The noise of the concert hall’s backstage was blocked out by the heavy soundproof doors, creating a strangely quiet corner.
Su Yuqing and Liuli sat side by side in front of an unused vanity.
The dim lighting provided the perfect atmosphere for this sudden trip down memory lane.
Liuli’s question was like a key, gently opening the floodgates of Su Yuqing’s memory.
“Let me think…”
She tilted her head slightly, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the cool surface of the vanity, as if carefully searching for that long-lost name in the dust of time.
“Back then… it seemed, it seemed to be called… Xiaozhi? Yes, it was Xiaozhi, right?”
Liuli’s tone held a hint of uncertainty, as if that name, along with the short time spent in Su Yuqing’s home, had been veiled by time.
“Yes, that’s right,” Su Yuqing nodded gently, her black pearl-like eyes shimmering with the light of memory and thought.
“The first time I saw Xiaozhi…”
Su Yuqing’s voice gradually sank into her memories, her pace slowing down with a distant warmth.
“It was an afternoon after a typhoon. The weather that day was very special; the heavy rain had just stopped, and the air was filled with the fresh yet messy scent of mud, rainwater, and broken plants. I had just finished lunch, and the house felt stuffy, so I thought about going out for some fresh air.”
She paused, her gaze seemingly penetrating the walls, as if seeing the cluttered street scene after the rain many years ago.
“Then, in the bushes by the road near our house, I found a tiny figure wiggling. When I got closer, I saw clearly that it was a very small cat.”
Her voice softened.
“That kitten was so pitiful. Its thin, small body was covered in and stuck with many tiny branches and leaves blown off by the typhoon. It was dusty and gray, almost blending into the mud. If you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t notice it at all. It curled up there, like a piece of trash abandoned by the world.”
“I guess.”
Liuli spoke softly at the right moment. Her empathy allowed her to almost picture the scene.
“Back then, Xiaozhi must have been filthy all over, right, Yuqing?”
Her question was more of a prompt, guiding Su Yuqing to reveal more details.
“You guessed right, Liuli.”
Su Yuqing’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“More than just filthy… When I picked it up from the roadside, it was so light it had almost no weight, and it was still shivering slightly. From the first second I brought it home, I immediately took it into the shower room.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she could still recall the scent and touch of that time.
“I still remember the first wave of dirty water that washed off Xiaozhi with warm water… it was as black as could be, mixed with mud, broken leaves, and some stains I couldn’t identify. It flowed into the drain, as if temporarily washing away all its miserable past.”
“And after that?”
Liuli’s voice was full of concern.
She knew how difficult it was for a child to independently take care of a stray cat of unknown origin.
“After all, for a 7-year-old girl, wanting to raise a little stray cat without her parents knowing is not an easy task.”
She paused, her tone carrying a sense of understanding.
“Just the ‘Absolute Great Demon Kings’ of the house, your mother and father, must have been enough for little Yuqing to handle, right? Didn’t they object at the time?”
“Well, the situation was pretty much as you said.”
Su Yuqing smiled, a smile that held a child’s cunning and a touch of nostalgia for the past.
“Anyway, for the first few days, I secretly hid Xiaozhi in my room. I lined a cardboard box with my old sweater to make a nest for it and shared my milk with it. Xiaozhi was also very intelligent and willing to cooperate with me. During those days, it was really well-behaved and hardly made a sound. It just stayed quietly in the cardboard box as if it knew it shouldn’t cause trouble for me. Nothing went wrong.”
“But paper cannot wrap fire,” Liuli sighed softly, stating a simple truth.
“Your parents were bound to find out sooner or later. How could a child’s thoughts be hidden from adults?”
“Speaking of which…”
Su Yuqing’s tone suddenly shifted, carrying an emotion close to gratitude.
“Looking back now, I’m actually thankful for my father’s ‘timely discovery’!”
“Oh?”
Liuli voiced a curious question.
“What do you mean? Finding out you were secretly raising a cat—wasn’t that a ‘storm’? Why are you thankful?”
“Because.”
Su Yuqing’s voice lowered, carrying a hint of lingering fear and relief.
“If my father hadn’t gotten up that night and happened to hear a faint whimpering from my room, and subsequently discovered Xiaozhi and insisted on taking it to the pet hospital for a full checkup immediately… then, with my 7-year-old self’s knowledge and brain, I absolutely wouldn’t have known, nor could I have imagined —”
“Xiaozhi’s paws and hind legs had several small cuts from branches or other things. In that filthy environment, those wounds had already developed a serious bacterial infection. The vet said that if we had waited 1 or 2 more days, the situation would have been very troublesome, even life-threatening.”
She remembered the vet’s serious expression, and she was still frightened by it today.
“You can’t say that, can you?”
Liuli tried to comfort her, putting herself in her shoes.
“Even for adults, the early stages of a wound infection are not easy to detect. Besides, if the situation was really that serious, then little Yuqing must have been panicking, right? You were just a child, after all.”
“I didn’t panic at all.”
To Liuli’s surprise, Su Yuqing shook her head.
Her tone was calm but carried a certainty that made Liuli’s heart tighten.
“Why?”
Liuli was puzzled.
“How could you not panic seeing a little life you saved potentially slip away again?”
“Because.”
Su Yuqing’s gaze became distant again, as if staring at the little cat curled up in the cardboard box all those years ago.
“My cat… Xiaozhi, it seemed… very, very good at enduring pain. During those days, for some reason… it always, always worked hard to maintain its best external state in front of me.”
“Even though the wounds might have been painful, when I petted it or fed it milk, it would still rub its head against my finger and make a very slight purring sound. It tried its best to eat and never showed signs of being irritable or in pain. It was as if… it didn’t want me to worry about it at all.”
Liuli paused, her voice filled with complex emotions.
“It seems your Xiaozhi was very unwilling to cause trouble for its little master~” she concluded softly, her tone full of pity.
“But,” Su Yuqing suddenly looked up at Liuli, her eyes shining with realization.
“Liuli, don’t you think? This idea of ‘not wanting to cause trouble’ is actually not good! Not good at all!”
She took a deep breath and continued:
“Whether it’s for humans, cats, or any life that needs to rely on or be cared for… when it’s time to ’cause trouble,’ it’s very necessary to do so! When it hurts, one should groan; when it’s uncomfortable, one should show weakness; when help is needed, one should cry out loudly!”
“Keeping all the pain and vulnerability bottled up inside, carrying it alone until you can’t take it anymore and collapse… is that kind of ending really what those who truly care about you want to see?”
Her voice carried a faint, imperceptible tremble and excitement.
These words didn’t seem to be only about the sensible little cat from back then.
“Daring to show vulnerability, daring to ask for help, and daring to ‘trouble’ those who love you — isn’t that itself a proof of trust and a bond? Isn’t that right, Liuli?”
***
Meanwhile, on the other side.
“*Hiss — ah!*”
Inside that rehearsal piano room that seemed isolated from the world, the blonde girl — Kasahana Chiai — was accidentally bumping her left ankle heavily against the leg of an old-fashioned metal music stand with a sharp edge after an unstable landing from a rapid spin.
As a sharp pang of pain instantly surged, she couldn’t help but gasp and immediately let out her most instinctive, undisguised wail of pain —
That sound broke away from the Idol Tone she meticulously maintained on a daily basis.
It was more like a return to some primitive essence, mixed with violent gasping, and finally turned into a broken, long-drawn…
“*Meow… woo…*”
This cry faintly penetrated the heavy soundproof door of the piano room, yet it seemed to echo clearly in Su Yuqing’s heart, which had become exceptionally soft and sensitive due to her memories.
Su Yuqing’s words came to a sudden halt.
She seemed to have vaguely heard something and instinctively looked toward the rehearsal piano room, but the end of the corridor remained silent.
So she turned back, pushing down the flash of unease in her heart, and looked at Liuli again, a smile with tears in it appearing on her face…