Eight-tailed cat (5): Call him baby

“Wen Yi?”

The little kitten was still puffed up with anger, glaring at him and letting out a fierce “meow.”

Tan Xiao asked again, “Are you mad at me? I won’t touch you without permission next time, okay?”

This time the response was much softer: “Meow (Don’t let it happen again).”

Seeing that the kitten had no intention of running away, Tan Xiao lowered his head and continued sorting through his things. The little black cat, whom he had grandly named after himself, ended up staying. It pretended to help for a few minutes, then settled in as if it had lived a life of luxury for decades.

No, following Tan Xiao, this shy little black cat wouldn’t live in luxury. But the cat didn’t mind that he was poor, and Tan Xiao did everything he could to give the cat the best life possible.

Due to a head injury, he needed rest. On top of that, he had debt to handle and still had to find a way to make money. Although the bandage on his head was no longer bleeding, he couldn’t afford to do physically demanding or prolonged mental work.

Luckily, making money wasn’t especially hard for Tan Xiao. He picked up his phone and started recording videos. Since he had a phone, a tablet, and internet access, he figured he could try content creation.

After all, freelance side jobs like this offered more flexibility. And if he really made it big, he might even be able to pay off that huge debt within ten years.

That was just one possible path. Tan Xiao wasn’t putting all his hopes into it. But just making plans wouldn’t help—no matter how good they sounded, they were useless without action.

Besides, in the entertainment industry, going viral required luck. He couldn’t guarantee he had the fortune to become a major star.

Tan Xiao started organizing the items in his home, one by one. He flattened and stored the extra cardboard boxes. The little kitten that had been perched on a shelf jumped down and stood next to one of the unopened boxes, guarding Tan Xiao.

He pulled out a roll of tape. The black kitten jumped onto a box and, with a sharp swipe of its claws, opened it perfectly.

Just as Tan Xiao, holding a utility knife, was about to cut the tape, he turned his head and saw the kitten hop aside. The previously sealed box now bulged slightly with a visible gap.

He wasn’t blind, and his memory wasn’t that bad—these boxes to his right had clearly all been sealed with tape earlier. But when he turned back, they had already been opened.

Looking closely, he could see one or two black cat hairs stuck on the tape—shed during the cat’s movements.

Tan Xiao was astonished and asked, “You opened this box?”

The kitten meowed proudly.

Tan Xiao checked and saw the box was opened just right. Some of the items inside hadn’t been wrapped in bubble wrap, but the kitten’s claws had left no scratches on any of the fragile objects.

Tan Xiao exclaimed dramatically, “Our Wen Yi is way too smart! Such a clever little cat!”

The kitten basked in the praise, meowing proudly again. It clearly understood what he was saying and went on to open several more boxes right in front of him.

Tan Xiao’s smile grew even brighter. “I’ll handle organizing the boxes. Opening them is your job now.”

He unpacked a dozen boxes and laid out all the items inside, then organized the cluttered storage room according to his needs.

He filmed the entire process and also recorded clips of the cat opening boxes.

He spent the entire day doing housework, and then moved on to making things for the kitten.

Whatever other kittens had, his kitten should have too. He couldn’t afford to buy fancy toys, but he could make his own with what he had. Cardboards could be turned into complex cat houses.

Cat houses, litter boxes, toys…

Because organizing took so much time, he only had time that evening to make the simplest things.

He couldn’t afford to buy disposable cat litter, but fortunately there was some regular sand nearby. He filled a plastic bucket with clean, fine sand and poured it into a box—voilà, a simple litter box.

After some use, he could dump the sand outside, pile it in the yard, add some soil, and even grow crops on it. Economical and eco-friendly.

“Wen Yi, this is your cat toilet, got it?”

Tan Xiao had no experience raising cats. He read some posts online and even made one asking for advice. Following the suggestions of kind netizens, he picked up the little black cat, put it in the sand-filled box, and taught it seriously: “You can’t go to the bathroom all over the house. When you use the toilet, remember to bury it.”

He held the cat’s soft little paws and mimicked digging motions in the sand.

Tan Xiao was a bit worried: he’d heard smart cats learn fast. His cat seemed clever enough—it surely wouldn’t do something as nasty as peeing and pooping everywhere.

Some people said stray cats would mark territory in a new place. He liked cleanliness, and while he wouldn’t abandon a cat for bad behavior, he knew it would stress him out if that happened.

The black cat suddenly reacted and couldn’t help baring its teeth at Tan Xiao. How dare this dumb human underestimate it! It was a dignified eight-tailed cat, not some brainless little stray!

It jumped into the home’s toilet. The old house didn’t have a modern toilet, just a traditional squat one. Next to the squat hole was the flush tank, about half a meter high—push the button and water would flush.

The black cat pretended to squat, scratched the floor with its paw like a human, then leapt onto the flush tank and pressed the button with its paw.

Whoosh—the toilet flushed.

And the clever black cat had already jumped down before the water rushed in, landing perfectly on Tan Xiao’s slippers, kneading his feet.

It was just stepping on him, but Tan Xiao thought it was “kneading”—a sign that a kitten trusts its owner. Letting someone touch its belly was another sign of trust.

In Tan Xiao’s heart, this uninvited little black cat was now just like all the pet owners online said: a sweet, affectionate, angelic little kitten.

Staring at the gentle stream of water in the squat toilet, Tan Xiao widened his eyes for real this time. “Oh my god, my darling, you’re so smart!”

Some clever cats did use toilets like humans and even pretended to “bury” after, but his cat even flushed!

He bent down, lifted the kitten up to his eye level, and asked, “My darling, are you really just a cat? You sure you’re not a spirit in cat form?”

The cat spirit stared back with clear, innocent eyes, pretending to be clueless, only to get its face rubbed vigorously by Tan Xiao.

Unable to hold back his praise, Tan Xiao buried his face in the cat’s soft belly, entering a frenzy of cat cuddling. “Baby, you’re so amazing! Now we’ve saved a bunch of money on litter!”

At first, he hadn’t planned to create a social media account for the cat. But at this moment, he had a strong feeling—maybe this stray kitten wouldn’t become a burden. Maybe, just maybe, it could earn its own food all on its own.

“Pervert, pervert! Such a total pervert!”

The black cat meowed furiously, shouting that its new human was a pervert. But its limbs dangled softly without resisting at all—clearly, its words didn’t match its heart.

After all, this human called it “baby,” and the sweet talk had long since made the kitten dizzy with flattery. It just lay there, letting itself be cuddled and sniffed, completely forgetting to act reserved.

At noon, they ate fried noodles. Tan Xiao gave the black cat a portion of plain noodles rinsed with clean water, along with some bits of meat picked out from the dish—also rinsed with hot water to remove any seasoning.

Although stray cats often eat unhealthy things while living outside, now that it had a home, Tan Xiao made sure to care more about Wen Yi’s diet and health within his means.

He didn’t know how old Wen Yi was, but he hoped the kitten could stay with him for a long time.

That evening, Tan Xiao discussed things with Li Li and borrowed her phone number, along with his own, to register accounts on several platforms. He planned to manage two accounts: one for himself, focusing on varied content like cleaning, organizing, crafts, and food lifestyle; and another as a pet-themed account featuring the kitten.

While he was registering the accounts, Wen Yi sat beside him, watching him and glancing between Tan Xiao and the screen. Tan Xiao didn’t feel like his privacy was being invaded—in fact, while registering, he joked with Wen Yi: “This will be your account from now on. I’ll manage it for you. We don’t keep freeloaders in this house, not even freeloading cats. Earn your own kibble and support this family!”

Of course, Tan Xiao didn’t actually believe the cat understood him. The whole “spirit cat” thing was just a joke. How could there really be animals with supernatural powers in this world?

Wen Yi meowed a few times and then motioned for Tan Xiao to set it down. It, the mighty Lord Eight-Tails, was going to strike a cool pose for the profile picture—one that would captivate and conquer all humans!

Tan Xiao couldn’t help but laugh at the kitten’s dramatic movements. Although he took many photos of Wen Yi in a short time, he didn’t end up choosing the one the cat thought was cool.

Instead, he picked a photo taken at dusk, where Wen Yi was bathed in soft golden light. It was a candid moment—natural, warm, and soothing. Even someone in a bad mood would look at it and think, there really are beautiful things in the world worth living for.

Tan Xiao loved that picture. He immediately set it as both his phone wallpaper and his account profile photo.

Wen Yi grumbled: although it wasn’t its favorite shot, considering how much this perverted human adored it, it would grudgingly accept.

Over the next few days, Tan Xiao’s recovery life became quite busy. Aside from organizing the house, he edited videos, managed the accounts, and posted ads nearby for part-time work.

The house had limited space, but Tan Xiao didn’t feel comfortable letting the kitten roam free. This street was chaotic and unsafe. If the cat ran outside and encountered someone who abused animals, it could be dangerous.

Stray cats hate cramped spaces, but Tan Xiao couldn’t take it out every day. He had no time, and the streets were dirty. Bringing in too many germs wasn’t ideal, and he couldn’t afford deworming medicine.

Rushing never helps—Tan Xiao, as a first-time cat owner, wanted to give his kitten the best. But his resources were limited. He had to improve things bit by bit. As his life improved, so would the cat’s.

Bringing some homemade snacks with him, he borrowed a saw from a neighbor, salvaged plastic pipes from construction waste, and carefully cut them with a saw and scissors. Afterward, he used sandpaper to smooth all the edges to avoid sharp parts that might hurt the kitten.

He spent an entire afternoon building a cat climbing frame and an aerial cat walkway. The climbing frame used milky-white plastic pipes, and the walkway was made of transparent acrylic panels—so the cat could be seen while moving through it.

These things were cheap to make but sold at high prices because of labor costs.

No matter where you are, selling labor alone is the least profitable. Add some skill, though, and you can charge more.

Besides content creation to attract attention, Tan Xiao also started taking service orders through his other accounts. He showed how he’d tidied up his messy house and advertised himself as a professional organizer.

While he could technically do intensive cleaning or move-in cleaning jobs, those were exhausting. Organization work was lighter and tidier by comparison.

At first, with no audience, he undercut the market slightly to attract clients. The prices listed were still regular, but he used “special deals” and dressed up his skills a bit in the promotions.

After all, he was no longer just a student—he was part of the working world. In a competitive market, you didn’t need to be overly modest. Promoting yourself was key. As long as the results matched the pay, there was no shame in that.

Society tends to worship experience, but experience is built slowly. After comparing himself to others in the market, Tan Xiao believed his work was worth what clients paid.

Maybe it was Wen Yi’s lucky aura, but the first order he received wasn’t for in-home organizing—it was a custom build for a cat walkway.

The client was wealthy, so instead of simple materials, they wanted special wood.

Even though jobs were hard to come by, Tan Xiao didn’t act recklessly just because he needed money. He verified the customer was legitimate, signed a contract, and collected a deposit before starting.

Working alone, after subtracting costs, it took him a week to finish and earned him a profit of about 1,000 yuan—roughly 150 yuan a day. While it wasn’t a huge amount for the time spent, it was better than Li Li’s backbreaking job and less exhausting.

The media accounts hadn’t gone viral, but Wen Yi’s account performed better than Tan Xiao’s lifestyle one. Coincidentally, it also entered a platform campaign, and one day’s earnings hit 100 virtual coins.

Tan Xiao spent the entire 100 coins at the market buying fish and made crispy fried fish snacks for Wen Yi.

For some reason, Wen Yi didn’t like raw meat or raw fish and preferred eating cooked food with Tan Xiao. It even insisted on eating at the table. But since cats aren’t tall, Tan Xiao custom-built a cat seat modeled after a baby chair, so Wen Yi could sit at human height and eat together with him.

Tan Xiao didn’t buy cat food. Since he had time at home, he carefully cooked meals for the cat every day. These meals became perfect video material—content that generated small earnings, which he used to buy more ingredients. A perfect cycle: one effort, many gains.

Though he hadn’t gone viral, the stats for the cat food videos steadily rose, with strong engagement compared to similar content.

Tan Xiao never appeared on camera. Though his face was very good-looking—and would have given him a huge advantage in the industry—he didn’t want to disrupt his life over that.

For privacy and safety, he edited his videos to avoid showing the view from his windows. Wen Yi’s account didn’t even use its real name—it was branded with the stage name “Tan Xiao Hei¹”.

That alias helped his cat food account grow rapidly, and fans flooded in with comments like:

“Am I watching the cat food? Or watching those hands! So pretty—they’re wasted on cat food. They should be playing piano.”

“Forget piano—play me, slurp slurp, haha.”

Every time Wen Yi saw those kinds of comments, it wanted to toss pants at the screen: “Can you people please put on some pants?”

Of course, a big part of the appeal wasn’t just the food or the hands—but the voice.

“I didn’t mean to follow… but he calls ‘baby’ so gently.”

Yes, in the video edits, Tan Xiao never called the kitten “Xiao Hei” or “Wen Yi”—only “baby,” and always in the softest tone.

As for choosing that stage name, of course he got Wen Yi’s consent.

Sure, “Xiao Hei” wasn’t much better than “Xiao Bai,” but it was still better. (Wen Yi silently dissed a certain dog named Xiao Bai again.)

Wen Yi also approved of not using its real name online. Names are important. Real names have power. As the mighty Lord Eight-Tails, it couldn’t let any random mortal call it by its sacred name.

Wen Yi grumbled to itself: if not for the fact that more fans meant more ads, and ads meant more cat food, it would never have allowed Tan Xiao to post videos.

Calling them “baby”? Hah! Keep dreaming! Tan Xiao only ever called it baby.

It, Wen Yi, was Tan Xiao’s favorite—and his only precious darling. No one else can come close!

Notes

1. Xiao Hei means Little Black ↩︎