When he emerged, Second Master Huang had transformed into a spotlessly clean and fragrant yellow weasel. His entire body gave off the fresh scent of Safeguard soap, and his fur gleamed like silk under the lamplight—everything was perfect except for his freshly trimmed claws.
Chen Ji’s body ached with exhaustion, but his mind buzzed with satisfaction. He turned the small pair of scissors over and over in his hands. He’d grabbed them on impulse; they were the same ones from his childhood, bought by his grandpa back then. At first, he’d thought Second Master Huang had graciously allowed him to trim his nails, but it seemed the scissors themselves deserved the credit.
He had no clue how they managed it, but somehow, they could snip through Second Master Huang’s nails without issue.
Chen Ji stared at the little scissors for ages but learned nothing from them. With a shrug, he pocketed them and set his sights on the next victim.
White Tiger lay sleeping in the room in the most disciplined fashion imaginable—a textbook prone position, head neatly pillowed on his front legs, facing straight toward the door. Chen Ji recalled reading somewhere that cats sleeping this way were showing a lack of security.
Take the System Cat, for instance. It always slept belly-up, splayed out in a starfish pose, sometimes curling into a C or an S, tongue lolling halfway out of its mouth. Anyone unfamiliar might think it had just rolled off the operating table after getting snipped.
Sure enough, the instant Chen Ji cracked open the door, White Tiger’s eyes snapped open. His gaze was mild, silently questioning Chen Ji’s intentions.
Chen Ji figured Grandpa White Tiger had already heard his footsteps approaching and had merely opened his eyes to confirm it was him.
“It’s taken a bit longer than expected,” Chen Ji said. “Grandpa White Tiger, your wounds have healed up nicely. Let me give you a wash to keep infection at bay.”
White Tiger closed his eyes—the clear message: no thanks.
Chen Ji stepped forward and rubbed the top of White Tiger’s head. He sat on the edge of the bed, gently grasped one massive paw, and rested it on his lap. Stroking the warm paw pad, he coaxed, “Just this once. I’ll do all the work—you can stay right there without moving a muscle. It’ll kill off any bacteria and leave your fur even whiter and silkier…”
White Tiger’s reply was to yank his front paw free, denying Chen Ji further contact.
Left with no choice, Chen Ji deployed his secret weapon. His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he said, in a tone laced with quiet grievance, “The whole house reeks already…”
White Tiger cracked his eyes open again, shooting him a look of helpless resignation before climbing down from the bed.
Chen Ji knew he’d won. He hustled White Tiger toward the master bedroom bathroom before he could reconsider. The main bath was spacious enough; the one off the side room wouldn’t even let White Tiger turn around.
Over the past couple of days, with the construction crew on site, he’d quietly activated his renovation package. They’d assume it had always been that way, and once they headed back down the mountain, the villagers would credit the crew—Chen Ji simply couldn’t take it anymore. After that nightmare, staggering home covered in blood and utterly drained, having to heat water right there on the spot for a bath had been beyond tedious.
Once inside the bathroom, White Tiger looked up at Chen Ji expectantly. Chen Ji fiddled with the showerhead, reading his thoughts. “Don’t worry—I’ll handle everything. It’ll go faster this way.”
Chen Ji had a knack for observation; figuring out the personalities around him came naturally. Second Master Huang was ferocious with strangers but fiercely protective of his inner circle. He craved flattery laced with respect, intimacy without stiffness—genuine warmth, give and take, the kind that made him feel truly included.
Grandpa White Tiger projected even greater majesty and vigilance, yet his temperament was solid. He’d lent a hand from the very beginning. While cautious, he hated imposing on others. He wouldn’t accept special accommodations unless they were essential, but if refusing caused trouble for someone else, he’d step up without hesitation.
Of course, there was a delicate balance. Push the “burden” angle too hard or too often, and he’d likely depart regardless of his injuries.
Reminded Chen Ji of someone else.
A spark of mirth danced in Chen Ji’s eyes as he ran hot water over White Tiger’s front paws. “Grandpa White Tiger, how’s the temperature? Now lie down.”
White Tiger nodded and settled onto his belly, submitting to the process.
Chen Ji knew a wild bath would mean diving straight into a pool, but that wasn’t feasible here. He cranked the shower to full blast, squatting beside White Tiger to douse him while combing through the fur with his free hand, one careful stroke at a time.
The comb was a steel-toothed one the System Cat had outgrown, no bigger than Chen Ji’s palm but plenty effective. Layer by layer, the coat parted, hot water soaking the plush underfur. With a grin, Chen Ji said, “Grandpa White Tiger, don’t take this the wrong way…”
White Tiger’s ears flicked upright.
“I’ve always dreamed of keeping a big cat,” Chen Ji continued, “but I could never land a gig at the zoo. I picked Xiao Ba back then because he looked like he’d grow massive… such a sense of security, so imposing and cool.”
He lavished praise, some veiled, some blunt. “You’re gorgeous, Grandpa White Tiger. I wish we could live together like this forever.”
“These days with you have felt like a dream,” Chen Ji said, beaming. “No joke—I’ve been over the moon. Seeing you hurt so badly terrified me. Thank goodness you heal so quickly.”
White Tiger’s ears twitched again. Whether from the steam or something more, Chen Ji sensed his body heat rising.
“Stay here as long as you want, Grandpa White Tiger,” Chen Ji said, pivoting smoothly. “I’m not rich, but I can keep you in comfort no problem. The mountain’s full of dangers—monsters popping up out of nowhere to attack me. Take that bamboo rat on the table today. I hadn’t done a thing to it; it was just digging up shoots, then it charged. I nearly chucked my bamboo pole in panic.”
“Good thing Second Master Huang was around,” Chen Ji sighed, his hands never pausing. He’d nearly finished the back fur now. He maneuvered the showerhead to White Tiger’s neck, sliding around to the front, eyes lowered demurely as he combed the ruff there.
White Tiger raised his head, eyes opening to meet Chen Ji’s. Surprised by the eye contact, Chen Ji curved his lips into a smile and worked the comb along the chin. At first, White Tiger watched warily, but by the time Chen Ji reached the tip, his eyes had half-closed, chin tilted upward invitingly.
Chen Ji pressed a bit firmer. “Truth be told, I have a selfish angle too. With you here, no pesky little demons would dare sneak in. I can finally sleep easy… So yeah, I’d love it if you stuck around longer…”
A deep, rumbling purr vibrated from White Tiger’s throat. Chen Ji blinked as if snapping out of his rambling, then tapped the tiger’s pink nose with a fingertip before scrubbing the chin with renewed vigor. “Love that spot, huh? Let me give it extra!”
After a dozen strokes, White Tiger twisted his head away. His ice-blue eyes, misted by the steam, shimmered like flawless gems. Chen Ji couldn’t get enough of them—if this were the System Cat, he’d have planted a few kisses by now. But Grandpa White Tiger? No way. He’d vault three feet in the air.
The bruises from that prior kick and stomp hadn’t even faded yet.
The shower drain was half-clogged with shed fur, leaving a thin puddle on the floor. Chen Ji’s cotton undershirt was drenched, clinging uncomfortably. After a moment’s hesitation, he peeled it off and sat back down beside White Tiger to wash his paws.
He dispensed a dollop of pet shampoo into his palm, soft as whipped cream. Flipping over a front paw, he massaged the pads with both hands, working every crevice meticulously, fingers kneading and scraping like a pro masseuse. Soon, snowy foam crowned the claws.
White Tiger’s eyes narrowed to slits, another purr rumbling out. Knowing he was in bliss, Chen Ji fetched his electric toothbrush, fitted a fresh head, and used it to scrub the crevices. Once satisfied, he rinsed thoroughly and moved to the next paw.
Was Chen Ji tired?
Exhausted, sure. Any person solo-washing a few-hundred-pound furry beast would be wiped out.
But it didn’t diminish his enjoyment one bit.
It was like the difference between cradling a ten-jin rock for five minutes—which would kill you—and hugging your own ten-jin cat until the end of time.
After an hour of dedicated labor, the back side was finally done. Chen Ji gave White Tiger’s rump a light pat. “Grandpa White Tiger, roll over.”
White Tiger, in a drowsy half-sleep, obliged with a lazy flip, exposing his belly. Chen Ji stifled a chuckle and targeted the trickiest spot for animals: the armpits.
The fur there had knotted slightly from constant rubbing, but Grandpa White Tiger’s was still sleek. Chen Ji’s hand sank in as he touched it, enveloped completely by the plushness. The padding felt extra thick and luxurious. Double the fur volume made it a chore to clean, though. Sitting pressed against White Tiger’s side, thigh to flank, Chen Ji leaned in to comb it out bit by bit.
White Tiger shifted closer on instinct, enjoying it thoroughly. He rolled sideways, draping a front paw over Chen Ji’s shoulder to grant better leverage.
Chen Ji eventually finished the front paws and moved to the hind ones. Absentmindedly, just as before, he slipped a hand into the hind leg’s armpit for a rub—and White Tiger exploded upright.
The bathroom offered zero room for leaping. He kicked Chen Ji square in the process, then landed squarely atop him.
Chen Ji felt the air whoosh from his lungs—crushed like Mount Tai itself had dropped.
White Tiger seemed to realize his mistake and sprang off in a flash. The slick floor made him skid, but he caught himself just in time, sparing Chen Ji any further mishap.
The slick, velvety fur pressed against Chen Ji’s body, carrying the fresh apple scent of bath gel. Grandpa White Tiger gazed at him with a hint of worry. Suddenly, Chen Ji reached out, wrapped his arms around the tiger’s neck, and buried his face in his broad chest.
