Volume 1 / Chapter 28: A Little Surprise in Everyday Life

It was as if the city had deliberately chosen to preserve this scene—golden maple leaves carpeted the ground, untouched by broom or shovel. The slightly desolate roads on the outskirts of the city whispered a quiet, bleak solitude.

Mò Xuěyáo felt an inexplicable restlessness, as if there was nowhere her emotions could settle. So she pedaled faster, riding quickly down the leaf-covered, deserted street.

Zhōu Yǒng , walking home alone, happened to turn a corner just as Mò Xuěyáo rode past. He saw the strands of her hair dancing in the wind, saw that delicate face, and those lips pressed ever so slightly together…

It was only a moment, yet time seemed to freeze.

In that instant, he deeply regretted not having a way to capture this beautiful image forever.

Mò Xuěyáo, unaware of being seen, was focused solely on getting home quickly. She had no idea she’d left such an impression on someone’s heart.

Her light-yellow bicycle matched the autumn scenery perfectly. Riding through the dusky glow like an autumn fairy, she caught the attention of more than a few passersby.

Just like that, she arrived back at the residential complex.

She skillfully parked her bike in a quiet corner of the parking shed, where there were few other bikes, then slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and walked out.

Climbing the stairs, the familiar pungent smell of stinky tofu drifted down from above. As tasty as it was when eaten, the smell alone was enough to turn heads.

Every time she reached the fifth floor, Mò Xuěyáo would quicken her pace, dashing up to the sixth-floor landing where her home was.

Being on the top floor had its perks—peace, for one.

It was quieter than the other levels.

Peeking through the gap in the metal gate, she saw a pair of black cloth slippers tossed haphazardly in the narrow entryway between the metal and wooden doors.

Those were her father’s shoes.

“Looks like he’s home early again,” Mò Xuěyáo muttered to herself. “Guess I won’t be going hungry tonight.”

She unlocked the wooden door after opening the gate.

Just then, a strange feeling struck her—as if something was waiting behind that door.

But when she thought about it, today wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t Christmas, nor New Year’s. Her parents definitely weren’t the type to surprise her with gifts.

“Could it be Dad or Mom’s birthday?” she mumbled while pushing the wooden door open.

“Meow~”

A crisp, youthful-sounding meow rang out.

“A cat?!” Mò Xuěyáo thought she must’ve misheard.

Even when she’d asked for a rabbit before, her parents said no. How could there be a cat at home now?

Cats were way more mischievous than rabbits, weren’t they?

And surely they weren’t keeping it locked up in a cage?

That’d be too cruel—better to let it roam free.

In that moment, countless thoughts flooded her mind. Her gaze dropped to her feet.

A tiny tabby kitten, maybe a little over three months old, looked up at her with a face even smaller than her palm. It stretched lazily and softly meowed again.

“Meow~”

“It’s… really a cat?” Mò Xuěyáo was suspicious. Could this be some high-tech toy? She didn’t even bother putting down her schoolbag and quickly knelt to scoop it up, nervous yet thrilled.

“Meow~” The little tabby didn’t resist at all. Instead, it stuck out its pink tongue and gently licked her fingers, as if hoping to draw something out of them.

“It’s alive!” Her voice trembled slightly as she cradled the kitten in her arms. Unable to contain her excitement, she rushed to the master bedroom door and flung it open—there lay her father, snoring soundly.

Normally, she wouldn’t dare disturb him while he napped. But today, excitement overpowered all restraint.

“Dad! Dad!!”

“Zzz… Hrrrh… Zzz…” He kept snoring, completely unbothered.

But Mò Xuěyáo wasn’t letting this go. She needed confirmation. Only after hearing it from her father could she fully relax.

She hurried to his bedside, placed the kitten on his chest, and shook him awake. “Daaaad!”

“Huh…? Hnnn… What?” Her father blinked sleepily, letting out a big yawn.

A flicker of guilt passed through her. She suddenly felt a bit bad. “Um… this, this… this cat! What’s going on?”

She scooped the kitten back into her arms, the joy in her heart practically overflowing as she lovingly stroked its soft back.

“I bought it.”

“Huh? We’re actually keeping a cat?”

“Yeah. You like cats, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah… I do… It’s just… I wasn’t expecting it.” She nuzzled the kitten with her cheek. “Some of its fur is still wet… What happened?”

“I gave it a bath when I brought it home—didn’t want fleas. Might’ve not dried it off completely.”

“That’s not good, it’ll catch a cold.” More concerned than she ever was about herself, Mò Xuěyáo darted into the bathroom, calling out, “Dad—! Which towel is for the cat?”

“The one hanging on the door,” he replied groggily, now sitting up in bed.

“That’s the foot towel!!” Her voice shot up an octave in horror.

“Exactly. It’s for feet—perfect for cats.”

“Gross! That’s way too dirty!” Was it her imagination, or did the kitten now faintly smell like… feet?

She glanced at her own towel, which had several holes, then remembered she had a new one tucked away in her wardrobe. Grabbing the old one, she gently dried the damp patches on the kitten’s fur, then sprayed a little floral water on it. Finally, that faint stench was gone.

“This cat is so well-behaved—it lets me wipe it down without fussing.” She scratched its chin and rubbed its snowy white paws.

“Of course it is. I chose it because it looked calm.” Her father wandered into the bathroom, unbuckling his belt—then paused mid-motion, eyeing his daughter beside the kitten. He coughed. “Go out for a bit.”

“What for?”

“I need to use the toilet.”

“Go ahead.” She didn’t even look up.

“…It’s not convenient.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. Tch, so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes and shot him a look of disdain, then carried the tabby out of the bathroom.

The kitten was affectionate but not wild—just clingy.

While Mò Xuěyáo did her homework, it curled up on her lap, dozing with its little paws tucked under and eyes half-closed, looking utterly content.

It didn’t squirm.

And it didn’t distract her studies—well, aside from being so cute she couldn’t resist reaching out to pet it every few minutes.

“What do you want for dinner? Stir-fried loofah and eggs?” her dad called out, checking what groceries were left in the fridge.

“Anything’s fine. Oh right, Dad—does the cat have a name?”

“Nope. Call it whatever you want.” Old-school folks didn’t usually put much effort into naming pets. At best, it was just a label.

Most of the time, dogs were called “Wang Wang” and cats “Mimi…”

And if they did get names, it’d be something rustic like “Blackie,” “Spotty,” or “Snowball.”

As a high schooler and self-proclaimed “person of culture,” Mò Xuěyáo figured the cat deserved something better—something with flair.

“Hmm… what should I name you?” she mused aloud, stroking its soft fur. “Your markings kind of look like… má sū táng.”

Má sū táng is a Jiangnan-style sesame candy made from ground roasted sesame and sugar, wrapped in paper rectangles. Its marbled pattern resembled the kitten’s gray-and-white fur.

“How about Sūtáng?” She scratched the kitten’s chin, as if asking for its opinion. “Sūtáng, Sūtáng?”

[Translator's Note: Sūtáng means Sucrose which is chemical formula for sugar so Sucrose or sugar]

“Meow~” came the soft, approving reply.

“So you like it, huh? Then you’re Sūtáng from now on!”

“Meow!” The kitten burrowed its head into her palm, rubbing hard as if to show how much it liked the name.

Most of life is ordinary and repetitive.

But within that repetition, small changes happen all the time.

And now and then, a little surprise can brighten the day—like Mò Xuěyáo discovering a kitten waiting for her at home.

That’s the simplest and purest kind of happiness.

Just one new pet, yet it made her once-monotonous life feel colorful and full of warmth.

Though… she did wonder if her mom would be upset when she got home.

Her mom had never been a fan of keeping pets—she thought they made an already messy home even messier.

That day, her mother came home earlier than usual.

She opened the front door, then habitually peeked into Mò Xuěyáo’s room.

“Huh? Where did this cat come from?” she asked, frowning. Mò Xuěyáo’s heart tightened.

“I bought it. Ten yuan. It’s a boy cat, and I heard he’s really good at catching mice,” her father’s voice called out from the kitchen, over the sizzle of the frying pan.

“Why buy a cat? We hardly have any mice. Wouldn’t rat poison be easier?”

“It’s just a pet—to soothe the soul a bit.”

“Dad, it’s ‘cultivate,’ not ‘soothe,’” Mò Xuěyáo corrected.

“Keeping a pet is a lot of trouble.” Her mom already sounded weary.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine. By the way, I think we should open a shop. Don’t you still have that extra bit of money? We could put it toward a new business.”

“A shop? You have something in mind?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking of starting a fruit store. I’ll go look at some spaces soon.”

“So… this cat was bought for the fruit shop?”

“Sort of.”

“…Fine. You can keep the cat, but the house must stay clean. Both of you, got it?”

“Got it!” Mò Xuěyáo and her father replied in unison.