Tuantuan was very unhappy today.
It couldn't stay in the dormitory, sprawled in the Fatty's thick, puffy blankets, enjoying the comforts of winter—the greatest winter comfort was nothing more than wrapping oneself in a quilt, staying in a warm room, listening to the wind howl outside and the glass windows groan miserably under the battering gale.
As the saying went, without comparison, there could be no sense of satisfaction.
But after the young publicly funded student promised it a new Alchemy Pipi Rat and allowed Tuantuan to watch over the mice in the cages at the shop, the fat cat gave it some brief thought before reluctantly agreeing to leave its nest.
This was absolutely not because it liked playing with mice or wanted a new Pipi Rat. It was entirely because Lord Tuantuan was kind-hearted, helpful, and couldn't bear to see those young wizards running themselves ragged—so the fat cat thought.
Staying in the shop was somewhat more comfortable than Tuantuan had imagined. Aside from the hard wooden countertop beneath it making its belly slightly uncomfortable, the rest of the environment suited a cat's habits quite well.
For instance, the perfectly adjusted heating and temperature; the beef jerky cut into small pieces on the plate; and the rows of cages behind it, with Little Rats huddled together in groups of three or five, trembling under the fat cat's gaze.
Speaking of mice, Fat Cat Tuantuan found these little creatures extremely appetite-whetting.
Of course, appetite-whetting here did not mean treating mice as bar snacks. It was a kind of psychological appetite-whetting. Some people liked watching food documentaries while eating; seeing the people in those films eat with such enjoyment made them eat with equal delight.
Mice were to Tuantuan what food documentaries were to some people.
The fat cat twitched