This response came so directly, without any further questions or skepticism, that it left Su Yuqing—who had just prepared herself for a long-term “ideological struggle”—momentarily stunned.
She had thought she would need more metaphors, more real-life examples, and might even have to face more interrogations from Bai Wanxue based on “cat logic.”
This sudden “I understand” left her momentarily at a loss.
The tightly wound string in her heart loosened by half, yet the other half remained suspended—
Did she really understand?
Not just the literal meaning, but the complex web of interpersonal rules, societal expectations, and the unavoidable compromises of adulthood beneath those words?
“…It’s good that you understand.”
Su Yuqing repeated it subconsciously, her tone hesitant, almost like self-comfort.
She tried to find more evidence of understanding on Bai Wanxue’s face.
“It’s good… that you listened and understood.”
She saw the corner of Bai Wanxue’s mouth curve upward ever so slightly.
It wasn’t a smile, but more like a… relaxation after confirming a goal.
Then, Bai Wanxue took a very small step forward.
This subtle movement made Su Yuqing’s heart inexplicably jump.
She saw Bai Wanxue’s pale red eyes focused intently on her, reflecting the fragmented light from the corridor’s ceiling lamp and her own small, somewhat flustered self.
Then, Bai Wanxue spoke.
Her voice was still steady, even carrying a serious tone as if discussing a math problem, but the sentence she uttered instantly tightened Su Yuqing’s just-relaxed nerves again, leaving her mind blank:
“Then, does that mean—”
She tilted her head slightly, as if sorting through the information she’d just received and extracting the core solution formula.
“As long as Wanxue also earns enough money. Enough to… help Master pay off that ‘mortgage’ on your back.”
She paused, seeming to recall the other items Su Yuqing had mentioned, then earnestly listed them one by one, incorporating them into her “solution”:
“Enough to… cover everything Master’s parents might need in the future, letting them live completely ‘carefree’ lives.”
“And, enough to… let Master yourself also live ‘carefree’ for all the days of the rest of your life.”
With each item she stated, her tone grew more certain, as if confirming a task list about to be executed.
Finally, she lifted her head, her gaze burning as she looked at Su Yuqing, and asked the ultimate question that was logical in her reasoning but struck Su Yuqing like a thunderbolt:
“Then, when that time comes—when Wanxue has earned this much, this much money—”
“Master, you, wouldn’t have to stay in this ‘boring,’ ‘closed’ office that makes you feel ‘need’ and ‘compulsion,’ continuing to do this job you don’t truly like just for those numbers anymore?”
“Wouldn’t you… be free then? Meow.”
***
Dead silence.
Su Yuqing froze completely, her mouth slightly agape, unable to make a sound.
Her brain felt like an overloaded, crashed computer, the screen filled only with flickering static and a piercing busy signal.
A buzzing filled her ears, almost drowning out the noise of the air conditioner.
What… what had she just heard?
It wasn’t a debate about titles, not a discussion about understanding, not even a response about emotions.
Bai Wanxue, this “former cat” she had just been worried couldn’t understand the complex rules of human society, after listening to all her tearful accounts of survival pressure, economic burdens, and helpless compromises…
Had actually, directly from the root, proposed such a… simple, brutal, unbelievable, yet in some absurd way, logically self-consistent “solution”!
Not to adapt to the rules, not to learn to hide, not to understand “why you can’t call me master.”
But—since all this “compulsion” (work, mortgage, supporting parents) stems from a lack of “money.”
Then, as long as the “money” problem is solved, wouldn’t all problems be solved?
As long as enough money is earned, enough to cover all pressure, wouldn’t Su Yuqing no longer “need” this job, and be “free” from this “boring, closed” office?
This thinking… this logic…
Looking into Bai Wanxue’s clear, bottomless eyes, filled with earnest inquiry (how to make master free), a torrent of absurdity, shock, disbelief, and a faint, warm tremor she didn’t dare examine too closely surged to Su Yuqing’s head, making her dizzy.
This was insane.
This was more fantastical than a fairy tale.
This was absolutely not the response a normal human would have to “workplace困境.”
But…
But why was her heart beating so violently, so chaotically, in this absurd silence?
Why, looking at Bai Wanxue’s pure, focused expression of “as long as you say ‘yes,’ I’ll immediately find a way to achieve it,” did a sour lump form in her throat, and her eyes grow uncontrollably hot?
This person… this cat… this “Bai Wanxue”…
She truly hadn’t understood those convoluted twists about “interpersonal relationships,” “professional image,” or “social evaluation.”
But she had understood “master is tired,” “master is forcing herself,” “master is bound by chains called ‘survival.'”
And the solution she thought of wasn’t for the master to continue enduring the chains, learning to coexist with them.
It was—to earn a big enough axe to cut through all the chains.
This simple yet equally stubborn “solution-oriented thinking,” like a beam of purest light, split open the reality of compromise and helplessness that Su Yuqing had long grown accustomed to over the years.
She suddenly remembered Zhi Ai.
If it were Zhi Ai, she’d probably sneer at her weakness, then use more forceful methods to bind her close, proving “with me here you don’t need to worry about that damn money,” or worse, enjoy the sense of control her “need to work” provided.
But Bai Wanxue was not like that.
She just calmly, earnestly, proposed an action plan: “Earn money → Solve problems → Set master free.”
This pure purposefulness, this thinking that placed Su Yuqing’s “predicament” as the highest priority and immediately sought the most fundamental solution, this undisguised, straightforward desire to “possess” and “protect” her…
While making Su Yuqing feel utterly absurd, it also quietly cracked a hardened corner of her heart, letting in a sliver of unfamiliar warmth that made her tremble.
But at the same time, a deeper panic followed.
‘Her earning that much money? How? By being an idol? Leaving aside whether she could truly become a top idol, even if she could, how long would it take? How many unpredictable variables and costs would there be?’
More importantly… if, if that day really came, how would you, Su Yuqing, handle yourself?
Would you really accept this “gift” of immense wealth, earned by a “cat,” enough to buy out your future career and life choices?
This wasn’t solving a problem.
This was smashing an enormous, sweet, yet terrifying unknown future right in front of her.
“I…”
Su Yuqing’s lips trembled, finally finding her voice, but it came out dry and hoarse, unlike herself.
Looking into Bai Wanxue’s expectant eyes (waiting to confirm the goal), all the pre-prepared lectures about “reality isn’t that simple,” “money isn’t everything,” “the uncertainty of the idol industry” got stuck in her throat.
In the end, with extreme difficulty, she squeezed out a few words from between her teeth, her voice as light as a sigh yet heavy as if using all her strength:
“You… don’t think about that for now…”
“Earning money… isn’t that easy…”
“Let’s just… focus on doing the things in front of us well first, okay?”
She avoided the direct answer of “yes” or “no.”
Because she realized, under the gaze of those pure, stubborn eyes, she couldn’t easily say “No, even if you had that much money, I would still need to work, need a social identity, need…”—those complex, self-limiting reasons of an adult.
Bai Wanxue watched her quietly, seeming to digest this evasive response.
A few seconds later, she nodded gently, not pressing for the answer to the “is that it” question.
It was as if, as long as Su Yuqing didn’t directly deny it, this “plan” still existed on her action list, only the execution priority and method needed adjustment.
“Okay, Master.”
She replied obediently, then added a sentence, her tone returning to its usual docility, yet seemingly carrying an indescribable certainty.
“Wanxue will work hard first, to do every ‘thing in front of us’ well. Meow.”
“Things in front of us.”
Like becoming an idol.
Like standing on stage.
Like… taking the first step in earning “enough” money.
Su Yuqing understood the unspoken meaning, her heart tightening again.
She suddenly had a premonition.
Her outpouring today about “survival pressure” might have, unintentionally, injected this rediscovered “cat” with a terrifyingly clear, stubbornly heart-pounding…
Life (cat) goal.