Volume One, Chapter 31: A Quick Calculation—Victory... Now, Pay Up!

"First of all, if you have a cat, you need to seal the windows. If you seal them here, you'll have to endure the smell from the litter box. If you don't, the cat can come and go as it pleases—one day it might run outside, mate with a stray, or even die out there, and you'd never know," Lou Ye said.

"Secondly, you're on the top floor..." He glanced at the yellowed, outdated air conditioner on the wall and asked Sang Wan, "Are you planning to keep the AC running non-stop, twenty-four hours a day? Or will you come home at night to find a heatstroke-stricken, dehydrated cat?"

Sang Wan fell silent.

She hadn't thought it through. She was only focused on the fact that the ginger cat had chosen her, so she couldn't ignore it. Yet she hadn't considered what conditions were necessary to raise a cat, or how much time and energy it would require.

Time and energy she had plenty of.

She also had more than enough love.

But when it came to the most basic material conditions, she simply couldn’t provide them right now.

She looked up again, just in time to see the ginger cat repeatedly trying to escape through the window from under Lou Ye’s arm. Each time, Lou Ye grabbed it by the scruff and hauled it back, undeterred. After another failed attempt, the ginger cat seemed exhausted and lay limply on the desk, finally behaving.

The room was starting to feel hot, and as Sang Wan prepared to turn on the air conditioner, Lou Ye straightened up. “Let me look after it for now…” He packed the ginger cat back into the carrier.

Turning to Sang Wan, Lou Ye said, “When you’re able to, you can take it back. By then, your work will be going well, your life stable, and the cat will have had its vaccines. You two can reunite, mother and son, and never part again. What do you think?”

She looked at his earnest expression, so considerate of the ginger cat. Then at the cat itself, rubbing obediently under his hand, no trace of its earlier mischievousness.

Sang Wan nodded, “Alright.”

They had only been upstairs for a little over ten minutes when the two of them, plus the cat, headed downstairs again.

They went to Uncle Wang’s shop for wontons, and even gave the ginger cat the only two shrimps in the bowl.

When Lou Ye left with the carrier, he turned back to ask Sang Wan, “Where did you find movers when you moved?”

“What?” Sang Wan was caught off guard.

Lou Ye nodded toward her things, “I’ll have the housekeeper move these into the car. But she’s out today and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Even if it was just cat food, snacks, and a cat tree—how could the young master himself be expected to lift a finger? Especially for her cat.

Sang Wan hesitated, “Should I move them myself?”

“It’s not impossible…” Lou Ye nodded, only half willing. “Get in the car.”

The Ferrari backed out of the alley and sped toward the hillside villa.

Sang Wan still couldn’t figure out how things had ended up like this.

Her phone pinged.

Xu Yiyi had sent a message.

[Judging by my calculations, I probably, maybe, seem to have... won?]

[Pay up!]

Sang Wan: ...

She thought about defaulting.

She even considered lying to buy herself some time.

But then she remembered how shrewd Xu Yiyi was. If Sang Wan sent a message with any fibs, Xu Yiyi would video call her for confirmation the very next second. And if Lou Ye happened to be there, it would be even more embarrassing.

Sighing, Sang Wan sent a fifty-cent red envelope.

Xu Yiyi accepted it instantly.

As usual, she replied with the mocking "hehe" sticker, the two raised eyebrows seeming to jeer at Sang Wan. With a snap, Sang Wan shut off her screen.

Just then, Lou Ye asked, “Has your injury healed?”

Sang Wan was taken aback.

It took her a moment to realize he meant the abrasions on her feet.

Maybe it was the years spent raising a child that made her used to neglecting herself. Or perhaps this body was tougher than she expected. The doctor had prescribed ointment, but she’d been so busy she barely remembered to apply it. Still, after a few days, it had nearly healed. Unless she walked a lot, she barely felt it.

“It’s all better,” Sang Wan replied. “Thank you, Lou Ye!”

The car stopped in the underground garage.

Lou Ye carried the carrier straight into the elevator.

Sang Wan made trip after trip, hauling the cat bed, cat tree, cat food, and snacks into the elevator.

From start to finish, the young master simply stood in the elevator, watching her, never once offering to help.

When Sang Wan brought the final bag, Lou Ye pressed a button, and the trunk slowly closed.

The elevator doors shut and then opened again, and the scent of lemons from the villa filled the air.

Lou Ye stepped out of the elevator and bent to open the carrier door.

Meow... woow!

The ginger cat slipped out, stretching luxuriously. As if back in its own territory, it strutted out with dainty feline steps.

It glanced at the greenery.

Scratched at the sofa.

With practiced ease, it headed straight for the third-floor media room.

Sang Wan, finished moving everything, turned to see the tip of its tail flicker through the air—raised high, clearly in a good mood.

Sang Wan: ...

“Young master, lunch is ready! Please come to the table!”

The aroma drifted in as Sang Wan, following Lou Ye’s instructions, put the cat bed on the second-floor terrace, the cat tree on the third-floor terrace, and stored the food and canned meals.

Downstairs, she saw the chef step out of the dining room, reporting to Lou Ye.

Lou Ye nodded acknowledgment.

The chef turned to leave.

As the elevator doors closed with a chime, Sang Wan found herself pondering something.

Did each servant in Lou Ye’s household have strictly assigned duties, no overlap allowed? For example, was the chef prohibited from helping out as a mover, even for the things she'd just brought?

"Everyone sweeps their own doorstep, let none concern themselves with frost on another's tiles."

As if he’d guessed what she was thinking, Lou Ye spoke, “My only requirement is that they do their own job to the highest standard.”

“Oh,” Sang Wan understood.

Lou Ye pulled out a chair. “Come eat.”

After washing her hands, Sang Wan returned to find two sets of chopsticks and bowls laid out alongside the six dishes and soup.

May as well settle in, since she was already here.

Sang Wan thanked him and quietly ate.

Lou Ye was very reserved in the dining room, exuding the dignified aura of a noble heir—like those children in the old families, silent and elegant at table and in bed.

She couldn’t help but remember how awkward she’d felt the first time she entered Lu Jinnian’s house.

Sang Wan subconsciously straightened her back, gripped her chopsticks tighter, and made an effort not to let them clatter against the plates.

Lou Ye broke the silence, “If you were to design that plot in East City, what would you do?”

She recalled all the news she’d heard and seen during her months in the hospital. She knew he was referring to the site soon to be auctioned by the city government.

Sang Wan replied, “I’d design it as the largest science museum in the capital, perhaps even in all of China—packed with the most advanced technology. There’d be a youth pavilion and a general pavilion, or pavilions divided by cardinal directions. From ages two to eighty, everyone could enjoy themselves there.”

It had been years since she’d practiced her profession.

Yet Sang Wan spoke with confidence.

Lou Ye occasionally asked questions or offered a suggestion.

They chatted and ate, and before she knew it, the meal was over.

When Sang Wan was about to put down her chopsticks, Lou Ye’s phone rang.

“…Yes, I understand, I’ll be right there!”

Clearly in a hurry, he stood and, while walking out, called to Sang Wan, “Stay here for now, the driver will take you home soon!”

“No—”

Before she could finish, she heard the elevator hum as its doors closed.

She had no idea when the driver would arrive.

So Sang Wan gathered the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, wiped down the table, and with nothing else to do, wandered upstairs, meowing along the way.

Media room.

Terrace.

Gym.

From the Ferrari’s driver’s seat, watching Sang Wan wander around the villa, peering left and right, entering the master bedroom and not coming out for ages, Lou Ye turned off the surveillance feed and stared blankly at the steering wheel.

Now, came the question:

Where should he go?