NOVEL NEXT Ch. 4
Chapter 4
“Hang on a second.”
Ai Qing forced himself to calm down. While he answered his father outside the door, he strode to the wardrobe, yanked it open, and pulled out the blue jacket he wore most days.
“Xiao Yu jumped on top of the cabinet—she’s hard to reach.”
“Cats are such a pain,” Ai Zhongguo muttered on the other side of the door. He turned and sat down on the living-room sofa. “Hurry up. I just want a quick look, then I’m off back to the office.”
“Got it.”
Ai Qing answered automatically, hurried over to the girl, and—without letting his gaze linger—spread the jacket wide. He draped it over her snow-white hair that reached her waist, then yanked the zipper all the way up.
Luckily Xiao Yu was a petite female cat; even in human form she was tiny.
The jacket swallowed her whole. If she stood, the hem would probably brush her knees.
But the real headache was how on earth he was going to explain to his dad why there was suddenly a random girl in his bedroom.
If he could pass her off as a girlfriend, fine—
But what girlfriend came equipped with cat ears and a tail?
Ai Qing’s head throbbed. Terrified his father would keep knocking, he paced in frantic circles.
Then he opened the bedroom door, stepped out with theatrical purpose, and shut it behind him. Muttering, he headed for the corner of the living room: “I’ll grab a broom and chase her down from the wardrobe. Give me a minute.”
“Sure.”
Bored, Ai Zhongguo scrolled on his phone. He glanced at the broom and raised an eyebrow. “Your bedroom that much of a mess? Using me as an excuse to tidy up?”
“You overthink everything.” Ai Qing rolled his eyes.
If only you knew how much more there is to overthink, Dad...
With that thought, he opened the door again—
And froze.
The girl was gone.
In her place, the adorable Xiao Yu crouched on the bed, having just heard the door swing open.
Ai Qing exhaled in relief, stepped inside, tossed the broom aside, and scooped the cat into his arms.
“All clear, Dad! Come in.”
Ai Zhongguo levered himself off the sofa, walked in, and swept his gaze across the room. Apart from the unmade bed and a slightly cluttered desk, it looked decent enough.
He nodded, half-satisfied. “Not too sloppy. Just make sure Xiao Yu doesn’t scratch the walls or the landlord will complain.”
“I know.” Ai Qing nodded distractedly, eyes flicking toward the bed.
One question looped in his head: Where’s my jacket?
When Xiao Yu turned back into a cat, the coat should have simply collapsed on the mattress.
Did reverting magically swallow clothes too?
While he puzzled, Ai Zhongguo wandered to the computer and peered at the screen. “So what do you usually write—”
“Don’t look!”
Ai Qing lunged, Xiao Yu still in his arms, and slammed the laptop shut. “Privacy, Dad. You’re a journalist— you of all people should know not to snoop.”
“My bad, my bad.” Ai Zhongguo backed off. “Blame the reporter’s curiosity. You never tell me what you’re working on.”
“It’s web fiction. Google it if you want; it’s perfectly legit.” Ai Qing’s face didn’t even flush.
The previous book had been harmless slice-of-life fluff about a guy who turned into a kitten—no romance at all.
But the current project, “My Childhood Friend Turns into a Cat,” was... harder to admit.
His parents could never know.
To them he just wrote “online stuff.” To outsiders he ran a “self-media” channel. After all, his father had started as a journalist and now worked at a publishing house; an internet-savvy son doing digital media sounded perfectly normal.
“All right, I’ll be—” Ai Zhongguo was about to leave when Ai Qing’s phone rang.
Both men glanced at the unfamiliar caller ID. The phone lay closer to Dad.
“Answer it?” he asked.
“Probably a delivery.” Ai Qing shrugged, arms full of cat. “Put it on speaker.”
Ai Zhongguo tapped accept.
A professional voice filled the room:
“Mr. Ai, hello. I’m calling to confirm your appointment for psychological counseling regarding emotional disorders and life stress. The scheduled time is—”
The call ended mid-sentence.
Xiao Yu was dumped on the bed; she bolted for the living room.
Father and son stood alone, staring at each other.
Ai Qing opened his mouth, hunting for an excuse.
How could he explain that last night a white-haired girl with cat ears had appeared in his bed, only to vanish an instant later—so he’d assumed he’d hallucinated from overwork and booked a therapist?
Say that out loud and Dad really would think he’d lost it.
While his brain spun in circles, Ai Zhongguo spoke first.
“Ai Qing.”
“...Yeah?”
“Don’t stress so much. Money doesn’t matter; living a decent life is enough. We’re not some old-fashioned family— we won’t push you into blind dates after graduation. Let relationships happen naturally, okay? No pressure.”
Ai Qing: “......”
“I wasn’t thinking that far—”
“No need to explain. I’ve been around; I’ve seen things.” The elder waved him quiet. “If you honestly feel overwhelmed, seeing a psychologist is smart. Illness isn’t shameful.”
He studied his son. “How are you feeling right now? Want me to come with you? I can take the afternoon off.”
Cornered by such earnest concern, Ai Qing twitched a smile.
“I’m fine. New-book nerves, that’s all. Don’t overthink it.”
“All right, I’ll drop it.” Ai Zhongguo sighed. “But if the anxiety gets bad, try getting a girlfriend. Holing up indoors 24/7 can’t be healthy.”
Girlfriend—impossible, Ai Qing answered silently, even as he mumbled agreement and herded his father toward the front door.
Ai Zhongguo stepped outside with a final reminder: “Eat the fruit before it rots.”
“Got it.”
Ai Qing walked him to the elevator and pressed the call button.
When the car arrived at the 18th floor, its doors slid open to reveal the entire cabin crammed with furniture.
“Oh? Uncle Ai—and Ai Qing?”
A black-haired girl in a strappy knit top squeezed past a dresser, greeting them in delighted surprise.