A tiger’s frame was majestic and imposing, with shoulders as wide as a double-door fridge. His eyes gleamed like cold stars, his eyebrows were sharp as if painted on, and his chest spanned broad enough to defy ten thousand foes. His voice boomed with towering ambition. Bold of heart and fearless, he was like a lion descending from the heavens. Sinews strong as iron, bones unyielding like a pi xiu shaking the earth. He was the demon lord come down from the skies—a true earthly deity of calamity!
Yes, that was exactly it.
Chen Ji had just experienced it firsthand.
Grandpa White Tiger dipped his head and nudged Chen Ji’s shoulder. Chen Ji rubbed his cheek firmly against the tiger’s chest before finally letting go. He lay back on the floor, grinning as he said, “It’s fine. You didn’t crush me.”
Chen Ji had originally wanted to recite that viral internet meme aloud, but he figured if he actually told Grandpa White Tiger about it, the tiger would vanish into thin air on the spot.
Looking like he thought Grandpa White Tiger was just playing around, Chen Ji reached out again, looping his arms around the tiger’s neck and pressing his face close—only to shove him away playfully. “Cut it out, Grandpa White Tiger. We still need to get you bathed… Come on, lie down nice and still.”
Grandpa White Tiger shifted off him to the side, and Chen Ji sat up. The bit of muscle he’d managed to build up wasn’t gone from his earlier vital energy depletion as he’d feared. If anything, it stood out more now, with the fat reserves converted to replenish his energy. Water droplets rolled off his damp skin, a few silvery hairs clinging to him, glinting faintly. Chen Ji paid them no mind and wiped them off casually with a cloth.
Whether they came off clean or not didn’t matter—who bathed a cat without getting a few hairs stuck to them? Grandpa White Tiger was already an outstanding specimen for shedding so little. The System Cat, for all its pretend feline airs, had fur that had taken over Chen Ji’s entire wardrobe. Every piece of clothing had suffered since it arrived. Chen Ji hadn’t bought anything black in ages.
Chen Ji patted the floor. “Grandpa White Tiger, lie right here.”
But the tiger didn’t budge. A low rumble rose from his throat, as if to say: I’ll do it myself.
Chen Ji didn’t understand—he hadn’t studied interspecies languages. He assumed it was because the hind legs were sensitive, maybe he’d hurt him earlier. Placing one hand on Grandpa White Tiger’s back, he gently pressed down. “I’ll be careful, okay?”
Grandpa White Tiger still didn’t move. Chen Ji coaxed him further. “We’re both guys here, Grandpa White Tiger. You’ve got injuries, so don’t worry about it. It’s just a little help… Almost done. Bear with it, alright?”
Before he finished, Chen Ji sneezed. He rubbed his nose instinctively. Grandpa White Tiger watched him, then finally lay down, belly up—though his tail curled back to cover his private area.
Chen Ji thought, What’s there to hide? Grandpa White Tiger never wore pants anyway. His tail didn’t wag like a dog’s, but you could still see plenty.
Pointing it out directly wouldn’t be polite, though. If the tiger was truly shy, it probably wasn’t intentional. But he might still get swatted across the room, reduced to a pitiful, scraped-together mess on the wall.
This time, when Chen Ji washed the armpit and knee hollows of the hind legs, Grandpa White Tiger barely reacted. Chen Ji glanced up and saw him staring at the right-hand wall, looking utterly forlorn. A mischievous impulse seized Chen Ji, and he scrubbed away with earnest vigor.
Grandpa White Tiger’s hind leg twitched involuntarily, then curled back up quickly. Chen Ji patted it and gently pried the leg open with a soft touch. “Don’t curl up, Grandpa White Tiger. I can’t reach… There you go… Hold still, almost done.”
Grandpa White Tiger even closed his eyes.
Chen Ji didn’t touch the area under the tail but wickedly grabbed the tail itself instead. The ringed appendage was solid through and through. Even soaked, it hadn’t thinned much. Chen Ji lathered it with bath gel and stroked from root to tip…
And got kicked for his trouble.
This time, though, Grandpa White Tiger clearly pulled the blow midway. The massive hind paw—bigger than Chen Ji’s face—landed on his right chest, the edge of the meaty pad pressing against his shoulder, but it didn’t send him flying.
“Alright, alright. Rinse and we’re good,” Chen Ji said nonchalantly, brushing the paw aside. Half-standing, he grinned. “Stay put, Grandpa White Tiger. Won’t take long.”
The water cascaded down, drenching the tiger and matting his fur to one side in disarray. It gleamed like wet silk. Chen Ji worked his fingers through it, feeling the firm muscles beneath, even sensing the rise and fall of the tiger’s breath through skin and flesh.
The texture was unbelievably good.
Chen Ji truly wanted Grandpa White Tiger to stay. Even forever would be fine. A regular tiger would do.
He didn’t linger on the sensation. Grabbing a large bath towel, he dried him off. Soon the face was mostly clear of water, and Chen Ji reached for the hairdryer—only for the tiger to leap nimbly aside. In the next instant, a layer of azure-blue flame flickered over Grandpa White Tiger’s body. Just for a moment, but in that moment, he transformed from a drowned rat into a fluffy, fragrant big white tiger.
Chen Ji blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. “You can do it like that? Handy!”
Grandpa White Tiger flicked his tail, seemingly ready to leave the bathroom. Chen Ji didn’t fuss, calling after his retreating form. “Don’t go yet, Grandpa White Tiger. Hang out on my bed for a bit. Mind drying my hair the same way later? I need to wash up too!”
Chen Ji hated hairdryers. First, they were a hassle. Second, childhood trauma. His family’s old one had been cranked to max power for speed, filling the air with the stench of scorched protein whenever it ran. The smell still turned his stomach.
But now his hair had grown out some, and with his recent injury, reason demanded he use one. The weather wasn’t that warm; air-drying would take ages and risk a chill. So he’d been washing his hair in the afternoons lately, not evenings.
The catch? The construction crew was working afternoons. He could ditch them to wash up, sure, but it felt a bit embarrassing.
Borrowing the tiger’s flames would be perfect.
Grandpa White Tiger glanced back, rumbling from his throat—an assent. Chen Ji, having set the showerhead down and started stripping off his pants, called out, “Thanks!”
The tiger bolted from the bathroom like a shot.
Chen Ji hadn’t noticed how the two-hour cat bath had worn him out. With his body already soaked, skipping his own shower wasn’t an option. Who had energy left for details?
The bathroom door clicked shut. Suddenly remembering something, Chen Ji bent down, fished the drain screen from the floor grate, and gathered the tiger’s fur trapped in it. He peered at it, then tucked the hairs into a box for later sorting. He was beat.
Warm water poured over his head, enveloping his body. Chen Ji let out a contented sigh, running fingers through his hair and closing his eyes to let the stream wash over him. He emptied his mind, savoring the rare peace.
About five minutes later, the bone-deep fatigue finally ebbed away. Only then did Chen Ji start properly cleaning himself. As he lathered up with bath gel, he recalled Grandpa White Tiger’s panicked leap earlier…
If Grandpa White Tiger turned human, those hind-leg armpits…
No wonder he’d jumped.
Chen Ji chuckled darkly to himself, not caring if the tiger outside heard. What, was he going to come ask why I was laughing?
He finished up quickly and stepped out in his bathrobe. Grandpa White Tiger wasn’t on the bed but sprawled on the rug beside it. Neither he nor Second Master Huang had questioned the one-click renovation.
Chen Ji didn’t explain. A vague compliment to Second Master Huang in front of Grandpa White Tiger, and vice versa, would do—let them each think the other was responsible.
Second Master Huang clearly held some reservations about Grandpa White Tiger, and the tiger didn’t engage much with him either. They probably wouldn’t compare notes.
One more oddity on this mountain hardly mattered amid the rest.
Chen Ji sat on the bed’s edge, the bathrobe’s hem falling open to reveal his long, toned legs. Tilting his head to towel-dry his hair, he caught Grandpa White Tiger staring and couldn’t suppress a smile. “Forgot all about it. Quick, dry me off too, Grandpa White Tiger.”
Grinning, he added, “Won’t set my clothes on fire, right? Should I take it off?”
At his current hair growth rate, even a buzz cut wouldn’t faze him. But this bathrobe was pricey, comfy, and discontinued. If it burned, he’d mourn it for weeks.
Grandpa White Tiger made a soft sound Chen Ji couldn’t parse. No matter—he stood, shrugged off the robe, tossed it on the bed, and said casually, “Come on then.”
Azure-blue flame bloomed before his eyes. Chen Ji shut them reflexively. Scorching heat poured from his scalp downward. Before he could savor it—or feel any pain—it was gone. The dampness had vanished, leaving only dry warmth.
Chen Ji opened his eyes, a touch disappointed. “All done?”
Grandpa White Tiger nodded, gaze drifting downward without meeting Chen Ji’s. Chen Ji grabbed the robe and draped it over his shoulders. “Shouldn’t have closed my eyes… Oh well, next time. Thanks, Grandpa White Tiger. You worked hard!”
The tiger nodded offhandedly and padded swiftly from the room, even flicking his tail to shut the door behind him. Chen Ji sat lightly on the bed’s edge, utterly relaxed… If only he could learn that trick.
Probably a racial talent, though.
Propping his chin on one hand, Chen Ji sluggishly reviewed his day… Not much accomplished. No talisman practice, no folklore reading.
But he had zero urge to move.
Then he remembered… Grandpa White Tiger’s tail had hung a bit lower than usual when he left.
…Was he embarrassed?
Some time later, the System Cat’s voice chimed in: [Chen Ji, the stuff you asked me to buy is all ready for you… Uh, your stats seem off.]
Chen Ji sensed something amiss. Leisurely, he crossed his legs and shot a sidelong glance at the System Cat that had leaped out from the void. A faint, ambiguous smile on his face, he said, “[You know, so why aren’t you leaving?]”
![How Miserable is a Straight Man Playing a Tool Character in Restricted Novels [Quick Transmigration]](https://i1.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/lar.jpg?resize=151,215 "How Miserable is a Straight Man Playing a Tool Character in Restricted Novels [Quick Transmigration]")
