Who Needs a Relationship When You Have a Cat?

Chapter 7

Being molested by a ghost in the middle of the night—that was pretty much how Ai Qing felt right now.

Tonight the moon was buried behind black clouds; no silver light slipped into the room, and the darkness was absolute.

Only now did Ai Qing realize that when Xiao Yu took human shape she hadn’t just kept her cat-ears and tail; those odd-colored eyes had come along for the ride as well. Worse, they still had a feline shine: in dim light they refracted an eerie gleam.

With heterochromatic eyes—one crystal-blue, one honey-amber—those two colored disks looked downright creepy in the dark.

But once the initial shock wore off, that wasn’t the biggest problem anymore.

The biggest problem was: Xiao Yu was sprawled on top of him.

If she’d still been in cat form it would’ve been fine—he loved letting Little Kitty curl up on his chest; it felt comforting to watch that dazed, fluffy bundle breathe in and out.

But when the creature doing the sprawling was a girl wearing only a blue jacket, “comfort” turned into pure, unfiltered stimulation.

How was an Archmage Candidate supposed to defend against that?

Ai Qing forced himself to cool down and tried to redirect his chaotic thoughts.

For instance...

For instance... um... the clothes Xiao Yu was wearing!

His gaze landed on the blue jacket that had mysteriously vanished that afternoon.

Apparently, whatever she wore disappeared when she turned back into a cat and reappeared when she returned to human form.

Handy trick.

Otherwise, if he ever took her to the hospital for shots and she suddenly shifted in the waiting room, she’d flash the entire ward.

Now that the ability was confirmed, did that mean he had to buy actual girl-clothes for her human form?

While he was busy pondering, he noticed another, more urgent issue—

Xiao Yu was wriggling.

Because he’d draped the jacket over her in a hurry that afternoon, he’d basically swaddled her entire body—arms included—inside it.

With the zipper pulled all the way up, she had no idea how to free her hands; she could only squirm and half-push herself up.

Luckily the jacket was huge on her petite frame, so the trapped limbs weren’t crushed—just awkward.

And that awkwardness translated into nonstop movement: two small fists batting around inside the coat, sliding over fabric and quilt, unintentionally petting his chest.

So much for “ghost pressing on the bed”; the culprit had been Xiao Yu all along.

“Hold still, I’ll help.”

He exhaled, fumbled in the dark until he found the sleeves, then lifted one with his left hand while sliding his right inside to guide her arm.

Perfectly innocent plan—until Xiao Yu, still unused to human reflexes, jerked away the moment his fingers brushed her elbow.

His hand closed on air.

When he reached in again his fingertips brushed something soft and warm; his brain short-circuited and he yanked back as if electrocuted.

Face burning, he tried again, finally caught her wrist, and pulled one small hand free, then the other.

Xiao Yu now lay limp and relieved on top of him, limbs properly extended.

Ai Qing sagged like he’d fought three hundred rounds, sweat coating his back.

He’d let his guard down—forgetting she was naked under the jacket.

What his fingers had just grazed seemed to be...

He blinked, stared at his own hand, mind still fuzzy.

Calm. Analyze. Redirect.

So when she reverted to cat form, equipped items came with her—did that mean unlimited storage?

How did the magic decide what counted as “clothing”?

If he dressed her in ten layers, would all of them vanish and reappear?

What if she was holding something—would that tag along?

Holy crap, if true it wasn’t a wardrobe function; it was a bottomless inventory!

Entering scholar-mode worked: his brain cooled, no longer hijacked by the beautiful girl draped over him.

But Xiao Yu wasn’t a plush toy; she had her own agenda.

While he lay motionless, thinking, she tilted her head, leaned in, and gave his cheek a tentative lick with her tiny pink tongue.

“W-wait—” The lick shattered his analysis. He pressed a palm to her forehead and pushed gently. “Off, off! No licking when you’re human, understand?”

Human words meant nothing to her.

Blocked from his face, she simply sat up, regarded his raised hand with solemn eyes, and licked his palm instead.

Normally he loved that tickly sensation—when it came from a kitten.

From a girl it felt... wrong.

He’d adopted a cat, not a—ugh, no, stop.

He jerked his hand back, gripped her shoulders, and enunciated: “You. Get. Off. Me. OK?”

“Mm?” Xiao Yu tilted her head, uncomprehending.

Communication failure.

Ai Qing gave up, grasped her shoulders, and rolled them both sideways.

This time her reflexes kicked in: she flipped mid-air and landed on her side next to him, facing him.

They lay nose-to-nose on the pillow, her snow-white hair blooming across the linen like petals.

The moon finally escaped the clouds; pale light slipped through the window and brushed their shoulders.

Ai Qing stared, dazed, savoring the surreal intimacy of “girl rolls off me, we gaze into each other’s eyes.”

Having someone beside you in the deep of night really was... wonderful.

He’d day-dreamed of sharing a bed with some future girlfriend.

He just hadn’t pictured it happening quite like this.