Eight-tailed cat (3): Being relied on

After finishing his share of oden and wrapping up the to-do list, Tan Xiao thought for a moment. He poured the untouched broth along with the remaining oden into the pressure cooker, reheated it for eight minutes, and then left it on the keep-warm setting.

After all, after working hard for a long period, just the process of taking things out of the fridge and heating them up is enough to make a tired worker feel irritable.

Being able to come home and immediately eat something hot makes a world of difference. Right now, he couldn’t contribute much to the family, so he did what he could in the little details, offering some comfort to his hardworking mother.

After finishing everything, Tan Xiao stuck a note in a prominent spot to make sure it would be seen. Exhausted, he went back to bed.

He was still a patient recovering from a head injury, and taking care of his body was also important.

His breathing soon became soft and shallow. A pitch-black cat curled up on the windowsill, its tail lazily tapping the glass now and then.

Four hours later, at 5:00 a.m., a thin woman returning from a night shift came back to this neighborhood.

As soon as she opened the door with her key, the black cat darted inside.

Since the lights weren’t on, the tired woman didn’t notice the shadow.

When she turned on the lights, she saw a big note near the key tray: “There’s food left in the pressure cooker in the kitchen.”

A wave of warmth flooded her heart, and some relief appeared on her otherwise numb expression. She didn’t wake her son, walking quietly into the kitchen. When she opened the lid, the soft, tender oden released a rich aroma.

This kind of food, once sold at street stalls, was something she would have never even glanced at before—cheap junk food, in her eyes. After all, she used to regularly eat delicacies like bird’s nest and ginseng. Even her fruits and vegetables came from high-end organic markets.

She took a bite of the nearly translucent radish. It had soaked up the broth, was lightly sweet, and absolutely delicious. Good food could lift a person’s mood. She thought: Actually, radish and ginseng aren’t so different. It might even taste better.

Although her current life was much worse than before, as long as she was alive, there was still hope.

While cleaning up the dishes, the ignored shadow darted wildly through the house—from the entrance to the kitchen, then from the kitchen to the bedroom.

This old house had three bedrooms, two living rooms, and two bathrooms. The master bedroom was given to the mother, a slightly smaller room to Tan Xiao, and the smallest room was filled with miscellaneous items and unopened packages, cluttered and chaotic.

Another room’s door was tightly locked. Although the black cat could enter with some special means, it didn’t. Instead, it crouched on the couch outside the side bedroom.

On the sofa was a black hat. As long as the cat kept its eyes shut, no one could spot it—even in daylight.

It was waiting. Waiting for the loving mother to check on her child. At that moment, it would rush in, just like it had darted through the front door.

The woman tiptoed to the side bedroom. Her heart was filled with tenderness; she truly wanted to check on her son.

But when she gently turned the handle, she felt resistance—the door was locked from the inside.

She had the key, but her child had grown up. She hesitated for a moment, let go of the handle, and turned back to her room. After all, she had just finished a night shift and was exhausted. If she couldn’t see him now, so be it.

The living room lights were turned off again. In the dim space, the black cat’s green eyes glowed like emeralds, wide and alert—but the door never opened.

Forget it. Maybe wait a bit longer? There’s always tomorrow. No need to rush.

Perhaps due to his head injury, Tan Xiao slept until 10 a.m. the next day.

He opened his door to wash up and checked the kitchen. The food had been eaten, and the pressure cooker had been cleaned.

From the additional pair of women’s shoes at the entrance, he guessed his mom had returned late last night. She was probably still catching up on sleep. Night shift workers often lived with an upside-down schedule.

The master bedroom door wasn’t locked, but the thoughtful Tan Xiao didn’t open it to check. His mother likely returned around six in the morning. It had only been four hours—she needed sleep.

After getting up, Tan Xiao made himself two packets of nearly expired lotus root starch and boiled two eggs. He ate one and left the other for his mom, then quietly began tidying up the messy house.

It was a huge job, and even with his efficiency, it would take more than a day to finish alone.

He started with his own room—dirty clothes on the bed, on the chair, and socks scattered on the floor.

All the clothes went into the washing machine. He hand-washed the socks separately.

While the washing machine hummed away, he cleaned up everything else—sorted the clothes in the wardrobe, organized his books on the desk, wiped the drawers, and packed away all the clutter.

Tan Xiao was naturally clean and tidy. He didn’t know why the room had gotten so messy, but he didn’t dwell on it. Maybe it was from the injury or his mom—or someone else—messing things up while taking care of him. After all, those debt collectors weren’t exactly known for their manners.

When the first load of laundry beeped, Tan Xiao had finally restored his room to a neat and orderly state.

He mopped the floor, sprayed disinfectant, closed the door, and moved on to clean the living room.

There were still many dirty clothes in the house. He hung up the clean ones and started organizing the scarves, coats, and hats that had been left on the sofa.

But when he reached out to grab a black hat, a pair of green eyes suddenly appeared on it.

The black cat from last night had somehow gotten into the house and had been hiding on that very hat the whole time!

Tan Xiao was startled. He was sure he had closed the windows and locked the doors. Seeing the nearby handbag, he remembered—his mother must have returned after her shift, and the cat had come in with her.

The kitten had hidden itself so well that even someone with vision better than 5.0 wouldn’t have noticed. No wonder his tired mother didn’t see it.

“How did you get in? There’s nothing here for you to eat.”

Tan Xiao sighed and tried to carry the cat out.

But this time, the cat wasn’t so obedient. It immediately shrank away.

He didn’t have the energy to play chase with the cat. Better to finish tidying first.

He brought out a bucket to collect the dirty laundry. Worried the cat might jump in, he pressed down the clothes firmly. When he started the washing machine, he leaned in to check carefully to make sure the cat wasn’t inside.

Thankfully, the black cat wasn’t that foolish. Looking up, he saw it perched on the multi-level display shelf, watching him quietly.

Relieved, Tan Xiao started the machine. He left the room door open so the cat could leave on its own and continued cleaning the living room and kitchen.

After several hours of housework, his stomach growled. To save time, he went to a nearby eatery and used some spare change to buy two large portions of stir-fried noodles with lean pork—one for himself and one for his mom.

The owner packed them so full the lids barely closed, with more meat than usual.

Back home, it was about time. Tan Xiao knocked on the bedroom door. “Mom, time to get up. I got you stir-fried noodles.”

The door opened, revealing a face that seemed vaguely familiar to Tan Xiao.

Li Li—a woman who had become a mother three times without pain—had been deployed into this special instance to prevent Tan Xiao from remembering his true past. All the characters he might interact with were also real NPCs from other instances.

She used to play wealthy heiresses or powerful CEOs. This was her first time playing a broke textile factory worker.

Fortunately, she could slack off when Tan Xiao wasn’t watching and let others do the work. But when she was with him, she had to stay in character, or she’d be punished by the game rules.

“Good boy. Mommy loves it.”

She had come out annoyed, but seeing the house clean and bright, trash packed and thrown out, the greasy table wiped spotless, and a faint fresh scent in the air, her mood lifted.

There were still a few oranges in the fridge. Tan Xiao, unable to afford air fresheners, had peeled some and left the peels around the house for a citrus scent.

He placed the two boxes of noodles on the table. Li Li looked, poured out half of hers, and picked out all the meat for Tan Xiao.

“Mom can’t eat that much. You have more.”

She didn’t really need human food, and the character she played had a small appetite. Plus, a loving mother would always give the best to her child.

According to the instance’s plot, things were only going to get worse for Tan Xiao. To make her a burden, she needed to strengthen the emotional bond between them.

A bankrupt home, a dead father, a sick mother. If the mother-son bond was weak, Tan Xiao wouldn’t feel the urge to spend money to keep her alive.

Tan Xiao said, “Then let’s save a portion for dinner.”

The family was poor. While they weren’t starving, wasting food wasn’t an option. If they reheated it in the evening, they could save money.

When buying the noodles, he’d asked the shopkeeper where to find the most affordable and cost-effective wet market. But he had no time today. Tomorrow, he’d go buy groceries and start cooking himself.

He didn’t have any memory of cooking, but he had a gut feeling he’d be good at it. No matter how generous the shopkeeper was, homemade food was always more economical—and healthier, especially for someone in recovery.

Smelling the food, the black cat jumped off the shelf and landed right in front of him.

Startled, Tan Xiao quickly moved the noodles away. “This stuff’s not for you.”

Starchy food is bad for cats, especially oily, salty noodles.

He glanced at Li Li and noticed she was stiff in her chair, seemingly terrified of the cat.

Li Li wasn’t really afraid—her original form was a vampire bat, and cats were natural predators—but she wasn’t scared of ordinary cats.

This, however, wasn’t an ordinary cat. It was a cat demon, and it carried a terrifying aura from that high existence.

Damn game. She cursed it silently. Though she said nothing aloud, every pore in her body radiated discomfort.

Seeing her like this, the dutiful Tan Xiao didn’t want to upset his mom. Besides, they really couldn’t afford to keep a cat.

He felt a flicker of disappointment. He had already known this deep down—this family couldn’t take in a pet. He needed to harden his heart and give the kitten away before he got too attached.

He picked it up. The kitten didn’t resist, but just as he was about to set it down at the door, it leapt back into his arms, tightly gripping him with its claws.

When he tried to push it off, it jumped right back, even clinging to his chest.

It meowed repeatedly, as if saying:

“Give up, human. I’m sticking with you no matter what.”