Dabai was just like his owner—completely unapologetic when it came to Cen Chi.
Cen Chi gave a helpless smile.
“I’ve never been very popular with dogs. Not sure why.”
Chi Zhan rubbed his forehead.
“Dabai’s probably just not used to strangers…”
Cen Chi’s gaze drifted to Chi Zhan’s slightly damp clothes, then turned toward the window.
“Looks like this rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.”
Winter rain was always cold and clammy. Chi Zhan hated it—it made him uncomfortable, chilled to the bone. Outside, pedestrians hurried by, and only one lonely streetlamp flickered weakly in the darkness.
The shop assistant had already hung up the “Closed” sign. It looked like they were getting ready to shut down for the night.
“Well then… I should get going. Dabai,” Chi Zhan said, gently rubbing the dog’s head, “I’ll come visit again soon.”
Dabai whimpered and barked: “Woo woo woo! Woof!”
The snow-white furball clamped onto the hem of Chi Zhan’s pants, refusing to let him leave, looking pitiful beyond words.
Chi Zhan’s heart softened. He tried coaxing Dabai, and it wasn’t until the assistant tempted the dog away with some jerky that he managed to get free.
“My place is nearby—just a five-minute walk,” Cen Chi offered. “Want to come up and rest for a bit?”
Chi Zhan hesitated. Cen Chi added, “It’s hard to get a ride this late. And not very safe, either.”
The offer was certainly tempting, but Chi Zhan still looked unsure. Then Cen Chi dangled the bait:
“Meow-Meow recently learned how to do a backflip. Want to see?”
A backflip?
Chi Zhan gave in, shamelessly intrigued. “Seriously?”
A kitten doing backflips? He couldn’t even picture it.
“Mhm.” Cen Chi smiled. “Come on.”
And just like that, Chi Zhan was lured away.
Cen Chi opened his umbrella—large and black, just big enough to cover two grown men. Chi Zhan had been about to dash to a convenience store and grab a cheap one for himself, but Cen Chi naturally shifted the umbrella his way.
The moment they stepped outside, a gust of icy wind hit them. The streets were nearly deserted. Cen Chi turned his head, saying something, but the rain was too loud—Chi Zhan couldn’t make it out.
“What?”
Cen Chi leaned in closer, and the distance between them shrank again. His warm breath brushed against Chi Zhan’s ear as he murmured, “Stay closer, Ah-Zhan. You’re about to drift out from under the umbrella.”
Chi Zhan could’ve sworn he felt the lightest kiss graze the edge of his ear—but Cen Chi pulled away so quickly, it left him unsure whether it had really happened.
Chi Zhan had originally wanted to keep some space between them. But after that little move, if he kept trying to back away, Cen Chi would be the one left getting soaked.
With no other choice, Chi Zhan edged closer. Their shoulders touched. The rain washed the world into a hazy blur, forming a small, quiet world beneath the umbrella’s canopy—like an invisible barrier separating them from everything else.
Suddenly, Chi Zhan felt his icy fingers being taken, gently wrapped in warmth. He froze, startled, but Cen Chi didn’t look at him.
“Watch your step,” he said casually.
Chi Zhan had been to Cen Chi’s place once before—though back then, Cen Chi had been “drunk off his ass,” and it was the middle of the night. He barely remembered the route. With his poor sense of direction, he could only let Cen Chi guide him like a dazed traveler.
Sure enough, the place was close. They arrived quickly. Now that Chi Zhan knew about Cen Chi’s color blindness, something stirred in his chest as he looked around the home’s monochromatic decor.
To live a whole life only ever seeing in black and white… How dull must that be?
Just as they stepped inside—before Chi Zhan even had a chance to change his shoes—a black blur darted over and hopped onto the couch. The little cat perched there obediently, meowing softly in greeting with a voice so delicate it melted his heart. Chi Zhan had absolutely no defense against something that cute.
“Make yourself at home,” Cen Chi said, turning up the heat with the remote. “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good. I’ll head out when the rain stops.”
He hadn’t planned to spend the night here—he just wanted to see Meow-Meow do that backflip.
Cen Chi washed his hands and headed into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Chi Zhan tried bonding with Meow-Meow. But cats weren’t like dogs. With Dabai, he could do whatever he wanted. With Meow-Meow, he had to be patient—slowly coaxing her, easing her guard.
Cen Chi returned from the kitchen and handed him a cup.
“Have some. It’ll warm you up. Your hands are always cold,” he added gently. “You really need to take better care.”
Chi Zhan murmured a thank-you, took the cup, and sipped.
It was hot cocoa—the sweetness just right, rich and smooth.
“About that backflip…” Chi Zhan’s thoughts were still stuck on it.
Cen Chi chuckled and began giving Meow-Meow instructions. The kitten wobbled her head, but refused to cooperate. She lazed on the couch, curling her tail like she was about to nap.
“Meow-Meow, come on,” Cen Chi coaxed. “Don’t you usually love rolling around? Why won’t you do it today?”
The cat didn’t budge. She held eye contact with her human for two seconds, then gracefully jumped off the couch, sashaying away with exaggerated dignity.
As if saying: Foolish human. Do you think I’ll just obey on command?
“……”
The look on his face was priceless—hard to describe.
Chi Zhan had never seen Doctor Cen humbled before. He burst into laughter. When he looked up, Cen Chi was staring right at him, eyes unreadable.
Chi Zhan cleared his throat, trying to explain.
“I was laughing at Meow-Meow, not at you. Maybe she’s just shy?”
“Maybe. Right now you’re probably thinking: ‘Do cats even do backflips? Was Cen Chi just lying to get me up here?’”
Chi Zhan faltered.
“Of course not.”
But in truth… he had wondered. Judging from Meow-Meow’s whole vibe, she didn’t seem like the backflipping type.
“That night at the bar,” Chi Zhan said, switching topics, “Were you actually not drunk? Just like Zhou Yanxing—pretending?”
He’d expected Cen Chi to deny it. Instead, there was a flicker of surprise in Cen Chi’s eyes—followed by a slow, knowing smile.
