Liu Tingsong, can your cat do a backflip?

Another sweltering summer, the second day after Xu Fengluan’s discharge.

As Liu Tingsong wished, Xu Fengluan had moved into her place.

Initially, Xu Fengluan resisted. Despite Ji Lunan’s warning, she clung to the hope that, after so long without incident, the paparazzi had given up. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Liu Tingsong, who, seeing through her silence, drove her to her building, letting her witness the swarm of paparazzi camped out below.

Xu Fengluan, usually unfazed by paparazzi, didn’t dare get out. If not for their cameras, she’d have thought her building had turned into a campsite, with tents and sharp-eyed reporters everywhere.

A street vendor, sensing opportunity, had set up nearby, selling tea eggs, grilled hot dogs, and fried skewers. The paparazzi, expecting a single photo to rake in profits, were generous, buying snacks freely, leaving the vendor grinning with a perfect eight-tooth smile.

Thankfully, Liu Tingsong was prepared, driving a low-key car. She circled once and left without anyone noticing.

Xu Fengluan suggested a hotel for a few days, but Liu Tingsong coaxed her into coming home with her instead.

Now, Xu Fengluan lay in Liu Tingsong’s sprawling penthouse, cradling a silver tabby Maine Coon with jade-green eyes, staring at the ceiling.

The 300-square-meter penthouse, bought before Liu Tingsong went abroad, was renovated last year in an Italian minimalist style. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the river view, and the living room’s plush carpet contrasted with Xu Fengluan’s instrument-filled “dog den,” far more refined.

The only oddity was the Pacha Dog slippers by the gray carpet—and Xu Fengluan sprawled on it.

They’d bought them together, Liu Tingsong claiming it was a local custom to discard hospital clothes and shoes to shed bad luck and illness. Xu Fengluan, a local, had never heard of it. Besides, the custom was for those recovering from serious illness, not a broken leg. What bad luck could she have?

She hesitated but couldn’t refuse. They needed supplies anyway, so they shopped together.

Offstage, Xu Fengluan dressed casually, relying on her model-like figure. Loose tees sufficed, as long as they weren’t egregious.

Her home was filled with Pudding Dog-themed items—slippers, towels, bathrobes, cups, pajamas. Here, it was Pacha Dog. She’d considered Cinnamoroll, but its big ears seemed less cool than the black-and-white Pacha Dog. For her 0.8 image, she stuck with the latter.

Other things didn’t matter—Liu Tingsong paid, embodying her “spend my money” philosophy, buying anything suitable. It gave Xu Fengluan the fleeting illusion of being kept.

Still…

She hugged the Maine Coon, feeling okay, not too hard to accept.

The cat was Liu Tingsong’s, one of two conditions for luring Xu Fengluan here—the other being a fully equipped music room, irresistible to a practice-starved Xu Fengluan.

Lost in thought, the cat started kneading.

Heaven knows how a massive Maine Coon acted like a kitten, purring and kneading stealthily.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes crinkled as she pinched its paw pads.

She loved cats and dogs but, for various reasons, never had one.

She grabbed her phone, snapped photos, and sent them to the Burning Meteor band group.

They didn’t know she’d been discharged, responding with a string of question marks.

Xu Fengluan, one arm around the cat, typed awkwardly: [Liu Tingsong’s cat. Cute, huh?]

Chu Cheng, the fastest typer, replied instantly: [No wonder you ditched us the other day—you had plans!]

Kuang Ye chimed in lazily: [Maine Coon? Looks like twenty pounds.]

Xu Fengluan sent a close-up of the cat’s face, brimming with parental pride: [Weighed it last night—twenty-five pounds.]

She ignored Chu Cheng’s jab.

Undeterred, Chu Cheng added: [Can that cat do backflips?]

Xu Fengluan, puzzled, sent a question mark.

Chu Cheng: [My ex-ex-girlfriend lured me to her place saying her cat could backflip.]

Xu Fengluan couldn’t grasp why a cat would backflip or why it was a trick, but before she could ask, her phone vibrated.

Glancing at the caller ID, she answered slowly. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“You’re discharged?” The voice came through the speaker.

It was Ajin, Burning Meteor’s manager.

“Yeah,” Xu Fengluan replied coolly.

As her manager, Ajin should’ve visited after the incident, but she only called Chu Cheng, never showing up.

Since the airport fiasco, they’d barely spoken, except for a pre-livestream call. If not for Liu Tingsong’s studio pressuring them, even that lawyer’s letter Weibo post wouldn’t have happened.

Xu Fengluan thought it over, recalling the past year.

Years ago, Ajin vaguely mentioned the company’s intent to shift focus, aiming to promote Xu Fengluan solo for bigger profits.

It wasn’t unreasonable—countless companies had approached, but only Tianhui Media let them keep their copyrights and gave Burning Meteor freedom, prioritizing shared interests.

Grateful for past favors, the band wanted to renegotiate, asking for a higher commission to renew.

Their terms were fair, and the company wouldn’t refuse, but they proposed a condition: Xu Fengluan sign a separate contract, leaving Burning Meteor for solo work.

She refused outright. The company’s attitude chilled, repeatedly sending Ajin to persuade her. After six months of failure, they began pressuring Xu Fengluan.

Take the recent *Return to the Band* finale—it went viral, and work should’ve flooded in, with paparazzi camping out for days. But the company stayed silent, deliberately suppressing opportunities, threatening to shelve her this year if she didn’t sign.

Amid her thoughts, Ajin spoke, voice hard: “Director Zhang’s been pushing. Hurry up and finish the lyrics, record, and release.”

She didn’t want to notify Xu Fengluan, but Liu Tingsong’s studio leaned hard, and they couldn’t afford to offend her, forcing Ajin to break the stalemate.

“Got it,” Xu Fengluan replied, then fell silent.

Ajin paced, suppressing her anger, softening slightly. “Post something on your private Weibo. Your fans are worried, flooding the official account with questions.”

The band’s official Weibo was company-managed, but their private accounts were theirs.

“Okay,” Xu Fengluan agreed, knowing her recent ordeal had worried many.

Seeing her comply, Ajin managed a smile, turning earnest. “Good to hear you listen. Your fans care so much—don’t keep doing dangerous stuff that stresses them out.”

Her tone shifted. “I know you’re reluctant, wanting to stick with Orange and the others, but with your current popularity and talent…”

“If you’re bringing that up again, I’m hanging up,” Xu Fengluan cut in, her cold tone impatient. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Ajin exploded. “Xu Fengluan! You’re so ungrateful!”

Furious, she spat without thinking, “Don’t think clinging to Liu Tingsong makes you untouchable!”

“Don’t forget your contract still has…”

Xu Fengluan hung up, and when the phone rang again, she hung up again. Ajin kept calling, relentless, their fallout from the airport already irreparable.

Xu Fengluan tossed the phone aside, her expression darkening.

After Xu Fengluan voiced her discontent last time, Liu Tingsong had mentioned it, using Xu Fengluan’s help as leverage to pressure Tianhui Media into backing down. Yet Ajin framed it as Xu Fengluan riding Liu Tingsong’s coattails.

Irritation bubbled up again.

The cat sensed her mood, meowing softly to comfort her.

Xu Fengluan hugged it, burying her face in its neck, inhaling deeply.

Cats were the best…

Tonight, she’d sneak it extra treats behind Liu Tingsong’s back.

She made the decision silently.

Just then, the door creaked. The person who’d left early returned, swapping shoes for slippers and hurrying in until she saw Xu Fengluan.

Her aloof demeanor softened, voice gentle. “Why’re you lying on the floor with the cat again?”

“Like it,” Xu Fengluan answered simply, her tone still edged from the call. Unable to suppress it fully, she softened, adding, “It’s comfy here.”

Liu Tingsong sighed, her eyes crinkling with a smile, leaning against the wall, watching the pair.

She’d found the Maine Coon abroad, spotting it in a pet shop. She hadn’t planned to adopt, but its jade-green eyes, like Xu Fengluan’s, stirred her longing, and she brought it home, raising it till now.

“Meow,” the cat called, trying to leap from Xu Fengluan to Liu Tingsong.

Xu Fengluan refused, wrapping her arms around it, cooing stickily, “No leaving.”

“Meow!”

“No way!” Xu Fengluan teased.

The cat yowled, unable to break free.

Liu Tingsong approached, slipping off her shoes, kneeling beside Xu Fengluan, saying softly, “Be good.”

Meant for the cat, but both silver-haired, green-eyed creatures looked up, staring at her in sync.

Hard to tell which was the cat—both seemed so obedient.

Liu Tingsong patted Xu Fengluan’s head, then the cat’s, smiling. “So good.”

She meant both.

The Maine Coon, handsome but clingy, meowed in response to the praise.

Xu Fengluan turned away, ignoring her. She wasn’t a cat—good for what?

Liu Tingsong wasn’t fazed, smoothing Xu Fengluan’s furrowed brow, coaxing, “What’s wrong? So grumpy.”

“Nothing,” Xu Fengluan dodged, not ready to explain.

The phone lit up with a band group message.

Both glanced, but it dimmed before they could read.

Liu Tingsong’s eyes narrowed, as if recalling something.

Xu Fengluan, feeling mischievous, blurted, “Can your cat do backflips?”

Liu Tingsong blinked.

The clueless Maine Coon flicked its tail.

Xu Fengluan added, “Orange said her ex-ex-girlfriend’s cat could backflip and invited her to see.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Her tone was petulant, as if Liu Tingsong had let her lose a bet, but really, she was stirring trouble to mess with her.

Liu Tingsong glanced at the innocent cat and the troublemaking “puppy,” pondering before saying, “Wanna try teaching it?”

Just then, the cat meowed, looking at them in confusion.