Encountering a stray cat, probably anyone with even a bit of capability would consider adopting it. Encountering a person, at most everyone gives him a meal, doesn’t dare to raise.
Because people are more troublesome.
The story of The Farmer and the Snake has been passed down till now not without reason. Nan Zhi had observed that he was indeed somewhat kind-hearted before daring to make a move.
Luckily, the one she picked up wasn’t a snake, just a stray cat, and that kind — with a good personality, affectionate, and with manners.
One already costs quite a bit to raise. Now there are two more.
As the head of the household, she has to find a way to make money.
Nan Zhi first paid for the two light sets of clothes she picked out for Song Qing, then opened the long-dust-covered tablet, logged into an account she had somewhat resisted.
Grandma was a teacher before, very strict with her education. After class, aside from studying, she also had to attend piano class and art class.
Piano — after growing up, she had forgotten most of it. Mainly because she didn’t have the heart to study it. But painting, she truly liked it.
Started drawing since young. After school, draw; during class, also draw. If a teacher was easygoing, she would draw in front of them, on textbooks, on exercise books.
Books were filled densely page by page with her drawings. Because of love, she couldn’t wait to share her artworks with others. She had accounts on Weibo, Douyin, Xiaohongshu, altogether over a million followers.
But it’s a pity. Very early on she hit a bottleneck. Copying her own early works got exposed. Everywhere were comments like “out of bullets and food” [idiom: exhausted of resources], “Talent drained dry”.
Some even said: “If you can’t do it, just quit the circle. Copying your own early works is just too embarrassing.”
No new ideas anymore. Later works were all made from the same mold.
Back when she was still in school, Nan Zhi was also youthful and impulsive. Desperately trying to figure it out — Thinking maybe breaking the bottleneck just needed more time and energy. So devoted she forgot to eat or sleep. Neglected Grandma. Which led to something happening to Grandma.
After Grandma was hospitalized, she no longer had the energy to manage the account and announced a temporary rest.
Later she would occasionally pick up the brush again, but never posted anything anymore.
A full three to four years, she was like a hibernating animal. Sealing herself up, hadn’t gone outside for a long time.
Three or four years…
It’s time to look at the world outside.
It’s also time to break her bottleneck.
After Nan Zhi logged in, she didn’t check private messages or comments. Those red-numbered notifications made her heart tremble. She first flipped through her photo album.
Since middle school she had secretly registered that account. A little girl, carrying a heart wanting praise from others, kept uploading new works.
One after another —A full four to five hundred pieces.
Four to five hundred pieces…
Constantly producing — how could she not hit a bottleneck?
Maybe it was just drawing too long, or maybe it was the constant voices telling her to draw this way or that way. Some wanted her to draw their older brothers, or draw the comic characters they liked. When she drew what she liked they would say: “Would’ve been better if you drew so-and-so instead.”
“Da Da really regressed too much.”
Too many voices.
So annoying, so annoying.
Slowly she didn’t like drawing so much anymore.
After so many years, clicking open those comments again — she felt much calmer. She thought she would see lots of bad reviews —
Things like “mentally fragile”, “glass heart”. But surprisingly, all of them were warm-hearted messages.
【Da Da, don’t mind those people, you’re very good, come back.】
【“I’ve been watching you improve all along. You haven’t regressed — your art style has only become more and more mature. I really don’t know what those people who say you’ve regressed are thinking.”】
【“I like you, I’ve always liked you. You’re very hardworking — over five hundred drawings in six years, that’s really impressive.”】
【“Da Da, come back once you’ve rested enough. Those who slandered you are already gone. The ones who stayed are all people who like you.”】
She opened the homepage and took a look. Indeed, she had lost many followers, but quite a few had stayed. Just like that comment said, after three or four years, the people who didn’t like her had already left, and those who remained were all people who liked her.
She finally set aside her worries and removed the pinned post from her homepage.
The pinned post was like a leave note. It didn’t reveal a bit of her condition, nor did it respond to the gradually louder noise. It was like not giving them a single glance, calmly saying:
“Been a bit tired lately, taking a break…”
In truth, she was defeated by public opinion. But she wanted to keep a bit of dignity, so she never told anyone.
Public opinion truly can crush a person.
Nan Zhi also changed the description in the backend.
“Personal hobby, not accepting commercial commissions or custom requests.”
“I’m back. DM for business commissions, include your budget for custom work.”
She flipped through the works she had drawn intermittently over the past three or four years. Feeling unsatisfied, she redrew one. Though it was a bit unpolished, she had been drawing since young, touching those lines every day — her hand was still as steady as ever. Very quickly, she smoothly finished a piece.
After all, in those three or four years, even if she didn’t draw much on paper, there was always a canvas in her heart. When she saw beautiful things, she’d record them. Scenery and people she liked, she would draw.
Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night with an idea, or when feeling down and scrolling Douyin, getting struck by a line or a great artist’s work, she’d still get fired up — lines and colors would unfurl in her heart.
“DrawDuoDuo: I’m back, babies. Love you all.”
Below was a picture of a little girl standing under the sunlight, her eyes curved in a smile, the corners of her mouth raised high, both hands making little heart gestures.
Nan Zhi copied the method and changed her Douyin and Xiaohongshu statuses to match Weibo. Once she was done, she kept the momentum going, leaned back against a pillow, and buried her head into drawing.
After about two to three hours, a few simple and colorful drawings formed a long image and were posted across all platforms.
The first image was of a little black cat. The little black cat tilted its head, eyes bright and clear, looking at the “camera.”
The second was of a black-haired, pale-skinned boy wearing the cat bell from the first image around his neck. His head was also tilted, eyes bright and clear just like the cat’s. Even the curve of his ears was exactly the same.
In the third image, a hand appeared, beckoning forward. The little cat immediately dashed over.
In the fourth image, the hand was the same, but the cat that rushed over had become the boy.
In the fifth, the little cat flopped down next to the hand, exposing its soft belly as if asking for petting.
In the sixth, the black-haired, pale-skinned boy wearing the cat bell also lay down on the ground, exposing his slim, pale, beautifully-lined abdomen, waiting for the hand to touch.
In the seventh, the hand touched the cat’s belly, sinking into the soft fur.
In the eighth, the hand sinned on the waist and belly of the black-haired, pale-skinned boy.
In the ninth, the cat let out a “meow” from being rubbed, and rubbed its head against the fingers.
In the tenth, the boy let out a “meow” from being rubbed, and rubbed his chin against the fingers.
The eleventh image: the owner of the hand revealed their full appearance — it was a girl. The girl said, “It’s you,” and then took the cat away in her arms.
The twelfth image: the girl hugged the boy, trying to wrap him up and carry him away.
When Nan Zhi finished drawing, it was already very late, and she still had day shift the next day. She didn’t have the energy to wait for replies and fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed.
Sensing she’d be late, she set three to five alarms, but the moment she opened her eyes, it was already around 7:32.
Nan Zhi immediately sobered up, got up and hurriedly brushed her teeth and washed her face. She didn’t even put on makeup and rushed downstairs.
At the entrance on the first floor, Song Qing was already waiting there.
Nan Zhi got up late — he was the first to notice. Actually, he knew she stayed up late last night too, and guessed she definitely wouldn’t be able to get up today.
She had slept at past two in the morning. Since he didn’t know what she was doing, he didn’t want to disturb her. He just went to the kitchen and pre-boiled the water she might drink.
But she didn’t come down to take it last night.
This morning, Song Qing also got up very early. Silently calculating the time for her. She didn’t need to wash her hair today. Brushing teeth and washing face would take five minutes. Getting to the hospital would take about fifteen minutes. Leave five minutes buffer. Calling her at thirty-five minutes before would be the most suitable.
But didn’t make it in time — at thirty-two minutes, he already heard the sound of her getting up.
While she was upstairs tidying herself, Song Qing, downstairs, remembered how yesterday she had reminded and warned over and over again, several times — not to make breakfast. So he only boiled a portion of rock sugar pear soup for her.
Yesterday, when tidying up the table, he had accidentally seen her diagnosis slip. She had hypoglycemia — if she didn’t eat breakfast or got too hungry, she’d get dizzy.
This could help temporarily. The pears were cut into cubes by him, like canned fruit, easy to eat.
Yesterday she bought several cans, three of which were pear ones — she probably liked this.
Song Qing used a double-layer glass jar he found in the kitchen, kept it warm in his arms, and when he saw her coming over and squatting by the side to change shoes, he didn’t want to miss the chance like yesterday when he had tried to cook for her but didn’t know how to use the kitchen tools. So as soon as she got up, he seized the moment and handed it to her.
Nan Zhi paused, blankly staring at the pear soup. “For me?”
When her fingers touched it, it was still warm.
Song Qing nodded and was even prepared to make an excuse that this wasn’t real cooking, he hadn’t made a meal — just simply cut and boiled, not troublesome. But when he looked up, he saw that her eyes were unusually bright, like it was the first time receiving something like this.
She was so beautiful — yet has no one to cherish her?
Song Qing paused for a moment, almost forgetting something else. When he heard the wind howling outside, he finally remembered and handed her the umbrella he had prepared long ago.
“There’s rain today.”
After a slight pause, he handed her something else. “Keys.”
Nan Zhi: “.…”
She felt all sorts of emotions in her heart — very complicated.
Even Grandma had never been this meticulous to her.
Making her snow pear soup with rock sugar, holding an umbrella ready, and even preparing the keys.
Grandma loved her — she knew that. But the elderly were used to plain tea and simple meals. At most in the mornings she’d steam her an egg custard, or buy soy milk and fried dough sticks from outside. Rarely cooked meals, even disliked how picky she was with food.
Actually, it’s because the food didn’t taste good, wuwu.
Also, it didn’t really suit her taste either. Anyway, she rarely ate breakfast — which was also the reason she got stomach problems.
He’s willing to get up early in the morning to make something I like to drink.
How did he know I like snow pear with rock sugar?
Nan Zhi, left hand carrying a big jar of soupy liquid, right hand holding an umbrella, with keys hanging from her fingers — was both moved and confused. She was about to be late for work, had no time to ask, and not enough time to express affection, so she just suddenly stepped forward and hugged him.
“Your injury hasn’t healed yet. Don’t cook, don’t do anything today. I’ll order breakfast, you just wait at home to receive it. Rest well, got it?”
Song Qing, in her arms, gave a soft “mm.”
His voice was muffled.
Nan Zhi couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry. “If you’re really bored, doing a little something is okay, but not too much. Know your limits. Don’t wear yourself out. Otherwise, I won’t like you anymore.”
Song Qing froze.
Right now — she likes me?
This “like” wasn’t the kind between man and woman. He could feel that. It was more like familial affection, a very pure kind of emotion.
“Okay.” For some reason, his mood suddenly became a bit better.
Nan Zhi gave him one last look. “Good job, that’s how it should be. Stop always being so polite, okay?”
Song Qing followed her gaze and also looked down at himself. Today, he was wearing the set Nan Zhi had put on him yesterday. First, because the weather suddenly changed and got even colder.
In the morning, he had still been wearing his own shirt. When he passed by the window, he’d been so cold his body hair stood on end.
Second, because yesterday she had mentioned it several times, telling him to wear the new one — the weather was too cold.
Since he had already made her angry yesterday for not listening, today he was a bit more obedient, and put it on honestly.
As expected, she still liked him more when he was obedient.
“Mm.” He agreed again.
During this, Nan Zhi glanced at the clock hanging near the entrance door. 7:42 — she really was going to be late. She didn’t have time to say anything more, so she hastily pressed the doorknob down with her elbow, ran out the door.
She didn’t even bother with the door. Song Qing pushed his wheelchair, went to the entrance to watch her leave in the elevator. Only when he couldn’t see her anymore did he close the door, quietly waiting at home.
Nan Zhi had told him, someone would come today to take down the light fixture, and there was also a cat being delivered.
—
Nan Zhi hurriedly rushed downstairs like fire all the way, exited the building, and went straight to where her car was parked. It was raining — not lightly either — but she was prepared.
Amidst a group of people waiting out the rain, under their envious gazes, she opened her umbrella. She reached the car door. After getting in, her body wasn’t even wet.
Nan Zhi wiped the fogged-up glass, thought for a moment, then tilted her head, through the curtain of rain, and looked toward her home.
All the lights in all the homes — is my light also shining too?