Chapter 44

Just as the knife in Yang Guo’s hand was about to stab into the cardboard box, a shrill siren from the first-floor security system blared, the sound piercing through the air and reaching the basement.

He thought the thief had gone back upstairs to escape, so he sneered, “Good, got you now.” Then he grabbed the knife and turned to run toward the source of the sound.

Jiang Xiaoyu inside the box was drenched in cold sweat, his fur completely soaked. The siren he’d set up beforehand kept blaring, masking the footsteps so he still didn’t dare move. Only after the noise from upstairs died down did he hold his breath and listen carefully for a few seconds, then snatch up the shirt in his mouth and leap out of the box.

Realizing time was precious, he didn’t dare delay. He climbed up the ventilation shaft all the way, blood racing through his veins, ears buzzing, adrenaline surging and making his head swell. Even after reaching the ground, he didn’t dare look back and quickly vanished into the vast night.

He—Jiang Xiaoyu—didn’t even change back into clothes. Shirt in mouth, he bolted straight into the Public Security Bureau, nearly scaring the door guard half to death.

Zhang Pangpang sat pale-faced at his workstation, watching the time tick by second by second. He couldn’t wait any longer and asked Jin Ge, “No way, we gotta go save him.”

Jin Ge didn’t reply, still calmly smoking and gazing out the window. But the cigarette ember had burned all the way to his fingers without him noticing the heat—until his superior eyesight caught sight of the Little Black Cat at the entrance, chasing the door guard in a game of tag.

He hissed, immediately flicking away the cigarette and stamping it out. “He’s back,” he said quickly. Zhang Pangpang shot to his feet, and the two rushed downstairs together.

Jiang Xiaoyu was done for. The bloody taste in his mouth was giving him a headache, and this door guard just wouldn’t let up. Just as he was about to accelerate and dart inside, Jin Ge’s hoarse voice rang out: “Old Zhang, this is my cat.”

He bent down and scooped up Jiang Xiaoyu in one grab, grinning as he explained the situation to the door guard. Then he hurried into the Case Handling Office with Jiang Xiaoyu.

Jiang Xiaoyu dropped the shirt and leaped down from his arms. The whole cat proceeded to vomit spectacularly.

Jin Ge put the shirt into an evidence bag and handed it to Zhang Pangpang. “Send it to the Evidence Identification Center. Have them rush the DNA extraction and comparison.”

Zhang Pangpang nodded vigorously beside him, pumped up. “Come on, you little bitch—let’s see if we can nail you this time!”

After vomiting, Jiang Xiaoyu flopped onto his belly, limbs splayed limply on the floor, looking just like a puddle of black sesame paste.

Jin Ge, cigarette in mouth, chuckled and nudged him with his foot. “Look how filthy you are.” Dirty cat fur didn’t affect his human form, but it still looked awful. He didn’t mind his dirty Cat Cub disciple at all—there was even a sense of accomplishment, like his apprentice had finally grown up a bit. He picked him up. “Come on, Master will give you a bath.”

By the time everything was sorted, it was nearly ten at night. Jiang Xiaoyu lay under the fan, blowing his fur dry, completely spent. Zhang Pangpang returned from the evidence center and crouched beside him. “Thanks for today.”

In a real pinch, he could’ve shifted back to human, but he’d still be trapped by the ropes, and the risk would’ve been even greater—like a trussed-up piglet. Plus, given Yang Guo’s true nature, if he’d learned about shapeshifters, who knows what even more deranged things he might’ve done.

Jiang Xiaoyu said no thanks needed. He turned to look at Zhang Pangpang’s bandaged hand and meowed lowly. “How’s your hand?”

Zhang Pangpang waved it off, all optimistic. “Just lost a knuckle on my pinky. No big deal.”

Jin Ge sneered. “No big deal my ass. You eat so much every day—are you trying to fatten up your brain or what? Huh? You a pig? That sluggish? How’d you even get caught?”

He sounded harsh, but his eyes betrayed undisguised worry and heartache. The Case Handling Office only had two young cat-form kids, both still so young they might as well be children, and one had gotten hurt on the job.

Jiang Xiaoyu raised a paw to touch Zhang Pangpang’s dangling hand. A hint of sadness actually showed on the cat’s face. “If I’d noticed something was off sooner, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Zhang Pangpang scratched his head with his good hand. “How’s this your fault?” He laughed easily. “Really, it’s nothing—just a pinky knuckle. Fat Lord’s not crippled.”

Jin Ge sighed and stood. “Rest up. I’ll go grab some food for you two.”

People don’t notice hunger when they’re tense. Now that Jin Ge mentioned it, both cat cubs’ bellies growled loudly. One man and one cat sat quietly on the floor, waiting for the boss to feed them.

Zhang Pangpang wanted barbecue, but Jin Ge smacked his head. “Grow a brain, will ya! Go home and rest tomorrow. Wounded and you wanna barbecue? Should I roast you instead?” Irritated, he plunked the porridge in front of Zhang Pangpang, shoved a spoon at him, and said curtly, “Eat!”

Jiang Xiaoyu got the VIP treatment: glistening roast chicken wings. Even with a poor appetite, he chowed down eagerly.

Jin Ge sat nearby smoking, eyes half-lidded. “This is a lesson for you both. Don’t get cocky just ’cause you can turn into cats. You live in human society—and as low-threat shapeshifters to boot. Stray cats and dogs get killed by the handful every day outside. You think people will treat you like people if you’re cats? If they see you as strays and kill you, you’d just get tossed in the trash dead.” He paused, voice cruel. “More likely, they’d skin you and cook you up.”

Zhang Pangpang shivered. “No way it’s that exaggerated.”

Jiang Xiaoyu stared blankly at Jin Ge’s expression, seeing a rare seriousness there. But before he could look longer, Jin Ge smirked, ruffled his head. “Eat up, then go rest. You two take tomorrow off. Let the others handle the case and wait for the evidence results.”

He turned, waved, and patted Zhang Pangpang’s head with a wry smile. “You kid—you’re contributing to science, brick by brick.”

Zhang Pangpang scooped his porridge, round face puzzled. “Whaddya mean?”

“From you, we learned that if a cat-form human injures a toe bone in animal shape, it corresponds to a human finger.”

Jiang Xiaoyu lost his appetite too, lips pursed. “I thought cat-form injuries only affected the cat form, not the human…” After all, Jia Muqin had clipped his tail as a kitten, but it didn’t show in human form. Even in cat form, unless told, others would just think it was a Kirin Tail.

“How could it not affect it?” Jin Ge said. “Parts absent in human form might not matter much, but connected areas? Once injured, it’s all one body. Same with death—if the cat form dies, you’re dead. So from now on, be careful. Don’t drop your guard just ’cause you can turn cat. Stay alert like your undercover targets might recognize your cat form.”

Research on shapeshifters was still in murky early stages. Hard to study, and samples were way too few.

From current data, this shifting was an atavism phenomenon—mostly familial inheritance, some from genetic mutations.

Mammal forms were most common, usually low-threat animals. Few insects or oviparous ones. Besides shifting, shapeshifters had no special powers, but they could understand their animal form’s language and use its exclusive skills.

Like a dog’s sense of smell, birds’ dynamic vision. Plus communication: feline shapeshifters understood cat, canine understood dog, birds had bird speech, monkeys monkey talk. But someone like Jiang Xiaoyu who understood two categories? Not rare—he was the only one.

Thinking this, Jin Ge’s sword brows furrowed. He couldn’t help doubting Jiang Xiaoyu’s bloodline. After all, the office’s registered shapeshifters were mostly hereditary families—some distant generations, but all documented in genealogies. Mutations like Jiang Xiaoyu’s were rare.

He hadn’t interacted much with Jiang Xiaoyu’s parents anyway. Those scumbags weren’t worth investigating. Two societal rejects producing such an obedient Cat Cub? Their ancestors’ graves must be smoking green.

They’d ruled Jiang Xiaoyu a genetic mutation based on his childhood incidents. His parents knew nothing about shapeshifters, no inherited lore at home, tech not advanced enough for tests, so they concluded mutation. Now… was that too hasty?

Seeing Jin Ge silent for a while, Jiang Xiaoyu wasn’t fazed and kept his head down, quietly munching chicken wings under Zhang Pangpang’s envious glare… He even turned his butt to sneak a chew…

Too late for them to go home alone, so Jin Ge drove the squad car, dropping them off separately. He told them to rest well tomorrow, then drove off.

Jiang Xiaoyu felt a mix of relief and sadness he couldn’t quite name. He still felt guilty about Zhang Pangpang’s hand, even if it wasn’t really his fault.

Head down, he walked slowly home. The night was dead silent, only dim yellow lights and bugs buzzing around them. So when that familiar voice—like fine aged wine—sounded, he thought he’d taken a wrong turn and ended up back at Ink Orchid Mansion.

Ye Lian stood under the streetlamp at the gate, very still, like a lotus standing pure in water.

“Why so late getting back?” As he spoke, it was like spring water flowing, washing away the murk in Jiang Xiaoyu’s heart. “Sorry, I got the key from Aunt Qing and let myself in. Your cats and dogs were meowing and barking nonstop—probably hungry—so I went in and fed them.”

His handsome eyebrows carried a hint of apology as the scorching hot palm caressed Jiang Xiaoyu’s cheek: “You look so listless. Is work not going well?”

Jiang Xiaoyu shook his head and quickly lowered it, afraid that others would see his eyes heating up and his nose stinging.

Ye Lian didn’t ask any more, just took his hand. “Come inside first. Have you eaten? I brought you some cake and put it in the fridge.”

There was an inexplicable grievance and sadness in Jiang Xiaoyu’s heart, and he didn’t understand what was wrong with him. Clearly, he wasn’t the one hurt, nor was he the one who should be sad, yet he still felt so upset inside.

Even shapeshifters like Zhang Pangpang could be hurt by humans—were there even more weak creatures dying in places he couldn’t see?

He felt very lost.

Humans can scream, say it hurts, and call the police, but what about a ragdoll cat like the one Yang Guo kept? If it got hurt by someone, what could it do?

Ye Lian pulled him to sit on the sofa, guessing in his heart that this highly empathetic little guy had encountered something. He ruffled his hair and said, “What happened? You can tell Uncle. Or if there’s anything you want, Uncle can help you with it.” His voice was gentle, just like the promise he’d made to Jiang Xiaoyu’s cat form back then: As long as you say it, Uncle will listen.

Jiang Xiaoyu sniffed. “Why are you so good to me? We haven’t even spent much time together.” A dragon and phoenix among men, with top-tier family background and looks—why was he so gentle with him? Jiang Xiaoyu told himself not to overthink it, deceiving himself that it was because Ye Lian was a good person, but at this moment, he couldn’t weave any more lies to fool himself. He asked, “If I’ve been lying to you all along, would you still be this good to me?”

Ye Lian chuckled softly. “How do you know I’ve always been honest with you?”