For most people, student life wraps up around age twenty-two.

Now, his former high school classmates were all about twenty-five.

Meaning even college—a mere four years after elementary school—was already three or four years behind them.

Eight years had passed since graduation.

Eight long years—enough to reshape lives and dreams.

Old ambitions could fade; childhood fantasies could turn real; close friends could become strangers again…

Time. Invisible, intangible, yet proven by countless changes.

Autumn Ease slumped over his desk, mind wandering.

Today’s workload had spiked—he’d been assigned scene illustrations, far more brain-draining than coloring.

He wasn’t even an art school grad. Hangzhou Normal University was his alma mater. He’d dabbled in art courses, but he still lagged behind true art majors.

Years of grinding had sharpened his skills, though. He’d even started drawing his own comics—decent enough to follow, at least.

“Autumn Ease! No napping at work!” the project manager barked.

“Ah… got it…” he mumbled, slouching deeper into his chair.

The planner had shown up today, but the general manager hadn’t.

Still furious about yesterday?

Pointless. Game testing was already scheduled. His team was polishing the first batch of launch content.

*Ding-ding-ding—* His phone buzzed. Feng Yulan’s name flashed on-screen.

*Hey, Autumn Ease. Free this weekend?*

*What for?* He didn’t even lift the phone, typing one-handed.

*Take me somewhere? I borrowed my sister’s e-bike… but I can’t ride it.*

*Uh… sure.*

He hesitated briefly before agreeing.

An e-bike’s range couldn’t be that far, right?

Regular staff got weekends off. As a junior employee, Autumn Ease rarely got shift changes.

Work was relentless.

For ordinary people like him, survival meant grinding harder.

“Team! Bonus this month if we nail it!”

“Yeah—!” Cheers erupted.

Autumn Ease snorted.

Old-timers said this studio began as a passion project among friends. Back then, overtime came from love—or at least paid overtime. Now? Half the month spent unpaid overtime for a “bonus” of two or three hundred bucks. Barely covered a month of dinners.

Ever since venture capital took over, things had gone downhill.

Director Zeng still controlled game development, but marketing and management? Out of his hands.

A quiet tragedy.

To see your creation finished… only to lose control of it. Until it no longer felt like yours.

Autumn Ease sighed.

*Why dwell on this?* he scolded himself. *None of it’s my problem.*

At twenty-six, he wasn’t the youngest staffer. Why act so… naive?

Predictably, overtime bled past midnight. Autumn Ease slipped out before twelve—backpack stuffed with an oversized coat to hide his rumpled work clothes.

Jet-black hair spilled over his shoulders. He fumbled with a hair tie from his pocket, failing to gather all the strands. He gave up, letting it fall loose.

The office building stood silent. Few companies burned midnight oil like this. Early leavers were gone; late stragglers still hours away. Only Autumn Ease emerged through the glass doors.

A cold breeze brushed his cheeks, lifting stray hairs near his temples.

The walk home was his loneliest hour.

Even an empty apartment felt less isolating than this stretch of pavement.

As usual, he rented a shared bike. Just as he swung his leg over the seat, a yellow-and-white cat darted from the bushes—landing squarely in his basket.

This cat looked identical to the one near his apartment. Same sharp, almost human eyes—always glinting with mischief.

“Hitchhiking now?” Autumn Ease chuckled, nudging the cat back into the basket. “Stay put. No squirming.”

The bike wobbled forward.

With the chatty cat yowling nonstop beside him, the ride felt less lonely.

He returned the bike near his building. The cat followed, leaping into his arms, paws kneading his chest like it was claiming territory.

Grateful for the company, Autumn Ease ducked into a convenience store. Cat food was too ordinary—he grabbed a ¥3 sausage (low-starch, he hoped). He’d never splurge on this for himself. But for the cat? Worth it.

“Meow—!” The cat batted the sausage to the floor, then kicked it under a shelf.

“Not hungry?” Autumn Ease frowned.

The cat shook its head—uncannily human—then led him to the candy aisle. It jumped onto a shelf, pawing desperately at a giant bag of White Rabbit candies.

“That’s *milk candy*. You sure?”

“Meow!” It nodded vigorously.

Fifteen yuan. He could share the bag… except he hated sweets.

The cat rubbed against his ankles, big watery eyes pleading.

*Damn it.*

“Ugh—fifteen bucks!” Autumn Ease groaned outside the store. After buying that transformation toy last week, this was robbery.

But… how could anyone resist that sassy, adorable face?

*Are humans just powerless against cat cuteness?*

Payment for the ride home, he decided. He peeled two candies, placing them before the cat.

It devoured them, savoring the sticky sweetness—milk or sugar, who knew?

“Since you love milk candy so much…” Autumn Ease crouched, stroking its head as his hair tumbled forward. “How about I name you ‘Milk Candy’?”

“Meow?”

He dangled another candy. “Milk Candy? Milk Candy?”

“Meow~” (Its eyes never left the candy.)

“Here.” He handed it over.

Name settled.

He’d have kept it, but his tiny apartment could barely fit one person. This was fine—like semi-adopting a stray.

*Maybe that’s why people leave food for strays,* he mused. *To feed that little hope.*

He ruffled the cat’s ears, then rode the elevator up, heart aching slightly.

Minutes later, a stone-faced girl appeared. She plucked Milk Candy by the scruff.

“Mew…” The cat shrank, tucking its paws like a scolded child.

The girl cradled it silently, vanishing into the night.

As if she’d never been there.

Only candy wrappers remained, scattered by the wind…