Incurable Chapter 21 Part 1

Mu Wan’s body was lifted clean off the ground.

Liu Qianxiu’s hands gripped her waist and raised her straight up, the way a father lifts a little girl—careful, indulgent, gentle. She hadn’t expected him, all lean lines and quiet restraint, to have that kind of strength.

The air after the rain was crystal-clear. The breeze was cool. The basketball in Mu Wan’s hands was cool.

The hands at her waist were cool, too.

In the whole world, only Mu Wan was hot.

Her heartbeat hammered at her eardrums. Sweat dampened her palms. And the temperature of Liu Qianxiu’s hands, transmitted through the thin fabric at her waist, was dry and cool.

She hugged the ball, stretched her arms, and pushed—her waist tightening, the line of her body pulling into focus.

Bang.

The ball dropped through the hoop.

It hit the ground and bounced fast, slapping the court. Mu Wan listened to the sound, lowered her gaze—

And felt herself being set down again.

The ball rolled away and didn’t bounce back.

Mu Wan breathed quietly. Heat-sweat rose across her skin; the wind brushed her, turning that heat instantly cold. Her body tightened. Her heart tightened with it.

But the feeling afterward was clean and exhilarating—like fog lifting, like a ship finally spotting its lighthouse.

She turned, tipped her head up at him, and asked, “Am I impressive?”

Liu Qianxiu’s expression didn’t change. As if lifting her had cost him nothing at all, he said simply, “Impressive.”

Mu Wan smiled. “Because of you, I’m impressed.”

She looked at him, light jumping in her eyes like scattered sparks. He watched that fire, quietly, and asked, “Hungry?”

Maybe the two failed shots had burned a little energy. Or maybe Mu Wan simply didn’t know how to refuse him.

Mu Wan nodded. “Hungry.”

“Go home?” Liu Qianxiu asked.

A flicker of light sparked again in her eyes. Her throat moved. Mu Wan’s lips curved slightly as she glanced at the ball on the court, her neckline smooth and pretty.

“Home.”

Back at Liu Qianxiu’s place, Mu Wan went to play with the three little ones. They’d already graduated from the nursery room and were exploring the cat room. Everything was new, and they were thrilled by it.

Zhou Yi, by contrast, was cool and aloof, stretched out on the cat tree. He only glanced down when the kittens’ tiny voices got too insistent.

Cats built bonds with cats. People built bonds with cats.

But what about people with people?

After dinner, Mu Wan helped Liu Qianxiu tidy the kitchen, then naturally settled beside him. She couldn’t read. She stretched her arms across the tabletop, pressed her chin onto the pages, breathed in the faint smell of paper and ink, and traced his outline with her eyes.

He was still calm, still distant, still impossible to shake.

Mu Wan watched him for a while, then got up and went to the cat room.

Not long after, she came back and sat beside him again.

This time, she didn’t drape herself across the table. She leaned back with both hands braced behind her, gaze angled toward the cat room. When she heard the kittens’ thin little cries, Mu Wan called softly, “Over here.”

The man beside her finally moved.

Mu Wan turned, eyes bright as she looked at him. “It’s not good to keep them cooped up. Let them come out, get some air.”

Liu Qianxiu watched her quietly, eyes clean as water. The lamplight reflected there, and for a moment, it seemed her silhouette lived in his gaze.

He didn’t speak.

Mu Wan thought she’d bothered him. She pulled her arms back, sat up straighter, and said, “Then I’ll put them back.”

“No,” Liu Qianxiu said lowly, and lowered his gaze back to the book.

Permission granted.

A smile burst into Mu Wan’s eyes. She looked at the kittens wandering aimlessly and gently patted the carpet.

“Come here. Mommy’s here.”

After she said it, she lowered her voice even more—so soft only she could hear it.

“Daddy’s here too.”

Liu Qianxiu’s fingers paused mid-page.

Mu Wan didn’t notice.

The three little ones heard her, found the general direction, and soon came wobbling toward her on their short legs.

Their shadows stretched and enlarged under the light—soft, clumsy, unbearably cute. Their tiny voices sounded like marshmallows soaked in hot cocoa.

In a blink, they were clustered around her.

Mu Wan sat cross-legged. Er Tong and Da Tou tried to get closer, little paws stepping onto her ankle.

Those warm, soft paws on her skin melted her outright.

She gathered them up and settled them on her lap. When she reached for Zhong Fen, she couldn’t find him at first. She tilted her head—

And saw him scrambling toward Liu Qianxiu’s leg.

Liu Qianxiu’s legs were long. Even sitting cross-legged, he was higher than Mu Wan. Zhong Fen struggled, paws slipping. After two tries, he stepped into the air, his chin thumping onto Liu Qianxiu’s leg as he cried out, meowing.

Mu Wan lifted her hand to grab him—

But before she could, a long, pale hand caught Zhong Fen. Fingers curled, movement incredibly gentle, and he placed him carefully on Liu Qianxiu’s lap.

“Meow,” Zhong Fen whined, immediately sweet again.

Liu Qianxiu’s gaze left the book and settled on the kitten.

One man. One cat.

The scene was warm enough to hurt. Even with Liu Qianxiu’s quiet face, even with the lamp softening his lashes, Mu Wan could feel that tenderness in him—so quiet it almost felt unreal, so soft it made her heart ache.

He reached out, fingertips brushing lightly over Zhong Fen’s head. Zhong Fen relaxed against his lap, limbs loose, paws open like small flowers blooming.

“He’s grown,” Liu Qianxiu murmured.

His voice was long and distant, like someone from the clouds speaking to a creature below that had finally learned to live.

Mu Wan watched Zhong Fen on his lap. She folded her arms on the low table and rested her chin there. Looking up at Liu Qianxiu, she said quietly:

“Liu Qianxiu… I want to be your cat too.”

Outside, rain began again, its clear sound pulling her attention. She lay there, soft and languid, posture lazy and loose—like a kitten-spirit who had just taken human form and still didn’t know how to sit properly.

Rain tapped at the air. Liu Qianxiu looked at her and said, “It’s late. I’ll take you home.”

He walked her downstairs and returned to his apartment alone. The living room held layers of light and shadow. Aside from his faint breathing, there was nothing.

Liu Qianxiu sat at the low table and picked up the book he hadn’t finished.

A black blur crossed his vision.

He lifted his eyes and saw Zhou Yi sitting nearby.

On the table lay the book Mu Wan had opened and never really read.

The black cat sat there, and for a moment it overlapped with the memory of Mu Wan—thin, soft, bright.

Zhou Yi meowed. In his vision, there remained only darkness: a dark body, dark eyes, pupils widened into black pools.

The room was quiet and clean, perfect for stillness.

And yet his mind wouldn’t quiet.

The room wasn’t empty either. Loneliness and silence circled it, close and patient.

Mu Wan’s words echoed.

Liu Qianxiu, I want to be your cat.

His lashes lowered. He didn’t chase the thought. He looked down and kept reading.

Then his phone buzzed.

Liu Qianxiu glanced at the screen. His eyelids shifted. He lowered his gaze again.

“Tomorrow morning at eight. Wuling Tea House.”

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