After sending away the delivery guy who wanted to see the ape, Su Ming shut the door. Dust rustled down from the shabby frame, settling on the spider web beside it.
He tore open the plastic bag, took out the item inside, examined the urn, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Not bad. Compared to the Ultraman version, I still prefer the Black Cat sheriff model. Excellent. I always wanted an urn like this, but never had the chance to buy one."
This funeral shop had some wild connections. The cat head was carved vividly, the cat's eyes on the box were wide as bells, and even its whiskers had been carved, every strand of fur clearly visible.
Still, there was no way something like this had been handmade. It was definitely machine work, and it certainly could not have been officially licensed.
Come to think of it, the funeral business had to keep up with the times. Old folks in the past preferred traditional designs, like cranes or pines. But once most of the dead were people from Su Ming's generation, anime-style urns would have a market.
He sounded deeply sentimental, his gaze at the little box brimming with emotion. Bobo could not tell whether he was joking or serious, and could only curl his lip.
"I don't think the living have much use for something like that, do they? So you've always been a Cat Person. No wonder Dream of a Thousand Cats likes playing with you."
"You're wrong again, my Bobo."
Holding the box, Su Ming returned to the computer desk and corrected Bobo.
"Dream of a Thousand Cats looks like a cat, acts like a cat, and even feels like a cat when you hold it, but it isn't a cat. It is the dream of a thousand