Nan Zhi was like a cat, afraid of the cold, liked warm things, also liked snuggling against warmth. When asleep, her hand would instinctively burrow toward the warm spot at his waist.
Finding a fold in the clothes, just as she was about to relax, her hand slipped down, didn’t find a resting place. Her brows wrinkled, vaguely showing signs of waking up.
Song Qing himself lifted the hem of his loungewear, letting her hand come in. Once her hand was wrapped around something with a place to rest, her brows loosened, and she slept deeply in peace.
Song Qing, on the other hand, furrowed his brows, her hand icy cold pressing against his stomach—it chilled him.
She wasn’t very well-behaved when sleeping either, would move around looking for heat sources. After discovering that his stomach was warmer than the clothes, she spread her hand out, trying her best to press against his belly.
Her whole ice-cold hand was plastered on his belly skin.
Song Qing was so cold from her touch he couldn’t help but press her hand through the clothes, telling her not to move around anymore.
After being pinned down, she really did quiet down. Only, her mouth still softly muttered, “Mao mao~” [“猫猫” (māo māo) is a cutesy way of saying “cat” in Chinese, like “kitty”.]
She liked kitties—this was obvious. Although she always said things like “don’t kiss me, I won’t kiss you guys either,” in truth she’d turn right around and continue kissing and hugging the kitties and lifting them high up.
She was very attentive to the kitties too. Even before winter arrived, she had already arranged electric heated blankets for the two cats, turned on from morning till night. The constant-temperature water fountain was always available. Recently, she even changed the litter box to an automatic cat litter machine.
The automatic cat litter machine and the cats pooping on the sofa were definitely connected, but most of all, it was about wanting to give them a better environment.
Even though she was already treating them so, so well, she didn’t understand why—they still didn’t take the initiative to go over to her.
He himself had already done his best to play the bad guy: treated them coldly, ignored them, rarely petted them, even when they rubbed against his wheelchair or his hand, he didn’t pay attention.
He’d heard that cats didn’t like people who brushed their teeth, cleaned their eye gunk, wiped their butts, or trimmed their nails—these were all things he took care of. He let Nan Zhi only feed them canned food and snacks, like rewards. Yet they somehow still stuck to him more.
Completely didn’t know what warmth or coldness meant.
If he were a cat, he would only get closer to Nan Zhi—lie on his back and let her rub his belly, let her rub as long as she wanted.
He would also just cling to Nan Zhi and stick to her.
Nan Zhi was the one who truly liked cats.
His attitude toward the two cats had always been: they are Nan Zhi’s, so they should be well taken care of. There wasn’t much genuine fondness.
If it weren’t related to Nan Zhi, someone like him who had trouble even feeding himself wouldn’t consider raising pets.
After pressing down on Nan Zhi’s hand through the clothes, Song Qing continued knitting the scarf. From time to time, he could still hear Nan Zhi giggling next to his ear—the kind of happy sound made when petting a cat. Occasionally it was, “Don’t run.”
Seems like in the dream, the cat also loved to escape from her arms, and she couldn’t catch up. He could clearly hear her “wuwu” sounds—this was the sound she made when, at home, the cats crawled under the sofa and she couldn’t reach them, then got sad and disappointed.
Actually, compared to the two cats at home, he felt Nan Zhi was more like a cat. A precious one that cost a lot of money, with fluffy and glossy fur, and an adorable personality.
He had once seen a type of cat online—completely white, with blue eyes. Just one look and he felt it resembled those ancient-day imperial concubines or empresses holding a cat in their arms: noble and beautiful.
He remembered that cat was called a Lion Cat, and a rich person had spent hundreds of thousands to buy it.
If he had to make a comparison, he felt Nan Zhi was like that cat—prettier than a ragdoll cat, like a little fairy.
Maybe she was trying to catch the cat in her dream—Song Qing felt the hand under his arm started moving again, trying to grab toward his chest.
But her hand was already warm, so it didn’t matter. Song Qing didn’t bother with her anymore, just let her fuss around. Eventually, her hand tugged at the front of his shirt.
Maybe she noticed the touch felt off, and she slowly began to wake up. Her hand instinctively pulled away and went to rub her eyes.
Only took away one hand—the other one was still grabbing his clothes from the inside.
Nan Zhi didn’t sleep steadily this time. Upon waking, she thought she was in bed. Only when she opened her eyes did she realize something was off.
She was lying on the sofa, leaning against Song Qing’s shoulder, one hand stretched into his chest area, grabbing the fuzzy loungewear at the center from the inside, while he was half-leaning against the cushion behind him. His clothes had been lifted up partway, exposing a section of smooth, flat, and lean waist.
Nan Zhi froze for a moment.
Her hand also instinctively loosened, quietly pulled back.
Song Qing, on the other hand, was calm. After flattening the hem of his clothes to cover his belly again, he continued knitting the scarf.
Nan Zhi was still staring. Only then did he offer a line of explanation: “You fell asleep and treated me like a cat.”
Nan Zhi nodded in sudden understanding, then turned to think of the scene in her dream.
She was lying in bed and suddenly found the kitty starting to cling to her—following her onto the bed, burrowing into her arms—made her so happy she nearly burst. She couldn’t resist giving it a good rub-rub session. Too enthusiastic—just like usual—scared the cat off again. How could she let it go?
Climbed to the foot of the bed to chase it. Once she caught it, it was another round of rubbing—flipped it over and stroked its little tummy from top to bottom.
Rubbed for too long, the kitty got annoyed, ran away again. This time Nan Zhi didn’t catch it. She only remembered that at the end, she suddenly yanked, but didn’t catch anything in the dream—and didn’t expect she caught something in real life.
Grabbed Song Qing’s clothes—what’s more, from the inside.
When she woke up, Song Qing’s clothes were all messy, looked like they’d been thoroughly tormented.