Cat Food

Xie Xie felt that he and that cat had completely become sworn enemies.

Ever since Ye Xinglan had hauled him back from Tang Wulin's place with a mop over her shoulder, he had become a regular at Ye Xinglan's entryway—not as a guest, but to "serve his sentence." In Ye Xinglan's own words: "Stay until the cat comes down from the chandelier. Sweep the floor, groom it, and provide cat food for a month. No exceptions."

But even after the cat came down, Xie Xie's suffering was far from over.

For the first three days, Xie Xie obediently swept the floor, pieced together the shattered cat bowl, and fished out and dried those three water-soaked God of War firecracker modification parts. Ye Xinglan said she needed to keep them as evidence. Starting on the fourth day, though, he began stirring up trouble.

"Xinglan, I bought the cat food." Squatting at the entrance to Ye Xinglan's kitchen, Xie Xie held up a bag of kibble. A cartoon cat head was printed on the packaging, and the price tag was still attached: 19.90 per pound. He had bought a five-pound bag. "A major domestic brand, forty percent fresh meat. Pretty cost-effective, right?"

Ye Xinglan poked her head out of the study, her glasses slipping halfway down her nose. "The cat tree you said you'd compensate me for is still gathering dust on the balcony, and now you're pulling this again?"

"This time's different!" Xie Xie set the bag down and rubbed his hands together. "I checked. This stuff has a 4.8 rating, and everyone in the reviews said their cats loved it."

Ye Xinglan did not respond. She only looked at him.

Pretending not to notice, Xie Xie opened the bag, scooped out half a bowl, and poured it into the cat