Lin An’s steps felt slightly heavier as he left Xu Qinghuan’s room.

It wasn’t about their discussion’s outcome or any flaw in her advice. Simply put, every time they talked like this, a faint haze of confusion settled over him.

Xu Qinghuan was an absolute egoist—and Lin An, her only soft spot. To her, if she were him, she wouldn’t care whether someone was spiraling into madness, distortion, or self-harm. As long as *she* felt happy and satisfied, that was all that mattered.

Lin An wasn’t a people-pleaser either. Yet deep down, he held an internal compass, hoping every choice felt “right.” But what *was* right? A vague idea. The majority’s approval?

Still, overthinking wasn’t helpful. Happiness mattered more. He even believed a little in Xu Qinghuan’s philosophy: a touch of selfishness could bring surprising joy.

As for her “solution”… she hadn’t really given one. With a hint of melancholy, she met his eyes, swinging her pale, delicate feet.

“If you understand Su Yuejin’s patterns… grasp what she truly wants now… many things might simply melt away. Even *our* problem, Lin An.”

She gave a slight shrug—helpless. But Lin An understood. He nodded gently, kissed her lips softly, and left to rest.

The night passed quietly.

...

Morning light filtered in. Lin An woke to a heavy weight on his stomach.

He blinked slowly. Xu Qinghuan straddled him, white dress hem tousled. His gaze flickered downward—then quickly away. “Please… find another way to wake me next time?”

“This shows *sincerity*!” She swayed lightly, bent until her hair brushed his cheek—flexible from regular exercise—and planted a kiss on his face.

“Daily energy boost delivered! Time to rise, full of vigor!” She waved a tiny fist.

*Silly.*

Yet Lin An sat up obediently, lifted her down, and asked about breakfast.

“I want you to cook noodles for me.”

So he went. Yangchun noodles—simple broth, soft-boiled egg, crispy outside, tender within.

They slurped noodles side by side. Unusually, Xu Qinghuan carried her bowl to the kitchen. “I’ll wash up today.”

Lin An opened his mouth to tease—*What’s the occasion?*—when she turned back. “Oh, and… could you wash the underwear in the bathroom too?”

*Of course. At heart, she’s still a lazy cat.*

He washed them, hung the laundry on the balcony piece by piece. Sunlight warmed his cheeks.

A rare, gentle autumn sun. Comforting.

Chacha seemed busy today—no gaming invite. Lin An welcomed the quiet. Typed two novel chapters. Then paused, unsure what next.

Xu Qinghuan edited a video in her room—likely an anime-style dance upload.

At noon, as he called her for lunch, his phone rang. A past part-time coworker. Feverish. Needed him to cover her cat cafe shift while she got an IV drip.

Lin An agreed. Told Xu Qinghuan. Left.

She didn’t question him. She knew he rarely lied—and if he did, she’d see through it. That was Xu Qinghuan: a clever little monster.

Loose white sweater, long pants, hair lightly blow-dried. A twenty-minute stroll. Autumn breeze perfect for walking.

The cafe: *Spinning Cats Cafe*. He’d worked there the summer after freshman year—started serving tea, feeding cats, later learned coffee. Decent pay. The girl asking for help wasn’t flashy; her family struggled. But kind. So he helped.

Manager recognized him. Changed uniforms. Tasks were light: scoop litter, refill food/water, guide guests on gentle petting, prevent scratches.

1 PM to 6 PM. Eighty yuan. Solid rate.

He settled in fast, murmuring cat names and tips to newcomers.

He missed this job. Calm. Fair pay. And he loved cats.

Quiet creatures. Mostly. Exceptions existed—like humans, cats had quirks too.

Around 3 PM, a girl entered alone.

Elegant Lolita dress. Light, precise makeup. Strikingly gentle features. Eyes unforgettable. Hair to her waist. Looked eighteen, nineteen.

“A caramel macchiato,” she said softly. Voice sweet, youthful… oddly familiar.

Like Chacha’s—always chirping in his ear—but Chacha never carried this serene, untouchable calm. Noble. Distant.

*Maybe the ornate dress adds to it.* Autumn made it bearable.

He relayed the order. Returned to his seat.

Over a dozen cats remembered him. A tiny white Scottish Fold leaped onto his shoulder, docile.

Her drink arrived. He served it. Resumed playing with cats.

Not long after—

“Big brother~?”

“Hmm? What is it?” Lin An turned.

“The cats ignore me.”

He brought a plump blue-and-white British Shorthair, tweaked its ears gently, set it on her table. “Chin and back are safe. Avoid belly and tail. And… if your dress is precious, maybe don’t hold them. Shedding gets messy.”

His voice stirred that familiar feeling in her again.

She nodded, cradled the cat anyway. It stayed calm. A faint floral scent drifted from her. Lin An stepped back.

Around 4:00 PM—phone rang. Su Yuejin.

Declined. Rang again. Declined.

She called *again*—stubborn. He answered. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Where are you? Play games with me?”

“Covering a shift at a cat cafe.”

“Which one? I’ll come!”

“Ah… I’m working. Can’t entertain you.”

“I’ll just wait till you’re off~ Hehe.”

“So clingy.”

“*Are* you telling me?” Her voice edged flustered.

He sighed. Gave the cafe name. Checked time: 4:15 PM.

Silence. Then—

A girl in white hoodie, light gray pleated skirt, ponytail draped left. Skirt hem above knees. Legs straight. Eyes bright.

Su Yuejin spotted him, walked over, sat. Waited.

“What’ll you have?”

“Lemon Yakult.”

“Mm. One moment.”

“Why so stiff? Can’t you smile for me, Lin An?”

“Oh. Hahaha.” He forced three stiff laughs. *Not just one.*

Su Yuejin rested her chin, smiling. As Lin An turned toward the counter—

“Xiao Chacha? You’re here too?”

“What a coincidence, Su Yuejin.” The Lolita girl—Xiao Chacha—smiled faintly. Saw Su Yuejin’s cool expression. Said no more.

Su Yuejin waited for her drink, eyes locked on Lin An until he returned.

*She said “Xiao Chacha.”* Lin An noted it. *Coincidence. Doesn’t matter.*

“I want to hold a cat too,” Su Yuejin pouted slightly.

“Which one?” *Ugh, the coquettish act.*

She pointed to the Scottish Fold on his shoulder. He coaxed it down, placed it in her arms.

She stroked its back. Both seemed content.

Xiao Chacha watched Lin An, then Su Yuejin.

*Ah… so that’s why his voice felt familiar.*

*How interesting.*

She waved him over.

“Hello? How can I help?”

“I’d like your WeChat.” She blinked, tilted her head—innocent, sweet, deliberately cute.