The night was like a drop of thick ink, silently bleeding across the city skyline.
The red glow of the taxi’s taillights flickered twice at the entrance of the residential complex before merging into the stream of traffic and vanishing down the neon-streaked street.
Su Yuqing pushed the car door open, met by a gust of cool evening wind mixed with the scent of city exhaust.
She stood there alone, clutching a heavy commuting bag stuffed with resumes from today’s interview session that felt more like scrap paper.
She carried the exhaustion and frustration of the empty title, “Chief Examiner.”
She looked up at the cluster of buildings she knew all too well.
Her complex’s security booth stood solitary at the entrance, its dim, yellow light glowing quietly like a weary eye.
Everything was just as it always was on the countless nights she returned home from working overtime: silent, ordinary, and even a bit cold.
She began to walk, mechanically stepping through the gate that stood perpetually open—a symbol of belonging that never provided a true sense of security.
A long, heavy sigh escaped her lips, dissipating into the chilly night air.
“Sigh…”
That sigh held too many unspoken burdens—the exhaustion of back-to-back tasks, the chaos of the interview session, the unrealistic expectations of the Board of Directors, and… the preemptive helplessness regarding the “storm” she was about to face.
Even before her feet crossed the threshold of her own home, Su Yuqing’s mind was like an uncontrollable projector, automatically looping various scenarios involving “that cat.”
She could almost clearly “see” Kasahana Chiai’s current state.
Perhaps she was curled up lazily on the softest part of the sofa, her glass-colored eyes shimmering in the darkness as she waited for her “incompetent pet” to return to the nest.
Or perhaps she had already prepared a string of biting yet undeniable “greetings” regarding the failure of the interview, Su Yuqing’s “incompetence,” and why she had been left alone in their “boudoir” again.
‘But… what can I even do?’
A wave of intense helplessness swept over her.
She seemed to be asking the silent night, or perhaps her equally exhausted self.
She stopped walking and leaned against the cold iron railing of the small park inside the complex, staring at the unknown darkness of her own window in the distance.
Rationally, from the perspective of a professional manager, she had to admit that if she could truly find an idol partner with comparable strength who could foster healthy competition, it would undoubtedly be beneficial.
It would release the nearly obsessive performance pressure Zhi Ai felt and mitigate the operational risk of the entire agency relying too heavily on a single top star.
This was even the only sliver of logic Su Yuqing had internally accepted when those old foxes on the Board of Directors forced the title of “Chief Examiner” onto her.
From a more selfish, hidden perspective, how could Su Yuqing not harbor a tiny shred of hope that she didn’t even want to scrutinize?
If… if she could really train another newcomer with potential and confidence, someone who could even slightly check Zhi Ai’s willful personality one day, would her daily work and life truly become… a little bit easier?
At the very least, she wouldn’t have to be constantly controlled by a cat’s whims.
She wouldn’t have to live on such thin ice.
“But the problem is…”
Su Yuqing shook her head violently as if trying to fling these unrealistic fantasies out of her mind.
A bitter, self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“I can’t find anyone like that at all…!!!”
Today’s entire experience at the interview session was the cruelest proof.
Those girls were either fanatical fans without talent, empty vessels with nothing but a pretty face, or fragile hearts who thought too highly of themselves…
Not one.
Not a single one of them showed even a hint of potential that could compare to Zhi Ai’s dazzling yet dangerous brilliance.
It wasn’t just a gap in professional ability; it was… a crushing defeat on a soulful level.
Zhi Ai was unique, a combination of a genius and a “monster.”
How could such an existence be easily replicated, let alone replaced?
Thinking about these depressing realities, Su Yuqing’s footsteps grew even heavier.
Subconsciously, she drifted toward the small park inside the complex.
The park was quiet at night, filled only with the chirping of unknown insects and the rustle of wind through the leaves.
Then, her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the tallest tree in the center of the park—the Old Willow Tree.
“Ah…”
A very soft gasp escaped her throat.
Looking at the willow tree, its silhouette blurred but graceful under the moonlight, the scene that had occurred under this tree that afternoon flooded back.
It was like a burst dam, instantly overwhelming the gates of her memory and filling her mind with undeniable clarity—
“Man… tou…”
Su Yuqing’s lips moved almost soundlessly as she breathed out that name, one she had buried deep in her heart for a long time, filled with guilt and bitterness.
That was the name she had given the little white cat that had stayed by her side for three years.
It had trusted her and relied on her, treating her as the only light in its dim life.
But what happened later?
Later, it was because of Zhi Ai’s sudden intrusion…
That guilt was like a tiny thorn pricked into a corner of her heart.
Whenever she touched it, it still stung sharply.
‘Wait a minute.’
A bold thought, like a shooting star streaking across the darkness, suddenly illuminated her chaotic musings.
‘Since… since Xiaozhi could return to my life in such an unbelievable way… then is there a tiny possibility that Mantou… might also return to find me in some form, in some corner, on some future day?’
When this idea first surfaced, it even brought a very faint sense of anticipation.
Perhaps fate wasn’t always cruel?
It took Mantou away but brought back Xiaozhi (albeit in a much more complicated way).
Could it complete a cycle and make up for what was lost?
However, this faint light of hope was ruthlessly smothered and crushed by another, more vivid and oppressive memory before it even had a chance to warm her cold heart—it was the scene of her “reunion” with Kasahana Chiai.
It wasn’t a heartwarming recognition, but rather a declaration of near-predatory possession.
A light that brooked no argument shimmered in Zhi Ai’s glass-colored eyes, as if saying:
“You are mine. From the past to the present, and even the future, you can only belong to me.”
That powerful, suffocating desire for control had long been seared into Su Yuqing’s subconscious through countless “collars” and repeated willful orders and punishments.
She could even vaguely feel the constriction of that invisible mark on the skin of her neck.
“Forget it…”
Su Yuqing shuddered violently.
She instinctively raised a hand to touch her neck, where a psychological sensation of suffocation seemed to linger.
The unrealistic fantasy that had just arisen was instantly doused by the coldness of reality.
Mantou returning?
Under Zhi Ai’s nose?
That was even more far-fetched than finding a genius newcomer at an interview session.
In fact… it was even more dangerous.
Given Zhi Ai’s extreme jealousy and sense of territory, she couldn’t imagine what kind of storm would erupt if the cat knew she was still thinking about another cat (even if it was just an ordinary stray).
She quickly and resolutely abandoned that “extremely dangerous” thought as if it were a bomb about to explode.
Just as she tried to suppress these chaotic thoughts and prepare to continue toward her front door, an extremely faint sound reached her ears.
Sniff… sniff…
The sound was very light, carrying the alertness and curiosity of a small animal.
“Hmm?”
Su Yuqing instinctively stopped and frowned, listening intently.
What was that sound?
It didn’t sound like the wind or insects.
It was more like a living creature nearby… sniffing something?
Filled with doubt and curiosity, she slowly turned her head toward the source of the sound.
Then, at the boundary where the hazy glow of the complex’s streetlights met the heavy darkness of the night, her gaze unexpectedly collided with another pair of eyes.
They were a pair of… eyes as pure and translucent as the finest natural red crystal.
In the night, they emitted a soft, strange glow, staring at her quietly and unblinkingly with a sense of pure observation.
The owner of the eyes was a girl who looked very young.
She held a White Lace Parasol that seemed out of place in the nighttime atmosphere, as if she wanted to isolate herself from the noisy world.
Beneath the umbrella was long, ash-silver hair that flowed like moonlight, reaching down to her waist, smooth and lustrous.
She wore a perfectly tailored maid outfit with a complex design that exuded a classical charm.
A leather corset and layered ruffles were skillfully blended together, as if the bold innovation of the Industrial Revolution and the romantic heritage of the Renaissance were perfectly condensed within her small, slender body.
Su Yuqing’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she instinctively made a comparison she hadn’t even noticed:
Compared to Zhi Ai’s lush, striking, and aggressive figure, which was like a rose in full bloom, the girl before her seemed… youthful and small.
She even looked a bit “underwhelming.”
“Huh…?”
As soon as the thought of comparison crossed her mind, Su Yuqing was stunned.
Why had she instinctively compared a stranger to that troublesome, bratty cat?
Was it a subconscious professional assessment, or… was it some deeper instinct?
The girl didn’t show any cowardice or unease because of the stare.
She just continued to stand there quietly, gazing back with those pale red eyes.
To Su Yuqing’s instinctive question, “Excuse me, you are…?” she gave no verbal response.
She was like an exquisite doll that had wandered into the mortal world, or a lost elf immersed in her own world.
A brief silence stretched between them.
Looking at the girl’s outfit and aura—which were out of place yet didn’t feel jarring—a thought suddenly flashed through Su Yuqing’s mind.
She had found nothing at today’s interview session.
Perhaps… the girl before her, with this unique beauty that felt slightly inhuman, was exactly the kind of rare quality the idol market lacked?
Although the idea sounded absurd, Su Yuqing, in her desperation, seemed to grasp at a straw.
Seeing that the other party didn’t seem likely to leave immediately, Su Yuqing decided to take the initiative.
She quickly fumbled through her work bag and pulled out a wrinkled but intact Interview Flyer.
She took a step forward and, with an impulse born of “trying anything in a crisis,” shoved the flyer into the girl’s hand—the one not holding the umbrella, which hung naturally by her side.
“Um.”
Su Yuqing cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound more professional and persuasive, even though she felt the act itself was ridiculous.
“Our agency, the Little Paw Idol Agency, is currently recruiting idol trainees on a large scale. I happen to be one of the special Chief Examiners for this interview session.”
She quickly looked the girl over, trying to find more reasons to recommend her.
“I see your external conditions… well, they’re very unique and memorable! After all, the current idol market has diverse tastes. Many fans would really ‘get’ your… well, small, exquisite, and mysterious style.”
She paused, offering a seemingly casual invitation that was actually a hopeless test: “So, if you’re interested, you can take some time to come to our interview session and give it a try… The address and time are on there. Just… consider it an experience?”
After speaking, she didn’t even wait for a reaction.
As if completing a spontaneous task or rushing to escape the awkward self-promotion, she gave a quick nod and turned to walk toward her building entrance.
Her figure soon vanished into the deeper darkness of the night.
The girl left behind didn’t say a single word from beginning to end.
She only lowered her head slightly, her gaze falling on the bright piece of paper that had suddenly appeared in her hand.
And in that one slight movement of lowering her head, the furry tips she had been carefully hiding with the edge of her umbrella and her silver hair—almost perfectly concealed under the night sky—were revealed.
With a small tuft of silver-gray fur the same color as her hair, her cat ears could no longer be hidden, exposed clearly under the hazy moonlight…