She grabbed her tail

The scene rewinds a few hours.

The purchased items were neatly stored, the pile of clothes untouched, quietly returned to their place.

The poor Maine Coon meowed incessantly, venting in incomprehensible cat language. Liu Tingsong and Xu Fengluan, hearts aching, opened two cans and cat treats to soothe it.

After dinner, someone suggested closing the curtains. The projector flickered on, familiar opera melodies filling the living room.

Xu Fengluan sat cross-legged on the sofa, cradling the Maine Coon.

The cat was pitiful, transformed from a dignified feline into a clingy dog. It either trailed Liu Tingsong, tail curling around her ankle, or nestled into Xu’s arms, squeezing itself small.

A cleaned fruit platter clinked onto the table. Liu draped a thin blanket over Xu’s legs.

The weather had turned colder; summer’s recklessness was gone.

Seeing Liu sit, the Maine Coon meowed, pressing its paws onto her legs, oblivious to its weight, leaving paw prints.

Liu hugged it, unable to speak but nuzzling its cheek to show she was there.

Xu glanced over, shifting the blanket toward Liu, scooting aside to barely cover her own legs.

The distance between them grew, but the blanket was only so long—not enough for the cat to straddle both. Its front half leaned toward Liu, tail sneaking around Xu’s arm, tapping lightly.

Xu found it amusing, grabbing the tail.

The cat played along, its fluffy broom-like tail slipping from Xu’s grasp, drooping, then landing on her wrist, escaping before she could catch it—a master of teasing.

The opera continued, but Xu, distracted, played with the cat.

“Bad thing,” she chuckled, scolding.

The cat’s tail flicked free in response. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Liu didn’t interrupt, her refined features softening, eyes shimmering with reflected light, mirroring Xu’s image.

Tired of standing, the cat flopped down, head on Liu’s lap, tail still hooked on Xu’s wrist.

Xu, provoked, pinned the tail under her palm.

“Meow,” Fat Cat protested, but before it could sulk, Liu scratched its chin, eliciting content purrs.

The moment was quiet, the city’s clamor blocked by the window, heavy curtains dimming the light. The living room sank into a half-lit ambiance, music blending with cat sounds, adding warmth.

Satisfied, the cat sprawled, hindquarters on Xu, front half on Liu, stretching awkwardly, comfort questionable.

Liu glanced at Xu, scooting closer to ease the cat’s stretch.

Xu said nothing, toying with the tail, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing its tip, like a fascinating trinket.

Her crossed legs brushed Liu’s, intentional or not.

Xu pretended not to notice, eyes on the screen.

Familiar with the opera, she didn’t lose track despite her distraction, seamlessly following along.

Liu’s gaze fell to Xu’s hand on the cat’s tail, lingering before pushing the fruit platter toward her.

In cold weather, Xu disliked fruit, ignoring it deliberately.

Liu didn’t press, instead picking up a small fork, spearing fruit to Xu’s lips.

Old habits died hard. Despite their rift, Xu instinctively leaned to bite.

“Cold…” she mumbled, displeased.

Both froze. The repeated scene was too vivid, memories flooding back uncontrollably.

Like many young people, Xu avoided fruit, especially in cold weather, preferring vitamin C pills. Liu always coaxed her.

During operas, Xu was engrossed, eating whatever Liu fed without thinking, often halfway full before noticing.

But in the coldest days, she’d dodge chilled fruit, grumbling about the cold.

So, Liu would warm it…

Memories were cut by the opera’s song. Xu bit through the fruit, letting—

“I’ll do it,” she took Liu’s fork, picking the smallest piece, eating it, then holding the fork, unable to continue.

Liu’s eyes dropped, lashes thick, unaware of the sleeping cat.

The tail in Xu’s grip was—

Time passed. Xu realized Liu had slipped away.

She didn’t mind, assuming Liu was busy.

The cat stirred, snoring, refusing Xu’s tail-tugging, curling into a furry ball in Liu’s spot.

Xu smiled faintly, warmth spreading.

As the saying goes, no matter how adults fight, the child remains innocent.

Dropping the fork, Xu leaned back, eyes closed, arm over her face. Long focus bred fatigue; she’d rest before moving.

Footsteps approached, stopping nearby.

Xu ignored them, as before, but her lap sank.

Someone knelt on her.

Xu paused, unable to stop it. Thin loungewear couldn’t block the sensation—she sensed Liu wore little.

Or rather, one piece.

Hence the rustle of fabric as she drew near.

Like a childhood puzzle, Xu kept her eyes covered, piecing together clues from amplified details.

A faint scent enveloped her, soft and unique—not a commercial fragrance, supposedly pheromones, only sensed from someone you’re biologically drawn to.

Pheromones…

Xu sank into the scent, letting herself fall.

The platter clinked, fruit held to her lips again.

Xu frowned, ready to snap if Liu repeated herself.

But Liu didn’t. The fruit was set aside.

Curious, Xu strained to catch faint details.

A soft bell, fuzzy brushes against her leg, and Liu’s softness pressing closer.

Her breath hitched, her arched neck revealing her throat, sliding with each breath.

Xu wore a black shirt, picked from the clothing pile, barely wrinkled, tags still on, placed at the edge by Liu. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Buttons half-fastened, no tie, the loose collar exposed her collarbone and faint red marks from Liu’s desperate kisses last night.

Liu leaned closer, legs tightening around Xu, trapping her.

Before Xu could react, her cheek itched from Liu’s falling hair.

Liu noticed, tucking the strand behind Xu’s ear.

Fruit reached her lips, no longer cold.

A guessing game.

Grapes, cherries, cantaloupe, peaches.

Xu was picky, tiring of one fruit quickly, so Liu offered variety, complicating the game.

Lips met, crushed fruit mixing with sweet juice.

Xu tilted back, hand gripping Liu’s waist, craving more after a taste.

Her eyes stayed closed.

A cool hand traced her neck, following her throat.

Her pale skin flushed, lips wet, lashes trembling, breathing erratic.

The cat rolled over, sleeping soundly, perhaps reassured after pet shop fears.

The projector looped, the opera replaying, once immersive, now noisy.

The fruit platter tilted, its edge cold against Xu’s skin.

Liu’s position let her gaze down, dark eyes glinting like flickering fireflies, desire wrapping around Xu.

Her lips ground, sipping juice from Xu’s tongue.

Her hand tightened on Xu’s neck, wanting to claim, possess.

But Xu grabbed a tail.

Not the cat’s—another.

Pure, fluffy, slightly wet at the tip, yielding under pressure, swallowing her fingers.

“Little cat…” Xu opened her eyes, vision hazy, slowly focusing.

The tail drooped, tugging strangely.

Liu tried to respond, only muffled sounds escaping, her neck’s bell jingling pleasantly.

*—Ding-a-ling.*

Xu laughed, sober yet tipsy.

Lazily, she asked, “Little cat, can you wag your tail?”

The tail swayed, answering.