a kite. He picked a house that looked rich, rooflines fat as a full granary. Rich folks hoard food, he thought; right now, he could swallow a whole cow like a python. A normal household’s pantry would be a dried-up creek.

“Security door? You think that stops me?” He circled it like a wolf testing a fence, then snapped a bar from the iron railing with a grunt like splitting bamboo. “Heh. Back in the day they called me the Lock-Picking Prince. A mere security door…”

He worked the iron rod at the lock, slipping and probing like a fishbone teasing a throat. He kept it quiet, breath held like a hunter in reeds. After a long while, nothing budged, stubborn as a stone gate.

“You forced my hand, door. Enhance!” His voice fell like a hammer on an altar.

He burned the last ten drops of divine power; the rod drank it like parched soil. Shunk. The strengthened tip slid through the lock like a needle through silk.

“Hmph, little thing.” His smirk curved like a half moon.

He shredded the lock’s guts until it was mush, then pushed the door. Darkness pooled inside like a deep well. The owners were out, or already asleep; midnight wraps the city like a heavy quilt.

“Where do you think you’re going, mangy cat?” White Cat dashed in, sniffed like a hound, then darted toward a direction like an arrow. Ouyang snagged it with a glare; he’d picked the lock and paid the price, so the spoils wouldn’t go to a lone cat.

They moved through the black house, sniffing like wolves.

“What’s that smell… old-jar sauerkraut? Spicy beef? Mushroom chicken?” The scents bloomed like steam off a hot spring. Cold sweat slid down Ouyang’s back like rain. He’d picked a ‘rich’ house for a bounty; now all he smelled was instant noodles, a paper kingdom.

They followed the scent like a trail of crumbs. Paper cups sat with a skim of broth, like puddles after rain. On the table, a mountain of instant noodles—bags and boxes stacked like bricks.

No ceremony. Ouyang tore open a bag and crunched it dry, like biting a frosty leaf. White Cat copied him, ripping the plastic and gnawing the noodle brick. Crunch, crunch—the sound sharp as cracking ice.

“Ugh… thirsty. Water…” His tongue felt like felt.

He hunted by touch, found a water dispenser standing like a little white tower. He tipped it back and chugged, glug-glug, like a river breaking a dam. Half the tank vanished into him like rain into sand.

Before they knew it, they’d devoured the entire noodle hoard, dry-eaten, battlefield messy. Seasoning packets flew like confetti, sauces splattered table and floor like stray ink.

Suddenly, light exploded in the room like dawn ripping a curtain.

“Ah—wh-who are you?” A small voice trembled like a struck chime. Ouyang looked over. A delicate boy in pajamas stood shivering, fear painting his face like frost.

Ouyang calmly wiped crumbs from his mouth like brushing dust off an old book, then took a sip of water. “Yo, kid…” The boy’s stare was mist-thick—no understanding. Ouyang remembered the language wall, a stone in the stream. Good thing eating brought his strength back; fifty points of divine power flickered like coals. He reached into the boy’s memories, skimming language like a dragonfly skims water. The fifty vanished again like dew under sun.

Once words flowed, Ouyang spun a tale without a draft, his mouth rattling like firecrackers. The story bounced off the boy’s skull like hail on a roof; one thing stuck.

“You’re saying… you’re a god?”

“That’s right, kid. Want to forge a contract and become my magic—my divine envoy?” His grin curled like a cat’s tail.

The boy’s face said no, disbelief flat as a lake.

“A god? A god who pries my security door? A god who eats my month’s instant noodles? A god who looks like he crawled out of a trash heap?” His words were knives, clean and quick.

“Kid, I am a god. I got ambushed by an evil god, fell like a star into mud. Help me through this, and when I reclaim my seat, I’ll choose you as my envoy.” Ouyang’s tone was solemn as a temple bell.

White Cat hugged a noodle brick like a pillow, walked on two legs like a tiny drunk, and gave a firm mraow.

“See? Even the cat testifies. I’m a god.” His certainty gleamed like polished jade.

The boy: “…”

Ouyang drifted to the fridge under the boy’s hawk-stare, feet light as a thief’s.

“No… don’t, that’s my last food…” The plea broke like thin ice.

They didn’t listen. Man and cat lunged into the fridge like raiders into a granary.

“Wow—apples. Nice.” He crunched, crisp as a fresh bite of snow.

“What’s this? Canned meat? I won’t be polite.” The lid popped like a tin cymbal.

“Oh? Raw meat? No problem. I’m a god; I’m not picky.” His shrug fluttered like a loose sleeve.

Minutes later, the boy stared at the fridge, tooth-marked everywhere like a chewed bone. Tears prickled like a rising tide. “Are you… even human? You bit the fridge?” Cold sweat crawled over him like ants—this felt haunted.

Burp. Ouyang patted his belly, satisfied as a cat in sunlight, then flopped on the sofa like a spent wave. “Told you, kid, I’m a god. Gods aren’t picky.” His smugness gleamed like lacquer.

“No, that’s not the point. You look like you rolled in a landfill… my sofa!” Panic fluttered in his chest like trapped sparrows. “Get off—now!”

Cornered by weirdness, the boy pointed at the bathroom like a signpost, then tossed Ouyang his own clothes, reluctance sticking like glue. He’d seen the cat walk on two legs. He’d seen Ouyang bite a fridge and a table. Whatever they were, they weren’t normal. He didn’t want tomorrow’s headline to be his own obituary.

After a hot wash, Ouyang slipped into the offered clothes, skin buzzing like steamed bamboo. He looked around the place with a gaze like a sweep of wind.

“Looks like it’s just you here… hmm. A house, a sister, dead parents—classic harem-protagonist starter pack. You’re one heroine short. Relax, as payment, we’ll snag you a girl and make you a winner.” He chomped a cucumber, crisp as rain on leaves.

“Dead parents? What the hell? My parents are fine. They’re just traveling for summer.” The boy’s frown cut like a blade.

“Oh? Parents alive? Easy fix—we’ll make them disappear, and boom, you’re harem-protagonist material.” His cheer popped like a balloon.

“You—%$#@!” The curse hit the wall like a thrown shoe.

After a few rounds, the boy learned arguing with this bargain-bin “god” was like wrestling fog—useless. He decided to ignore Ouyang and drift back to bed like a log on water. Ouyang didn’t push it. He said good night like a doused lamp and flicked off the light.

Back in his room, Youwen rolled on his bed like a stranded fish; tonight was too strange by half. Regret pooled first, bitter as tea leaves. Everyone at school had implants, all kinds of gadgets. If he’d grafted something—say, a sprint module or a wrist blaster—he wouldn’t have been so helpless tonight.

People like him, stubbornly unmodified, were rare like snow in summer. At school, they were the weakest in a fight, the easiest to bully, like rabbits among hawks.

“I forgot to set them up with a bed… It’s so quiet. Maybe they left after eating. Or maybe they crashed on the sofa.” His thoughts faded like smoke, and sleep took him like soft rain.

——————————

Next morning, Ouyang felt someone tugging his arm like a tide pulling shore.

“Who’s yanking me? It’s dawn, don’t steal my dream.” His grumble rolled like thunder under a blanket.

White Cat, sprawled beside him, mraowed, a sour note like a squeaky hinge.

“This is my room.” The voice was cold as a winter spring.

Ouyang snapped awake, eyes opening like shutters. A little girl with long green hair stood by the bed, black dress neat as a raven’s wing, a blue bow at her chest like a bit of sky, ice-blue eyes calm as glaciers, a porcelain doll anchored in shadow.

He stared a beat, then dragged the quilt up like a tide. “Let me sleep. We’ll talk later.” His words floated like drifting leaves.

“Mraow~” White Cat curled in tighter, a furry comma.

“You…” The girl’s breath stalled like a held note.

Youwen’s voice floated down the hall like a bell: “Youyun, where are you?”

The girl didn’t look away, her gaze a needle of frost. “Here.”

Youwen stepped in, and then—

“Ah—why are you sleeping here? This is my sister’s room!” His mind scattered like a flock of birds. At dawn, his mother had called; his sister Youyun was almost home. He’d sprung up, cleaned last night’s mess like sweeping a storm from the floor, and searched for Ouyang and White Cat. Nowhere. He’d thought those two riddle-creatures had vanished like mist.

He’d forgotten one room—his sister’s. He rarely entered it, especially when she wasn’t home, like a shrine left respectfully closed.

“So noisy. Servant, quiet for Lord Cat.” White Cat’s complaint rang like a tiny gong. A good meal had restored a trickle of divine power; words dripped from its mouth like honey.

“Yeah.” Ouyang agreed lazily, a single reed note, and pulled the quilt over his head like a fortress.

Youyun’s face darkened, cloud gathering like a storm over a lake. When she saw drool leaking from Ouyang’s mouth and soaking the pillow like a slug trail, her patience snapped like brittle ice.

“Get out of my room!!!” The shout slammed the walls like a blade of frost.