Who Needs a Relationship When You Have a Cat?

Chapter 11

For no good reason, the ridiculous yet tantalizing tableau in front of him made Ai Qing flash back to a couple of videos he’d once watched.

In those films, though, the heroine had been wedged in a washing-machine or under a bed, not in a litter box.

Seeing Xiao Yu’s hips sticking sky-high because her head and one arm were trapped, Ai Qing forced himself to look away.

He thanked heaven his coat was oversized and Xiao Yu’s human frame was petite: even in her current posture the hem still reached mid-thigh.

From his own one-eighty-two centimetres of height, there was no way he could see anything too explicit.

Still, the snow-white cat tail that kept twitching back and forth beneath the coat automatically supplied his brain with Technicolor filler.

He was hard.

His fist, anyway.

Ai Qing clenched it, cooled down, and tried to think.

First option:

do absolutely nothing.

In a few minutes Xiao Yu would pop back into cat form and the problem would solve itself.

He wasn’t that heartless yet.

He sighed, walked over and crouched beside the litter box.

“Mrrr... awhoo...”

Rustle-rustle-rustle.

Inside came Xiao Yu’s wordless cries and the sound of a hand furiously scooping litter. Her bare feet scrabbled on the floor; she was clearly frantic.

Body human, brain still pure cat.

Ai Qing leaned in to assess the damage, then swept his gaze across the bedroom: the overturned trash can, the quilt trailing on the tiles, the little desk lamp that should have been on the bedside table now lying forlornly on its side—still glowing.

A masterpiece.

He was used to them. Chuckling, he knelt and inspected the entrance of the litter box.

How to put it...

If she’d only shoved her head in, the opening would have been big enough. Instead she’d jammed an arm in first, then wedged her skull after it—total lock-up.

He wasn’t afraid she’d hurt herself; the box was soft flexible plastic, painful at worst.

He patted her back to soothe her, but another worry nagged him.

If she’d tried to crawl in while human, did that mean humans needed to use the toilet?

Or had she simply wanted to play in the litter?

To a cat, the box is a bathroom, yet Xiao Yu often wandered in to dig when she was bored.

Weird hobby.

Now he fretted that cat-brained Xiao Yu had no idea how a toilet worked.

Would she still squat in litter as a girl?

Hell—

the mental image was too vivid.

And what was the mechanism anyway?

A kitten’s daily calorie intake was tiny; scaled up to a human it couldn’t possibly cover the energy cost of maintaining a human body.

Maybe that was why she never stayed human for long.

Scientific hypothesis, anyway.

While he mused he slipped his hand through the gap, found her shoulder, and gently twisted her sideways.

Angle located, he eased her head out first.

Luckily she cooperated—probably catching his scent, knowing help had arrived—lying still instead of thrashing.

Head freed, arm followed.

Xiao Yu crouched-half-sprawled on the floor and looked up at him.

The box must have been stuffy; tiny beads of sweat dotted her forehead, damp strands of white hair clinging to flushed cheeks—delicate, alluring.

To Ai Qing she just looked adorably stupid.

“Dumb, huh? Human-shaped and still diving into the litter box.” He squatted, tapped her forehead with a finger.

She rubbed her cheek against the fingertip instead.

He instinctively opened his hand and stroked her head; she narrowed her eyes in bliss.

Her hair felt ridiculously silky, every strand obedient, no tangles.

Ai Qing caught himself and yanked his hand back.

First time in his life he’d ever petted a girl’s head...

Pathetic.

How many firsts was this wretched cat stealing from him?

“So—do you need to pee?” He stayed crouched. “If yes, I’ll take you to the toilet.”

Xiao Yu stared, uncomprehending. She planted her hands forward and crawled right into his personal space, face inches from his; he recoiled half a step, gripping her shoulders.

Then he sighed.

She didn’t understand human speech—how was he supposed to communicate?

Still, better safe than sorry; while she was human he ought to try toilet-training.

He stood and offered both hands to pull her up.

The moment she rose she panicked, balance gone, legs wobbling like a newborn foal. When she finally straightened she lurched straight into his chest, the only way to stay upright.

Ai Qing froze, arms hovering, senses full of the small body pressed against him.

She wasn’t tall—head below his collarbone; he guessed one-sixty at most. No wonder his coat reached her knees.

Walking on two feet was apparently a brand-new skill.

Would she crawl on all fours forever?

Her knees would be shredded.

Not the moment to ponder that. Nowhere to put his hands, he settled for her shoulders—but the instant he pushed her away she teetered like a toddler.

Holding her was torture; letting her fall, worse.

In the end he knelt again and let her drop to hands and knees.

“Stay. Don’t move.”

He pulled out his phone.

Toilet lesson postponed; first get her measurements and some clothes. He opened WeChat, found Xiao Youqian, chose his words.

[Ai Qing]: Sis Qian, girl question—can I ask?

[Youqian]: Shoot. What’s off-limits?