"Yuxin, want to go to the grocery store after class?" my best friend Xiaomei asked as we tossed our books into our bags at Minghai High.
"Nope, nope," I replied without hesitation, not bothering to look up as I packed away my pencils.
"But the shop owner just adopted a new kitten, a little cream ball," Xiaomei pleaded, knowing all too well my weakness for anything soft and furry.
But this time, she miscalculated.
"You go ahead, I’ve really got something to do," I explained, clutching my bag a little tighter.
Even though passing up a chance to snuggle a new kitten made my heart ache, I had a little king at home who needed my full attention.
"You’re late," came the sharp voice from my living room as soon as I opened the door. Ling Yan, the silver-haired boy with impossibly perfect features, sat on the couch, arms crossed, looking every bit the stern disciplinarian.
Without missing a beat, I pulled out a can of chicken soup from my backpack. "How about this for dinner?"
He snorted, turning his nose up. "You dare give me something like that?"
Guess I'll be eating alone.
I shuffled into the kitchen, tossed the chicken into a pan with a sprinkle of green onions, and plated it nicely.
Suddenly, Ling Yan appeared at the doorframe, peering in with open disdain at my culinary creation.
I pointed toward the bathroom. "Wash your hands before dinner."
Judging by the look on his face, you'd think I’d just told him to jump into a volcano, but he complied, sitting sullenly at the table after thoroughly washing up.
I placed a special portion in front of him.
"Why am I eating this one?" he grumbled.
"I added chili and salt to mine," I explained. "Yours is plain."
"And?" His blue eyes narrowed.
"If you eat mine, you’ll lose all your fur, sir."
It’s honestly beyond me how my life ended up like this. A week ago, I was hiking Mount Jinluan when I rescued a pitiful, snow-white stray. Totally innocent, right?
I woke up the next morning to find a beautiful stranger in my bed, a boy as stunning as a painting. Convinced I’d hallucinated from being single for too long, I shrugged it off as a fever dream.
Turns out, he claims to be an eight-tailed spirit cat who’s been cultivating for a thousand years. If he’d pulled off this last heavenly trial undisturbed, he would’ve ascended and gained his ninth tail, becoming a legendary nine-tailed cat spirit. But I’d accidentally ruined it for him.
Now I have to serve and worship him until his next trial. In return for my devotion, he’ll grant me one wish for every period of faithful service.
"So, what’s your wish this time?" he drawled from the couch, glancing over with a bored, lopsided look.
I slid onto the far cushion, clasped my hands, and answered reverently, "World peace."
I didn’t even get a side glance.
Trying again, I said, "I want to snuggle a kitty."
"What color? What pattern? Be specific."
I thought hard. "Pure white, super fluffy, like a cotton ball. Two delicate pink ears. Rosy toe beans."
He began tapping his fingers, growing impatient.
"In short, it should have eight tails," I concluded.
Ling Yan snapped his fingers and suddenly stared at his hand in shock. "You dare."
But before he could finish, the only thing left beside me was a huffy eight-tailed cat, pure white, pink-padded, and so fluffy it looked like a marshmallow.
Granted, the cat looked ready to murder me.
"Sorry, I didn’t realize the transformation would last all day," I blurted, genuinely apologetic. But the cat would have none of it, giving me a frosty glare before striding away, leaving only his snow-white backside bristling with eight bushy tails.
"Want some fish snacks?" I coaxed, sidling closer.
The cat, perched on the end of the couch, didn’t look at me, just let out a dismissive "hmph." That meant yes.
I offered some dried fish, moving a bit nearer.
He twisted around, eyes suspicious. "What are you doing?"
"Can I touch your tail?"
Instant fluff mode. "Stop dreaming."
I got no tail cuddles, but he did accept the fish. I had spicy jerky; he munched original-flavor fish.
He camped at the couch’s head, I at the foot, a clear feline-human no-man’s land while we watched a homegrown horror flick.
A ghost crept out of a mirror. The cat bristled, fur standing on end.
A ghoul slithered from under the bed. He scooted his precious little cat butt closer to my side.
In pitch darkness, just as the main character discovered the ghost under her bed, the room’s power went out. Right then, something warm and soft wriggled under my arm, a fluffy eight-tailed bundle trembling slightly.
"Are you scared of ghosts?" I groped for my phone in the blacked-out room.
"Nonsense." Yet the little claws clutching my sleeve tightened.
."
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