Minor Trouble and… Path to Upgrade

Even though Dr. Cat and Bai’s system changes were sudden, Dr. Cat, ever the brilliant mind, managed to make arrangements amidst the haste.

The contact call Yun Juan received wasn’t for a mission; it was a summons back to headquarters—with dedicated transport and no need for a reply.

It was a close call, but ultimately, safe.

When Yun Juan, wrapped in a hooded coat, returned to the familiar headquarters, the first person she saw waiting for her was Gao Xin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Did you miss me?” Gao Xin smiled, pulling Yun Juan into a warm embrace.

“Of course!”

“Love you, meow,” Yun Juan responded with direct affection.

Stepping into an area inaccessible to ordinary people, Yun Juan shed her outerwear, fully releasing her suppressed fluffiness.

She then turned to Gao Xin, who had arrived earlier, with a curious inquiry.

“I can mostly guess, meow.”

“You were called back about the changes to Bai’s contract, right?”

“Do you know any specifics?”

Gao Xin nodded, then shook her head.

“Only a little.”

Her pupils, constricted into vertical slits in the sunlight, unconsciously flicked to the side as Gao Xin recalled the details.

“Officer Wei said there’s no need to worry.”

“The main purpose of this recall is to reallocate tasks based on everyone’s different levels.”

Having said that, Gao Xin hesitated, as if there was something more she hadn’t revealed.

“Levels… haha.”

Hearing such an arrangement, Yun Juan couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable urge to laugh.

The sheer absurdity of it was overwhelming.

Turning, Yun Juan noticed Gao Xin’s hesitant expression.

She leaned in, habitually nuzzling her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Gao Xin paused before speaking.

“But Officer Wei said… Bai might be in a bit of trouble…”

Yun Juan tensed up once more.

They were all deeply concerned about Bai.

“Why would she say that?”

One day earlier.

Officer Wei faced the scattered, messy papers on her desk, vigorously rubbing her small head to alleviate a burgeoning headache.

Eventually, she gave up, jumping down from her specially heightened chair and heading to a corner of the room.

A pile of cardboard boxes lay there, her secret stash of stress-relief toys she’d smuggled into her office.

Stretching luxuriously, Officer Wei transformed into a petite black cat in a flash of light.

Calling upon a strength disproportionate to her size, she easily leaped onto the top of the cardboard boxes, then squeezed through an opening cut into the surface.

The edges of the opening were jagged, but Officer Wei hadn’t made them herself.

Bai, during one of her visits to play in the office, had gnawed them out bit by bit, like a cat-head hole-puncher.

Several sturdy boxes were stacked high and linked together with openings, forming a small castle exclusively for cats.

Officer Wei burrowed into the lowest level, finding a false sense of fullness and security in the dark, confined space and its ever-present boundaries.

Even knowing it was an illusion, the feeling was genuinely comforting to a cat.

From a tiny hole, Officer Wei peered at her own desk, fantasizing that those wretched files would magically write perfect answers themselves.

The root cause of Officer Wei’s distress was, in fact, Bai.

As the highest-level department in a highly autonomous organization dealing with anomalies, two of the three top leaders had been “lost,” and the culprit was none other than Bai.

Last time, when Bai went to rescue her companion, she caused a city-wide disturbance that was impossible to clean up.

This time, she had even altered the already incomprehensible “contract,” forcing all cats to learn a skill whose description almost explicitly stated “kill to get stronger.”

This had caused considerable dissatisfaction among a segment of the population.

Fortunately, The Director, Old Wei, Wei Qingguo, held a high rank and could suppress the dissent.

Moreover, Bai’s abilities were undeniably useful, whether it was her appraisal skill or the “youth-restoring” contract itself.

Therefore, things had been relatively calm until now.

This current crisis primarily revolved around the explanation for the upgraded skill.

Though, to call it a crisis might be an overstatement; even without an explanation, they wouldn’t dare do anything drastic to Bai.

However, various restrictions would certainly increase, especially since they knew the fundamental way to limit the contracted cats was to limit Bai herself.

Alas, no one could truly comprehend Bai’s existence.

Humans were exceptionally good at overthinking when faced with the incomprehensible, creating a vicious cycle: to understand Bai, one had to sign a contract.

Through the soul-to-soul information exchange, any person—or rather, any cat—could understand that Bai genuinely wasn’t thinking much at all.

However, signing the contract equated to being untrustworthy, and to be trusted, one had to sign the contract.

See? A vicious cycle.

Thankfully, the progress in Dr. Cat’s materials research was promising.

If all went well, results would be available in half a month, reportedly concerning energy and aerospace, which could silence certain critics.

“Ding-a-ling~!”

The phone rang.

Wei immediately scrambled to answer it, forgetting she was still in her cat form, tucked inside the box.

There was a sudden crash as boxes tumbled down.

Officer Wei leaped out of the pile, a cardboard box still stuck on her head.

She fumbled to answer the phone, pressing it against the top of the box where her cat ears were.

“Hello? Dad?”

“You’re here already?”

“Good, good… Mm… Mhm…”

“Neither in principle nor in substance…”

“A meeting?”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming now.”

Hanging up the phone, the petite cat-girl let out a long sigh.

“Ah… trouble’s coming, meow.”

“What is this thing?”

All the cats were gathered.

A stranger then came forward and gave them a simple lecture—it sounded like a political ideology class.

Afterward, accompanied by Officer Wei, the stranger handed each cat a bracelet.

It was a peculiar, small, all-metal bracelet that locked shut once worn and couldn’t be opened.

Its purpose was self-evident: tracking, monitoring vital signs, and the like.

Any breakage, removal, or failure to transmit vital signs would immediately trigger an alarm.

An alarm would also sound if no signal was received for a certain period.

Then came another lecture, this time not a political one, but a moral education class.

The gist of it could be summarized in one sentence: ‘For safety, please understand.’

Fortunately, it was still acceptable.

Bai remained unharmed, which was a relief.

It could only be said that it was fortunate Bai usually appeared difficult to communicate with, as true communication was always spiritual.

No one expected Bai to be obedient; they merely wanted The Director to effectively guide and supervise.

Bai’s skills were simply too valuable.

Despite their worries, they didn’t dare do anything serious to her.

After all the commotion, the outsiders finally left.

Officer Wei took over, clearing her throat to interrupt the cat-girls who were busy examining their bracelets, especially those with bared fangs seemingly ready to test their taste.

“I won’t say much more; you cats know the score.”

“I’ll arrange the specific work schedules shortly.”

“Those with four or more skills will have to work hard covering shifts first.”

“Those with fewer skills will have other arrangements.”

“What kind of arrangements, meow?”

“Hmm… further training at the slaughterhouse.”