The Cat in the City God Temple

In years long past, in a more backward and impoverished era, the place now known as Old Town—oh, I forgot to mention, the small town where the cat lives is called Old Town—stood.

Within the younger boundaries of Old Town, nestled against a mountain, was a small earthen temple.

According to legend, this temple housed the City God, the guardian of Old Town.

It was not a grand or ostentatious shrine.

Yet, the townspeople cherished it deeply.

In an age devoid of much entertainment, it served as their reason and venue for gatherings, plays, sacrifices, and market fairs, offering a periodic reprieve from daily life.

Just past four in the morning, a handful of vendors, eager to set up their stalls before dawn, were already bustling.

Today was the usual market day, and Liu, known for his masterful fried dough sticks and sesame balls, was among the early risers.

These delicacies were perfect for breakfast.

Across from his stall, Wang sold sour soup, which complemented Liu’s offerings wonderfully, forming a simple, almost primal, business partnership.

Liu worked quickly today.

Having set up his wok and lit the fire, he still had some time before the market officially opened.

He first fried a few sticks for himself, washing them down with water.

‘Wang’s soup isn’t ready yet,’ he thought.

‘Best to eat a little now to line my stomach; I can always eat more after the morning market.’

He doted on his wife, having specifically told her it was fine to come help later, once the market was in full swing.

He could handle the heavy lifting himself.

Finishing his fried dough sticks, Liu, with nothing else to do, began to wander around his stall.

He watched the sparse figures shifting in the distance, observed plumes of hot steam rising from dimly lit or brightly glowing lamps, ultimately dissolving into the faint pre-dawn light.

He listened to the rustling whispers, the splashes of water, and the crackling of burning flames that punctuated the otherwise silent dawn.

Thinking of his wife, daughter, and elderly mother, who would soon be waking at home, a faint smile touched Liu’s lips.

“Woo-woo… ying-ow…”

As he neared the temple, Liu heard a faint, discordant whimper—subtle yet sharp and piercing.

A shiver ran down Liu’s spine.

Every ghost story and supernatural tale he had ever heard, from childhood to adulthood, flashed through his mind, but they were quickly dispelled by a heart hardened by life’s many trials.

Liu felt a flicker of surprise and uncertainty.

“Ying-ow…”

The sound came again, proving it wasn’t a hallucination.

‘An abandoned infant…?’ Liu couldn’t help but wonder, though he quickly dismissed the idea as unlikely.

The sound was definitely coming from the temple, so he decided to get closer and investigate.

“Ying…”

As he drew nearer, the intermittent sounds grew clearer.

“Meow…”

‘A cat? Did it give birth in the temple?’

Now that he could hear distinctly, Liu figured a mother cat had chosen the sheltered spot to nest.

Taking two more steps, he simply pushed open the main hall door.

The dim, simple hall had no eternal lamp, and the small space was visible at a glance.

In that single look, Liu spotted a tiny white bundle on the altar beneath the faded deity statue.

Indeed, it was a small white kitten.

Her tiny body sat calmly in the very center of the empty altar.

As Liu’s figure gradually approached, the little cat merely focused her pupils slightly to glance at him, letting out a tiny, soft “Meow~”, before her pupils dilated again.

She remained seated, her eyes fixed on Liu, yet she didn’t seem to be truly looking at him; her attention seemed to have drifted elsewhere.

Liu was slightly astonished by such an unafraid kitten.

He watched the small creature remain perfectly still on the altar, her soft white fur seeming to emit a faint luminescence.

The three black stripes on her forehead were perfectly aligned, making Liu think of the three sticks of sandalwood incense often placed in the nearby censer.

The deity statue behind the cat made her presence even more striking.

Though Liu, an honest and humble man his entire life, didn’t believe in ghosts or gods, he still held a sense of reverence.

He hesitated.

Just then, the kitten nimbly leaped off the altar and walked directly towards Liu, rubbing her head and neck against his pant leg, weaving around him.

“Ah…”

The man sighed almost imperceptibly.

He bent down, picked up the kitten by the scruff of her neck, and cradled the overly familiar creature in his arms.

He bowed to the statue, then gently circled the main hall, finding no trace of a mother cat.

‘She ran here by herself?’

He looked at the kitten in his arms.

This time, the kitten’s attention seemed to be focused on him, meeting his gaze without fear and letting out a tiny, soft “Meow-wu~.”

Ultimately, the man decided to take the kitten home.

Perhaps it was fate.

From the moment she gained self-awareness amidst the chaos, the cat strangely understood that she was different.

Though she didn’t know how she came to be, her companions didn’t seem to like her much.

Even her mother didn’t like her.

The cat could easily understand these things, for she was white—white, conspicuous, and clumsy.

From the moment she gained consciousness, the cat could see many things others could not.

Appearance, essence, desires, aspirations.

Past, present, countless moments, future.

Intricate information intertwined, forming constantly shifting illusions in the cat’s eyes—illusions that could vanish without a trace if one wasn’t careful.

Just like now—the cat had done nothing, yet her mother lay on the ground, lifeless.

Her vibrant information ceased abruptly.

Her past, already set in stone, had led her to consume that bait, but the cat could no longer use her exquisitely insightful steps to snatch the meat, to change her mother’s future.

Because her future had vanished.

The cat gazed at her mother’s body on the ground.

Her future had turned into clouds, into wind, into mist and snow, or perhaps she was buried deep beneath the earth, or had transformed into grass and flowers, or was intertwined with every wisp of wind around her.

She had dissolved into nothingness, sinking into eternal tranquility, yet she could no longer carry food in her mouth and meow.

“Mm-goo…”

The kitten cautiously approached, tilting her head to nuzzle the last vestiges of warmth.

For the first time, a sense of sorrow permeated the cat’s hazy mind.

Mimicking her mother, the cat called out, proving to her siblings in the jungle that a white cat could also possess exquisite hunting skills.

The proof didn’t take long.

The kittens, already close to independence, left the white cat to live on their own after only a month.

Yet, the white cat still seemed like she hadn’t grown up.

The successive, unannounced departures of the companions she had diligently cared for over a month left her somewhat puzzled.

Unable to be in multiple places at once, she couldn’t chase after each one to check on them.

The cat could only offer a final silent blessing, hoping they wouldn’t also turn into wind, snow, clouds, rain, mist, earth, or flowers.

Sniffing the lingering scents of her companions—earth, mouse, water, and the unfamiliar smells carried by the distant wind—the cat once again felt a new emotion: confusion.

More information assimilated led to higher intelligence and a richer, more active emotional capacity, unlike that of ordinary cats.

The cat gazed at the ever-moving clouds in the sky, pondering for a long time, then made a decision.

First, to eat a mouse.