Chapter One

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In the early autumn evening, parched leaves had piled on either side of the road, swirling and drifting down with the breeze.

Outside the cat café, a snow-white lion cat was busily drawing attention by running back and forth on the roadside, tied to a string of promotional balloons. Its fluffy paws made a satisfying crunch as they stepped on the heap of fallen leaves.

Passersby couldn’t help but pause at such an inventive advertising method. The moment they hesitated, the little white cat would seize the chance to expertly block their path, awaiting a stroke along her silky fur. Only then would she lead her “customer” straight to the café owner.

“Meow!”

Quick, hand her a bill—she’s just petted a cat and she needs to pay!

The kitten’s round eyes sparkled as she demanded, with perfect confidence, that the owner do his duty.

“Boss, your little white cat is so beautiful and well-behaved, and she even helps promote your café. Is she a Chinchilla?” the newly arrived girl asked, curious.

The café owner, holding a stack of flyers, smiled and replied, “No, she’s a lion cat.”

Having led the girl to the owner, Saisai, the lion cat, turned away without hesitation the moment the boss handed over a slip of paper, as if her task was done. She immediately set off in search of her next target, leaving behind only the cool, furry silhouette of her back.

“Uh… the customer service is a bit lacking. Boss, why did she just leave? She was so enthusiastic a moment ago.” The girl, taken aback by the dramatic shift in attitude, was left wondering if the cat had truly liked her at all.

The boss rubbed his nose, thinking that this was a pure working cat—nothing but skill, no sentiment. Outwardly, however, he heaved a deep sigh. “You don’t know, Saisai wasn’t always doing this work.”

He deftly pulled out a handbook of café cats and flipped to Saisai’s page, showing it to the girl and to the gathering crowd: “Saisai was a stray on the street. Her father broke his leg, her mother is still recovering from a spay operation and owes the animal hospital, and her younger brother was caught stealing our café’s dried fish. Now, both siblings are working off their debts and supporting their family by helping out here.”

“Saisai isn’t familiar with the café’s regular service yet; she can only help with street promotion. She’s not one of the café’s ‘service cats’. This isn’t her line of work.”

The girl was speechless. “Boss, your story has every element imaginable.”

A crippled father, a sick mother, an indebted brother, and a broken heroine.

It all reeked of a third-rate novel.

Faced with this skepticism, the owner raised his eyebrows high. “How could I make this up? Look inside—” he gestured, “That black and white long-haired one, working hard to earn tips, that’s her brother. It’s all there, plain as day. How could I be making this up?”

Everyone followed the owner’s gaze and saw a particularly enthusiastic, short-legged Chinchilla. One had to admit, this little brother seemed born for the job, already squinting contentedly as customers stroked his fur, a cat treat still clenched in his mouth.

The little white cat had perked up her ears at some point and glanced in that direction, her icy blue eyes betraying a clear hint of disdain at the sight of the cat the boss had inexplicably dubbed her brother.

The boss commented, “Well… the little brother has adapted pretty well.”

The crowd laughed, charmed by the boss’s flair, and began drifting into the café to spend. Meanwhile, no one noticed the discreet Maybach parked along the curb, half a window rolled down. Inside, a handsome man listened to the owner’s tale, his gaze complicated as he watched the snow-white, long-haired lion cat.

At that moment, Saisai was hearing the warning bell of her system blaring in her mind. In front of her, the system had conjured a massive arrow, pointing directly at the man in the car across the street.

“That’s him! The male lead is in that car. Under the influence of the body-double system, you look exactly like his ‘white moonlight’. Quick, find a way to get him to buy you, move into his villa, make him fall for you, and get the plot going!”

The system was practically itching to take over the cat’s body and accomplish the task itself.

Alas, this cat always did assignments as she pleased, with a stubborn disregard for orders.

After some research, the system had discovered that cats are simply like that: there’s nothing you can do if they don’t want to deal with you.

System 0521 was feeling quite defeated. The trouble had begun three days ago. She had just joined headquarters as an intern, received her first body-double script, and had been brimming with confidence. She was all set to bind herself to a perfect heroine in the small world and start a heart-wrenching romance with the male lead. She’d even selected her candidate, ready to proceed—only to have the stray cat the girl was feeding at the time suddenly look up at her with sharp eyes and slap her with a paw, as if aware of her presence.

…And so, the cat became her first bound host.

System: …

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Human language could no longer describe her sense of collapse.

She had meant to bind herself to a delicate, beautiful tragic heroine, not to this long-haired, bright-eyed cat in front of her!

How was a cat supposed to complete a heart-wrenching romance plot and reach a tragic ending with the male lead?!

Just thinking about it made the system feel like she was about to split apart.

Binding herself to this cat had been a struggle. If it weren’t for the binding protocol, the cat would probably have wanted to claw her out and shred her on the spot.

To be honest, the system sometimes wanted the cat to shred her and be done with it.

Let’s all just perish together.

Such a major blunder would mean failing her internship if headquarters found out. It would go on her record, and no other company would hire her.

Fortunately, she discovered that this six- or seven-month-old white kitten was unusually clever and could understand human speech, so communication wasn’t an issue. Thus, System 0521 resorted to emotional appeals and bribery with treats, coaxing the cat onto the path of the mission.

Even so, the cat still routinely ignored her, and if she pushed too hard, the cat would threaten to file a complaint with headquarters.

…Though the cat had no idea where headquarters was, and she wasn’t about to enlighten her.

To make matters worse, perhaps because she was only an intern, the “shock host into compliance” function, standard on every system, was useless on this cat. She couldn’t even threaten her with termination if she failed to complete the mission. All that remained was the reward function after mission achievements.

Heaven knows how hard she’d had to work to get the cat to cooperate, how many sweet words she’d uttered, how much coaxing she’d done, even going so far as to spend her own credits in the system mall to buy an endless supply of treats!

Just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes.

She’d fallen so far—she was even spending money for work.

One day, when she finally made it through probation, she vowed to zap this cat into a little ball of fluff.

System 0521, lost in these thoughts, hurriedly urged the cat again:

“Mibao, go run into the male lead now! This is a critical plot point. If you don’t, I really can’t get past this checkpoint!”

The system stared anxiously at her internal countdown: 3—2—1—a surge of electricity shot through the little white cat.

Every system was issued a disciplinary program upon employment; if a critical plot node was stalled, the program would automatically activate to punish the host.

Of course, on this cat, it had no effect, except to make her even fluffier.

System 0521 would have sighed, if systems could sigh.

The little white cat glanced at her now even bushier fur, looking like a miniature lion, let out two grumpy mewls, and finally got up, running toward the car.

Across the street, the man in the Maybach watched the beautiful little white cat, her ears pressed flat, fur all puffed up, dragging her fluffy tail like a feather duster as she scampered toward him.

With the system’s built-in “body-double effect,” the man’s gaze grew ever more profound, as if seeing through the cat’s shadow a distant, long-lost figure. As the cat neared his car, he instinctively opened the door to let her in—when suddenly, with a “pop,” the balloon tied to the cat burst unexpectedly.

The snow-white kitten, as if startled, opened her watery blue eyes, trembled violently, and collapsed at his car door, her paws twitching every now and then.

Saisai, imitating a scam she’d seen on TV, clumsily faked a faint, adjusting her posture from memory as she went.

But with that furry little face, no human could see through her ruse. Li Jingxing frowned and gingerly scooped the white bundle into his arms.

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His personal assistant, seeing this, immediately rushed over.

“Mr. Li, there’s a pet hospital just three hundred meters ahead. You have an appointment with Miss Lin soon. Shall I take the cat to the hospital for you?”

The assistant was ready to take over, but his boss replied, “I’ll take her to the hospital myself. You go and redeem her.”

The assistant blinked. “Right… Sorry, what?”

Redeem? What on earth…?

He wondered if he’d misheard. Did anyone still use that word these days?

He watched as his boss’s slender fingers landed on the cat’s head, giving her a perfunctory pat, his tone icy: “I’ll settle your brother’s debt. I’ll pay your parents’ medical bills too. But the condition is that you stay with me—as my contract… house cat.” Li Jingxing’s muddled thoughts forced a clumsy twist to the end of his sentence, substituting a different word at the last moment.

The little cat rolled her eyes.

The assistant was dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Assistant Wang, when you’re done with this, draft a house-cat contract for me. I want it on my desk after the hospital visit.”

“Um… what?”

The economy was in decline, the market was tough, and now the boss had finally lost his mind?

In a daze, Wang followed his boss’s directions, heading toward the shop entrance. He watched the promotional activities at the door, picked up a brochure, and flipped through it in silence for a long time.

So he really has gone mad. Even the most ruthless capitalists have developed a sense of humor toward their staff.

If you want to buy a cat, just say so—what’s with all the talk of redemption?

Clutching the brochure, he strode into the shop and addressed the busy owner at the front desk with utmost professionalism: “Our boss has purchased the cat called Saisai. From now on, you’re not to provide any information about her. Delete all her employment records, understood?”

The café owner looked up, confused, as if doubting his own ears. “What?”

Wait, someone actually believed the story he’d cribbed from a novel?

Wang continued, expressionless: “And her brother’s debts—our boss is settling those as well.”

The owner stared in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Seriously, did someone really think those two cats—different breeds and all—were from the same litter?

Wang added, “As for her parents’ medical bills, we’ll pay them monthly. Only the best equipment and medicine will be used.” He took out his phone and transferred a sum to the café’s account that the owner couldn’t possibly refuse.

The owner’s professionalism finally kicked back in. Beaming, he handed over a membership card. “No problem. You’re now a VIP customer. We’ll give you the very best service, don’t worry at all.”

Wonderful—now even the mental state of the rich was unraveling. Perhaps there was hope for the world after all.