After Turning Into a Kitten, I Was Adopted by My Father-Figure Childhood Friend - Chapter 1

“Good grief, this weather. Who would believe it is April and we are still wearing thick sweaters?”

In Yun City, the April wind remained bone-chilling. Winter refused to leave, and spring was being exceptionally stingy with its warmth.

Mo Jiang, the “mom” of the dorm, hurried inside carrying cups of milk tea. He moved with a mix of stealth and caution, quickly shutting the door to lock the cold wind outside. Turning around, he saw a certain someone who refused to dress warmly, sitting cross-legged in an ergonomic chair with his fingers tapping away at a screen and his head swaying to an internal rhythm. He was completely oblivious to the world.

Mo Jiang could not help but raise his voice. “Young Master, put some clothes on! Do not come crying to me when you catch another cold.”

Song Xingyou reacted late, lifting his head with a dazed expression and pointing at himself blankly. His exposed skin looked like a delicate flower frozen in ice, with a vivid, innocent flush of pink spreading from the corners of his round eyes.

He was undeniably good-looking, even more handsome and refined than many movie stars. Beneath his thin base layer, the lines of his lean waist were faintly visible. He sat there like a white crane, elegant and poised. At Mo Jiang’s insistent gesturing, he finally slid his noise-canceling headphones down to hang around his neck.

“What is wrong?” He pulled the corners of his lips down slightly, his long lashes fluttering as his eyes drifted back to his tablet, where a music composition was reaching its finale. He looked utterly preoccupied and indifferent.

Mo Jiang was long used to this “music-above-all-else” attitude. Song Xingyou’s family clearly knew his temperament too. Back in freshman year, they had gifted every person in the dorm a 100,000-yuan watch, followed by regular holiday gifts, all to ensure the roommates took good care of him.

After four years together, Mo Jiang naturally shook out a long padded coat and draped it over Song Xingyou’s shoulders. “I told you to dress up. Does this multi-thousand-dollar coat have a grudge against you?”

“No grudge,” Song Xingyou muttered. Still holding his stylus, he habitually reached into the sleeves. Then, realization hit, and his fine brows knitted together. “Wait, my cello!”

His professionally maintained cello was leaning against the bed, carefully covered by that very coat. Now that the coat was gone, a pleasant, pine-like scent wafted from the instrument.

Another roommate acted quickly, tossing a small blanket over the cello. “There, there. It will not freeze. Anyway, did you check with your family about our graduation trip? Will they let you come with us?”

As his roommates chattered away, Song Xingyou frowned and started pulling his headphones back over his ears. “I told them,” he replied vaguely.

“And? Can you go?”

He stayed focused on his composition, his amber eyes glued to the screen. Just then, his phone chimed twice, and a few messages popped up over his music interface. A light flickered in his eyes. His expression remained lethargic, but his round almond eyes darted up and down as he read.

Whatever he saw made him tap the screen with his long, beautiful fingers. His interest in composing vanished like a gust of wind.

“No,” Song Xingyou said suddenly. He stared at the messages, a smile blooming on his cold, aristocratic face. The corners of his mouth curled into a sly, wicked arc, like a snow-covered branch suddenly shivering off its burden to reveal a budding flower beneath.

“I am not going,” he announced.

He did not even bother with an explanation. His roommates watched in stunned silence as he began packing his things. They leaned out of the dorm door, chasing his retreating figure with their voices. “You are really not going?”

Song Xingyou waved his phone, showing a 30,000-yuan transfer record. “Sponsorship. Have fun, guys.”

Well, what else was there to say? The roommates immediately traded their disappointment for cheers. “We will have enough fun for you too!”

Mo Jiang yelled after him, “Remember to tell the class advisor!”

Song Xingyou’s pace was brisk, leaving his roommates’ voices far behind. He hummed a soft tune, his once expressionless face now vivid and lively, bringing a rare sense of vitality even to the bleak spring air. Passing a mirror in the stairwell, he spared himself a lazy glance.

The tall youth in the mirror wore a fluffy knitted cashmere coat. His skin was pale and exquisite, and his small nose twitched slightly, giving him an air of unconscious, innocent handsomeness, save for the touch of mischief in his eyes.

The “Evil Fluffy” turned away, failing to notice a black cat in the mirror following him with light steps, a shiny silver coin clamped firmly in its mouth. The cat’s tail swayed, and its deep black fur seemed to act as a curtain. As the night swept by, time itself seemed to be pulled forward by the moon-like curve of the cat’s tail.

When Song Xingyou stepped out of the “mirror” again, multicolored neon lights poured down from above. The sound of cheerful, frantic laughter was instantly muted as the door to a private KTV lounge swung shut behind him.

Chu Zhuo, wearing a hip-hop style V-neck long-sleeve, jumped down from a small table and squeezed next to Song Xingyou in two or three steps. He winked mischievously. “Xing-zai!”

Chu Zhuo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He let out a playful whistle, acting suave on the surface, but leaned in to whisper in Song Xingyou’s ear. “Do not worry. Regardless of who is right or wrong between you and Lu Jingchuan, I will make sure he apologizes to you.”

“Just make up with each other already! Please, I am begging you!”

Chu Zhuo blinked, his expression pleading. As a mutual friend of over ten years, who suffered the most when these two fought? It was him! Who acted as the emotional trash can, taking long-distance calls in the middle of the night to listen to one friend’s “emo” rants? Who dug through trash in the dead of winter to recover “friendship heirlooms” they had thrown away in a fit of rage?

It was him! It was all him! Finally, the end was in sight. Tonight, Lu Jingchuan had to make up with Xing-zai!

Song Xingyou curled his lips, his long lashes fluttering as he gave a half-hearted hum of agreement. His amber eyes scanned everyone in the room. “Do not worry,” he said.

He had skipped his graduation trip just to come here. Make up? Ha, absolutely impossible!

Chu Zhuo, blissfully unaware, excitedly shook a bottle of champagne and greeted the circle of friends. “Everyone! Why are we gathered here today?”

The group of rowdy drinkers cheered in unison. “To celebrate Young Master Lu’s return to the country!”

Someone shouted through the chaos. “Death to ‘white people food’!”

“Master Lu has returned from the famine!”

Chu Zhuo laughed loudly. “Hahaha!”

Wrapped in his knitted cashmere coat, Song Xingyou stared straight at everyone’s faces. He pressed his thumb into his palm, his slender fingers leaving behind several ruthless red marks.

Lu Jingchuan, tonight is the night I assassinate you!

Song Xingyou was mentally sharpening his blade. He moved away from the drunkards and curled up in a corner of the sofa where he could see the main door, narrowing his eyes. Like a patient, cold-blooded killer, his gaze remained fixed on the entrance. He even had a “self-defense tutorial” playing on his phone, trying to study every possible way an opponent might resist so he could refine his attack.

To be honest, he had wanted to beat up Lu Jingchuan for a very long time! He was taking action tonight!

Let us do this!

Song Xingyou grabbed a glass of colorful juice and downed it in one go. Liquid courage!

One gulp, and his head immediately started spinning. His vision blurred, and he flopped over sideways. The voices around him grew frantic and chaotic, and only one thought remained in his hazy mind.

“Holy shit! Who put a cocktail in front of Xing-xing?!”

Who put a cocktail in front of me? Do they not know I cannot drink?

The April weather in Yun City had not lost its chill, but today the sun was out. The sunlight hit the swaying fur beneath the branches, making a pair of cloud-like pointed ears twitch.

The little calico cat, currently spread out like a furry rug, stretched its limbs. It mumbled something incoherent, curled its tail, and flipped over onto its back, covering its ears and grumbling.

“Meow!” (Who is it? So rude, making all this noise so early in the morning!)

“Mee-woo!” (Do they not know someone is trying to sleep?)

The little calico shook its head for a while before burying its face deeper into its paws. Two pointed cat ears stubbornly squeezed through the gaps, and its tail flicked like it was swatting away flies.

Wait!

Like a dying man jolting awake, Song Xingyou snapped his head up. His brain spun, and his limbs felt weak. He slumped backward, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

The moment he sat down, he felt as if his tailbone was going to snap. A terrifying pressure surged from his tailbone to his scalp. He screamed and scrambled up, jumping into the air.

Wait? Jumped into the air?

In Song Xingyou’s vision, the familiar scenery of the dormitory buildings appeared like a dream, bobbing up and down as he bounced. He flailed his limbs in terror, his scalp tingling. A million thoughts raced through his mind.

Who am I? Where am I? That damn Chu Zhuo must have thrown me outside while I was drunk! And that bastard Lu Jingchuan did not even stop him. He really does hold a grudge! I am definitely assassinating him tonight.

Song Xingyou stood frozen on the spot, his cat-brain overloaded. He stood in the cold wind for a long time, unable to face reality, having turned into a literal “stone-cat.”

“I cannot believe Xing-zai had the energy to get up and go on that trip after being so drunk yesterday. I told you you would regret not showing up last night.”

A familiar voice struck Song Xingyou’s ears like a thunderbolt. His pointed ears stood straight up, twitching in the wind. He narrowed his eyes and saw two figures approaching.

Chu Zhuo, seemingly immune to the cold, wore a leather biker jacket with a parka draped over it. He tilted his head toward the person beside him. “It is lucky Xing-zai was drunk and did not know. If he finds out you stood us up yesterday, you are dead when he gets back.”

“My grandfather held me back.”

The courtyard wall was nearly two meters high, but the man beside him was taller. He had a tall, upright build and a sharp, handsome profile. His lips were pursed in a thin, cold line.

Lu Jingchuan remained silent for a moment, pulled out his phone, and looked at it with a momentary gloom in his eyes.

“Besides,” Lu Jingchuan added, “He was more excited about the sound of his suitcase wheels than seeing me.”

Song Xingyou could not take it anymore. Alarm bells rang in his head, and he poked his entire face through the gaps in the branches. His snow-white “cream” muzzle peeled back to reveal two sharp, pointed fangs.

Son of a cat!

It is LU! JING! CHUAN!

That damn Lu Jingchuan actually dared to stand me up!

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