Darkness slowly receded, the blue sky and sandy ground gradually sharpening into focus.
That fuzzy chestnut ball was staring unblinkingly at him…
“I, Li Ao, didn’t cry!” Fierce Cat wiped away his tears, trying to prove he wasn’t weak. “Sand got in my eyes!”
As a little monster reborn from oblivion, how could the fuzzy chestnut ball understand Macho Cat’s need to save face? Even if it learned later, it wouldn’t call him out on it.
Its red pupils fixed on Li Ao. With a single leap, it pounced him to the ground and rubbed and nuzzled vigorously against the little cat’s fluffy white chest.
[So fragrant]
[So soft]
[Love it so much]
Li Ao burst into laughter, his paws flailing wildly from the ticklish sensation of whatever fur or tentacles were rubbing against him. “So itchy, so itchy! Stop rubbing me!”
He finally managed to sit up, and the fuzzy chestnut ball rolled onto the ground with the motion. Li Ao looked down at it, taking in its bizarre appearance. No hands, no feet—just a black, round blob. It looked fuzzy but felt cool and slimy to the touch, with an utterly abstract texture.
If not for those red eyes matching the big monster’s, Li Ao would seriously suspect that eerie space and its swirling colors had been a dream induced by bad booze.
Li Ao stretched out his paws and scooped it up. It was light as a feather, with barely any weight.
The fuzzy chestnut ball let him turn it this way and that. When cat paws stroked it, its scarlet slit pupils dilated slightly, all trace of menace vanishing as it let out a pleased “mao.”
“Heh heh, that’s one weird sound you make.”
He laughed because of the voice it had imitated, and the fuzzy chestnut ball happily narrowed its eyes, lunging toward that fragrant, soft cat chest again. Li Ao held it at arm’s length and pushed back with all his might, but his paws were too short. It broke free, pouncing him once more and sending them rolling across the ground.
“Alright, alright, enough playing.” The little cat put on a serious, grown-up face, stood up, patted the sand off himself, then picked up the fuzzy chestnut ball and shook off the dust. “I’m starving. Let’s go find something to eat.”
His pack lay not far away. Li Ao trotted over, and the fuzzy chestnut ball bounced alongside him like a loyal tag-along cat, sticking close no matter where he went. When he finally sat down, it nestled right beside him, not straying a step.
Li Ao opened the pack and pulled out the food prepared by the Machine. Seeing how obedient it was, he sneakily reached out a paw to pet it.
It immediately squinted in bliss, emitting a continuous stream of meows as its weird fur quivered from the pleasant contact.
[Love it!]
The little cat grinned, thinking it was like a puppy that knew how to meow.
“Here, eat this.” Li Ao speared a piece of roasted meat and held it out to the fuzzy chestnut ball. Then, as if struck by a thought, he suspiciously pawed at its surface. “Wait, you don’t have a mouth? So how do you eat?”
What was a mouth?
It had no concept of the word, but its learning and mimicry abilities were beyond human comprehension. Without wasting a moment, while Li Ao was still puzzling it out, a deep slit cracked open beneath its eyes, forming a mouth exactly as needed.
“Wow, your mouth’s huge!” The short-legged cat was shocked. “Just like a gluttonous bean.”
He tossed the meat into that black-hole maw, then ate a piece himself. One for him, one for the fuzzy chestnut ball. The food vanished into its mouth without so much as a chewing sound, which made Li Ao a little worried.
“You gotta chew it, or it won’t digest well.” He stood up and peered into its mouth to check. The fuzzy chestnut ball obligingly kept its jaws wide open for inspection.
One cat prying open the mouth of an unknown creature with both paws and sticking his head in to peer at its stomach—this scene, if seen by a human, or even by an emotionless robot, would short-circuit its circuits and send blue smoke billowing out.
A black-hole mouth connected to a colorful stomach space? Li Ao had no idea what it was, but seeing the meat indeed sitting there amid those indescribable colors, he relaxed and plopped back down to pack up his things, sensing nothing amiss.
“Next time, chew before swallowing, or your tummy will hurt.”
He knew from experience—long hunger followed by scarfing food too fast always led to bellyaches. The short-legged little cat passed on his wisdom.
Xun stared.
The fuzzy chestnut ball watched him intently as he chattered on, as if he were the only thing in the world worth caring about.
He was cuter than anything it had ever seen.
[Love it so much]
So much that it didn’t know what to do.
“Right.” Li Ao briskly slung the small pack over his back. “My name is Li Ao. What’s yours?”
It didn’t understand the concept of names or what they signified. It was merely a primal beast born from agony, knowing only how to devour. But it wanted to please him, to make him happy, to bask in his warm light. Instinctively, it began to learn, mimicking his voice: “Li… Ao…”
This was the first time in its painful, endless life that it uttered a word with clear meaning. The ancient syllables were awkward, especially for a beast that had never spoken. It repeated: “Li… Ao…”
“Li… Ao…”
The sound was eerie, distorted, carrying an indescribable, bizarre melody. If measured by human sanity, anyone who clearly heard that melody would instantly lose all reason and go mad.
But Li Ao just found it adorable, like a puppy learning to talk to its owner.
“Nope, not quite. Come on, repeat after me—” The little cat cleared his throat and enunciated clearly, like a news anchor: “Li! Ao!”
“Li… Ao…”
“So close! Heh heh, do you know what my name means?” He’d never had a playmate his age before, and now he had someone to share with. He explained eagerly: “Grandma picked it! Li means darkness, Ao means brave—Li Ao is bravery in the darkness!”
He wasn’t entirely sure if that was accurate, but the fuzzy chestnut ball understood nothing at all. Whatever he said was law, and it parroted him like a myna bird.
With such a cooperative student, the little cat teacher got even more excited, lecturing until he was thirsty. He took a sip of water, then pried open its mouth to give it some too.
“So, what’s your name?”
It didn’t take long for Li Ao to realize this weird guy had no name. That sparked a bit of empathy—he’d gone nameless for a long time too.
His old parents had said cheap names were easier to raise, so before meeting Grandma, he’d had no proper name. First “little cat,” then “deadweight” became his nickname.
“I’ll give you a name, okay?” The little cat’s eyes sparkled. He’d always wanted a puppy. Eyeing the fuzzy chestnut ball, a mischievous idea struck. With an evil little grin that came naturally, he started painting a rosy picture: “I can keep you, even roll colorful yarn balls for you. If you agree, you’ll be my little doggo!”
It had no clue what that meant, but how could it refuse him? It let out a weird meow, and Li Ao took that as agreement.
But he was barely literate—a true illiterate cat who hadn’t even scraped the bottom of the barrel. He racked his brain for ages without ideas.
Suddenly, he leaned in and sniffed it.
The fuzzy chestnut ball’s pupils contracted instantly. This was nothing like the relaxed thrill of seeking closeness; it was like a soldier under inspection, terrified he’d smell something off. In a flash, it mimicked his scent perfectly, filling the air around them.
The imitation wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad. Li Ao sniffed all over, analyzing carefully: “Kinda smells like lavender?”
Grandma’s laundry powder was lavender-scented; clothes always came out smelling great after washing and drying.
Struck by inspiration, a lightbulb flashed over Li Ao’s head. He balled his right paw into a fist and smacked it into his left: “Xun! That’s your name! It’s a super nice-smelling herb! A very, very pretty name!”
He was thrilled with his naming skills, growing happier by the second as his bushy tail swept joyfully across the ground.
Freshly named, Xun stared at that fluffy big tail, hearing him call: “Xun.”
Yes—that word would be its name. The most wonderful meaning in the universe, bestowed by him.
—
Li Ao was a real chatterbox kid. He could keep himself entertained talking to himself alone, but now with a little buddy, his nonstop babble didn’t let up for a second.
“This… seeds?” He dropped the small pouch on the ground and poked at it. “Yup, seeds! We’ll take ’em back and plant them. The veggies we grow will fill our bellies.”
Xun glanced at the seeds just like he did, then lost interest and glued itself back to Li Ao. It weighed next to nothing, perched on his head like a puff of black cloud.
Sniff sniff.
[Fragrant]
Compared to any seeds, it was clearly more interested in Li Ao’s cat fur. At this moment, it hadn’t grown teeth or a tongue yet and couldn’t groom the cat, so it could only gape its empty mouth, staring eagerly at Li Ao’s little head as if raring to go.
“？” Li Ao was busy at work when sudden darkness fell before his eyes. “？？”
“Xun! You can’t eat Li Ao’s head!”
He yanked Xun off his head, pinned it down, and lectured it nagging for a few minutes. Then, the little cat abruptly fell silent.
Something in the bundle was beeping. Li Ao opened it and found a clock-like disc showing the time: 16:30.
He was quite familiar with this time because at 17:00, the TV would air Dong Xixi, and Earth would soon plunge into darkness.
Li Ao recalled the robot’s instruction: Return to base before the sky turned crimson. He hadn’t understood what ‘sky-red’ meant at first, but as the blood-red hue spread across the blue sky, he began to get the idea. The temperature plummeted sharply—even his little cat’s thick fur couldn’t fend off the chill.
For some inexplicable reason, Li Ao panicked. No matter how carefree he was, he was only six years old. How could he have ever witnessed a scene like this?
“F-Fuzzy Chestnut Ball, we have to head back.” He couldn’t even get the name out properly. He slung the small bundle over his back, scooped up Xun, and bolted on his hind legs toward the distant white spherical building.
With legs just 5 centimeters long, he was paddling at a furious pace, but his strides were so tiny it was hopeless. The robot had actually worried he might run out of the wasteland? What a needless calculation error.
Xun was held snug against his chest, listening to the frantic thump of his heart. It loved every sound and motion he made—but not the emotion he was transmitting right now.
He was uneasy.
He was afraid.
It sensed it all with utmost care and quickly analyzed the reason for his state. It knew he was trying to run toward the building ahead—and then it glanced down at the pitiful distance he’d covered after all that running.
Xun got it.
It wriggled free from Li Ao’s front paws. Before the little cat could react, it propped him atop its head and started bouncing rapidly forward.
Li Ao’s mouth hung open as he ate a mouthful of sand. He stared in a daze as the base drew rapidly closer.
“Wah, I—I’m running so fast!”
The black dumpling said nothing, simply bouncing along, lending extra power to the little cat’s stubby legs.
