The cat’s earliest memory was of lying in a patch of grass. He didn’t remember how he had ended up there, only that he was cold, hungry, and likely on the verge of death.
The days were long, but the nights were even harder to endure. After sunset, the already near-freezing temperatures dropped further as the wind began to blow.
After an indeterminate period of silence, the sound of a motorcycle echoed from the other side of the slope. The cat heard it but didn’t understand what the noise signified.
In the residential complex, engine sounds were always subdued, like the restrained panting of a beast. The garage’s mechanical door slowly lifted, and the motorcycle’s roar suddenly intensified before swiftly disappearing inside.
Everything fell silent again.
In the quiet, the sound of footsteps crunching through the grass grew closer.
“Not dead?” Someone muttered twice, “So small.”
Driven by survival instinct, the orange cat struggled to move toward the source of the voice.
As soon as he touched a warm hand, he felt himself being lifted by the scruff of his neck. His body, stiff from the cold, was gently rubbed.
The cat tried to open his eyes but still couldn’t see. All he could manage was a desperate cry for help.
Unexpectedly, the next moment, he was placed back on the ground.
The orange cat’s meows softened, no longer as piercing as before. He stopped trying to stagger toward the warmth and instead curled up quietly, expecting the person to stand there for a moment, sigh, and then leave—just like others before them.
But in the next instant, the person removed their coat and wrapped it around him. The coat shielded him from the biting wind, and the lining carried the lingering warmth of a human body. Slowly, the cat began to regain some sensation and stopped trembling. Instead, he was overwhelmed by a distinct scent.
Even though he couldn’t see yet, he etched that scent into memory.
At first, the scent and its accompanying sounds weren’t constant presences—appearing only occasionally at night. The scent would drift faintly behind the glass before disappearing again.
The cat began to look forward to the arrival of every night.
Over time, he learned to recognize the voice that accompanied the familiar scent. Then, one day during the day, a nurse gently wiped away the discharge from his eyes. That evening, he finally saw the face of the person behind the scent.
The door to the isolation room opened, and the familiar voice said, “…Alright, I understand.”
The cat immediately stood up, alert. Pressing his forehead against the glass, he eagerly waited for the person to come closer, letting out two impatient cries, his heart brimming with joy and anticipation.
“The kitten should be able to go home the day after tomorrow.” The nurse opened the door. She picked him up and gently handed him over to the gloved hands.
The cat looked up, trying to commit this towering figure to memory. But the human was fully covered, wearing a mask that revealed only a pair of eyes.
The cat held the gaze of those eyes for several seconds.
Eager to impress, the cat wolfed down his food. But despite the extended time they spent together, the human eventually had to leave again.
The cat stared at the person with his big round eyes and let out two soft meows as if pleading for him to stay.
“I’ll come get you the day after tomorrow. Stay here a little longer,” the person said.
So the cat lay back down.
From that point on, the human and the cat began living together. The cat no longer had to endure life outdoors. He had a name now and lived in a castle filled with the scent he loved most.
There was no need to scarf down his meals recklessly—there would always be another meal, and every one was delicious. He no longer feared the cold at night. After being vaccinated and bathed, his human had enthusiastically sniffed him all over and started letting him sleep in the bed.
Now, Maimai could fall asleep nestled in his favorite human’s arms.
Maimai learned that his large owner was named Cheng Lin. Life wasn’t easy for Cheng Lin—he had to hunt every day, leaving early and returning late. But he always made sure to prepare fresh water and food for Maimai.
As Maimai grew, he began to understand more about the world around him. When the human wasn’t home, the cat would spend his time missing his owner, climbing the cat tree, or watching TV.
Every evening, Maimai started preparing to welcome Cheng Lin home an hour before he was due to arrive. His favorite moment of the day was hearing the sound of the doorknob turning as Cheng Lin walked through the door.
Cheng Lin would first set down his helmet and bag, calling out, “Maimai” or “Baby.” The cat would excitedly follow him around, weaving nimbly through his steps whenever there was a gap. Then, he would wait patiently for Cheng Lin to finish washing his hands before being scooped up for cuddles and kisses.
Around the cat, the human dropped all pretense. If he wanted to kiss, he kissed. If he wanted to hug, he hugged. He spoke whatever came to mind. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother wearing a shirt when it was too hot. The cat loved all of this—except for one thing: they spoke completely different languages.
The human spoke in human words, and the cat meowed in cat language. Their communication wasn’t exactly seamless.
At critical moments, Cheng Lin often misinterpreted the cat’s affectionate sounds as demands.
For instance, when Cheng Lin was cooking for Maimai at the stove, the cat would circle his legs, meowing. What Maimai meant was, “You’re so nice, I like you.”
But Cheng Lin always interpreted it as urging. “You’re hungry, huh? It’ll be ready soon.”
Or when Cheng Lin worked in his study, Maimai would curl up on his lap, waiting for him to glance down. The cat would meow when their eyes met, meaning, “I like you. Pet me.”
After some thought, Cheng Lin would pat Maimai’s bottom, stand up, and set him on the floor. “Bored? I’ll get the wand toy.”
Then there was the time the human had praised Maimai as the cutest kitten in the world, making the cat quite proud of himself. After figuring out what actions might make him seem even cuter, Maimai began lying beside the human before bed, rubbing his head against him and meowing, meaning, “I like you, praise me!”
Instead, Cheng Lin would scratch his head with a serious expression and lean in close. “Why are you always itchy? Let me check if there’s something there.”
Good grief! Why couldn’t he understand?
Maimai could only sigh in exasperation as Cheng Lin planted a kiss on his head. If only he could speak human language!
The turning point came in late autumn when Cheng Lin, unfortunately, caught the flu.
It started with a faint soreness in his throat, but one morning, he suddenly developed a fever. Within just two hours, his body temperature spiked from 38°C to 40°C.
Early that morning, the cat detected an unusual scent and felt the human’s overheated body. Realizing something was wrong with his owner, the cat grew anxious. Flicking his tail nervously, he paced around the bed and kneaded the bulging blanket.
The high fever left Cheng Lin drained and unable to sleep soundly. Half-awake from the cat’s movements, he pulled the blanket higher, causing Maimai to slide down the slope.
What’s going on?
This sleep was completely different from Cheng Lin’s usual nighttime rest. On top of that, Cheng Lin, who was typically full of energy and responsive, was still in bed at this hour instead of heading out to hunt. Even calling him elicited no reaction.
“Meow.” Maimai leaned closer, hoping to wake the human and confirm he was alright.
Cheng Lin didn’t respond. His eyes remained closed, his cheeks were flushed, and his breathing was heavier than normal.
“Meow.” Maimai persisted, this time tapping Cheng Lin’s nose with his front paw. Cheng Lin probably felt ticklish, as he tilted his head to avoid it.
Still no sign of waking. Could something serious be happening to him?
Maimai burrowed into the crook of Cheng Lin’s neck, just as he had when he was a kitten. But now, the spot was too small for his grown body, so he rested his head on Cheng Lin’s chin. Desperate and dutiful, he began licking the human’s flushed cheeks.
Wake up. Please get better.
The licking felt sharp and itchy. Exhausted and without strength, Cheng Lin merely flinched and tried to pull the blanket over his face.
Panicking, the cat raised his paw and delivered two pats to Cheng Lin’s forehead with a crisp sound.
Finally, Cheng Lin reacted. With a groan, his head buzzing and overwhelmed by the whole-wheat bread’s1In case you forgot “Mai” means “wheat” in Chinese relentless enthusiasm, he struggled to mutter, “Ugh, I’m not dead.”
After a few seconds, Cheng Lin came to his senses. He sat up, wiped his face, and weakly asked, “Are you hungry?”
That wasn’t the case—water and dry food were always readily available. However, Cheng Lin didn’t think much of it and assumed Maimai wanted something special to eat.
Despite feeling his worst, he stumbled out of bed, shakily making his way from the bedroom to the living room. Bending over, he pulled a can of food from the cabinet.
His body lacked all strength, and for the first time, he failed to open the can on the first try. It slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor with a dull thud.
The noise startled Maimai, who fluffed up in alarm. The cat couldn’t understand how Cheng Lin had become like this in just one night. Anxiously, he meowed at the human’s feet, trying to stop him.
Cheng Lin interpreted the meows as urging him to hurry with the food.
Bending down to retrieve the can, he patted Maimai’s head and coaxed, “It’s okay, it’ll be ready soon.”
This time, gritting his teeth, Cheng Lin managed to open the can. Worried about the sharp edges injuring the cat, he took the extra step of transferring the food to a plate. Since he was already at it, he figured he might as well mix in some fish oil and probiotics too.
Finally, he sat cross-legged on the floor, placed the plate down, and called, “Come on, it’s ready.”
But instead of rushing to his favorite food, Maimai darted straight into Cheng Lin’s arms.
The cat thought about how dangerous it was for Cheng Lin to live alone like this. As just a cat, there was so little he could do. Even now, Cheng Lin hadn’t eaten anything himself but still prioritized preparing food for Maimai. And no matter how hard Maimai tried, Cheng Lin never understood what he was trying to say.
If only Cheng Lin could understand him—if only he could care for Cheng Lin in return.
Maimai thought: If only I were human—
Every time Cheng Lin misunderstood him, Maimai wished this. Every time he saw Cheng Lin sitting alone in the study, lost in thought, he wished for this. And now, seeing Cheng Lin sick, he felt more certain than ever.
He had to become human as soon as possible.
–
“Happy Birthday to you—”
Cheng Lin sang hurriedly before pulling a small box from the drawer. “Baby, come here.”
Maimai, sitting proudly on the table like a soldier awaiting a medal, watched his owner intently.
In just one year, Maimai had truly thrived. The once half-dead kitten rescued from the grass had grown into a brave orange cat. He now bounded skillfully with his teddy bear in tow and navigated the cat tower with ease.
From the box, Cheng Lin took out a heavy item tied to a red string. Carefully, he looped it around the cat’s neck, checking repeatedly to ensure it wouldn’t cause discomfort before finally letting go.
“A one-year-old cat.” He stroked Maimai’s back and said with concern, “Why can’t you put on weight? You’re still as tiny as a little bread bun.”
“Meow.” The cat, oblivious to his owner’s worries, tried to catch a glimpse of the object now hanging from his neck as if to ask, “What’s this?”
“It’s a lock charm.” The human instinctively brushed his fingertip over the cat’s face. While taking out his phone to snap a few pictures, he muttered, “I’ll switch to another hospital this week and figure out why you’re always sleeping.”
Why was he always sleeping?
Maimai sniffed for his favorite familiar scent and nudged his head against his owner.
During this moment, Maimai could feel it—a faint sense that his wish was about to come true.
Cheng Lin would definitely be surprised by the cat’s way of repaying kindness.
Author’s note:
This is from Maimai’s perspective.
These two chapters should be enough for now before Maimai’s transformation into a human.
