A Strange Way of Eating

A woman in her thirties stood downstairs, her hair tied to the right in a typical married woman's hairstyle.

She held a spray bottle of disinfectant and kept spraying the pavement, its small nozzle making a strange noise.

Psst, psst.

The convenience store owner was disinfecting the entrance. When she turned and looked up, she happened to see Ke Meng leaning against his second-floor window.

"You're up early, Mr. Ke." She gave him a gentle smile.

On the horizon, the sun broke through the thick clouds. Sunlight pierced the thinner clouds, leaving the sky exceptionally clear.

Golden morning light illuminated the city, a forest of steel, spreading from the distant streets toward the buildings behind them.

The woman's shadow stood out clearly on the ground, stretching into what looked like several tentacles.

Ke Meng blinked. The woman still stood there smiling gently at him, and there was nothing unusual about her shadow.

His eyes must have been playing tricks on him.

Just then, a petite girl darted out, wearing a loose T-shirt patterned with little octopuses. As she bobbed her head, the short ponytail behind her swayed along with it.

Grinning, she waved her little hand. Her eyes were clear and bright beneath her bangs, and her voice came out muffled through her mask. "Morning, Meng!"

"Morning," Ke Meng said, leaning against the window. "I woke up early today, so I got out of bed. Do you have any dried fish?"

"Yes. If you want some, you can have it for free," the store owner said with a smile.

Ke Meng was her landlord. Giving him a couple of packets of dried fish was no trouble.

"No need to be so generous. I just want to buy a packet to try."

Ke Meng was about to head downstairs when the store owner's daughter volunteered. "I'll bring it up for you, Meng."

"Thanks." Since someone was bringing it up, Ke Meng stayed where he was.

Sunlight fell on the girl's face, and her smile grew brighter, though her mask hid it.

"I'll have a jianbing and some soy milk, too." Ke Meng had spotted the little cart they had just wheeled out downstairs, stocked with soy milk, fried dough sticks, and jianbing.

"Okay!"

The girl hurried to pack up the soy milk and fried dough sticks.

Ke Meng transferred the money directly to her through WeChat, then waited for her to leave the breakfast and dried fish at his door.

He was the landlord of this building and owned two four-story properties. The third and fourth floors were rented out, while the ground floor was leased as retail space. His other property was back in his hometown.

Even without looking for a job, he lived quite comfortably.

Ke Meng lived on the second floor. Before long, a knocking sound came from his door.

Chen Momo's lively voice rang out from the other side. "Open up!"

Ke Meng put on a mask and opened the door. The girl held up a little bag and craned her neck to look behind him, but there was nothing there.

"What are you looking at?" Ke Meng asked, puzzled.

"Nothing."

The girl shook her head, making her ponytail sway.

Ke Meng noticed Chen Momo's new hair accessory: a clip shaped like a little red cartoon octopus.

"New hair clip?" Ke Meng pointed at the cartoon accessory on her head.

"Yep! Is it cute?" Chen Momo watched him, showing it off with delight written all over her face.

"Yeah, it's pretty cute," Ke Meng said.

The girl left happily, skipping down the stairs.

Back in the bedroom, the big-faced cat was still sitting in its basin. It had not changed the direction it faced and was still staring toward the camera.

The little bag contained two packets of dried fish, a jianbing, and soy milk.

Ke Meng crouched down, tore open a packet of dried fish, took out a piece, and held it to the big-faced cat's mouth.

He had heard that besides cat food, cats would also eat meat, milk, bread, and other things.

Ke Meng had never owned a cat, but he figured this big-faced cat was different from ordinary cats. This thing could survive on one dried fish a day. Perhaps some mysterious power maintained its energy supply, and the dried fish was only a superficial requirement.

He held the dried fish to its mouth, but the big-faced cat's mouth did not move.

He pushed it a little farther, poking the fish's head into the cat's mouth. There was very little resistance, and it slipped in easily.

Even then, the big-faced cat's expression remained fixed, without the slightest reaction.

"Don't tell me it's dead?"

Ke Meng tried pushing the dried fish a little farther in. It was like sliding something into a vending machine's coin slot: another little push, and it disappeared.

Ke Meng blinked. He had not seen how the cat ate it, so he fed it another dried fish.

The moment half the tail entered its mouth, Ke Meng pulled it back out. Only the tail remained; the head and middle of the fish that had gone into its mouth had vanished without a trace.

"Holy shit!"

Ke Meng had never expected feeding a cat to be so unnerving.

This was hardly eating. It skipped the whole process entirely. Its mouth was like a coin slot, and any dried fish put inside simply disappeared.

He took half a step back and stared at the big-faced cat for half a minute. It still looked just as vacant, its expression fixed, and showed no sign of malice.

Maybe I've misunderstood it?

Ke Meng turned and went to the kitchen for a pair of chopsticks. He picked up the remaining half of the fish tail, put it into the cat's mouth, then pulled the chopsticks back out.

The dried fish had vanished, but the wooden chopsticks were intact.

According to the strange feeding knowledge the big-faced cat had imparted to Ke Meng, it did not need to poop or pee. One piece of dried fish a day was enough.

The people of Cat-Face Village usually fed it this way, too, and it had never suffered from malnutrition or physical deterioration.

Ke Meng set the packet of dried fish aside and reviewed the camera footage frame by frame, analyzing the feeding process.

In the footage, the middle section of the fish entering its mouth was right where a dark shadow fell. Once the dried fish crossed that boundary, it disappeared, while the wooden chopsticks did not.

Ke Meng opened his little notebook and wrote:

"When feeding it, the dried fish disappeared, but the wooden chopsticks remained. Does this mean the big-faced cat doesn't eat wooden objects?"

"Its expression is fixed because it has stopped thinking."

"When there are strange things nearby, looking into its eyes for fifteen seconds gives me strange knowledge. This is important. Circle it."

"The big-faced cat's safety classification is provisionally 'suspected safe.'"

Taking notes was a little habit of his. Whenever something caught his interest, he would habitually analyze it and record his findings.

Ke Meng flipped back through his notebook, revealing all sorts of analyses he had recorded before.

For example:

"Can a phone battery start a fire outdoors? Yes! It ignited a pile of grass. Safely put out the fire with an extinguisher afterward."

"Is the 'quantum speed-reading method' circulating online real? No! Flipped pages forever and didn't remember a single word."

"Is the pen-spirit game real? No! Human manipulation!"

The notebook contained a whole series of analytical records, most of them about rather pointless things. He felt the collection could qualify as a showcase of baffling human behavior.

As time quietly passed, something occurred to him.

This cat came from another world. Could it be carrying germs from that world?

But remembering that now was already too late. The big-faced cat had been in his room since he woke up. No precaution would help at this point. If it carried germs, they had surely already entered his body.

Ke Meng decided to isolate himself at home for a while.

With the recent pneumonia outbreak, staying home in isolation was fairly normal.

However, businesses in his city had gradually resumed operations. People could wear masks and go out to work or get something to eat.

The mother and daughter had also worn masks while working downstairs. They had taken the necessary precautions, so he hoped they would be all right.

With that thought, Ke Meng added another entry to his notebook:

"The big-faced cat may carry germs from another world. Stay in home isolation for a while."

Then he thought of the girl downstairs and her mother, and added another reminder to his notebook: "Keep an eye on the downstairs tenants' health."

How would he do that? By asking them over QQ whether they were feeling unwell, of course.

It was too early now, though. He would ask that evening, then check once a day afterward.

Ke Meng tapped the silly cat's head with a cardboard tube. "Can you talk?"

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