Chapter 101

“Madam, your votes have surged to tenth place.” Qin Mian’s subordinate had worked under her for over a decade, both of them rising from humble origins, and he deeply respected this unyielding old woman.

Qin Mian had stern features, with high and gaunt cheekbones. Hearing this news brought no joy to her face; instead, she mocked herself, “Years of drinking ice water without recognition, now known across the world thanks to a cat.” She had lived long enough and seen through enough to know why the public now held her in high regard. It was because of her fairness toward that little cat during the Dawn League.

“You can’t put it that way,” the subordinate said with a smile. “You’ve done so much for the Federation; you just lacked a channel for exposure.”

Qin Mian lowered her eyelids, sneering inwardly. Lacked exposure? She had participated in every Top Ten Influential Figures poll, yet her ranking was always suppressed at the bottom. Without backing, much of her work had become stepping stones for others. If those people truly had the ability to make the Federation great, that would be fine. But how could truly great people stoop to such dirty tricks?

The subordinate meant no offense, and he wasn’t wrong. She truly lacked a path to be seen—not because there was no road, but because great hands blocked the sky along it. Now, that road shrouded by those hands showed signs of loosening. With such a massive scandal, the Federation wouldn’t dare manipulate the election as before; the votes would be fairer than in past years. And thanks to her viral interaction with the little cat during the exam, her votes had shot to the front.

She raised her head, gazing at the little cat plowing the fields on the screen, a long-dormant ambition igniting in her eyes. “Then let’s fight once more.” For herself, and for this crumbling homeland.

Li Ao wasn’t plowing today; he was busy teaching the xenoids that Xun had tamed. These xenoids varied in rank—some B-Rank, most E-Rank. They stood in neat rows, awkward and stiff in such dignified postures. But they’d just had their mental domains cleared by the little cat, so they were utterly obedient to him, not to mention the predator eyeing them hungrily from behind the cat.

“Mantis Monster No. 3.” The little cat put his paws on his hips and waddled over to a Crex. “You’ll help fetch water.” He picked up a small bucket, carefully tossing it into the pit pond, then pulled it back with the rope. Full to the brim, too heavy for him alone, he demonstrated to the low-rank xenoid how to lift it, then led it to pour the water into the soil.

In the interstellar era, planting was difficult, but maintenance was even harder. Xenoids rampaged before, and now xenoid variants roamed freely; few food crops survived these monsters. Interstellar citizens complained about sky-high prices for fruits and vegetables, unaffordable for ordinary people. Merchant profiteering played a role, but the objective environment was the root—crop maintenance costs were exorbitantly high.

The planet under the little cat’s management held a natural advantage in this regard with the xenoids. These bloodthirsty, brutal beasts dragged plows and carried buckets, obediently working and even helping guard the gardens.

Delphi’s population totaled less than 100,000; every reclaimed planet needed guardians. Without these xenoids, they simply couldn’t spare the manpower.

An old soldier leaned on his hoe, smoking, and made way for an approaching xenoid carrying a water bucket. “Tch—habits are scary. I’m actually getting used to xenoids helping out.”

Once done, the xenoid’s terrifying compound eyes fixed on the man, giving the old soldier goosebumps; he itched to swing his hoe. “…Fine, fine, here you go.” Unable to stand the stare, the old guy pulled a little red flower from his pocket and stuck it on the xenoid’s shell. “Go on, go get your reward from His Highness.”

The xenoid let out a shrill cry and bolted toward the distant teaching little cat, flopping down before him like a dog and whipping its tail to show off the flower.

“You’re so good!” Li Ao praised immediately, tugging at the lingering pollution strands on it.

These xenoids were clever; after cleanup, pollution built up slowly. They’d wait until it accumulated, then come back for the little cat to groom them.

“Turning into spirits, huh?” The old soldier blew a smoke ring and scratched his head. “But damn, they’re kinda cute…”

With fruits rich in the little cat’s spiritual power, these xenoids shifted from pure carnivores to omnivores, their craving for human flesh diminished. As long as they had fruit and water, their ferocity stayed suppressed. Aside from their frightening appearance, they were more obedient than pets in the little cat’s presence.

Li Ao loved to talk, and these low-rank xenoids couldn’t talk back like the logics, so his desire to lecture as Cat-Cat Teacher was fully satisfied. While working, he chattered nonstop—from seedling nurture to fertilizing, promising tasty treats for the xenoids, droning on till heaven and earth spun.

The xenoids silently raked soil, tilled, and watered, looking attentive, though their intelligence grasped only bits and pieces. One accidentally nodded and got called on excitedly by Li Ao: “Multi-tooth Monster No. 1, you tell me—how often do we water?”

“…” The poor xenoid bared its mouthful of jagged fangs and let out a weak hiss.

“Aiya, no good—that’d be too much water and rot the roots.”

Busy all morning, the little cat finally tired out and went quiet. He yawned, flicking his tail as he turned.

Xun had been guarding behind him; Li Ao turned and saw him right away. He stood straight, front paws on the man’s leg, gently kneading with soft paw pads. After a few rubs, he stretched his paws with sparkling eyes, demanding a hug like a puppy.

The black-haired, red-eyed youth scooped the little cat onto his shoulder, sweeping his gaze down; the low-rank xenoids scattered. His voice was hoarse from early puberty: “Leave it to me. Are they even worthy of you wasting breath teaching them?”

“It’s not the same! They might obey you out of necessity, but obeying me shouldn’t be expected. Interactions need sincerity. We made a deal, so I have to take responsibility for them.” Li Ao still spoke in his childish lilt, but he was fascinated by Xun’s throat, pawing at the prematurely prominent little Adam’s apple like playing with a marble.

Xun had been annoyed at the little cat valuing those low-rank xenoids so much, but now with the paw tickling his throat, that smooth skin’s small bump rolling under the cat’s enticing gaze…

The little cat chirped like he was hunting, getting more excited to catch it. Xun turned his face away, escaping, and lifted the cat from his shoulder to cradle in his arm: “Time to eat? Machine says it’s evening, time for your makeup math lesson.”

Math? Li Ao’s excited face crumpled into a kitty pout, mumbling, “Math sucks.”

“I think you’re the worst.” Silver Wing’s holographic projection smirked, holding up most of a unfinished math sheet. “Can’t even finish one sheet a week.”

“Lies! Kitty good!” Li Ao drooped his tail, arguing with the robot. “I’ve finished all my other homework—how’s it unfinished?! Ancient Chinese, Delphic, Interstellar Common, tons of history—I did them! You’re so mean, Machine, always harping on the math I didn’t finish!”

“…And you’re pretty righteous about it.”

“So what? I didn’t even let Xun do them for me!” Fierce Cat said seriously. “I did the calculations; that geometry stuff? Not doing it.”

Hating math homework was probably this cat’s only willful trait. His father didn’t care, his teachers didn’t—nobody did, except Silver Wing, who used to but now just bickered for fun. “You’re something else.”

The robot made the cat study a bit, then inspected him during a break from classwork. He looked thinner; his formerly dragging belly had tucked up a little. Silver Wing wasn’t pleased: “Have you been eating properly? Did Brenna stuff you with so many snacks you skipped meals?”

“Nope.” Li Ao held his pen, scratching his head. “I just ate a huge crab—tons of meat.”

Eating well but still thinner? The robot grumbled: “Outings mean subpar ingredients. When are you coming back? For Delphi’s New Year?”

“Yeah, Xixi says these chores won’t wrap up quick, but once this area’s done, we’ll head back for the holiday.” New Year lit him up; his tail perked higher.

The universe had a standard calendar, but each planet’s “year” varied. Some were months long, others years. Delphi’s New Year resembled the lunar New Year from Li Ao’s memories. In fact, Delphi and Earth shared cultural similarities that made him question his own recollections—maybe excessive grandma-missing warped his brain.

Regardless, Delphi’s New Year was lively. Past years leaned Western, but since Li Ao arrived, Eastern elements gained prominence. New Year’s Eve featured a nationwide variety show.

That reminded the little cat of a worry: “Auntie invited me to perform again, but what should I do?” Past years were singing and dancing—stale now. Stumped, he erased a wrong word with his eraser.

He didn’t bring it up, that was fine, but once he did, Silver Wing was troubled too. It had been invited this year as well—of course, it had planned to refuse, but its superior approved it directly. From the moment the robot was created, it had never participated in such an event. The little cat could sing and dance; what could it do? Silver Wing was so annoyed its programming knotted up. Uncharacteristically, it didn’t pick on the little cat and let him off class early to watch cartoons.

Li Ao didn’t get down from the table either. He pushed his workbook aside, lay on his side, and started watching.

There was originally no cartoon character called “Dong Xixi” in the interstellar era. At first, it was made by Isiris to celebrate Li Ao starting kindergarten; they specially commissioned an animation team to produce a few custom interactive shorts. Later, this production team was acquired by Bai Yunjun, who turned “Dong Xixi” into an official serialized animation. At the time, he didn’t care whether the IP would be popular or not, or whether it would burn money—as long as the little cat liked it. Who would have thought that this cat with legs as short as Li Ao’s would become an overnight sensation, even getting collab shorts from many big IPs.

On the screen, Dong Xixi met the pink electric hairdryer-headed piglet. It was having the electric wind pig blow its fur. Li Ao lay on his side, munching on chips and letting out whooshing giggles. Gradually, the laughter faded away.

After Xun finished training and intimidated the Xenoids for a bit longer, by the time he returned to the Mandjet, the little cat was already asleep. He walked over and leaned down slightly, watching as the little cat slumped on the table, its soft belly splayed out like a puddle, one paw still draped over a half-eaten bag of chips, sleeping completely defenseless.

The youth gently rubbed the cat’s belly, carefully extracted the chips from its little paw and put them away, then skillfully pulled out a wet wipe to clean its paws and the salt-dusted corners of its mouth. Only after everything was tidied up did he gently scoop up the cat and settle it securely onto the bed.

What program should Machine perform? [?]