Who Needs a Relationship When You Have a Cat?

Chapter 10

Jinpan Yunting Residence had been split into north and south compounds.

Ai Qing and Xiao Youqian lived in the north; the south gate of their compound faced the north gate of the southern one across the way.

A two-lane east-west road called Yunting Road ran between them. Xiao Youqian’s pet hospital sat five shopfronts to the right of the north-compound gate.

“Qianxin Pet Hospital...” Ai Qing tilted his head to read the brand-new sign, then frowned. “Sis Qian, are you sure that name is going to attract customers?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Xiao Youqian blinked. “Qian is from my name, and xin has three gold characters—classic wish for overflowing money and a thriving business.”

“...If you like it, that’s what counts.”

“Come on, sit in on the interviews.” She clapped his shoulder and marched inside.

Whatever else you could say about her, Xiao Youqian’s taste in décor suited Ai Qing perfectly: white and pale-blue dominate, splashes of orange and green, clean modern lines.

A wide lobby opened straight onto the reception desk. Tall display cabinets flanked the walls, stocked with every feline necessity, plus tables and chairs for waiting clients.

Past reception, a corridor led right to two consultation rooms and left to an operating theatre. Beyond those, a wall of boarding cages—each less than a square metre—awaited the future neutered toms who would croon their prison-cell blues. Behind the theatre stood the diagnostic-equipment room, a place Ai Qing had never seen in any other clinic. Farther back: storage, changing room, staff lounge.

Tiny as the hospital was, it had everything. So far, Ai Qing approved.

Youqian had scheduled interviews from 1:30 to 3:00 p.m. Applicants were already drifting in before 1:30; Ai Qing counted seven or eight. Curiosity trumped reluctance, so he followed Sis Qian into one of the consultation rooms-turned-interview booth and parked himself beside her as unofficial muscle.

Youqian, freshly 26 and master’s-degreed, had painted on extra-mature make-up; the last traces of girlish softness were gone. Ai Qing, when he kept his mouth shut and his face blank, could look moderately intimidating. The first candidate, a young woman, trembled as she handed him her résumé.

Great, Ai Qing thought. If my web-novel career tanks, this’ll be me.

Mom could slot him into her branch office, but she was only deputy director, not owner, and he still clung to the naive idea of making it on his own. If the writing income dried up after graduation, he’d job-hunt like everyone else.

“Xu Wenjing, right?” Youqian skimmed the file Ai Qing passed her. “Four months at a downtown clinic?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Xu Wenjing nodded repeatedly.

Standard questions, standard answers. After a few minutes Youqian said, “All right, we’ll be in touch within three days at the latest. Thank you.”

“Thank you!” Xu bowed and left.

Over the next hour Youqian burned through a dozen more. Most were applying for assistant or reception posts—quick, painless chats. Only two candidates had surgical experience: one man, one woman, both vet-school graduates. The guy had ten years under his belt; the woman, just three, only one of them as primary surgeon, mostly routine spays and neuters—few fracture or internal-organ cases.

“Phew—exhausting.” Youqian stretched, arching her back.

Ai Qing ignored the view and studied the two surgeons’ CV’s. “Which one?”

“What do you think?”

“The man?” Ai Qing picked the safer answer. “More experience.”

Truthfully, he favoured the woman—not because she was pretty, but because the idea of a male vet touching Xiao Yu made his skin crawl. Ridiculous possessiveness, he knew.

“Girl power, obviously.” Youqian tapped the woman’s file—Jia Zhenqian. “She’s my senior from uni, three classes above me. Spays and neuters are all we need; big specialised surgeries are rare. No point paying premium for the guy. And if something tricky turns up, I’ll fly in outside help.”

Her alma mater was right here in Hangzhou, so consultants were easy. Ai Qing let it drop.

“Right, I’ll head home, then.” He’d almost asked for advice on measuring girls for clothes, but his nerve failed at the last second. I’ll WeChat her later.

“Busy here. Once we’re settled I’ll treat you to dinner!”

“Deal.”

He escaped with two carrier bags of cat food, litter, freeze-dried snacks and treat sticks—“happy-meet-you” gifts for Xiao Yu.

He had barely kicked off his shoes inside the apartment when strange noises rattled from the bedroom:

Thump-thump! Clatter-clatter!

He dumped the bags in the living-room and pushed the bedroom door—then froze.

A girl wearing nothing but a blue jacket knelt on the rug, rear in the air, head and one shoulder wedged inside the enclosed litter-box entrance.

Ai Qing stood there, mouth half open, lost for words.