Jiang Cheng collected the two bowls she had left out the day before and brought them home. After changing her clothes, she opened her laptop and logged into the community’s resident forum.
Although broadband had already become widespread in big cities, many middle-aged people mostly just used the internet to read news on portals or play casual online games like “stealing vegetables.” They weren’t very skilled at using interactive platforms like forums.
Only in neighborhoods with more young people did resident forums tend to be more active. In the forum for the youth apartment complex, several popular threads were already discussing the flasher incident from that day.
Some people had also replied to the posts.
One young woman said: [I’ve encountered that too! It was terrifying. I just ran away!]
Several other girls shared similar experiences. When young women saw a man’s private parts, most felt disgusted and frightened, and their first instinct was to turn and run.
Jiang Cheng clicked into the reply box and typed: [Don’t be afraid. People who do bad things might seem tough, but deep down they’re all cowards. Especially these flashers. If they had any real guts, they’d rob a bank. The fact that they only dare to disgust girls in deserted places shows they’re spineless. Even if you don’t dare to fight back, you can still shout loudly to attract people nearby. That’ll make them think twice next time.]
When you don’t have parents, even if you turn and run, there’s no home to run back to. No one will come to protect you. You quickly learn that you can only rely on yourself.
Although “Jiang Cheng” had only been out of school for two years, she was already completely different from when her parents were still alive.
Someone else asked: [How did this person get into the neighborhood? He couldn’t possibly live here, could he?]
Jiang Cheng took a sip of cola and typed: [Building 4. Surname Chen.]
That was all she knew. She had overheard a little earlier, but afterward they had taken separate statements.
After replying, she went to wash up. When she came back and checked the thread again, her neighbors had left a string of follow-up questions:
[Is that the pervert from today?]
[Really?]
[How do you know?]
[I’ll find out when I check Building 4 later. I helped hold that guy down—I remember his face.]
Jiang Cheng didn’t follow the thread any further. There would always be curious neighbors who went to investigate.
She closed that thread and opened a pet forum, happily reading about other people’s experiences and fun stories about keeping pets.
Some things didn’t bother you before you thought about them, but once the thought crossed your mind, you couldn’t let it go.
Jiang Cheng, who had always hesitated about whether to get a cat, found that once the idea took hold, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She wanted a cat.
And she didn’t want just any cat. She wanted the little black cat that had bravely fought alongside her against the pervert.
Alone, just like her.
Unafraid of bad people, just like her.
They were so alike. She felt that she and this cat could build a good life together.
Jiang Cheng scrolled through many posts, writing down everything she would need to prepare for a cat.
The next day, Tuesday, wasn’t as hectic as Monday. At least she got off work on time. On her way home, she stopped at the nearby Duomaimai Supermarket and bought everything she needed—cat bed, cat litter, litter box, and so on. She didn’t need to buy cat food—she still had the food she used to feed the strays.
Everything was ready. All she needed was the little black cat to move in.
But things didn’t go as planned. Over the next several evenings, Jiang Cheng couldn’t find the little black cat anywhere in the neighborhood. Had it left the area?
Jiang Cheng was disappointed.
Other stray cats came up to rub against her, but there was a matter of fate between a person and a cat. Jiang Cheng only wanted to take that particular black cat home.
Luckily, on Friday evening, when Jiang Cheng returned from work and passed through the garden, she saw the black cat she had been thinking about.
The pitch-black cat was sitting on that same bench, quietly licking its paw.
Jiang Cheng wasn’t entirely sure at first—black cats had no markings to identify them. She tried tentatively: “Kitty?”
The black cat stopped and turned its head to look at her.
Its eyes gleamed green, like a pair of emeralds.
It was the cat she had been thinking about. After several days without seeing it, it seemed to have grown a little.
“Kitty?” Jiang Cheng controlled her pace as she approached.
The black cat gazed at her—not afraid, not adopting a defensive or wary posture. Jiang Cheng confirmed it. This was definitely that black cat.
She was delighted. She walked up to the bench and reached out to pet it.
But as she moved, she noticed that the fading sunlight created uneven reflections off several spots on the black cat’s body.
Jiang Cheng squinted to get a closer look. It was blood.
This was the one bad thing about black cats. They were so dark that you couldn’t see when they were bleeding. If this were a white cat, she would have noticed immediately.
“You’re hurt?” Jiang Cheng understood. No wonder she hadn’t seen it for days. It had gone off fighting somewhere else, and had only come back because it was injured.
The little black cat ignored her and continued licking its wound.
Jiang Cheng crouched in front of the bench and looked closely. At first glance, the cat was all black, but when you looked carefully, you could see the wound was still bleeding. It was much worse than last time.
Jiang Cheng had medicine at home, but this time she wanted to take the opportunity to coax the cat home. “You’re hurt. Come home with me. I have medicine at home. Okay, sweetie? Be good~”
As she cooed softly, Jiang Cheng tentatively reached her hand out to the little black cat. To her delight, the cat seemed familiar with her now—it didn’t dodge or resist. It was docile and quiet.
Jiang Cheng successfully picked up the little black cat.
She praised it, saying, “Our little Mimi is so smart,” while hurrying toward her building in long, rapid strides, afraid the cat might change its mind and run off. Fortunately, the black cat was well-behaved the whole way, not struggling at all. When they reached the building entrance, it even looked up briefly, as if it were memorizing the address.
Jiang Cheng had successfully coaxed the little black cat into her home.
The moment she closed the door with her foot and set the cat down on the floor, she felt the kind of joy that comes with accomplishing something big—
She had a cat!
She had a cat!
She wouldn’t be alone anymore!
“Stay still, sweetie. Wait for me.”
Jiang Cheng set down her bag, quickly washed her hands, and opened her medicine kit to find the medication that was safe for cats. She placed the black cat on her desk, turned the desk lamp to its brightest setting, and carefully searched for wounds.
Now she could see clearly. It was quite severe—several wounds in different places.
“What have you been up to?” Jiang Cheng asked as she carefully applied the medicine. “Fighting over territory? Or…”
She casually lifted the cat’s tail and took a look.
A pair of very black, very cute little “bells.”
“You’re a boy, huh. Were you fighting over a girlfriend?”
The black cat had been obediently extending its front paws, letting her apply the medicine, but it hadn’t expected Jiang Cheng to suddenly do that—peeking at its private parts. It nearly bristled with indignation!
The black cat let out a high-pitched “Meow~” and flicked its tail back, swishing it vigorously, as if protesting.
“Oh my,” Jiang Cheng laughed. “Little kitty’s getting shy.”
Normally, she didn’t use so many exclamations like “oh” or “ah” when speaking, but somehow, whenever she talked to a cat, all those interjections came out, and her voice went a little higher.
But it also made her feel happier.
Jiang Cheng carefully finished applying the medicine to the black cat. She had prepared many things for adopting a cat—she put a collar on the little black cat and held it steady while applying the medicine. It earned her a few protests, but sure enough, the cat didn’t run away.
“All done,” Jiang Cheng said, removing the collar. “Are there any other wounds? I’ve treated them all.”
The black cat lowered its head and examined its wounds, feeling the medicine working to heal its body.
After Jiang Cheng put the medicine kit away and sat back down at her desk, the black cat voluntarily rubbed its head against her.
Did this mean… it was acknowledging her as its owner?
“First, I need to give you a name,” Jiang Cheng said, getting excited. “You’re not a stray anymore. You need your own name.”
“How about… Meiqiu (coal ball)?”
“Heitan (charcoal)?”
“You don’t like either?” Seeing the black cat’s indifferent expression, Jiang Cheng racked her brain. “In ancient times, cats were called ‘linu.’ How about… Moli (ink lynx)?”
The black cat hadn’t even reacted yet, but Jiang Cheng fell in love with the name herself. “Moli! Moli it is! That sounds great!”
“You’re my cat now, you hear me, Moli?”
“Remember, your name is Moli.”
“Our Moli is such a handsome little guy.”
Moli looked at her with his green eyes and gave a soft meow, as if accepting the name.
Cats were truly quiet animals—completely different from the neighbor’s dog, which barked every time someone walked past the door.
Jiang Cheng brought out the cat bed and litter box she had bought earlier. She opened the bag of cat litter, poured it into the litter box, filled the food bowl with cat food, and added fresh water to the water bowl.
She carefully picked up Moli and carried him around to show him his new home. “This is your bed. This is your litter box. These are your food and water bowls.”
She set Moli down. He took a few steps, drank some water, walked over to inspect the bed, and then went to the litter box and sniffed it.
Jiang Cheng watched expectantly.
For people who kept pets, the biggest worry was often litter box training—beginners especially stressed about it. The posts on the pet forum said kittens naturally knew how to use litter, so there was no need to worry.
But first-time cat owners couldn’t help but worry.
Moli sniffed the litter. The scent was too strong—too irritating for a cat. He turned his head to look at Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng: “…?”
Naturally, she had no idea what the cat was trying to say. She stared at Moli for a moment. Moli turned his head away, crawled into the cat bed, lay down, and buried his face.
Jiang Cheng felt a mix of joy and worry.
She was happy that Moli seemed to accept his new home, but worried that he wouldn’t use the litter box and would end up peeing and pooping everywhere.
She rubbed the cat’s furry head, pointed at the litter box, and warned him: “Remember, you poop and pee in the box.”
Moli buried his face even deeper.
With the happy feeling of “I have a cat,” Jiang Cheng went to bed peacefully.
Even though she had only added a small furry cat to her home, the apartment suddenly felt full.
In her sleep, she thought she heard the sound of a window opening. Jiang Cheng drowsily turned over and went back to sleep.
Jiang Cheng had expected to wake up on Saturday morning and happily play with her cat. But instead, all that awaited her was an empty apartment and a screen door half open.
The cat bed was empty, save for a few stray cat hairs.
The litter box showed no sign of having been used.
But the cat’s food bowl was empty, and the water bowl had been noticeably drained.
Jiang Cheng felt a deep, unnameable disappointment.
Had he really just left like that? Without a second thought?
Her apartment might be small, but it was certainly big enough for the two of them to live happily together.
Wasn’t having a home a good thing?
Or was he truly born to love freedom?
The joy of “I have a cat” had lasted only one night before fading away.
Jiang Cheng sighed. Oh well—maybe fate just hadn’t brought them together yet.
This was another utterly ordinary weekend, just like the one before.
Last weekend, Jiang Cheng had awakened to the knowledge that she was a transmigrator.
She considered that a low-probability event. Her attitude toward this world was simple: take things as they come. She wanted to live well, quietly.
But it seemed the world had other ideas.
That afternoon, Jiang Cheng went to the garden as usual to deliver food and water to the stray cats. She even looked around carefully and called out “Moli” a few times. But she didn’t see the little black cat again.
Disappointed, Jiang Cheng noticed her head felt strangely heavy and groggy.
People in the garden were pointing at the sky.
The sky, which should have been a clear blue, was now tinged with an eerie purple.
Someone said, “That looks ominous. Is there a thunderstorm coming?”
But the air wasn’t humid. It was simply that the sky had dimmed—as if evening had come early.
Jiang Cheng glanced at the strange sky and felt her head grow even more uncomfortable.
She packed up the cat bowls and went back upstairs, thinking she might have caught a chill from the air conditioning. She took some cold medicine.
But the dizziness and headache didn’t ease.
The bizarre purple glow in the sky lingered, fading from bright violet to a dull, ashen purple as time passed.
By evening, the outdoor temperature had cooled considerably from the daytime. Quite a few people were in the courtyard—some enjoying the cool air, some jogging.
People were returning to the neighborhood after a day out. Others, freshly showered, dressed, and styled, were heading out to the bar district.
The neighboring development had standard-sized units, with most households being families. There were even more people relaxing in their courtyards that evening.
On summer nights, people didn’t sleep very early—especially on weekends. Some children were still awake, playing in the courtyards.
Parents, grandparents, and nannies were pushing strollers or carrying babies.
The small shops around the youth apartments had mostly closed for the night—either rolling down their metal shutters or putting U-shaped locks on their glass doors.
The Duomaimai Supermarket, less than a kilometer away, had finished its day of business. Customers had left, employees locked up, and went home.
The streets were still fairly lively—cars kept driving by. On weekend nights, the commercial and entertainment districts could even get congested.
The clock on the wall ticked away, second by second: click, click, click—
Jiang Cheng felt no relief from her cold. The dizziness worsened. She thought she had a fever, so she dug out a thermometer and took her temperature—39°C. Sure enough, she had a fever.
She took cold medicine and fever reducer. When she stood up again, her vision was already blurred, and she couldn’t keep her balance. Fortunately, her apartment was small. A few steps brought her to the bed, where she collapsed and lost consciousness…
Jiang Cheng thought she was just sick. She didn’t know that her neighborhood had fallen into a terrifying silence.
Because her neighbors were all the same. Although they hadn’t felt unwell since the afternoon like she had, at the same moment that Jiang Cheng fell onto her bed and lost consciousness—whether at home, outdoors, in restaurants, on the road, walking or driving—everyone suddenly felt dizzy and feverish. At the same time, they all lost consciousness.
The entire city was like this.
People who were in their own homes lost consciousness and collapsed onto their floors or sofas. Those who had gone to bed early burned with fever in their sleep.
In the bars, lights flashed and music thundered. But people on the dance floor seemed unable to dance anymore. They clung to the railings and made their way back to their seats—only to collapse before reaching them, their faces pressed against other people’s shoes.
There were unconscious people in the streets, on the sidewalks. Taxis parked at the curbs had drivers slumped over, eyes closed, as if sleeping.
Drivers who felt something wrong in time managed to pull over safely, but they lost consciousness before they could call for an ambulance.
Even so, car accidents were inevitable, happening everywhere. Cars blazed with fire, drivers and passengers dying in their unconsciousness.
No one called the police.
The purple glow in the night sky finally faded. The moon shone down on the world, and time seemed to stand still.
All over the world, people had lost consciousness and fallen into a high fever.
Some died directly from the fever.
Others woke up.
At the neighbor’s apartment next door, the dog sensed something wrong and grew anxious, barking urgently.
Its owner, lying on the floor, convulsed for a moment—then suddenly lifted their head.
There were no whites left in their eyes—just pitch black. Their lips pulled back, drool dripping.
The scent of this human had changed. For the dog, who identified people by smell, it was as if its owner had suddenly become a stranger.
Or perhaps an unfamiliar creature.
The dog stepped back warily, bared its teeth at the figure, and let out a low growl!
Moli hadn’t run far. He was full, had done his business in the dirt outside, and was hiding in a tree in the garden, sleeping.
The world had grown unnaturally quiet—perfect for sleeping.
Then a dog’s scream tore through the air.
Moli’s green eyes snapped open.
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