The other party didn’t explain much, but Gu Chuan guessed something must’ve happened upstairs.

Xuechun’s image flashed through his mind first.

That little catgirl… she couldn’t possibly have ill intentions, right?

She couldn’t even understand human speech.

Still, a trace of worry quickened his steps. Reaching his floor, Gu Chuan glanced at Qiu Muzhe’s apartment next door.

Silence. No unusual sounds.

He shook his head, pushed the thought down, and unlocked his door.

No cute kitten or catgirl greeted him at the entrance.

Then—*clack-clack-clack!* A rapid clatter of keystrokes echoed clearly from his bedroom.

Xuechun?

Gu Chuan slipped into his slippers and hurried to the bedroom.

There she was—the culprit. Xuechun sat primly on his gaming chair, knees together, merrily mashing his mechanical keyboard.

Spotting him, she let out an eager “Meow! Meow!” like, *Look how amazing I am, Master!*

Gu Chuan felt zero blame—just a faint urge to laugh.

He tugged his lips into a helpless smile.

“Alright, alright. You’re the best.”

“Now be good and hop down. Let’s go to the bed.”

He pointed to the soft bed beside his desk. Xuechun instantly understood, poised to leap.

*Thump!* The tiny “catgirl missile” landed squarely on target.

Light as a feather, she bounced on the mattress, delighted, chirping another happy “Meow!”

Gu Chuan tossed the shopping bag onto the bed. Without prompting, Xuechun clumsily used her “catgirl hands” to rummage inside.

(Those “catgirl hands” were human hands—no paw pads, but far more dexterous, capable with tools.)

Surely she’d grow used to them.

*Let’s not get any wrong ideas! Not that kind of use!*

Gu Chuan sank into his gaming chair with a relieved sigh—then froze.

His composure cracked slightly at the screen.

He could picture it all: Xuechun heard HeyZed’s message ping, got curious, and randomly mashed keys… even *sent* it.

Gu Yuanjun’s chat now showed pure gibberish—scrambled characters, letters, symbols.

HeyZed: “Encrypted call? Blah blah blah?”

(She’d thought it a joke at first. Then suspicion grew. She messaged him on Zhangmeng.)

Gu Yuanjun: “Sorry… my cat messed with the keyboard again.”

HeyZed: “Cat paws typing *that*? Say ‘catgirl’ and I might believe you.”

Gu Yuanjun: “…”

HeyZed: “Hehe, kidding~”

She had a point. Cat paws = repeated letters. Only nimble human fingers create chaotic variety.

Gu Chuan recalled Lin Churou complaining once: her cat stepped on her laptop while napping. She woke to 9,000 “words”—terrified she’d unlocked “dream-writing” under deadline pressure.

Turned out: just repeated letters. False alarm. False hope.

HeyZed jokingly brushed the truth… but she’d never believe catgirls existed.

Gu Chuan realized: catgirls could do what cats couldn’t—and vice versa.

He’d need to be careful. Very careful.

Ji Gewei? His “older sister.” He trusted her.

Others? Not so simple.

(Truthfully, Ji Gewei wasn’t easy either—but she’d never stoop to blackmail over this.)

But Qiu Muzhe?

Just picturing her narrowed-eyed smile made his stomach tighten. Would she use this to control him?

She always said she wanted to be his dog.

But what dog disobeys like that?

She lived right next door. Tread carefully from now on.

Gu Yuanjun: “Five minutes. You can start—just don’t rush in-game.”

HeyZed: “Got it. We’ll be careful.”

The duo queue began matching. High rank = longer wait. Perfect time to help Xuechun.

Pink children’s gloves, socks, knee pads. Her petite, innocent frame could pass for his little sister—if ears and tail were hidden…

Gu Chuan joined her on the bed. Xuechun tugged fiercely at a wrapper, loving the crinkle (just like her cat days).

No technique yet. Gu Chuan pinched the seal—*rip*—and a pink glove tumbled out.

Xuechun tried grabbing it with her teeth.

“Don’t use your teeth, Xuechun.”

“Mew?”

She watched him demonstrate, then mimicked him on the next package.

How did she manage breakfast every morning with such clumsy, new hands?

Ah—the golden bell around her neck glowed: *Housework LV.5*.

The bell was her status panel. But was the skill… directly usable?

Gu Chuan pondered while fastening her gear. Xuechun watched, curious.

The gloves reminded her of fluffy kitten days—pink paw pads, soft and sure.

She hopped off the bed. *Wow. Didn’t hurt!*

Then Gu Chuan’s voice came from behind:

“Xuechun… how about you sweep the floor?”

“…Mew?”

Xuechun tilted her head, the very picture of feline confusion.