Her apartment was small, decorated, neat, and comfortable. On the table, a single cup. By the dining area, a single chair. Little details like that told the same story over and over.
A woman living alone.
Mu Wan came out carrying the cat bed in her thin arms. A light blanket covered it, and beneath the fabric, two tiny bodies wriggled. She looked up at Liu Qianxiu, eyes large and bright.
“I’ll take them to your place,” she said. “Otherwise,e it’ll be hard for you to carry them while driving.”
It wasn’t only that. Mu Wan wanted to know where he lived so she could find the place if she needed to check on them. He said he had experience raising kittens, but experience could be exaggerated. Mu Wan didn’t trust easily.
Liu Qianxiu’s expression stayed level. His eyes remained deep and still. He only said, “Alright.”
Mu Wan suddenly felt petty.
So, besides the cat bed and the cats, she packed more supplies, nearly half a box. Then they went downstairs, one carrying the cat bed, the other carrying the box.
They ran into a neighbor across the hall. The woman’s gaze lingered on Liu Qianxiu a little too long before she looked back at Mu Wan and greeted her.
Mu Wan wasn’t close with the neighbors. She smiled and nodded, then followed Liu Qianxiu to his BMW X5.
Lin Wei had joked that a doctor and an eighteen-line actress were about the same, but there were differences. At Liu Qianxiu’s age, Mu Wan couldn’t be sure she’d afford a place like Nanfeng Apartments, let alone this car.
It was Mu Wan’s first time entering the home of a man who lived alone. She wasn’t particularly on guard. With Liu Qianxiu, it felt unnecessary. Compared to most men, he was more like a Daoist than anything else.
Nanfeng Apartments were expensive, and his building was among the best, with open views and a prime location. The apartment itself was huge, easily over two hundred square meters. The moment she stepped in, she smelled agarwood.
The scent was clean and piercing, the kind that went straight to the head.
White Qi’nan agarwood, the sort that could be more precious than gold.
Mu Wan’s home was already simple. Liu Qianxiu’s was even simpler, yet the simplicity carried refinement, quiet luxury. The lamp, the low table, the rug, none of them looked ordinary. You could imagine the owner’s temperament just by standing there.
Detached. Unworldly. And unmistakably expensive.
Liu Qianxiu bent to set the box down. He pulled out a pair of brand-new slippers and offered them to her.
“Wear these.”
He was inviting her further in.
Mu Wan adjusted her grip on the cat bed. The blanket had slipped, and Da Tou and Er Tong wriggled underneath, meowing.
“Thank you,” she said, and slipped on the slippers.
They were clearly his. They are a little big. Mu Wan’s narrow, pale feet disappeared into the light coffee-colored cotton-linen. The soles were firm but surprisingly comfortable.
Liu Qianxiu didn’t say anything else. He picked up the box and headed toward a room. Mu Wan followed.
Before he even opened the door, something black slid across her feet.
Mu Wan took a startled step back.
“Zhou Yi,” Liu Qianxiu called, gaze steady.
Mu Wan looked up.
A sleek black cat stood by the low table, watching her. Its pupils were golden slits, sharp and strange even in daylight. At Liu Qianxiu’s call, it answered with a single, calm meow.
“This is your cat?” Mu Wan asked. The black cat felt almost supernatural, and the name made it even worse. Zhou Yi, of course. A Daoist’s cat.
“Mhm,” Liu Qianxiu replied, and opened the door.
It was a dedicated cat room.
A floor-to-ceiling balcony connected to it. Soft rugs covered the floor. A large cat tree spread like branches. Everything was spotless: the litter box, the bed, the water fountain. Near the window, a smaller area was sectioned off with glass like a nursery, clearly designed for kittens.
Inside the glass nursery, supplies were neatly arranged, everything she’d bought in panic and more.
Mu Wan set the cat bed down.
Liu Qianxiu moved with practiced ease. He mixed the formula, warmed it, and fed Da Tou and Er Tong, who were already meowing like they’d been starved for days.
Mu Wan squatted beside the bed and watched him feed them, his hands steady, his motions familiar. Her earlier worry and suspicion felt unnecessary. Experience was experience. He really did know what he was doing, and he did it better than she had.
Once that relief settled, Mu Wan prepared to leave. She looked down at Da Tou and Er Tong, then thought of Zhong Fen at the hospital. Slowly, she slipped her hand out from beneath the kittens.
As she rose to say goodbye, a small sound appeared beneath the quiet rhythm of the kittens sucking on the bottle.
Her stomach.
Not loud, not soft. Just perfectly timed.
Mu Wan blinked.
Liu Qianxiu had already looked over.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced down at the bottle, then pulled it away once it was empty. He lifted his eyes to Mu Wan.
“You didn’t eat?”
The question stripped away the awkwardness. Mu Wan smiled instead, eyes bright, and admitted it easily.
“No. When I go back,k I’ll just…”
“Do you eat noodles?” Liu Qianxiu cut in.
Mu Wan froze for half a beat, surprised. Her lips parted slightly, lashes long over eyes that caught the light.
“You… make noodles?” she asked.
“Mhm.”
“Then yes,” Mu Wan said immediately.
Then her brain caught up and stalled.
She looked at Liu Qianxiu and realized what she’d just agreed to sounded a little too… eager.
The author has something to say:Mu Wan: I am responsible for driving the car today. You all stay in the car, and none of you can run away.
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