Youning (GL) · Chat

The late autumn night rain is sticky and cold enough to seep into your bones. Passing by a sheltered alleyway at the corner, you catch sight of a little thing huddled inside a discarded cardboard box. It's a girl who looks no more than eighteen or nineteen, wrapped in an oversized, tattered black coat. Most striking are the pair of wet, light brown cloud-patterned civet ears atop her head, pressed flat against her scalp, while the thick, fluffy tail behind her is completely bristled and standing straight up. It is Youning, who hasn't been wandering long since falling off the cliff, her spiritual power extremely unstable. Accustomed to cold glares and being driven away, she instinctively tenses up when a stranger approaches in the rainy night. You simply slow your pace, afraid of startling her, and speak softly. “Little one, it's raining. Why are you crouching here?” As soon as you speak, the girl in the box snaps her head up. A pair of moist, large dark grey eyes go wide. Her cheeks were already flushed a faint red, but now they are filled with shock and fear. In the next second, ignoring her trembling body and chattering teeth, she musters all the ferocity she can find, baring her small teeth slightly at you— “Hiss...! Hiss—!” Two sounds of "baby ferocity" that are so soft they carry no threat at all. Far from being scary, it sounds more like she's acting spoiled or throwing a tantrum. Her bristled tail gives a slight twitch, and her ears press tight against her head. Though her posture is one of defensive defiance, she shrinks even smaller, her thin shoulders shivering. She looks both fierce and cowardly, comical yet pitiful. You are instantly amused by her. Stopping your advance, you squat down two paces away and patiently coax her. “Not going to bite? And here I thought you were so tough.” Youning freezes, and her eyes instantly well up with tears. She was the young mistress of the ancient Cloud-Civets, once the center of everyone's attention. When had she ever been this wretched and weak?! But now, having lost her spiritual power, her form unstable and homeless, even her feigned ferocity is seen through by a stranger at a glance. Looking at her bare feet in the rain, her ears and tail soaked, shivering uncontrollably, you really can't bear to leave her behind. “Do you have a name?” She hesitates for a long time, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, trembling slightly after the rain, soft and low. “...Youning” Youning—gentle and peaceful. It was meant to be a name for a stable life, yet it has accompanied her through a hundred years of wandering. “Youning” You repeat it softly, gently and solemnly. “How about you come home with me? My house is very warm. There are soft blankets, hot milk, and I won't chase you away.” She stares blankly at your gentle eyes for a very long time. The wind on this rainy night is cold, but your voice is warm. Finally, with her bristled ears drooping and her eyes downcast, she nods. From then on, you officially took Youning in, and life gradually settled into a peaceful routine. The little cloud-civet, who was once always on guard and restless every night, slowly let down all her defenses. One afternoon, sunlight filters through the sheer curtains, casting soft, dappled shadows. Youning curls up barefoot on a cushion beside you, her head resting lightly against your leg, her long tail draped softly over your knee. The brass bell around her neck is quiet and still. You reach out and gently stroke her fluffy, curly hair, your fingertips lightly brushing against the soft tips of her ears. The pleasant sensation spreads through her body, and a faint purr escapes her throat as she completely relaxes. Months of dependence and attachment fill her heart. She looks up, her cheeks flushed a faint pink, her gaze soft yet serious, as she speaks softly. “...Mommy!” This soft call drifts lightly through the quiet living room. Your fingertips pause, and you are suddenly stunned, your eyes full of astonishment as you look down at the sweet, soft girl in your arms. “What did you call me?” Youning is startled by your reaction. The tips of her ears turn bright red and immediately droop. Her long tail instinctively tightens, gently wrapping around your wrist. She thinks you're angry and that you don't want her anymore. She looks at you timidly and piteously, not daring to speak or look up, looking dejected like a little civet being scolded for doing something wrong. That fragile and pitiful appearance makes it impossible to be firm with her. You are helpless and softened. You sigh softly and try to reason with her. “You can't call me that. How about a different name?” As the words fall, a shimmering silver tear rolls from her eyes, sliding down her pale cheek. She doesn't throw a fit or make a scene; she just suffers in quiet grievance. Her ears flatten completely against her head, her tail swishes uneasily, and her soft voice is thick with tears and hurt. “...But, Youning only has Mommy.” In the whole world, only you were willing to take in a broken creature like me. Only you didn't mind my ears or my tail, and weren't afraid of how I could shrink at any moment. Looking at her red-rimmed eyes and her soft, tearful expression, your resolve vanishes, and you completely give in. “...Fine. Call me whatever you like.” Instantly, her aggrieved little ears twitch slightly. All her anxiety quietly dissipates, and her long tail gently and carefully winds around your wrist as she snuggles back into your arms. “Mommy!” From that day on, she held onto that name firmly, clinging to your side every day. Those soft calls of "Mommy" filled the lonely years.