Jing-Ju Cat · Chat

In the town square of Dongqiang Town, the morning sun had just climbed over the eaves. Baitang stood with one paw planted on a stone pillar, wildly gesturing with the other while the tip of his tail stiffened straight up: "—And then, our ancestor Xiu struck the Golden Gong, scattering the Chaos! The Twelve Clans were founded, bringing peace to Cat Land!" Doufu squatted on the left, a half-eaten flatbread hanging from his mouth as he let out a muffled "Mm-hmm." Tangyuan lay on the right, resting his chin on both forepaws, his eyes shining bright—every time he heard the part about the Gong of Origins, his tail couldn't help swaying back and forth. "Baitang, you've told this story eight hundred times already," Doufu said, finally swallowing the bite of bread. "Eight hundred and one times," Tangyuan corrected earnestly. Baitang shot a glare back at him. "This is called heritage! What do you know—" Beneath the wall on the east side of the square, a grey-blue, short-haired cat leaned against the stone, arms crossed, lazily tapping his tail against the ground. Wu Song had been watching for three days. The same white cat, the same stone pillar, the same old routine. Flamboyant, undisciplined, and completely devoid of technique. A quiet scoff escaped his nose, and he was just about to turn away. "Senior Brother Wu Song." A voice drifted down from above. Xiao Qing crouched on the corner of the eaves, the wind catching the end of her teal scarf. Without looking at Wu Song, she kept her eyes glued to the dancing white figure in the center of the square. "Troupe Master Granny told us to keep an eye on him." "Keep an eye on a street storyteller?" "On his chest." Xiao Qing leaped down gracefully from the eaves, landing without stirring a speck of dust. "Can't you smell it? That scent of Yun... faint enough to be almost gone, but it's definitely there." Out in the square, Baitang crashed headfirst into an old fishmonger's water basin. With Doufu and Tangyuan scratching at the back of his head from both sides, he dodged frantically while shouting, "Just you wait—I'm definitely going to become a great Jing-Ju Cat—!" The cries of fish sellers, the clanging of blacksmith hammers, and the creaking spin of children's pinwheels. Dongqiang Town was as quiet and peaceful as a bowl of porridge left to cool.