“Cheng Lin, are you awake?” A hesitant voice whispered in his ear, accompanied by a gentle pat on his chest through the quilt.
Given the way the question was phrased, Cheng Lin figured it wouldn’t be his fault for not being awake. Keeping his eyes closed, he didn’t respond, curious to see what the cat would do next.
Maimai knelt devoutly by the bed, his heart filled with worry. It was already ten o’clock on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t Cheng Lin be at work?
Partly wanting to take advantage of the situation and partly concerned about his master’s condition, Maimai leaned in closer, sniffing Cheng Lin’s face.
Soft breaths tickled Cheng Lin’s chin, soon followed by the gentle brush of lips.
Cheng Lin immediately turned his head away and opened his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“You’re awake!” Maimai quickly straightened up, pretending as if nothing had happened. “Don’t you have work today?”
Cheng Lin ignored the attempt to change the subject and answered, “I’m off all week for the Spring Festival. Didn’t you hear it on the news?”
“Oh.” Maimai said happily, “Is it like those other holidays when you stay home?” Cheng Lin confirmed it was pretty much the same, and Maimai sighed wistfully. “It’d be nice if every day was a holiday.”
Cheng Lin didn’t comment. The aftermath of a hangover felt even worse than the drinking itself, and he could hardly remember the details of the previous night.
He sat up, frowning. He was still in the clothes he had worn out, even wrapped in his coat, as if he’d just collapsed into bed without changing.
On top of that, the quilt had been tucked in so tightly—probably by a certain cat—that it felt like a furnace in his dreams. He woke up drenched in sweat.
Cheng Lin headed to the bathroom for a shower, then began tidying up, starting with changing the bedding in both rooms.
When he walked into the guest room, Maimai’s bed was a mess. Besides the goose-down comforter, there was also his teddy bear and one of Cheng Lin’s shirts.
Cheng Lin didn’t expect a cat to have a habit of making the bed. As long as he wasn’t sleeping on the floor, it was fine.
But seeing his shirt there, imagining Maimai cuddling it while he slept, Cheng Lin felt an evil urge. So he casually picked up the shirt along with the sheets he was taking to the laundry.
Maimai tried to stop him, pleading, “I want this.”
Cheng Lin lowered his head to look at him. “Look at this shirt. You’ve crumpled it up so much in your sleep that I can’t even wear it anymore.”
Maimai glanced at the shirt guiltily and offered, “When I start earning money, I’ll buy you a new one.”
“No need,” Cheng Lin declined, deliberately adding, “But don’t use my clothes as bedding in the future.”
Maimai was stunned for a moment, then tried to negotiate. “How about giving me another one? I promise I won’t wrinkle it as much.”
But Cheng Lin just stared at him, not agreeing.
After a few seconds of silence, Maimai conceded, “Alright.”
The more obedient Maimai was, the more uncomfortable Cheng Lin felt. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Maimai—he did. But it left him confused about what he was doing or what kind of reaction he was hoping to get from Maimai. More than likely, he just despised himself.
This conflicting, irritating feeling had been gnawing at him ever since that failed attempt to take photos of Maimai in the park. It was getting worse, making Cheng Lin restless.
At first, he had just thought of Maimai as his cat, someone he naturally had to take care of. Even though Maimai had turned into a young man, it should have been the same.
But now, while part of him felt proud of Maimai’s unwavering trust and dependence, feeling a deep sense of responsibility, another part of him wanted to break this imbalanced relationship. He couldn’t help but engage in these cruel little tests, just to see how Maimai would react.
What was he really trying to do?
He wasn’t sure how to treat Maimai anymore, or even how he felt about him.
Cheng Lin couldn’t figure out the answer. He tossed the laundry into the washing machine, put fresh sheets on the bed, and then handed Maimai one of his cotton jackets. “Change it out every week. If you want any other clothes, just take them from my closet.”
Maimai exclaimed, “Wow!” holding the jacket like it was a precious treasure, clearly thrilled. “Okay!”
Cheng Lin almost said, “You really don’t hold grudges.” But he quickly realized that, from Maimai’s perspective, there was nothing to hold a grudge about.
The house had never really felt festive during the New Year. After Cheng Lin became an adult, his parents allowed him to be independent and hadn’t returned to China for the holiday in the past few years. In previous years, Cheng Lin had traveled with friends, but last year, he stopped because he was busy nursing a kitten. Now, that cat had turned into a human, so there was no way he could leave him alone at home—nor did he really want to.
At least this year, he had some company. They had New Year’s Eve dinner together. Maimai didn’t know about the saying “May you have a surplus to carry into the next year”1Often used as an auspicious greeting during Chinese New Year. and urged Cheng Lin to debone the fish until he had eaten the entire thing.
Cheng Lin didn’t mind. After dinner, he handed Maimai a red envelope. “This is for you.”
Maimai hugged his blanket while watching the Spring Festival Gala, and asked, “What is it?”
“It’s money—lucky money,” Cheng Lin explained, “Next time, use it to buy something you like. If it’s not enough, just ask me for more.”
Maimai peeked inside the envelope. “Great! I’ll buy you a new shirt!”
Cheng Lin was a little surprised. He thought Maimai had already forgotten about that, but unexpectedly, it was still on his mind. “I was just kidding. An ironing will fix the shirt. You don’t need to buy me clothes. Get something you want.”
Maimai thanked him again but couldn’t find a pocket to put the red envelope in. After being advised, he decided to stash it under his pillow.
Cheng Lin sat down on the sofa, realizing he couldn’t even remember the last time he had watched the Spring Festival Gala. They sat side by side, with Maimai cross-legged next to him, his small blanket draped over his knees.
Cheng Lin glanced over from the corner of his eye and pulled half the blanket onto his own lap.
Maimai, being a generous cat, immediately offered more of the blanket, saying, “Let’s share it.”
The blanket was only so big, so sharing it meant they had to sit closer together.
Cheng Lin noticed that Maimai could laugh along with the audience, no matter what kind of comedy sketch was on.
As Maimai laughed, Cheng Lin turned to look at him. The dim light from the TV cast soft colors across his face.
Maimai felt Cheng Lin’s gaze and asked curiously, “What’s up?”
With no manners, Cheng Lin flicked his forehead. “You have such a low sense of humor.”
Maybe it was the winter night, or maybe it was the sense of celebration and not feeling so lonely, but for the first time, Cheng Lin had a clear thought: He was really glad that Maimai had turned into a human.
This was the family he had found for himself.
Cheng Lin’s heart softened, but then his eyes drifted to Maimai’s lips, and unsettling, inappropriate thoughts started to surface. Before he could fully grasp them, his mind screamed a warning, and he quickly pushed the thoughts away, pretending they hadn’t crossed his mind at all.
Still, Cheng Lin stood up from the sofa and told Maimai he could finish watching “Unforgettable Night”2the song sung at the end of the Spring Festival Gala before going to bed. Then, he headed to his room alone.
The next morning, Cheng Lin prepared two servings of Eggs Benedict and brewed coffee for breakfast.
Curious about everything, Maimai took the cup of black coffee that Cheng Lin handed him, cautiously sipped it, and immediately made a struggling expression that Cheng Lin had never seen before. Cheng Lin couldn’t help but laugh at him.
After breakfast, Maimai scrolled through his phone at the table, deliberately turning up the volume on a video. A teacher’s voice boomed out, “Kids, today we’re stepping into the world of linear equations in one variable…”
He hoped Cheng Lin would hear and praise him for it.
Cheng Lin was checking messages on his phone. A few friends who had gone on a trip had already arrived in Bangkok. Jin Li shared a link in the group chat, which led to a video she had posted on social media.
Unsuspecting, Cheng Lin tapped the video while holding his coffee in one hand.
The video opened with a loud “Meow!”
@Golden Pear3Golden Pear was in English, “Li” in Jin Li’s name means pear: Met this little cutie in Bangkok! Super sweet and clingy, flopped over for belly rubs within two seconds of meeting me! #Cats #BangkokStreetCats #LeopardPrintCat4
As soon as Maimai heard the sound, he leaned over, his expression suddenly alert. “What are you watching?”
Cheng Lin felt a sense of embarrassment as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. Instinctively, he swiped up to skip to the next video.
But the algorithm was too clever. Having picked up on the cat content, the next video was also about cats.
Maimai watched as a beautiful, long-haired calico cat appeared on Cheng Lin’s screen, nestled in a human’s arms, acting all affectionate.
Such a beautiful, noble, and perfect cat.
Maimai looked at Cheng Lin in disbelief.
Cheng Lin felt ashamed and unsure how to explain. “I was just browsing.”
Maimai took this as an admission of some unspoken wish.
He turned off the math video on his own phone, then stood up and walked into the living room. He plopped down into the cat bed.
The room fell silent.
“Why do you always sit in the cat bed?” Cheng Lin was unusually flustered and tried to make conversation. “Sit on the sofa.”
“Cheng Lin, I’ve been thinking about how to turn back into a cat,” Maimai said, “I promise, once I’m a cat again, I won’t turn into a human anymore.”
Cheng Lin felt that uncomfortable pang in his chest again. “But you’re fine as you are now. Why do you want to turn back into a cat?”
Maimai hugged his knees, staring at the floor. “It’s not fine. Not at all.”
Maimai never brought up the subject again, so naturally, Cheng Lin didn’t either.
But what Cheng Lin didn’t know was that Maimai took everything about him seriously—really seriously—and felt hurt by it.
Maimai believed that Cheng Lin probably wanted a different cat, maybe because he had turned into a human or because he couldn’t turn back into a cat. Or maybe it was just that orange cats—or rather, cats in general—were so plentiful that it wouldn’t be hard to find one that was cuter or more lovable.
What would he do if that day ever came? Maimai didn’t have a clear answer, but he felt that he might have to leave.
Author’s note:
cat good, human bad
probably running away from home in the next chapter
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