Xiao Qingnang stared at the handful of folding fans before him. If it were just one fan, he might have assumed Zhu Jue and Yan had bought it somewhere or inherited it from their families.
But this—distributing one to every roommate, and all of them bearing the work of General Dong—made it impossible for him not to feel suspicious.
Sitting at his desk, Xiao Qingnang pondered for a long time but still couldn’t figure out how these fans had come into their possession.
If it were anyone else, knowing these were genuine pieces by a renowned general from the Zhou dynasty centuries ago, would they really hand them out so casually?
And the way Zhu Jue had distributed them—effortless and generous, as if passing around snacks in the dorm—only deepened the strangeness.
Absentmindedly, Xiao Qingnang twirled the fan in his palm a couple of times. Ye Ping'an noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"Brother Xiao, I’d say Zhu Jue picked the perfect gift for you. If you put on some ancient-style robes right now, you’d look exactly like one of those elegant young masters from a period drama—like you’ve stepped straight out of history."
With a flick, Ye Ping'an opened his own fan and glanced at the landscape painting on it, unimpressed.
Clearly, these were just some Blue Planet souvenirs Zhu Jue and the others had picked up somewhere, probably meant as gifts to bring back to the interstellar colonies. Who knew they’d even bring back presents for their roommates?
"Right, Zhu Jue?" Ye Ping'an tossed the question casually.
Zhu Jue nodded in agreement. "You’re not wrong."
Xiao Qingnang chuckled. He was no noble young master—even in his past life, he’d been nothing more than a commoner, half a wanderer of the jianghu at best.
He buried his doubts for now and offered a sincere thanks.
"This fan is crafted in the old tradition. I’ll take good care of it."
In this lifetime, the original calligraphy and paintings by General Dong had long been lost to time. Yet now, Zhu Jue had given him this fan.
Though the medium had changed—from scroll to folding fan—it still carried the traces of an old friend.
No matter where it came from, a gift like this deserved gratitude.
As finals approached, everyone in Room 414 of the boys' dorm was burning the midnight oil—except Xiao Qingnang, who stuck to his usual early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine.
"A last-minute grind still polishes the blade," Ye Ping'an muttered under his breath.
"If it weren’t for the fried rice and fruit, I’d have collapsed already," Yuan Ye groaned in despair.
With finals week in full swing, the moronic system hadn’t sent him any outfit battle missions lately, and Yuan Ye could have wept with relief.
Every minute before exams was precious!
By January 10th, Bin University’s exam schedule was mostly over. Chu Shen slumped into his seat the moment he got back to the dorm, too drained to even pack for home.
Since different departments wrapped up exams at different times, the medical school—where his roommates were—had been the last to finish.
The undergrad dorms would close in a few days, and the hallways echoed with the sound of rolling suitcases and farewells: "See you after the New Year!"
Chu Shen packed slowly. As a local, he went home every weekend anyway—he only needed to bring back the clothes he’d left at school.
Winter had arrived, and with the Lunar New Year approaching, Chu Shen felt the urge to slack off. He still hadn’t decided on his café’s operating hours for the break.
Just then, Zhu Jue returned to the dorm. Chu Shen quickly summoned his Chef God System to check Zhu Jue and Yan’s favorability levels.
"40 points! It’s gone up by 10 since the last time!"
Only 10 more to reach 50!
Between finals frying his brain and being away from the shop, Chu Shen hadn’t checked the system in ages.
Now, he started to think reaching 100 favorability might not be so hard after all.
They were only in their first semester of freshman year!
If he played the long game, winning over this pair would be a piece of cake.
And that meant more chances to enter the River of Culinary Arts.
Who would he meet next in that current of history and food?
He didn’t know, but he couldn’t wait.
Between exams and saving up opportunities, Chu Shen hadn’t revisited the River of Culinary Arts since his first trip.
Even now, remembering that experience sent shivers down his spine.
Su Dongpo—Master Dongpo himself!
In the River, he’d traveled back to Hangzhou during the Northern Song Dynasty, becoming a young man living near Dongpo’s residence.
Though it wasn’t his real body, Chu Shen had tasted authentic "Dongpo pork" and received personal instruction from the legendary poet-gourmet.
If tracing the dish’s origins, Dongpo pork was first created by the master in Xuzhou, gained fame in Huangzhou, and was perfected in Hangzhou.
So what Chu Shen learned was the refined version, after multiple iterations.
Without modern seasonings or pressure cookers, he’d watched as Dongpo transformed humble pork into a dish of glistening amber, tender and fragrant beyond belief.
Centuries ago, people still turned up their noses at pork for its gaminess. But today, with advanced butchering techniques, quality meat was practically odorless—a staple in every household.
Yet his little restaurant was too cramped. If he went all-out on Dongpo pork, he wouldn’t have the energy to make his signature fried rice.
It wasn’t that he refused to hire help—it was just hard to find staff for a place that opened maybe once or twice a week, often unannounced.
Technically, it was day-labor gig work, but most day laborers didn’t fit his needs. The job was intense during rushes, and without knowing someone’s character, hiring was a gamble. So he’d put it off again and again.
Friends sometimes helped out when dropping by for meals, and regular customers were self-sufficient. So far, he’d managed alone.
Now, as winter break loomed, Chu Shen debated his opening schedule.
One day on, one day off? Three days on, three days off? Or stick to weekends only?
He’d already made enough money!
But he knew—if he went home and kept the shop closed, Chu’s Little Eatery would probably get mobbed.
A covert check of his customer group chat confirmed his fears: they’d somehow gotten hold of Bin University’s exam schedule and were already counting down to his grand reopening.
Chu Shen: "..."
Since when did they work him harder than a farm donkey?
Couldn’t a post-finals college student on the brink of existential collapse get a break?
School ended just so he could clock into work—what kind of brutal life was this?
After wallowing for a bit, he noticed Zhu Jue packing his suitcase. "Leaving soon?"
Zhu Jue had actually finished packing the night before and was just running through a checklist.
"Yeah. Brother Xiao went to give Pengpeng her acupuncture session first, so I’m helping bring his luggage down."
He glanced at Xiao Qingnang’s already-packed suitcase and the sling bag resting beside it.
“Let me help. Should we call a car later?” Chu Shen quickly put on his jacket and walked over as he watched Zhu Jue gather his things.
Even for guys, carrying two heavy suitcases down from the fourth floor was exhausting.
“Sure, don’t forget your keys.” Zhu Jue scanned the dorm room one last time.
“Brother Fan will probably come back to check later, so don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything’s turned off before I leave.” Chu Shen could tell from Zhu Jue’s expression that he was probably checking the appliances and water lines.
“Did you guys call a car yet? Is Yan all packed too?” Chu Shen asked.
Zhu Jue slung his backpack, stuffed with daily essentials, over his shoulder and nodded. “Gu Jiasui’s van is taking us there.”
“That’s convenient. I bet she’s reluctant to let you go—after all, she and Xiao Qingnang have been hands-on with the little one for almost three months now, like doting parents.”
“They’ve put in a lot of effort,” Zhu Jue agreed.
Even during exam week, Gu Jiasui and Xiao Qingnang never missed a day, braving wind and snow to arrive punctually at the campus pet office for acupuncture sessions without a moment’s slack.
Day after day, anyone who saw them would be impressed.
“If you’re free during winter break, you should come visit us,” Zhu Jue said as they carried the suitcases downstairs.
“You could come before New Year’s. By then, most people will have gone home for the holidays, so Ning City will be quiet. Xiao Qingnang and I both have plenty of space at our places.”
Chu Shen had fed him for half a semester—though Zhu Jue had paid for most of it, Chu Shen still woke up early on weekdays to cook fried rice and deliver it by hand.
Those acts were kindness, not obligation.
This kind of friendship couldn’t be forgotten.
Chu Shen was alone at home now, and even as a skilled cook, spending New Year’s by himself would be tough.
After some discussion, Yan and Zhu Jue thought inviting Chu Shen over was a good idea—purely to maintain their friendship, of course. Definitely not because they’d miss his egg-fried rice, braised pork, and Dongpo pork for two months!
By the time they reached the first floor, Chu Shen hesitated. “I’ll see when the time comes.”
His grandfather had always wanted to visit the capital, but between making ends meet and taking care of his grandson before the college entrance exams, he never got the chance.
They’d made plans to go together after the exams, but that promise became an eternal regret.
The idea was tempting, but Chu Shen hesitated.
“I’m still in mourning. It wouldn’t be right to visit during New Year’s.”
His grandfather had passed away less than a year ago, and in some traditions, it was considered bad luck for the bereaved to visit others’ homes during New Year’s for three years, lest they bring misfortune.
Plus, Chu Shen worried about awkwardness—staying at a friend’s place during the holidays, with relatives coming and going, might not be comfortable.
Otherwise, he really would’ve loved to see Ning City and fulfill his grandfather’s dream.
“We don’t care about that stuff, and Xiao Qingnang’s family are doctors,” Zhu Jue added.
“Anyway, if you’ve got time, come over. We’ll take you ice skating and show you Ning City’s snow.”
“Otherwise, working through New Year’s would be too rough on you.”
Outside, they wheeled their suitcases across campus. Since outside vehicles weren’t allowed in, they’d arranged to meet at a spot inside before heading to the main gate.
At the university square, Zhu Jue reached for Yan’s suitcase, but she refused.
“No, mine isn’t heavy. The laptop’s in my bag, and the suitcase just has clothes.” Yan wore fingerless gloves, and since Bin University’s paths weren’t icy like up north and there was no wind today, pushing the suitcase was easy.
Walking side by side, their gloved hands intertwined, Chu Shen suddenly felt like a glaring third wheel.
After a brief chat—just two or three minutes—Gu Jiasui and Xiao Qingnang appeared, the former carrying a cat backpack on her chest, the latter holding a pet carrier.
“We’ve got two hours. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad now,” Yan checked the time.
At 1 PM on a Wednesday, with a van driver who knew all of Bin City’s shortcuts, they’d definitely make their train.
In for a penny, in for a pound—since he’d already come this far, Chu Shen accompanied them all the way to the main gate. After all, Xiao Qingnang had his hands full with luggage and cats.
Watching them board the van, Chu Shen waved goodbye, feeling an indescribable mix of emotions about his two “special customers” leaving.
Good news: With them gone, he wouldn’t have to worry about their favorability dropping. But since they wouldn’t be eating his food, it wouldn’t rise either—his special quest had effectively stalled.
Inside the spacious van, the door locked, and the wide reclining seats were incredibly comfortable. Yan watched as Gu Jiasui unzipped the cat backpack, and little Pengpeng poked her head out.
Unable to resist, Yan reached over to give the kitten a quick pet. “Our Pengpeng is getting prettier every day.”
With finals keeping her and Zhu Jue busy, they hadn’t visited the cats as often, but now the little one seemed even more lively.
“What about Big Orange and the others during winter break?” Yan thought of the other campus pets.
“Some buildings stay open, and the association’s grad students and PhDs take turns looking after them,” Gu Jiasui explained.
“There are more postgrads in the association than undergrads,” Xiao Qingnang added.
Gu Jiasui smiled. “I’ve heard cats and dogs have an emotional soothing effect. A lot of people rely on them for comfort.”
She gazed tenderly at Pengpeng, who was now licking her fingertips. Wasn’t she the same?
The group chatted until they reached the train station, where Gu Jiasui, eyes slightly red, reluctantly placed Pengpeng into the carrier.
“Pengpeng, your brother will take care of you now. Big sister will visit soon, okay?”
“Meow~~” The kitten blinked innocently but responded instinctively.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Xiao Qingnang reassured, his voice calm and steady.
Without tickets, they couldn’t enter the station, and the drop-off area was crowded. Keeping farewells brief, Zhu Jue took Xiao Qingnang’s suitcase, Yan carried a bag, and he shouldered the cat backpack and carrier.
If three people had this much trouble, traveling alone with a pet must be a nightmare.
Luckily, pet passengers had a dedicated lane, complete with luggage and pet carts, so they were hands-free in no time.
Their high-speed train left at 1 PM, arriving in Ning City by 5 PM. As finals approached, Yan and Zhu Jue missed home more than ever.
The pet-friendly cabin had extra space—their group of three with one cat was nothing compared to one man traveling with three cats.
Between cats, dogs, hamsters, parrots, turtles, and rabbits, the cabin was unavoidably noisy.
Though Yan and Zhu Jue had brought earplugs, they now felt fully immersed in a world of pets.
"The essence of life lies in experience," Yan murmured, quietly pulling out her earplugs in case the situation became unbearable.
They had anticipated that today's journey home would be decidedly "peculiar" the moment they booked the pet-friendly train carriage.
In this special compartment, all pets were required to remain inside their carriers, with locks fastened on travel crates or bags to avoid disrupting normal train operations or disturbing other passengers.
"Doesn’t our train only stop twice along the way?" Yan checked the railway app.
"No, just once—at Jinling."
"Only one stop? No wonder it’s so fast," remarked Xiao Qingnang.
Soothing music played in the pet carriage, though it was interspersed with odd noises that Yan couldn’t quite place.
"Jue, Xiao, doesn’t this music sound a bit... off?"
She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some indistinct crackling woven into the melody.
"Maybe the speakers are malfunctioning?" Zhu Jue guessed.
"Regular compartments don’t play music, do they?" Xiao Qingnang also seemed puzzled.
Gradually, Yan realized something was amiss.
The music in this carriage didn’t seem meant for human ears. An hour after departing Jinling City, the usual chorus of meows, barks, and chirps had vanished. The entire pet carriage had fallen silent. She glanced back at the passenger with three cats—all of them were asleep.
Nearby, a schnauzer puppy snoozed soundly, and a parrot in its cage had also closed its eyes.
Yan: !!!
Was this the legendary *Animal Lullaby*?
Had she stumbled upon some big secret?
But then she noticed the cat carrier in front of them—Pengpeng, the little tabby, was still wide-eyed, staring intently as if trying to communicate.
Yan: Had she misjudged? Maybe the other pets were just exhausted from crying and had succumbed to the stress of unfamiliar surroundings?
Otherwise, why would Pengpeng still be alert, eyes round as copper bells?
Just as Yan was lost in thought, the door to the pet carriage suddenly swung open.
Unlike the automatic doors in other compartments, this one was manual, and even the restroom was inside the carriage. Most pet owners stayed put, too wary to wander. Was it the train attendant?
Instead, it was the uniformed conductor, accompanied by a rugged young man with peach-blossom eyes, dressed in outdoor gear and exuding an untamed aura—as if he belonged in the wilderness rather than the concrete jungle.
The young man scanned the silent carriage, visibly pleased, but his gaze soon settled on the cat carrier on the floor in the first row.
"Huh?" He let out a soft sound of confusion.
"This kitten...?"
As he focused on Pengpeng, Yan struggled to keep her eyes from darting to the top of his head.
She subtly pinched Zhu Jue’s palm. The glowing halo above the young man’s head was impossible to ignore.
**[Beast Whisperer]**
Judging by the way the conductor deferred to him, this man clearly had special authority on the train!
He was here to inspect the pet compartment—everything clicked into place for Yan.
Now, she watched as the Beast Whisperer crouched down, studying Pengpeng, while Xiao Qingnang tensed, half-rising in wary attention.
As if sensing something, Pengpeng let out a few soft meows.
Then, the Beast Whisperer looked up at the trio.
"This kitten is asking for its mother. It wants to know why its father is here but not its mom. Where is she?"
The question left all three stunned.
Mother? No—Pengpeng’s calico mother had escaped from the shelter after a month and returned to ruling the university campus. Given how long Xiao Qingnang and Gu Jiasui had cared for the kitten, they were clearly the "parents" in its eyes.
"We’re on break, so I’m taking it home for acupuncture treatment. Its... mother will come later," Xiao Qingnang explained.
"College students, huh?" The young man frowned, sizing them up with an unreadable expression.
"This little one has some separation anxiety, but it’s manageable. You must usually be together—it’s not used to being left with just one of you."
"Then your suggestion is...?" Xiao Qingnang asked, unsure how the man had deduced so much but recognizing his confidence.
"Video-call the mother often. Let the kitten see her. Keep the family together, even from a distance." With that, he made a few soothing sounds to Pengpeng before moving on to check the other pets.
Xiao Qingnang knelt beside the carrier, reaching through the bars to stroke Pengpeng gently.
The kitten understood everything.
Raised in an abundance of love, even if its caretakers were two oddly shaped creatures of a different species, in its eyes, they were its parents.
