Seeing this message, Xiao Qingnang froze for a moment.
Acupuncture for a cat?
How did this task suddenly land in his lap?
Sitting beside him, Zhu Jue was also scrolling through his phone. Before long, Xiao Qingnang understood the full story.
Though he was currently studying Western medicine at a modern university, his roots lay in ancient Chinese medicine. Having spent half his previous life honing his skills, he had no intention of abandoning his hard-earned expertise.
Early in the semester, to avoid suspicion from his dormmates should he ever prescribe herbs or perform acupuncture, Xiao Qingnang had taken the initiative. He’d explained his background—born into a family of traditional healers, skilled in tuina, acupuncture, and pulse diagnosis.
Because of this, he’d even offered to check each of his dormmates’ pulses at the start of the term, hoping to foster camaraderie.
Yan, Zhu Jue’s girlfriend, knew about his background in ancient medicine, so her request for acupuncture wasn’t surprising. But performing it on a cat? That gave him pause.
In his past life, Xiao Qingnang *had* treated animals with acupuncture.
As a renowned physician, he’d traveled far and wide under the guise of an itinerant healer. From nobles to commoners, even livestock and stray dogs—he’d treated them all.
In modern terms: no human-focused physician had treated as many animals as he had, and no veterinarian had treated as many humans.
Xiao Qingnang replied simply: *"I can. Let’s talk after class."*
Now was different from then. Modern medicine had advanced, and its techniques could complement ancient practices. Though he knew little about contemporary veterinary care, he wanted to hear professional opinions.
On the other end, Yan immediately showed the reply to Gu Jiasui.
With a reassuring glance, Yan signaled: *It’s settled. Don’t worry.*
After their 12 o’clock class ended—with no further lectures scheduled—Yan and Gu Jiasui met up with Zhu Jue and Xiao Qingnang.
The pet hospital, wary of liability, refused to let them perform acupuncture on-site. The other four kittens had been examined and declared healthy, though their sizes varied due to early malnutrition.
On the way to meet the boys, Yan reassured Gu Jiasui.
"Don’t worry, Jiasui. Xiao Qingnang can definitely help. He comes from a family of ancient healers—he’s *really* skilled."
Yan was brimming with confidence. If Xiao Qingnang said he "could," then he absolutely could. She hadn’t interacted much with this enigmatic figure, but based on Zhu Jue’s descriptions, Xiao Qingnang wasn’t one to boast. He kept his word, rarely joked around, and was unfailingly earnest.
Gu Jiasui nodded. She vaguely remembered Yan mentioning this classmate. Two weeks ago, their dorms had gone to a comic convention together. Back then, she’d only learned his name and that he was in the same major as Yan’s boyfriend.
But the name "Xiao Qingnang" sounded oddly familiar, as if she’d heard it somewhere before.
Yi Zhi, who’d also been in class, got pulled aside by their professor and couldn’t join them.
"Jue Jue—!"
Spotting the boys ahead, Yan waved. Two towering, handsome young men were hard to miss.
Xiao Qingnang, dressed simply in a white shirt and gray pants, greeted them with a nod, his backpack slung over one shoulder like Zhu Jue’s.
"Are we picking up the cat now?" he asked.
"The pet hospital wouldn’t let us do the acupuncture there—too much risk. And we can’t keep the kittens in our dorm, so I thought we could temporarily house them at the club’s office. There’s always someone there during the day, and the place has nighttime surveillance."
"The other four are up for adoption, though we’re still debating whether to return them to the mother cat," Gu Jiasui added.
She handed Xiao Qingnang the digital examination report from the pet hospital. After reviewing the scans and diagnosis, he pondered briefly.
"Let’s get the cat first." He didn’t offer guarantees—until he examined the patient himself, others’ opinions were merely reference.
The five kittens were soon collected. Since the other four were healthy, Gu Jiasui carefully cradled the box containing the paralyzed kitten to prevent accidental harm.
Both Yan and Zhu Jue had severe allergies. Though masked, they kept their distance, so Xiao Qingnang took charge of the other four kittens.
In the car, he sat in the passenger seat, his fingers subtly stroking each kitten in turn—a fact Yan noticed from the backseat, wedged between Zhu Jue and Gu Jiasui.
*A cat lover! Even better! He’ll definitely save it!*
After a quick trip to the pet hospital, Yan and the others followed Gu Jiasui to Bin University’s Campus Pet Association office for the first time.
The space was filled with supplies donated by generations of members for stray animals. They settled the four healthy kittens into separate cages. The vet had fed them some milk paste earlier, so Gu Jiasui noted the feeding time on a sticky tag attached to the cages. Kittens this young didn’t know when to stop eating—no more food for now, but the next shift of club members would need to track it.
The four kittens, energized after their vet visit and meal, began mewling loudly in their cages.
Yan had to admit… their cries were less than melodic, more like tiny wails.
On the association’s table, Gu Jiasui spread a cloth and gently placed the paralyzed kitten atop it.
Xiao Qingnang washed his hands, then ran his slender fingers over the kitten’s body.
To an outsider, it might’ve looked like he was simply petting the cat—methodically covering every inch from head to tail, twice over.
The kitten lay limp in his hands, its expression almost dazed, showing no reaction.
Gu Jiasui’s heart pounded as she waited. Finally, Xiao Qingnang set the kitten down and turned to them.
His voice was calm, exuding quiet confidence.
"Don’t worry. It’s treatable."
His current major wasn’t veterinary medicine, so the pet hospital’s report only gave a rough idea. But his own experience sufficed for a diagnosis.
"Acupuncture first, then bone-setting," he said, retrieving a cloth-wrapped set of silver needles and a syringe from his backpack.
"Did the vet manage to feed the kitten?" he asked.
Gu Jiasui shook her head. "They tried, but it couldn’t eat."
"Then let’s try a little now. Regular kitten milk should be fine." Xiao Qingnang knew the pet industry had grown immensely—cats and dogs were family now.
But while modern methods were meticulous, he preferred sticking to what he knew. In the past, without commercial pet food, cats thrived on fresh fish and greens, their coats glossy and healthy.
Gu Jiasui prepared a small amount of goat’s milk. Xiao Qingnang tested the temperature with his fingers, waiting until it was lukewarm before drawing it into the syringe.
Gu Jiasui stood close, while Yan and Zhu Jue kept their distance to avoid allergy flare-ups.
No helping it—the room was thick with cat hair. Their eyes and throats were already itching. Another minute, and it’d get worse.
Gu Jiasui watched as the kitten, which had been completely unresponsive and impossible to feed at the veterinary hospital, now lay docile in Xiao Qingnang’s hands.
With one hand cradling the kitten’s head, he seemed to press certain acupoints while gently dripping goat’s milk into its mouth with a syringe in the other.
The kitten—the kitten was moving! It was drinking the milk!
As expected, traditional medicine had its ways. Gu Jiasui’s beautiful eyes shimmered with relief. As long as the kitten could eat, it would at least have the strength to hold on.
She watched as the entire tube of milk was fed to the kitten, and the little creature seemed to regain a bit of vitality.
Xiao Qingnang’s fingers lightly massaged the kitten’s belly in careful, rhythmic motions.
“My class schedule is pretty packed, so I might not always make it in time to feed the kitten,” he said to Gu Jiasui.
“Later, I’ll teach you a massage technique. We can coordinate our schedules and take turns pressing the acupoints.”
He guided Gu Jiasui’s hand to the kitten’s pressure points, then reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves.
“Apologies if this seems forward,” he said politely.
Times had changed—the old notions of propriety between men and women no longer applied, and for a medical practitioner, gender shouldn’t be an issue.
Still, Xiao Qingnang knew Gu Jiasui was a “celebrity” in this day and age. He didn’t want to be mistaken for some lecher taking advantage, so he made sure to wear the gloves.
“It’s fine, just act normal,” Gu Jiasui replied with a soft shake of her head.
Though she had once been a poor judge of character, Yan’s assurance had convinced her that this male classmate was a decent person.
Anyone with a gentle and kind heart toward small creatures couldn’t be all that bad.
Xiao Qingnang meticulously demonstrated the feeding and post-feeding massage technique three times, then had Gu Jiasui practice it herself.
His voice remained warm, yet carried an undercurrent of disciplined urgency.
“Professor, do the two of us need to learn this too?” Yan hesitantly raised her hand.
“You two? No need.” Xiao Qingnang glanced at Yan and Zhu Jue.
The couple had already started sneezing, wiping tears with tissues—their eyes red and puffy. If not for the fact that their allergies were well-known, one might have thought they’d just had a shared crying session.
“Though, if you’re free today, I can give you both a round of acupuncture,” he added.
“If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Huh?” Yan blinked in surprise.
Why the sudden offer to stick needles in them?
“In traditional medicine, allergies are viewed differently. According to ancient principles, acupuncture can be used for treatment.”
“I think it’d work better than relying on medication or just enduring the symptoms.”
As for why Yan and Zhu Jue had come all the way south to Bin City for university—they were simply fed up with Ning City’s willow catkins!
Every year, when spring turned to summer, Ning City’s skies would fill with floating white fluff, clinging to hair and clothes without mercy. That alone would’ve been bearable, but the two of them were allergic.
During their school days, it was pure misery—skip the antihistamines and suffer, take them and battle drowsiness through classes. Neither option was ideal.
Yan eyed the acupuncture needles Xiao Qingnang had taken out, instinctively recoiling. “We’re not sharing needles with the kitten, are we?”
Xiao Qingnang chuckled. “This set is for small animals. I have another for humans in my bag.”
“But this isn’t the best place for treatment. Ideally, you’d both lie down on a medical bed for a proper session.”
Yan’s focus abruptly shifted at his words.
He’d referred to the set as *small animal* needles—so this “Medical Sage” really *did* treat animals too!
“For Zhu Jue, if he agrees, I can administer the treatment in the dorm tonight.”
Yan turned to Zhu Jue with hopeful eyes. They’d endured allergies for years—if the Medical Sage said he could cure them, who were they to refuse?
A few needles were nothing compared to finally being free of this misery!
Zhu Jue, his allergy-reddened eyes calm, gave a firm nod. “I’m in.”
Though their symptoms only flared up around allergens, being rid of the condition entirely would be a relief.
Xiao Qingnang’s lips curved slightly. “I’ll realign your bones while I’m at it.”
The way Yan looked at him now was downright wary. Did this guy just *itch* for an excuse to practice on them?
But—this was *free* treatment!
From the *Medical Sage* himself! How could they *not* take advantage?
If Zhu Jue could build a good relationship with Xiao Qingnang over their four years at university, they might even secure his help for their elders’ age-related ailments in the future.
With a few more words, the initially somber mood in the office lifted, and Gu Jiasui’s lips curved into a faint smile.
Xiao Qingnang glanced at her, the corners of his mouth tilting up as he instructed her to hold the kitten steady before removing his gloves.
“Right now, the kitten can’t excrete on its own, so it needs frequent cleaning and monitoring. After feeding, massage for about fifteen minutes. Now, I’ll begin the acupuncture.”
He unfolded the needle case, and Gu Jiasui noticed these were markedly different from standard human acupuncture needles.
As Xiao Qingnang prepared the needles, Yan held her breath—though *she* wasn’t the one being pricked, her nerves still spiked.
Gu Jiasui watched as needle after needle was inserted into the tiny kitten’s body, her heart skipping with each one.
The palm-sized creature, now dotted with half a body’s worth of needles, didn’t so much as twitch.
The slender needles made the kitten resemble a tiny hedgehog as it gazed up at Gu Jiasui with its mismatched eyes—enough to melt anyone’s heart.
Xiao Qingnang worked at a measured pace, finishing in minutes before letting the needles rest in place. Now, it was just a waiting game.
“Give it a name,” he said suddenly.
Gu Jiasui paused. If they named it, surely it would pull through, right?
She turned to Yan. “What should we call it?”
Yan shook her head. “You pick. I’m terrible at names—all I can think of are things like ‘Snowball,’ ‘Goldie,’ ‘Flower,’ ‘Lucky,’ ‘Bean,’ or ‘Fortune.’”
Names so common that shouting them on the street would make half the crowd turn their heads.
Gu Jiasui gently stroked the kitten’s pitifully small paw, thinking for a moment before speaking.
“Let’s call it Pengpeng.”
Before Yan could ask which character that was, Xiao Qingnang nodded in approval.
His gaze softened as he looked at the kitten. *“I walk the wilds, where lush the wheat grows.” It’ll thrive.*
Gu Jiasui met his eyes, then smiled tenderly at the kitten.
Yes, this fragile little thing, barely able to move—may it grow strong and healthy, as vigorous as wild grass.
After half an hour, Xiao Qingnang removed the needles. By then, it was past noon—they’d been there for over an hour. With the day’s treatment complete and afternoon classes looming, it was time for lunch.
Fortunately, a club member who’d finished their morning classes returned just in time, and the kitten was settled into a private “recovery box.”
“Food and water have been delivered to Orange and Calico Mom. Orange is doing fine, but that pretty little calico is quite wary—I’ve never seen her before. No idea where Orange rescued this damsel in distress from,” a member of the association remarked.
Over the next two weeks, Gu Jiasui spent significantly less time in her dorm. Aside from attending classes, she rushed straight to the association’s office after each lecture to check on the kitten, Pangpang. Every day, even if there were no visible changes, she recorded videos of the little one with her phone.
Great journeys begin with small steps. Even if each day seemed no different from the last, they persisted.
Every feeding session had to be handled by either her or Xiao Qingnang. Gu Jiasui didn’t dare delegate the task to others—partly because the other students hadn’t learned how, and partly because the kitten’s paralysis made them hesitant to intervene beyond watching from a distance with sympathetic glances.
The calico mother cat, who had given birth to five kittens, was successfully brought back to the office. There was an oversized cage left behind from before, and the four healthy kittens had grown stronger under their mother’s care.
Though the mother cat had initially put up a fierce resistance, after Gu Jiasui’s persistent efforts—along with a steady supply of cat treats, canned food, and chicken breast—she eventually mellowed. Now, she didn’t even swipe a paw when the students cuddled her four babies.
Every member of the Campus Pet Association had their rabies vaccinations up to date, making them practically fearless.
Since the calico had recently given birth, the students decided to let her and the kittens stay in the office as a sort of postpartum recovery.
During these days of acupuncture treatments, they kept the cats in the cage to prevent them from running around.
Perhaps because the calico and her kittens had been taken away, even Orange started dropping by the office frequently, slipping in uninvited. He’d help himself to food and water, and often lingered by the cage, exchanging meows with the calico through the bars.
Gu Jiasui noticed that after the initial frantic clawing at the cage, the calico mother had gradually calmed down. Now, during each acupuncture session, she’d press herself against the cage door, watching intently. Orange occasionally joined but never disturbed them—almost as if he understood what was happening.
Yan and Zhu Jue had also added this place to their usual hangout spots, though they didn’t visit often due to their ongoing allergy treatments.
On the fourteenth day of Pangpang’s acupuncture treatment—a Sunday—the Campus Pet Association’s office remained staffed with rotating volunteers.
Gu Jiasui hadn’t left campus for two weekends straight. Today, Yan and Jue came to observe the acupuncture session.
“It moved!” Yan exclaimed softly, squeezing Jue’s hand.
“Did I see that right?”
“It did move. You’re not mistaken.” Gu Jiasui’s voice trembled slightly.
If Yan hadn’t spoken up first, she might have doubted her own eyes, wondering if it was just her imagination.
The kitten Pangpang’s legs, which had been stiff and motionless all this time, had just twitched visibly.
“Meow—!”
This wasn’t the kitten’s cry. Yan looked up—it was the calico mother calling out.
She seemed to have noticed the change in her kitten too.
Xiao Qingnang remained silent, continuing with the acupuncture. Then, the kitten’s tail suddenly jerked.
After the session, they reviewed the recorded footage. Watching the clear movements of the kitten’s hind leg and tail, Yan couldn’t help but clench her fists.
“This is amazing! If we keep up the acupuncture, it’ll definitely recover bit by bit.”
“Only two weeks of treatment, and the results are already this noticeable. You two are the heroes here—especially Jiasui, who’s been practically living in this office.”
A paralyzed kitten like this, left to fend for itself outside, would rarely receive such dedicated care and treatment. Patience, attentiveness, love—and yes, money—were all indispensable.
Gu Jiasui felt a lump in her throat. Pangpang’s mismatched eyes stared back at them blankly, as if the little one had no idea of its own progress.
“Pangpang’s the one working hard. I’m just sticking needles in every day,” Xiao Qingnang said lightly, gently cleaning the kitten’s ears with a cotton swab and massaging its tiny face.
“But Jiasui… I mean, Gu Jiasui’s the one who’s been taking care of it so meticulously. She’s put in the real effort,” Xiao Qingnang corrected himself.
“It’ll keep getting better,” Gu Jiasui murmured, tenderly wiping the kitten’s face.
By mid-November, Bin City’s temperatures had steadily dropped, with daily highs barely reaching 20°C. The short sleeves and skirts that had been perfectly wearable at the start of the month were now packed away.
The colder weather made everyone lazier. Yan stuffed her summer clothes into a box and shoved it under the sixth desk in their dorm—thankfully, Room 320 had an extra space, making life easier for the five of them. Otherwise, she’d have had to ship them back to her home in Ning City.
“Jiasui, you’re really not coming with us? We’ll bring something back for you then.”
Yan was torn between wearing a camel-colored coat or a white one. Chu Shen’s little restaurant had quietly reopened, and he’d mentioned adding new dishes to the menu—more than just the usual braised pork with potatoes. She and Jue were heading over for a meal.
Gu Jiasui shook her head. Having cared for a tiny life for so long—naming it, watching it grow despite its paralysis, seeing it progress from complete immobility to slight movement—she finally understood why people regarded their pets as family. She’d never raised a child, but now she got it.
A single day without seeing the kitten left her feeling unsettled. Even knowing the association members would take good care of it, she couldn’t shake the worry if she didn’t check in.
“The office and dorm both have microwaves. We’ll just heat things up later,” Gu Jiasui assured her.
Recently, Bin University’s dorms had undergone minor renovations. The decades-old buildings now had facial recognition systems, vending machines stocked with everything from sanitary pads to snacks and drinks, and microwaves on the first floor for reheating takeout.
Watching Yan still deliberating over her outfit, Gu Jiasui added, “That peacock-blue coat looks gorgeous on you. It really suits you.”
“Huh?” Yan blinked, then pulled the mentioned coat from her closet.
“I always thought this color was too bold for me. Kind of intimidating,” Yan muttered. She’d bought it on impulse but rarely wore it. Taking Jiasui’s advice, she slipped it on.
Peacock blue was a tricky shade, but paired with Yan’s white knitted dress, the striking contrast only accentuated her fair skin. Far from looking frumpy, she radiated brightness.
Ding Ling, who hadn’t left yet, gave a thumbs-up. “Stunning. It complements you perfectly.”
Convinced by her stylish roommates, Yan beamed. “Alright, off I go then.”
Though the coat was heavy, Yan practically floated downstairs, where Zhu Jue waited in a gray overcoat. Her eyes crinkled with joy.
“Let’s go, Jue! Finally, good food again.”
From the day Chu Shen had closed shop until now—almost a month! He’d been around campus the whole time, yet they’d gone without his famous fried rice. Only now, with the buzz mostly faded, had he quietly resumed business.
The sky was overcast, but Yan’s mood couldn’t be brighter as she boarded the familiar subway line to Chu’s little eatery.
“You know,” Yan mused suddenly, “Xiao Qingnang is such a safe person to be around.”
As the most unproblematic figures in their respective dorms, Xiao Qingnang and Ye Ping'an had been the safest subjects of observation for Yan and Zhu Jue—until now, when absolutely no incidents had arisen from either of them.
"Xiao Qingnang leads a simple life, sticking to the same routine every day without going anywhere unusual," Zhu Jue mused.
Xiao Qingnang was either in class, in the dorm, or taking care of the stray cats, leaving no room for chaos. It was almost too peaceful.
In fact, the past half-month had been the quietest stretch they’d ever experienced.
"Jue, we’re almost out of the snacks we bought from that place," Yan whispered to Zhu Jue on the subway.
She discreetly took stock of the intergalactic treats they’d purchased from the dimensional convenience store a month ago. Without realizing it, they’d nibbled through the entire stash, a little every few days.
The taste of the snacks wasn’t what she missed the most—it was the novelty.
Last month, they’d woken up unusually early and deliberately avoided Lin Fan and Yi Zhi, who were doing their morning workouts on opposite sides of the campus field. That was when they finally got to try the Dawnmist Fruit, which carried the crisp, cool flavor of "early morning," entirely different from the Duskmist Fruit.
"Even if we run into Lu Chen again, he might not be selling these next time," Yan muttered, tapping her chin.
Now, she regretted not buying more.
That "Galactic Cup" blind box thing had been weirdly addictive—though Yan had terrible luck, hitting the minimum prize three times in a row.
"Female celebrity caught abusing cats, stabbing kittens with needles for over half a month—what the hell, this person is pure trash!"
Yan turned her head sharply at the outburst from the girl sitting to her left, who was scrolling through her phone. The video playing on the screen showed a painfully familiar location.
Yan and Zhu Jue: !!!
Why was their university’s Stray Cat Care Office in this video?!
And the people in the footage—wasn’t that Suisui and Xiao Qingnang giving the cat, Pangpang, an acupuncture session?!
Holy—!
They immediately pulled out their phones. Yan stared in shock as the viral video and accompanying "exposé" skyrocketed to the top of the trending list.
#Gu Jiasui Collaborates with Male Student to Abuse Cats—Bin University Must Take Action#
#Celebrity Stabs Cats with Needles in Broad Daylight—Mother Cat’s Grief-Stricken Eyes Break Hearts#
"God, I can’t stand animal abuse. The mother cat just watching in the surveillance footage—it’s too cruel. I can’t even look."
"These celebrities act all refined, but behind the scenes, they’re savage beasts. If they’ll hurt cats, who knows what else they’ve done?"
"That looks like an office, and there are other cats in there. Damn, so many needles—I can’t imagine the pain. The cat didn’t even move, just a tiny little thing. How heartless can someone be? Truly, the female heart is the most venomous!"
"I used to be a fan of Gu’s visuals, but I’m dropping her now. I thought the Lu family’s fans were just exaggerating, but with this video and surveillance proof—cat abuse? That’s sociopathic behavior!!! Even if she’s a Bin University student, high-IQ sociopaths shouldn’t be tolerated!"
Yan: ???
Seriously? Xiao Qingnang and Suisui just unleashed a massive scandal? Were you two storing up your protagonist energy all this time?!
Wait—where did this spliced, soundless office surveillance footage even come from?!
