A Aloof Beauty Becomes a Tiny Kitten / Transmigrated as the Disabled Tycoon’s Tiny Kitten - Chapter 7

After a great deal of effort, the drinking problem was finally solved. Lin Xingmo approached the other small bowl, poking his head out to sniff it cautiously.

It was ham sausage. The scent wasn’t as fragrant as the meat filling, and it had an indescribable, processed smell.

In the dim light of the cardboard box, the little white kitten squatted before the bowl, frowning slightly. In those blue-filmed eyes, a hint of human-like disdain was visible. Ultimately, however, the kitten lowered its head.

He tried licking it first, but the broken pieces of ham were still too large; no matter how he licked, he couldn’t pick them up. When he instinctively reached out a paw, he froze again. Resigned, he withdrew his filthy front paw and bent his head to bite, finally managing to get a piece into his mouth.

For the first time, Lin Xingmo realized how painful it was not to be able to use hands; even eating was a strenuous task.

The image of the figure in the wheelchair surfaced in his mind—hidden in the shadows, enveloped in deep sorrow. Lin Xingmo felt as if he could finally understand a fraction of that sadness.

After forcing himself to eat a few bites and no longer feeling famished, he stopped. He looked up through the crack in the box lid to observe his surroundings.

A dark green, old-fashioned electric fan hung from the yellowed, aging ceiling—a style Lin Xingmo hadn’t seen in years. His vision in this body was excellent; he could clearly see the thick dust and cobwebs accumulated on the blades.

After watching for a while, Lin Xingmo stood up on his hind legs and rested his front paws on the lid. This was a flat instant-noodle box, so the sides weren’t high. He pushed against the lid with all his might. Xu Yi hadn’t closed it tightly to begin with, and under his pushing, the gap widened until it was large enough for his current frame to pass through.

Fresh, slightly chilly air drifted in, dispelling the smell of stale cardboard. Lin Xingmo took a deep breath, hooked his claws into the lid, and struggled out. Just as he reached the top, he lost his balance and slid down the slanted lid, landing on the floor with a thud.

The kitten’s body was light and the cardboard provided a cushion, so it didn’t hurt, but the “face-plant” posture left Lin Xingmo somewhat dazed. He shook his head and got up, his round eyes scanning the room.

Furniture loomed over him, magnified several times; it felt like being in a land of giants. Fortunately, he was adapting to these scale changes. Being inside a house felt much safer than the busy streets—at least he didn’t have to worry about being chased by cats or bitten by dogs.

The house was silent; the owners were clearly away. Lin Xingmo recalled the boy saying he would return at noon. Looking at the sky through the window, it was clearly quite some time before then.

Thus, the palm-sized kitten moved his short legs and began to explore the house at a leisurely pace. He was currently in a bedroom. There was a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk—very little other furniture. After circling the room, the kitten walked out the door.

He soon reached his destination. The door before him was ajar—made of plastic, with the bottom slightly cracked from moisture. The kitten leaped onto the threshold and easily slipped through the gap.

The small bathroom had a window that let in bright light. Though the decor was old and the walls were yellowed, the floor was scrubbed clean and dry, with no unpleasant odor.

Lin Xingmo craned his neck so far back he nearly tumbled over before he spotted the showerhead high above. To be honest, he really wanted a bath. He had been filthy since waking as a cat; though the pond water had “washed” him, his time in the bushes and under leaves had surely made him dirty again.

Feline instinct made him want to lick his fur, but he forced himself to stop. Obsessive-compulsive cleanliness was one factor; the other was the high probability of licking up bacteria or viruses that could make him sick.

But he couldn’t take a bath alone. The taps were too high, and he would easily catch a cold. He forced himself to look away.

He walked over to the squat toilet, standing on the ceramic footrests. The cold tile felt icy against his bare paw pads. He peered down. The toilet was rinsed clean, but… after measuring his tiny body against the opening, he decided to stay far away from this “dangerous” spot.

The white kitten turned, leaped down, and found the floor drain. After some cautious investigation, he finally settled his “life’s business.”

Once the sound of trickling water stopped, he quickly tiptoed away from the scene of the crime. Back in the hallway, he looked back at the bathroom, a trace of lingering fear on his furry face. He briefly worried if his real self in reality would wet the bed. Likely not, he thought, but if this really was a dream…

He shook his head and chose to look on the bright side. At least he had confirmed he was a little male cat.

The kitten sped away, unable to stand the scent. After becoming a cat, he found his curiosity was much more intense; looking into dark, unfamiliar corners, he felt a strange attraction. But he was a human, not a cat. Without the owner’s permission, it was best not to wander too much.

He returned the way he came, trying to look straight ahead, but still got a general sense of the old house’s layout. It was a two-bedroom apartment with one living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a fairly spacious balcony where clothes were hanging on black wires. The house was well-lit and kept very clean, showing the owners’ diligence.

Passing the balcony, he slipped out for a look. The narrow walkway was protected by rusty security bars. Between the bars were a few small potted plants—cacti and lucky bamboo—adding a touch of green to the dusty space. There was a laundry sink at the end with toothbrushes and cups on a shelf. He didn’t see a washing machine; judging by the dripping clothes, they were likely hand-washed.

Since he couldn’t jump high enough to reach the railing, he gave up. He squatted on the threshold, looking up at the blue sky sliced into rectangles by the security bars, watching clouds drift by and wondering what to do next.

Knowing he could return to his own body, he was no longer in a hurry to get to Xinghai City. Besides, he didn’t have the strength for such a journey. Survival first, he thought. He shook his fur and returned to Xu Yi’s room, struggling back into the box to curl up on the boy’s old clothes.

The enclosed space and the clean scent of the clothes were comforting. He curled into a ball and fell into a deep sleep.

“Xu Yi, I saw you running home with a box this morning. What’s inside?”

In the classroom, as soon as school let out for lunch, Lu Zhuokai approached him. Other students glanced over too. Xu Yi was handsome, a top student, and a focus of attention, but he was a loner who never lingered after school.

“Tell me! It’s the first time you’ve ever been late,” the boy said with a grin.

Xu Yi’s hand paused over his homework. He didn’t want to share his kitten. He had found it first; it was his alone. He looked up at Lu Zhuokai. “How was your unit test?”

The grinning boy’s face immediately fell. “Xu Yi, if we don’t talk about grades, we’re still friends! I think Lan Lan failed; she’s definitely going to cry again…”

The distraction worked. Xu Yi lowered his head to finish his work until the bell rang.

At 11:30 AM, Xu Yi left school and headed for the market. He bought vegetables and meat, his pace much faster than usual today. He lived in a rented second-floor apartment nearby. By 11:50 AM, he was home.

Seeing the box lid pushed open, his heart sank. He cautiously opened the lid, and upon seeing the white ball of fur nestled in his clothes, he finally relaxed. A gentle, happy smile replaced his usual coldness. He stroked the kitten’s head.

He slipped out and went to the kitchen. His mother worked at a textile factory and usually arrived home at 12:30 PM. He used to wait for her, but eventually learned to cook himself. As he prepared to use the bathroom before lunch, he smelled something “off.”

Following the scent to the “crime scene,” he blinked at the evidence left behind.

Lin Xingmo expected to wake up in Spruce Villa, but he was still in the box. However, the lid was open, and the morning light had been replaced by the orange glow of midday.

Hearing movement, he stood up, paws on the edge of the box, and peered out. Xu Yi pushed the door open to see two furry white paws and a cute little head popping out.

So cute! Xu Yi felt his heart being pierced. To him, even a dirty kitten was adorable. He approached quietly. The kitten didn’t shrink away; its blue-gray eyes watched him steadily. He realized this kitten was exceptionally brave.

Xu Yi squatted by the box. The two stared at each other. He couldn’t resist stroking the kitten’s head. “Little treasure, you’re awake? I saw the ‘mess’ in the bathroom… you actually knew to go there. So smart.”

Lin Xingmo felt strange—not because of the praise, but because this face reminded him of the adult Xu Yi, yet the boy kept calling him “Little Treasure.”

Xu Yi marveled at the kitten, convinced it had followed him home because it liked him. He scooped the cat up and said, “You’re so clean, Mom will definitely let you stay.”

As he carried the cat to the living room, the scent of food filled the air, and a key turned in the lock. A woman’s voice called out, “Xiao Yi, come help me with these.”

Xu Yi placed the cat on a wooden sofa chair and went to meet his mother. Through the gaps in the chair’s backrest, Lin Xingmo saw a woman in her early thirties. She was gentle-looking, her hair tied back with a clip.

“Mom, what are these?” Xu Yi asked, helping with the bags.

Du Hanrong went to put her bags on the chair but froze when she saw the white fluff. “Why is there a cat in the house?”

“I found it on the road…” Xu Yi said tentatively, picking the cat up. “Mom, can I keep it? It doesn’t eat much, I can use my scholarship, and it’s smart—it even uses the bathroom!”

Du Hanrong frowned. Her family didn’t have the time or energy for a pet. But this was the first time her son had ever asked for anything. The refusal died in her throat. “Let’s eat first. I have to go back to the factory at 2:00.”

Xu Yi felt disappointed. He put the cat back and went to wash his hands, but his mother pulled out a black sweater she had bought for him at a stall for 10 yuan.

“Mom, can I return the sweater and use that 10 yuan to keep the cat?”

The smile faded from her face. She knew he loved cats, but usually, cats ran away from him. Seeing how docile this one was, she understood his attachment, but she didn’t soften. “It was from a street stall; they won’t take it back unless it’s defective. Eat your lunch, the food is getting cold.”

Lin Xingmo watched them from the chair. He had heard everything.

A trace of worry appeared in his blue-gray eyes. Could he keep this long-term meal ticket? As a two-month-old kitten, how could he create value and earn his right to stay?