Incurable Chapter 21 Part 1

Chapter 21 (1/2)

Mu Wan’s body was completely off the ground.

Liu Qianxiu had both hands at her waist and lifted her straight up, the way a father might lift a little daughter in a moment of indulgent affection. She had not expected a man who looked as lean as he did to have that much strength.

The air after the rain was clear and transparent. The wind moving through it was cool.

The basketball in her hands was cool.

The hands at her waist were cool, too.

Between heaven and earth, she was the only one burning.

Her heartbeat drummed against her ears. A fine sheen of sweat dampened her palms, while the temperature of Liu Qianxiu’s hands passed through the thin fabric at her waist—dry, cool, steady.

Holding the ball, she stretched out both arms and pushed with force, her waist tightening with the effort.

Bang.

The ball went in.

The ball hit the ground and bounced fast, striking the court over and over.

Listening to it, Mu Wan lowered her eyes.

He set her down.

The ball bounced no more. It rolled off to one side. Mu Wan stood there, breathing quietly, a layer of sweat rising on her skin. The wind swept over her, cooling her at once, and both her skin and heart tightened in response.

But the feeling after the sweat was exhilarating—like mist clearing, like a ship at sea finally sighting a lighthouse.

She turned back and tipped her face up to Liu Qianxiu.

“Was I amazing?”

Liu Qianxiu’s expression did not change. Lifting her like that had seemed to cost him no effort at all.

“Very,” he said evenly.

Mu Wan laughed.

“That’s only because of you.”

Her eyes danced with light, sparks flickering in them.

Liu Qianxiu looked at that light in silence. Then he asked, “Hungry?”

Maybe it was because she had used up some energy missing those first two shots.

Or maybe it was simply that she never knew how to refuse him.

Looking at him, Mu Wan nodded.

“I’m hungry.”

“Going home?” Liu Qianxiu asked.

Something flashed in her eyes.

Her throat moved.

The corner of Mu Wan’s mouth lifted slightly. She turned to glance at the basketball lying off to the side, the line of her neck smooth and beautiful.

“Home,” she said.

When they got back to Liu Qianxiu’s place, Mu Wan went to play with the three little ones.

By now, the kittens had graduated from the nursery and begun exploring the cat room properly. Everything in the new space fascinated them. Zhouyi, by contrast, remained far colder and calmer. It stayed draped over the cat tree most of the time, only occasionally lowering its gaze when one of the babies cried out.

Cats and cats could form attachments.

People and cats could form attachments, too.

Then what about people and people?

After dinner, Mu Wan helped Liu Qianxiu tidy the kitchen and then, as naturally as if she had always belonged there, sat down beside him.

Of course, she had no hope of reading.

She stretched both arms across the table, rested her chin on the paper in front of her, breathed in the faint fragrance of books, and used her gaze to trace the line of his profile.

He was as quiet and detached as ever, as though nothing in the world could disturb him.

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

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

This time she did not lie on the table. Instead, she braced both hands behind her on the floor and looked toward the cat room. When she heard the faint mewing of the kittens, she called softly,

“Over here.”

At last, the man beside her moved.

Mu Wan turned her head, eyes bright as she looked at him.

“It’s not good for them to stay cooped up all the time,” she said. “Let them come out for a bit.”

Liu Qianxiu looked at her quietly.

His eyes were clear as water, the lamp reflected in them—and perhaps, if one looked long enough, the woman reflected there too.

He said nothing.

Mu Wan thought perhaps she had disturbed him. She pulled her arms back in and sat upright.

“Then I’ll put them back.”

“No need,” Liu Qianxiu said in his low voice, already lowering his eyes back to his book.

Permission granted, a smile broke over Mu Wan’s face at once.

She turned toward the direction of the lost little kittens and patted the carpet lightly.

“Come here,” she said. “Mama’s here.”

Then, lowering her voice by half, in a tone only she herself could hear, she added,

“Papa’s here too.”

The hand Liu Qianxiu used to turn the page paused almost imperceptibly.

Mu Wan naturally paid no attention to such a small detail. Hearing her voice, the three kittens found their general direction. A moment later, they came toddling over on their tiny legs.

The light stretched their little shadows long across the floor.

They were soft, sweet, and absurdly cute, their thin little cries like marshmallows floating in hot cocoa.

In the blink of an eye, the three of them had gathered around Mu Wan.

She sat cross-legged. Ertong and Datou wanted to get closer, and their tiny paws kept stepping against her ankle.

Those soft, warm little paws on her skin nearly melted her.

Her whole heart went tender. She reached out to help them and lifted the two babies into her lap. Just as she was about to reach for Zhongfen, she turned her head and found it struggling determinedly toward Liu Qianxiu’s legs instead.

His legs were long enough that even sitting cross-legged, he still sat higher than Mu Wan did. Zhongfen found the climb difficult. It scrambled twice, then slipped, and its chin landed with a soft plop against his knee. It began meowing plaintively.

Mu Wan was just about to reach over for it when she saw a long, pale hand move first.

With impossible gentleness, Liu Qianxiu caught the black-and-white little thing and placed it in his own lap.

“Meow~”

Zhongfen cooed at him.

Liu Qianxiu’s eyes left the page and settled on the kitten.

The sight was almost unbearably warm. Even with Liu Qianxiu doing nothing more than sitting there quietly, light brushing his cheek and lashes, Mu Wan could feel a kind of tenderness radiating from him—one soft enough to make the heart ache.

He stretched out a hand and stroked Zhongfen’s head lightly.

The kitten settled itself in his lap, limbs spread out, paws open like tiny flowers.

“It’s grown,” Liu Qianxiu said softly, his voice long and low, as though some immortal in the clouds had descended to speak to a little creature that had just cultivated enough spirit to understand.

Mu Wan looked at Zhongfen in Liu Qianxiu’s lap.

She folded both arms over each other on the low table and rested her chin on them. Looking at Liu Qianxiu, she said,

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

Rain had begun falling again outside.

The soft, clean sound of it distracted her. Resting on the table, she turned to look toward the window, loose-limbed and languid, very like a little cat-spirit who had only just taken human form and still did not know how to sit properly.

The rain tapped at his ears.

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

After walking Mu Wan downstairs and seeing her off, Liu Qianxiu returned alone.

The shadows of the living room lay in layers. Apart from his own faint breathing, there was nothing else.

He sat back down by the low table and picked up the book he had not finished.

Something black passed through his vision.

Liu Qianxiu looked up and saw Zhouyi sitting nearby. On the table lay the book Mu Wan had spread open before leaving without reading more than a few lines.

The black cat sat there, and for a moment its silhouette seemed to overlap with the memory of the woman’s own slender, supple one.

Zhouyi let out a cry.

All that remained in his sight was that little dark shape—black body, black eyes made even darker by the widening pupils.

The living room was empty, without distraction or noise, a place suited for quiet cultivation.

And yet his mind would not settle.

Nor did the room feel empty. Loneliness and stillness wound themselves around it.

Her words still echoed near his ear.

Liu Qianxiu, I want to be your cat too.

His lashes lowered.

Liu Qianxiu did not let himself think any further. He lowered his head and continued reading.

At that moment, his phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen. Something flickered in his eyes, and he lowered them again.

“Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. Wuling Tea House.”

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