One month later, they ended this period of madness.
South Island City also welcomed winter.
The little cat became busy again, but the passion between them did not diminish because of her busyness.
The careless little cat finally realized her neglect. She started to leave work on time every day, bringing Zhu Yan a bouquet of flowers when she returned home, and would sweetly kiss his lips the moment she arrived.
After winter arrived, the mermaid particularly liked her body warmth. He would hoarsely call her a bad cat, then greedily savor her body heat; however, he always remembered to take a hot bath to raise his own body temperature a bit.
Sometimes when she was too busy, she would simply call the mermaid to pick her up, then upon seeing his tall figure downstairs, she would rush down and throw herself into his arms.
The mermaid’s cold breath in winter would make her shrink her neck, and he loved teasing her this way. She would then cover her scarf and make a fuss, but when she looked into the mermaid’s eyes, they were filled with laughter.
Thus, busyness and daytime separation became a kind of “little farewell.”
It made them start to look forward to their nightly reunions.
Zhu Yan wrote in his diary:
January 20th, Major Cold, overcast.
During this time, the little cat finally remembered that she has a legally wedded spouse.
After winter arrived, my body temperature was too low, and I didn’t want to freeze her, so we slept under two separate blankets.
But the little cat insisted on snuggling over to my side.
Why didn’t evolution turn me into a poikilotherm?
The little cat thought my body temperature was too low, worried that my blood would freeze, and installed underfloor heating in the fortress.
It’s actually a bit hot, but I didn’t tell the little cat this.
Because she would cover my hands and breathe warm air on them, or tuck them into her pockets to warm them up.
Very cute.
I think I’m starting to love winter.
In the new year, Shu Tang was bustling with activity, wanting to become a shining person.
She enthusiastically threw herself into the endeavor of applying for graduate school.
But on the day of the Start of Spring, Shu Tang suffered a huge blow.
Probably because her marital relationship with Zhu Yan became known, on the morning of February 4th, she received a recommendation and admission letter from the university she had been longing for.
But this unexpected surprise turned all the application materials the little cat had painstakingly gathered into a pile of waste paper.
The little cat was very disheartened. In the deep of night, she said to him: Her busy half-year was so foolish, she felt like a super big fool.
Shu Tang thought that returning to South Island City, everything would return to normal, but in fact, they could no longer go back to living ordinary lives. Instead, the kind of life they had in Yan City would become the norm for the two of them.
For example, the endless stream of visitors.
For example, occasionally finding someone following them, or encountering some dangers.
For example, often not being able to appear in public.
The mermaid told her everything.
That night, he asked his little cat:
“If in the future, you are always shrouded in Zhu Yan’s shadow, would you want to leave me?”
Shu Tang sat still for a long while before saying: “No.”
She said she just needed a little time to adapt to all of this.
Very soon, his words came true.
Bastille became lively again.
However, Zhu Yan’s temper had worsened. This peculiar monster no longer carried the demeanor of a leader as he once did. He would often throw people out of Bastille directly and became extremely difficult to communicate with.
So much so that Bastille had been turned into a new demonic lair by him.
Those who came to visit the former Grand Leader no longer dared to disturb him rashly and could only resort to sending letters to Bastille instead.
Some even tried to approach Shu Tang, but upon realizing that Zhu Yan picked her up every day, they quickly abandoned the idea.
Later, Zhu Yan made a phone call to Xiao Chen, who was participating in the elections in Yan City, and the world finally quieted down.
However, it wasn’t without any good things.
At least, in the spring of that year, the little cat found a medal in the mailbox.
—She had received an honorary medal from the Federation, awarded to her for approaching the meritorious figure whose mental power was in turmoil at the most dangerous moment and preventing a catastrophe.
She was given an honorary title from a research institute.
The little cat felt uneasy, thinking she did not deserve it.
But after bringing it home, the eccentric former Grand Leader calmly told her:
“South Island City was almost destroyed. This honor belongs to you.”
Perhaps because of his indifferent attitude, the little cat gradually relaxed. She placed her medal beside the mermaid’s glittering medals and made sure to look at them every night before bed.
Under the mermaid’s influence, the little cat was slowly getting used to this kind of life.
No one dared to visit Bastille anymore, but letters from the Federation still flew in like snowflakes.
In the evenings, they would sit by the fire and roast sweet potatoes with those letters.
Sometimes, they would take a quick look at them before throwing them into the fire.
One day in May, the little cat fished out an unusual letter from the pile by the fire.
—A fertility urging letter from the Federation.
The council very tactfully wished them a happy marriage and suggested that they have a smart and adorable child soon.
Because the mermaid’s genes were very special and powerful, having more offspring would undoubtedly be a great thing.
The Federation council also mentioned that the research institute’s embryo cultivation technology was now highly advanced and could be ready at any time if needed.
Naturally, this letter was used to roast sweet potatoes.
However, when it came to the topic of “having children,” the two of them discussed it for a long time.
For example, would the child be a little cat or a little fish?
The cat said, “Maybe it will be a seal.”
The mermaid asked her why.
The cat: Drew a cat-headed fish.
The mermaid: “…”
They both vaguely understood one thing—if the mermaid could no longer be considered human, then reproductive isolation might indeed exist.
To be honest, the little cat felt a bit lost about this issue.
She was not yet ready to become a parent.
So, after thinking about it, she confessed to her lover:
She didn’t know how to be a mother. She still felt like she was eighteen years old, and perhaps her mind would never mature. She thought this kind of change in identity would be difficult for her to adapt to.
Shu Tang thought that after saying this, Zhu Yan might think she was immature, or that such thoughts were too childish.
Shu Tang knew that her partner had once been the Grand Leader, a role like a patriarch. He would definitely be a great father, and maybe he would find her words ridiculous.
But unexpectedly, Zhu Yan told her directly:
“I wouldn’t be a competent father.”
The little cat was shocked.
Zhu Yan said:
He never had a father—there was no reference point in his life for him to learn from. He didn’t even know what a qualified father should be like.
And perhaps, the fatherly love he could offer would be quite lacking.
If they really did have a child—
If the child took after her, he might have some tolerance for the little cat cub, and he might even manage to give a little bit of fatherly love.
But if, unfortunately, the child looked like him and often caused a ruckus just to get the little cat’s attention—or even worse, managed to steal all of her attention outright—
Then that meager bit of fatherly love might be taken back.
He probably wouldn’t be very forgiving toward this child, and he might become a strict and demanding father.
After hearing all this, Shu Tang was so surprised that she asked:
“Little Rose, are you saying… you would be jealous of your own child?”
But her seemingly steady and composed partner turned to look at her for a while.
And then, he actually admitted it.
Without a word, they tacitly dropped the topic.
Shu Tang thought: Ah, we’re still young. There’s no rush. We can talk about it many years from now.
The mermaid thought: Wait a little longer, maybe the little cat will forget about this matter.
They both felt that it would be difficult for anyone to come between them.
—Even if it was the crystallization of their love.
Time shifted, and soon, summer arrived.
The mermaid still hadn’t given up his habit of writing in his diary—
July 8th, Minor Heat, Clear.
Perhaps because summer had begun, my fish tail developed severe dehydration symptoms.
I started spending most of my time in the sea.
The little cat didn’t know what to do, so she bought several bathtubs. That way, when I came back to sleep at night, I could soak in the water.
I felt that my body was undergoing some kind of change, even my mental body was slowly transforming.
Both the little cat and I believed that evolution was always happening, but neither of us knew what the final stage of evolution would be.
The little cat said: Maybe I’ll turn into some eldritch god from a horror movie. Or maybe I’ll become a higher life form.
The little cat took leave from work to stay home and accompany me.
Yet, the symptoms of dehydration became more and more severe.
I asked the little cat:
“If I turn into a fish that can never go ashore, would you leave me?”
The little cat said: She could become a cat that drifts on the sea.
—The fish swims in the ocean, the cat floats on a boat.
I really liked this answer.
Fortunately, the symptoms of dehydration soon eased.
However, there was a small problem: my mental body could now generate small-scale rainfall.
At first, this was difficult to control—
For example, the little cat had to hold an umbrella while lying in bed.
For example, Bastille frequently got flooded.
Even with a dehumidifier, it was hard to keep the house dry.
This troubled me.
But the little cat told me not to worry.
—Because if I felt troubled, the rain would only get heavier, and then her lunch would be ruined.
I asked her: “Do you think I’m a monster?”
I knew how many people saw me. If word got out that I could make it rain, Bastille might truly become the terrifying lair that people imagined.
The little cat comforted me:
She said my current situation was quite similar to Zhenzhen.
Looking on the bright side, maybe my evolutionary direction was toward becoming a whale?
—That didn’t comfort me at all.
She even excitedly listed examples like Lei Gong and Dian Mu [the Thunder God and Lightning Goddess], the Dragon King, and a sea god with three heads and a turtle under his feet.
—A very vivid imagination.
For the next while,
The little cat started making me water her cherry tomatoes;
She directed me to make it rain to wash Bastille’s outer walls;
She even asked if I could replace the shower.
I told her not to treat me like a mobile sprinkler.
So she started calling me a “multi-functional automatic irrigation system.”
I punished the little cat.
The little cat changed her address to “Respected Mr. Sprinkler.”
—
July 11th, Mid Dog Days, Light Rain Turning to Heavy Rain.
Attended the little cat’s graduation ceremony.
The little cat asked me to make it rain and cool down the weather, so I brought a rain shower near the school.
But then she complained that I was pouring boiling water.
The little cat smiled adorably in her graduation photos.
For the first time, I clearly realized that there was a time difference between us:
At the age when the little cat was at her peak energy and full of ambition, I had already retired from my pursuits, having lost interest and passion for my career. I was weary of social interactions and disliked engaging with new things.
In my youth, I was too poor. In my early adulthood, I was too busy. I spent too much time and energy on things that didn’t truly matter.
Now, I find myself uninterested in these trivial things. I much prefer spending my time on the little cat.
But the little cat’s life is just beginning. She still has many things she hasn’t experienced.
When she starts graduate school, she’ll become even busier. The idea of going to see the sea and crabapple blossoms with her in the spring might have to be postponed.
But given the little cat’s “tomorrow after tomorrow” attitude, it might be postponed for ten years.
Mood soured.
Rain.
Heavy rain.
—
September 23rd, Autumn Equinox, Clear.
After starting graduate school, the little cat indeed became even busier.
But every now and then, she would sigh and lie on my fish tail, looking a little lost.
She said: She didn’t know what she was busying herself with.
Most young people are like this—full of daydreams and drive, yet often uncertain about what they truly want.
I didn’t try to lecture her—even though I am older. I would only occasionally give her a bit of advice or play the role of a comforter.
Perhaps this is just one of the necessary processes in life. Just like how I, too, walked a long road before finally finding the life I truly wanted.
That night, the little cat returned feeling dejected.
She no longer called herself the “Star of the Future.” Instead, she told me, with great frustration:
She had realized that she was a very ordinary person, that she might not be some exceptionally gifted genius.
The little cat said she was just average, just plain.
She used to think that she wasn’t outstanding because she hadn’t worked hard enough. But after putting in the effort, she discovered—she truly had no particularly dazzling talent.
Sighing, the little cat said she felt like a dim, unremarkable star in the sky.
But her beloved—was as radiant as the moon.
I told her:
“The little cat is Zhu Yan’s sun.”
“How could the sun ever be dim?”
—
By the end of the year, Shu Tang finally had a break.
In reality, the little cat’s graduate school life was going very smoothly. She was even thriving in it. But precisely because of this ease, she felt a kind of helplessness.
She realized that it would be difficult for her to achieve truly outstanding results in theoretical research. She became aware of the vast gap between herself and true geniuses. However, if she were determined to succeed, she would undoubtedly achieve it in the end. But that success would no longer be hers—it would be because of the name “Zhu Yan.”
She occasionally felt frustrated, but after going on a few sea trips with the mermaid, the little cat let go of those feelings.
She had always been someone who adapted to circumstances, but because of her unique partner, her life had undergone an earth-shattering change.
In the first year of their marriage, she had felt a bit lost, a bit overwhelmed. These things simply took time to fade and settle.
And as time passed, she gradually embraced her own ordinariness—and even began to enjoy it.
She no longer came home sighing in frustration. Instead, she returned to the joys of slacking off.
On the morning of the Winter Solstice, when Shu Tang got up, she saw a vast expanse of white outside.
Although the arrival of the pollution zone had made the weather extreme and unsuitable for human habitation,
The coastal city of South Island still rarely saw snow.
It was the first time Shu Tang had ever seen snowfall.
Excited, she leapt up.
“Little Rose! It’s snowing!”
She looked up at the snowflakes falling from the sky.
“Ah, time passes so quickly.”
Zhu Yan also thought: Time truly flies.
They quietly leaned against each other, watching the snow for a while.
The little cat noticed some snowflakes landing on her hair, and very naturally, the phrase “growing old together” came to her mind.
Just as she turned her head to share this thought, she saw a snowflake fall onto his eyelashes.
With a single blink, it melted away.
The little cat suddenly froze.
She realized—Zhu Yan looked exactly the same as he had ten years ago.
There were no signs of aging on him, no weariness from the passage of time. Instead, he was just as beautiful as when he was at his prime.
And when he lowered his head to ask her something, she found it difficult to judge his age.
The moment his body mutated, time had completely stopped for him.
But her time would keep moving forward. She would inevitably age, develop fine lines, and one day become an old cat with missing teeth.
In about sixty years, she would reach the end of her life.
Strangely, Shu Tang wasn’t worried that he would stop loving her once she grew old.
She had a feeling that even if she turned into an old cat, he would still adore her just as he did now.
But a new worry crept into her heart—
If she was gone, what would happen to him?
He looked strong, powerful, invincible—but the little cat knew how much he relied on her.
He would forget to eat, forget to carry an umbrella on rainy days.
If she weren’t by his side, he would probably live just as messily as he had ten years ago.
The little cat stared at the heavy snowfall outside, lost in thought for a long time.
She suddenly recalled how Little Rose had once told her that he wanted to go out and see the world.
But she had always told him: Wait a little longer, let’s go during the next holiday.
She always thought that life was long, that they had plenty of time.
But now, she realized—she might only have sixty years to stay with him.
So, she turned to him and, all of a sudden, said:
“Little Rose, let’s go on a trip together.”
—
December 22nd, Winter Solstice, Snow.
For some reason, the little cat had changed her mind.
She no longer wanted to shine like a little light bulb, burning herself brightly.
I asked her where she wanted to go.
The little cat said: Anywhere is fine.
She said she just suddenly realized that she hadn’t taken a break in a long time.
I thought—she was trying to fool me again.
The little cat had a new little secret.
But I hadn’t found any clues yet.
—
On another note.
A year had passed, and the little cat still believed I was writing recipes. She had never once peeked.
Silly cat.