Chapter 26: Like

These days, even cats were gay!

Li Ran’s heart took a hit, and he stood there without moving, though the Bodhi Beads in his pocket nudged lightly against him.

One hand had nearly crushed them.

Bodhi beads purified the mind and dispelled filth—no wonder Chi Mo wore a string every day. His heart must have been such a mess. Someone as pure as Li Ran had never imagined just how filthy it could be.

Li Ran had an instinctive aversion to gay men, and Bai Qingqing was largely to blame for that.

Li Ang, as the main culprit, deserved to be dragged out and shot.

But strangely, he was pretty accepting of this sordid business in the cat world.

People couldn’t stay shocked forever. After his worldview shattered for a bit, Li Ran frowned and thought about leaving, but his peripheral vision disobediently slipped toward the two male cats. His expression changed for the second time.

Hei Ge’s wife… no, Black Cat’s husband… no, Black Cat’s male wife—why did she only have one ball?

The White Cat’s two treasures hung in the middle, basking in the sunlight like black grapes. Especially now during this special time, they were nearly bursting the skin, glossy and bright.

In contrast, the White Cat kicked her hind legs desperately, scraping away a layer of soil and grass. Her combat power was too weak; the Black Cat pinned her down completely.

Below her raised tail, there was only one ball—the scales were off-balance, enough to bother anyone with OCD.

And it wasn’t as swollen as the Black Cat’s.

Li Ran recalled how the Black Cat had fought fiercely with a vicious tabby cat for several days, tangling and biting until its ears were full of blood.

If Li Ran hadn’t seen it and meddled by chasing them off once, it wouldn’t have been just ear injuries.

Had it been the White Cat fighting the tabby before? And later switched to Hei Ge?

The internet said pure white-furred cats faced discrimination in groups, not fitting cat aesthetics—they thought she was ugly.

So the bullying naturally followed.

If only making money were that easy.

The Black Cat finished and released the White Cat’s nape fur, sticking out his tongue to lick her coat.

The White Cat flipped over and swatted him.

The Black Cat narrowed his eyes, pawed at his ears—as if guilty or submitting—but he didn’t retreat from under her and kept licking.

When Chi Mo got off work in the evening, he saw Li Ran alone in the living room, his back against the sofa as he squatted in front of the coffee table, stringing Bodhi Beads.

The living room lights were too bright, the filter of light around him seeming pulled down and scattered over Li Ran’s head and body.

He kept his head lowered, his crow-feather eyelashes casting a faint shadow on the bridge of his nose. His lips were slightly pursed as he focused intently, picking up one black Bodhi bead at a time and threading a black elastic string through it with a tool.

The auntie was making dinner in the kitchen. When she saw him busy, she came out and asked, “Isn’t this the bracelet Mr. Chi wears?”

As if suddenly remembering, she added, “I recall Mr. Chi used to have a double-strand one he liked wearing, but it broke. When I came to make breakfast, beads were rolling all over the floor, so I picked them up. If there’s still elastic string, you should restring it. It’d be a shame to throw it away.”

The Bodhi beads accidentally broken by Bai Qingqing only yielded 17; Li Ran supplemented them with new ones he’d bought. He mentally calculated Chi Mo’s wrist size and added 13 more.

The Bodhi beads were about a centimeter in diameter—small ones. It was Li Ran’s first time doing handicrafts, so he wasn’t very skilled. But this didn’t require much technique.

Once strung, he examined it from every angle but couldn’t find any flaws in the cheap-yet-good beads. He nitpicked his own knot as ugly, broke it apart, and restrung it.

Three times over, he was finally satisfied.

Chi Mo picked up the newly strung Bodhi bracelet and immediately knew the size had changed.

“Hey, bro, you’re back.” Li Ran followed that hand entering his peripheral vision and looked up. He took the bracelet, pulled Chi Mo over, and put it on him. “I just finished it—try it on.”

The smooth beads rolled over his skin, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, gliding silkily around Chi Mo’s wrist. The once-toothy beads that had gnawed his top layer of skin raw were now tamed by Li Ran, each one looking cute and pleasing.

The size was a bit larger, no longer clinging tightly to Chi Mo.

“The size isn’t right,” Chi Mo said.

He’d broken someone’s thing, promised to replace it, but delivered something subpar.

Li Ran felt guilty. His squatting legs gave out, and he sat down—not just leaning against the sofa but squeezing into the gap. His long legs stretched under the coffee table along the wool carpet. He picked up the unstrung Bodhi beads, his face nearly kissing the table surface, but his stammering voice was firm: “…Just like this!”

“Fine, this time we’ll do it your way.” Chi Mo unfastened his cufflink and tossed it on the coffee table, then sat on the wool carpet too—not helping, just watching.

Li Ran: “…You can do that?”

Chi Mo raised a brow. “Why not?”

“You can. Yeah, you can.”

When he’d first moved in, Li Ran had sworn to Chi Mo he’d buy groceries every day and asked for money. After persisting a few days, the auntie always bought better and cooked tastier, so within three days, Li Ran started slacking.

The past couple days, he’d been reserved, not daring to wolf down three bowls of rice in front of grandpa and grandma—didn’t want to seem useless and a glutton.

But Chi Mo could tell if he’d eaten enough.

If Li Ran hadn’t, he’d push the rice over and say eat; if too much, he’d take it away and say no more.

Later, Li Ran stopped getting up early for the market every day—could sleep in more.

Before the auntie finished dinner, Li Ran completed the double-strand Bodhi bracelet, rolling it in his hands with a clacking sound.

Having finally heard Chi Mo say “your way,” Li Ran went along with it, pushing his luck: “I’ll make you a Bodhi bracelet too, bro. Wear the ones I make from now on.”

By Monday, when Li Ran went to the company with Chi Mo, Shen Shu noticed the Bodhi first and whistled.

“Mm,” Chi Mo didn’t even look, smashing the fact in Shen Shu’s face. “My kid at home made it for me. He made it for fun; I wear it for fun.”

Li Ran beamed: “Heh heh.”

Shen Shu rolled his eyes dramatically, thinking: This foolish kid’s been gift-wrapped by Chi Mo to bed, legs spread, probably still saying ‘hurry up.’

Ain’t this just begging to get fucked?

Within two days, almost everyone at the company knew Chi Mo’s current Bodhi bracelet was handmade by Li Ran.

Who had such a loose mouth spreading this boring gossip? No one knew. Chi Mo issued a company-wide memo: Focus on work and revenue, stop discussing how many bracelets Li Ran made for CEO Chi.

In the blink of an eye, September arrived, and Li Ran was half into the hellish senior year of high school.

Over the past month-plus, Li Ran had worked diligently at Moran Technology, chatting and making friends, never messing up printing or deliveries, finishing all summer homework—every bit counted.

Final pay: 21,800 yuan total.

Cash settlement.

To force Li Ran to talk to others, Chi Mo had said he’d pay on-site for motivation. Later, as Li Ran got the hang of things, he’d settle wages together.

A thick stack of red bills—Li Ran counted them several times: “I’m this awesome?”

Chi Mo tapped his face, unintentionally brushing his smiling lips before pulling away: “This happy?”

“Yeah!” Li Ran recounted the bills one last time, grinning. “Bro, if you’d transferred it, the numbers on my phone definitely wouldn’t make me as happy as cash.”

Chi Mo chuckled lightly: “As long as you’re happy.”

“Here.” Li Ran handed over his freshly earned twenty-plus grand generously. “Invest it.”

“Deduct rent yourself from it. I trust you, bro—no need to ask.”

His previous twenty grand principal was still with Chi Mo. He hadn’t asked if investments profited, but his not-so-smart brain smartly remembered Chi Mo’s words.

[Profits are Li Ran’s; losses are Chi Mo’s. Principal returned to the last cent.]

Only a fool would pass up a deal like that.

Li Ran wasn’t that big a fool.

And so, Li Ran was “tricked” into handing earnings to Chi Mo little by little, until later he realized Chi Mo’s investments had indeed made a ton—but how much principal he’d given Chi Mo overall? He couldn’t remember or sort it out.

A total mess, tangled beyond untangling.

Li Ran’s high school always ranked dead last in joint exams for a reason.

Before cracking down on studies, the school made students handle dorm duties. Boarders folding quilts, sweeping, mopping—that was basic; other trivial matters were endless.

The director exploded at students daily, spittle flying: “Image! What kind of image is this? Why’s your hair so long—gonna tie it up and propeller it to the sky? Why not wear uniform? Think you’re on a blind date in that trendy getup? Is school your home? Am I your parent, expecting praise? Why show ankles? Those bamboo-pole ankles really that good-looking? What?! Uniform’s short? Buy a new one!”

Today, Li Ran got caught.

“Hair! Why permed?! Planning to eat those curls like instant noodles when hungry? If permed, make ’em curlier—why this slight wave? Think it looks good?! Though… it does kinda…” New semester, the director made his rounds at the gate, grabbing examples. Spotting Li Ran’s face, he yelped unappreciatively: “Which class? You’re a boy, right? Eyes not failing me? Why’s this boy wearing makeup? Look closely! Really good-looking?”

Li Ran was speechless, but he wasn’t the old him who just hung his head, red-faced and silent.

He’d evolved.

“Director, I didn’t…”

“This is my student.” Ban Wei rode up on his scooter—one day of class shaved years off life, reincarnation imminent. No respect for the director’s sour face. “Director, seriously—you’ve nabbed him since freshman year start, nabbed him last semester, still nabbing. Four times now. Senior year and again? Can’t remember him?”

“Look around—this school’s full of uggos. Pretty’s a crime now? You face-blind or what?”

He plucked a strand of Li Ran’s hair: “Natural curls.” Pulled a wet wipe from his pocket for Li Ran to wipe his face. “All natural. Director, get your head checked.”

Director: “…”

Ban Wei led Li Ran away. The director whirled to yell, but Ban Wei preempted, shouting at Li Ran: “Hair that long?! No trim all summer? Cut it after school!!”

Li Ran: “Yes, teacher.”

Director: “…”

He already cursed him out—what’s left for me?!

At the teaching building, Ban Wei waved Li Ran off with a half-dead vibe—”School again, whoever wants this crap class can have it.” “Go get your books. Tell those dead-last idiots in your class to pick up their own—no carrying for them.”

Li Ran grabbed his senior-year textbooks downstairs first.

Ran into Qi Zhi reporting.

“A’Dai, wait up!”

A summer apart—Li Ran, busy working, had barely thought of him. Now seeing him, his body stiffened.

He’d said wait; ignoring would be rude. Li Ran hugged his books, awkwardly thinking of bolting.

After grabbing books, Qi Zhi strode over, tucking a few under his arm. His free arm slung around Li Ran, hand reaching for his face: “Missed you to death, A’Dai—let me…”

His hand barely extended, words unfinished—Li Ran broke out in goosebumps, ducking violently.

Nearly tripped himself.

Qi Zhi’s hand froze midair.

“…” Only then did Li Ran realize his reaction. Afraid to see Qi Zhi’s hurt face, he quickly patched: “Sorry, I just…”

“You know I like guys?”

So direct. Li Ran startled: “No, it’s not…”

“You know I like you?”

Crash—

Li Ran’s books scattered on the ground.

Terrified, he wanted to go home, find Chi Mo.