Chapter 41: Gift

His words carried the posture of a family member, causing Ye Qingxu to pause slightly before a courteous smile appeared on his face. “Of course, this is my job.”

Jiang Xiaoyu pouted, wanting to speak, but one glance into Ye Lian’s limpid, autumn-water eyes extinguished his words instantly. He lowered his head, fussing over tidying the table with a hundred fake motions per second. “Um, Mr. Ye, are you full?”

Ye Qingxu replied, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

The two cleared the dishes. Ye Qingxu took the paper towel Jiang Xiaoyu handed him and wiped his hands. “If you don’t have a particular design in mind, how about pastoral style?”

Jiang Xiaoyu wasn’t completely clueless and asked upon hearing this, “The kind with lots of wood?”

“You could put it that way. It’s close to nature, and the scents are mild—friendly to cats and dogs.”

“Then that’s the one.” He agreed immediately.

After settling on it, Ye Qingxu took his leave. Jiang Xiaoyu saw him off to the courtyard gate. Before leaving, Ye Qingxu turned and asked, “Mr. Jiang, if I may be so bold, when are you free?”

“This weekend. Is something up?”

“We need to pick building materials. I think it’s better to bring you along so you can decide on price and style.”

Jiang Xiaoyu thought about it and figured that worked. It wasn’t that he was being petty, but Ye Qingxu didn’t seem like the type to pinch pennies… Better to go with him and keep an eye on the cost-effectiveness. Save where you can, right?

He replied, “Alright, then I’ll trouble you, Mr. Ye.”

Only after Ye Qingxu’s figure vanished into the night did Jiang Xiaoyu remember there was still a living person in the house. He grew inexplicably nervous, hugging a cat and standing at the doorway, yanking out a few hairs until the cat yelped in pain, snapping him back to reality.

“Boss, Kitty hurts.”

Jiang Xiaoyu guiltily petted it roughly before setting it down. He craned his neck to peek inside.

Ye Lian stood with his back to the table, knife in hand. His broad, upright back was cast in the dim yellow light, projecting a slender silhouette on the floor.

As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Ye Lian didn’t turn around before asking, “Mr. Ye left? I’ve cut the cake—want some?”

Jiang Xiaoyu pinched his slightly burning earlobe and shuffled over slowly with his head down.

Ye Lian found his demeanor amusing—like a cat indeed. He pushed the tray toward Jiang Xiaoyu. “Eat up.”

His tone was gentle, laced with indulgence. Jiang Xiaoyu didn’t dare look at him, scooping a spoonful into his mouth on his own. In an instant, his eyes lit up. He looked up at Ye Lian with sparkling eyes. “So good.”

Ye Lian’s eyes curved. “Knew you’d like it.” Back at the Ye Residence, he never showed particular preference for foods, but his kittenish pupils always shone extra bright for Aunt Qing’s desserts.

“Um, thanks.” Jiang Xiaoyu dug another spoonful, mumbling around it with the spoon in his mouth.

“No need to be polite. You’re the little master of my kitten.” Ye Lian wiped the cream off the knife.

Jiang Xiaoyu had heard it so often he was nearly immune, scooping another bite and mumbling, “You aren’t eating?”

But he still underestimated Ye Lian’s combat prowess. The man said, “I don’t like sweets.”

He tilted his head slightly with an air of innocence. “Maybe it’s because Uncle isn’t sweet enough. Only sweet little ones like you love this stuff.”

Jiang Xiaoyu was thunderstruck, feeling like the longer they knew each other, the more bottomless this man became—flirty lines spilling effortlessly. And his expression was utterly matter-of-fact, leaving Jiang Xiaoyu unsure if he really thought that or was just teasing.

Shameless old turtle! he cursed inwardly, his face flushing blood-red, utterly at a loss for a retort.

Luckily, the old guy seemed satisfied. His amber eyes curved like new moons as he said, “Eat slowly. Uncle’s heading out.”

Seeing him about to leave, Jiang Xiaoyu hurriedly dropped his spoon. “Wait, I have a gift for you.” He dashed into the room, fetched something, and handed it over. Ye Lian took it—a book.

“I saw it at the antique market this afternoon while on a case. Not sure if you’ve read it.” He pursed his lips, a bit worried the man might dislike it being old, mumbling, “It’s got some years on it. If you don’t like it, I can sell it back.”

Ye Lian chuckled. “Who does that? Regifting by selling it off?”

Jiang Xiaoyu pouted sheepishly. “It cost a few hundred. Selling it could feed the Little Strays for a week.”

Ye Lian knew the kid was pragmatic, but this penny-pinching line still made him laugh in exasperation. “Oh? A few hundred is that much? Thanks for the big spend, then.”

His tone was downright irritating. Burning with shame, Jiang Xiaoyu stood to snatch it back. “If you don’t want it, give it back!”

“Hey? How’s a cop robbing someone? Who said I didn’t want it?” Ye Lian laughed, raising the book high. Already half a head taller, he stretched his arm deliberately, his tall, broad frame nearly enveloping Jiang Xiaoyu.

Only then did Jiang Xiaoyu sense the danger. Too close… He could feel the heat from the man’s chest. Head down, he missed Ye Lian’s unrestrained grin.

Ye Lian leaned in slightly, whispering by his ear, “Little one, that’s not very nice.”

The man’s warm breath brushed his sensitive ear, making Jiang Xiaoyu shudder involuntarily. He instinctively stepped back, speechless.

Fortunately, Ye Lian knew when to stop, resuming his refined demeanor. “Thanks, Officer Jiang. I’ll take it.”

Long after the man left, Jiang Xiaoyu snapped out of it, bristling on the spot like a yowling cat. “That guy! What’s his deal!” He mewled nonstop, while the fluffy ones nearby watched in confusion, clueless why Boss was hopping mad.

—

Jiang Xiaoyu lurked by the master bathroom window, watching Zhao Peng comb his hair in the mirror—greasy and powdered, slick enough for a fly to slip right off.

The phone rang. Zhao Peng picked up, his oily tongue slipping out, “Little ancestor.”

“You’re up early? Yeah, heading to Ye Corporation soon to talk investment. Don’t worry, since they’ve softened and agreed to talk, it’s ninety percent in the bag. You’re at the peak right now—who else has your traffic? Mutual benefit all around.”

He flicked his comb over his hair. “Rest easy. You’ve timed it perfectly. With Boss Wan holding down Pine City, even without Ye Corporation’s investment, scooping up the side small businesses will do. Box office will rake it in, and Ye Corporation can regret it later.”

Jiang Xiaoyu pressed his ear to the window, nearly embedding his cat face, catching the man laughing darkly twice. “Jiang Fei…” The rest was too low; no matter how he strained, he couldn’t hear.

Zhao Peng cooed at Yang Guo on the line for a good while, reassuring him repeatedly that he’d perform well, then hung up, setting the comb on the vanity and whistling at his reflection.

“Perfect timing on his death—gave me a steal.” He laughed that Jiang Fei’s death was neither too early nor late. Too soon, and Yang Guo’s career hadn’t taken off; too late, and Wan Keyao was entrenched in Pine City. The bastard knew how to die right.

Once Zhao Peng left, Jiang Xiaoyu tried pushing the window to get in, but the glass was too heavy. From the tenth-plus floor, he couldn’t shift to human form either, so he clawed the drainpipe, swaying step by step back to the ground.

Down below, he scoped the layout and saw the living room balcony was accessible, so he climbed the bathroom pipe beside it to the balcony and hopped lightly inside.

Once in, Jiang Xiaoyu’s first instinct was to cover his nose with a paw. The place reeked of stale funk—like unwashed guys in summer. He dry-heaved, eyes watering, thinking how Zhao Peng had primped so long in the mirror to look sharp, yet his home’s air was toxic.

“How does anyone live in this…?” The living room was a mess. He rummaged briefly, found nothing, and headed to the bedroom. Pushing the door open, he was stunned by the walls plastered with Jiang Fei photos.

Everywhere, and every photo had Jiang Fei’s face viciously scratched. “What’s the grudge?” Jiang Xiaoyu frowned, flipping through. Especially the ones with Yang Guo—heads obliterated. Recalling the investigation files, motive for a lovers’ quarrel stood firm.

“Pity no key evidence.” Jiang Xiaoyu turned Zhao Peng’s place upside down, finding no murder weapon or solid proof.

Downstairs, he slipped into pre-scouted woods, changed clothes, and messaged Zhang Pangpang: How’s your side?

Zhang Pangpang had been staking out Yang Guo’s place. Given the guy’s cat-abuse record, he didn’t dare tail too openly—might get stabbed if caught.

He thought that, but felt deflated inside. Criminal Technology sent key evidence yesterday, nearly clearing Yang Guo of direct murder suspicion.

That afternoon of the incident, Yang Guo had been at Reid Europe too, but napping at the table till past Jiang Fei’s time of death due to a performance.

“God damn it, I refuse to believe that Fat Lord can’t find any evidence!” Just as Jiang Xiaoyu had a keen intuition for malice, Zhang Pangpang had his own instincts. Regardless of whether Yang Guo had killed anyone, the mere fact that he abused cats was enough to sentence him to death in Zhang Pangpang’s heart.

The Orange Cat wore a serious expression on its face as it crouched on the windowsill, signaling the Ragdoll Cat to pull open the latch before slipping into the room.

—

Jiang Xiaoyu was completely unaware of the crisis Zhang Pangpang was about to face. He sat beside Jin Ge, his expression a mix of indifference and nonchalance.

“Jia Muqin got out of prison a while ago.” Jin Ge carefully observed Cat Cub’s expression and didn’t dare to take another drag from the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “I heard from the local precinct that she went there to file a report looking for you.”

Jiang Xiaoyu lowered his eyelids and asked calmly, “What does she want with me? I should have already cut ties with my biological family.” Back then, with Jin Ge’s help, that case had resulted in a severe sentence. Jia Muqin had served nearly thirteen years in prison—she probably hated him to the bone by now.

Jin Ge clicked his tongue. “That’s easier said than done. After all, she raised you for nine years. If it really comes to a lawsuit, it’ll be a hassle. I’m just reminding you to stay alert. If anything’s off, call the police directly—don’t get into any chit-chat with her yourself.”

Jiang Xiaoyu silently cracked his knuckles, his tone very calm. “Got it.”

Jin Ge stood up and patted his head. “Don’t bottle it up. Tell your master if there’s anything.”

Jiang Xiaoyu looked up, tugged at the corners of his mouth in a smile, and said nonchalantly, “Nothing else. I’ll get back to investigating the case.”

Without waiting for Jin Ge’s response, he got up and walked out. The sun was blazing outside. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, feeling a bit cold.