Cat 127: Newcomer Syndrome

Chapter 127: Newcomer Syndrome

On their first night back, Qi Feng noticed that Caramel wouldn’t share the dinner table with him, wouldn’t sleep in the same bed, and wouldn’t even let him touch her.

If it weren’t for the fact that it was unmistakably the same cat, he would have suspected that someone had switched out Caramel for another.

Why had his cat become so distant after coming back from the finals?

Qi Feng tried preparing Caramel’s favorite cat food, but after only a few bites she left it untouched, found a corner, and curled up to sleep. Whenever he tried to approach, she would open her eyes and watch him warily.

The next morning, when Caramel was still sleeping, he reached out to stroke her head as usual. Without warning, she opened her eyes and clawed the back of his hand, leaving three red marks.

Qi Feng had never seen Caramel like this. She was like a wildcat hardened by life outdoors, wary and defensive toward everyone, hypersensitive and on edge.

Yet in the game, she had followed at his heels voluntarily.

What had happened during the final rounds? Was she hunted by other players?

The blood he had seen on her fur kept troubling him. Had the wound on her back come from some danger in the last battle?

He’d seen enough documentaries about cats to know that if a cat suffered maltreatment or was kept in the wild for too long, it could develop serious psychological problems—scratching or biting, moodiness, irritability, hypervigilance.

Qi Feng watched closely the whole day and saw that Caramel didn’t sleep at all that night. She just crouched on the sofa, those bright eyes fixed on him, as if guarding against something.

He calmly analyzed the situation. Before entering the finals, Caramel must have advanced to the intermediate-stage instance. Why she’d moved up from beginner to intermediate so fast still needed clarification.

He was certain that only intermediate-stage players could enter the finals. This meant Caramel was, at minimum, now an intermediate-stage player.

Her previous instance was “Animal Madness Park,” which should have been her intermediate climb. Just days after clearing that instance, she and he were both chosen for the finals.

Once he noticed Caramel’s abnormal state, Qi Feng made a quick decision.

He took Caramel back to the real world.

If her mood was troubled, there was another likely reason for her sudden shift: Newcomer Syndrome.

Many new players, after entering the game and encountering events that contradicted their core beliefs, would eventually become withdrawn—even the most optimistic. If they had no outlet, their personalities could radically change. Some even fell into depression. The farther up you went, the harder the instances became; the more your beliefs were shaken, the more likely you’d be unable to go on.

Although Caramel wasn’t human, she had to adapt each time to a new environment, and for her, that was a new challenge every time.

A cat thrust into a new setting needs a few days to adjust. He suspected that after hopping through so many instances, Caramel might have become depressed due to constant changes.

He blamed himself for overlooking her emotional state.

After the finals, a new rest period was calculated before the next instance. For intermediate-stage players, the waiting period was seven days, so Caramel would have six days before her next game. He decided to take her back home to lighten her mood.

They hadn’t returned to their real-world home in over a month.

The moment they stepped inside, Caramel sneezed.

The house, unoccupied for so long, was covered in dust. Qi Feng immediately summoned four cleaning staff to scrub it clean.

While the cleaners worked, he took Caramel for a walk around the community. This was a familiar environment for her.

Man and cat strolled leisurely down the path. Neighbors greeted them as they passed by, and Caramel seemed visibly less tense.

“Caramel, why haven’t you been by lately to watch grandpa play chess? The sparrows in the trees have been missing you.”

“Caramel, finally out to play! Our dog Skewer waits for you every day.” Skewer was a dachshund.

“Caramel’s owner, how do you raise such a well-behaved cat? Mine’s terrified to go outside.”

Qi Feng was as reserved as his cat and didn’t chat much with the community elders, but the neighbors didn’t seem to mind.

It was the second afternoon since they’d left the finals.

The sunlight of the real world was bright and warm; the autumn breeze caressed their faces, peaceful and free.

Qi Feng found his gaze drawn to Caramel. After coming out of the game, he’d sometimes taken her for walks, back when her spirits were higher and she’d scamper through the hedges and tease the neighborhood’s dogs and birds.

But today was different. She just kept her head low and marched on, ignoring even the passing dogs.

Now, she lay lazily on the bench in the pavilion, clearly worn out.

Qi Feng still had faint claw marks on his hand, only superficial scratches—she’d clearly controlled her strength.

He harbored no resentment towards Caramel. Animals can’t always control their emotions; it’s the owner’s job to be even more patient and caring.

Qi Feng had no idea whether his cat’s perspective on the game matched his own, but clearly, what happened in the game did affect her mood, and the events she encountered there had left their mark.

Maybe, brought up indoors and never made to fend for herself, Caramel lacked the resilience of a wild cat. After a month of unpredictable hardships, she might feel as if her owner didn’t want her anymore. No wonder she showed signs of depression.

He tried his best to help her feel comfortable, both body and soul, but Caramel was still standoffish. At most, she would lift her eyelids and glance at him before going back to bask in the sunny spot, tail flicking—her mood seemed to be improving a little.

A cat is meant to be cherished, even if it scratches you. As long as her spirits recovered, nothing else mattered.

Being out of the game, Qi Feng could no longer see the system interface—a temporary reprieve.

As Caramel soaked up the autumn sun, Qi Feng breathed deeply of the fresh, grassy air. The landscaping was lovely; even the newly cut grass still held the scent of green. He realized he hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

For two or three hours, they sat wordlessly in that little pavilion. That simple companionship was enough.

At dusk, when the neighborhood filled with students coming home from school, Caramel rose of her own accord and headed for home. On the way, she stopped by the chess-playing elders, jumped up the tree and startled the sparrows perched there.

The old men laughed and praised Caramel merrily.

One, fanning himself, grinned, “Caramel, we’re making fish tonight—want to come by for dinner?”

Another, his hair dyed black, said, “I’m out for barbecue with my daughter, Caramel, want to join us?”

A third elder remained intent on his chessboard.

Qi Feng, confident his cat understood, called, “Caramel, time to go home. I’ll fry you some dried fish for dinner.”

Caramel flicked her tail and followed Qi Feng home.

The slanting sun threw their figures across the ground in a long shadow, one big, one small.

Qi Feng started “brainwashing” his cat. “Caramel, you can’t eat grilled fish, you can’t have greasy barbecue. You’ll get diarrhea, it’ll hurt your tummy, and you’ll end up at the vet.”

Caramel swished her tail and walked ahead, pretending not to hear.

Qi Feng smiled silently as he trailed behind.

Back home, Qi Feng had all sorts of fresh meat delivered and cooked up a better-than-average supper.

Tonight, Caramel was willing to join him for dinner.

At bedtime, she still didn’t snuggle up to him, but at least she wasn’t sleeping somewhere else, merely curling at the foot of the bed.

In the middle of the night, Qi Feng felt a familiar weight settle on his chest. He didn’t need to look to know what it was.

Yan Jiyun, after two days of recovery in the real world, was no longer feeling so low.

Four days before the next instance, Qi Feng brought Yan Jiyun back into the game.

Now came the real challenge: their affinity was stuck at a pitiful one point, and Qi Feng still couldn’t see Caramel’s score or instance progress.

That Caramel made it to the finals meant her score was solidly within the intermediate range.

Qi Feng recalled that her name hadn’t shown up on the finals leaderboard, meaning her score must not have placed her among the central city’s top players. As a result, he couldn’t check her status in real time.

Did Caramel’s point system match the regular player conversion?

Normally, newbies had only cleared four instances by this stage, remaining squarely in the beginner rounds. But Caramel had made the jump to the finals.

Only those who’d completed intermediate instances could receive a finals admission ticket.

At this point, Caramel had played through four instances.

Beginner instances: “Home After School,” “Midnight Diner,” “Hide and Seek.”

Intermediate instance: “Animal Madness Park.”

Judging by the score conversions for regular players, to leap from the beginner pool to the intermediate, you’d need over 100,000 points from those three first instances.

Was Caramel really that impressive?

Another possibility occurred to him: the simple version of beginner instances didn’t offer enough points—it had to be the hard version.

He remembered Qiu Xi mentioning, upon entering the “Hide and Seek” instance, that she’d been put in the hard version, while he’d selected the simple one for Caramel. Given what he now knew, Caramel must have also entered the hard version. The only force capable of overriding his choices was the system itself.

Why?

Qi Feng asked the system and got a definitive answer: the main-pet system. He was the primary account, Caramel the secondary. The latter was partially bound to the data of the principal, and for secondary accounts, only hard mode of beginner instances was available—no simple mode.

This time, Qi Feng dared not idly assign Caramel to a random instance.

Of the talented new players, only Yan Jiyun came to mind, but Yan Jiyun knew nothing of Caramel. Besides, Qi Feng had just eliminated him in the finals—not likely he’d want to team up now.

That avenue was blocked.

Qiu Xi should also be in the intermediate instances by now, so Qi Feng tried reaching out.

Before he managed to contact her, he realized Caramel was missing from his private space!

He exited personal space and found Lan Mo snacking on an apple.

Lan Mo’s eyes lit up. “You finally came out, Feng-ge!”

Qi Feng: “Have you seen a black cat?”

Lan Mo remembered the task Qi Feng had assigned him before the finals. From start to finish, he’d spent two days searching; after the finals, Qi Feng didn’t ask him to continue searching, having headed back to the real world for a while. Now suddenly he was asking again.

“Nope,” said Lan Mo, “Was your cat in your space?”

Qi Feng nodded. “Yes, but she left on her own. Did you see her?”

Lan Mo got up and checked around, but there was no trace of a cat. “Not here.”

Qi Feng’s brows furrowed. Where could Caramel have gone?

He was about to head outside to look when Lan Mo shouted, “Feng-ge, there’s a letter for you on the floor!”

Qi Feng returned, snatching the letter Lan Mo had just picked up. Sure enough, it was addressed to him.

Caramel had been taken away by her “new owner.” The note, left by Caramel’s “new owner,” confirmed it.

Caramel was clever—she knew how to leave someone’s private space. Now, Qi Feng’s suspicions were confirmed.

But what sort of “new owner” could entice her to leave? If she’d gone to Qiu Xi, that would have made sense, but he was her real owner. He’d raised her from a kitten. Why would she suddenly choose to go with a stranger? What did this new owner offer that he did not? Or was it just that the new owner cooked better, crunchier fish snacks?

The note was succinct, only a few lines, and Qi Feng’s face grew dark as he read it.

Lan Mo, unused to seeing him so overtly emotional, asked, “What happened?”

Now that Lan Mo already knew about the cat, there was no point hiding anything.

Qi Feng was equal parts grieved and frustrated, teetering on the verge of self-doubt. “My cat ran off with another player.”

Lan Mo was devastated. Then, he jumped up: “Wait, how could your cat leave here? Didn’t we just move? How would someone know she lived here? Who has that kind of capability?”

Qi Feng, roused from his melancholy by Lan Mo’s questions, straightened his back. He’d been so busy fixating on Caramel’s new owner that he’d almost forgotten the bigger issue.

How had the other side managed to seize Caramel every time? Did they have some kind of tracker on her?

He glanced again at the note. The paper wasn’t from his home, but matched the exchangeable stock from within the game.

No clues.

The note bore but one line, crisp and clear: “The cat’s about to join a new instance. I’ve taken her. Don’t worry.”

The other party knew everything about Caramel.

From her last exit, Caramel should have been at his side until the finals. Yet when Caramel went to the finals, the other party still knew about her and acted accordingly.

Within the instance, only Chu Mo had seen Caramel, but he obviously didn’t know her and, as an old player, was unlikely to bring her into new games.

How did that person know?

Were they with a major guild?

Only someone who’d been tracking him from the beginning could have discovered where he’d settled.

But, after all, the likeliest reason for Caramel’s departure was simple: she must have been treated well. Otherwise, she’d never have willingly left his private space for a stranger.

Had he not treated her well enough? Had he just not kept her company enough? Or did she just want a new environment?

Wait—he wasn’t even her only owner. Before entering the game, hadn’t she had other owners too?

What made her new owner so much better?

Even if he was just a newbie with less experience than Qi Feng himself—Qi Feng was an old hand!

Forget it—a cat’s a mystery. Whoever feeds her the tastiest treats, she follows them. And, he realized, he hadn’t even managed to feed her a single proper meal during all their game instances.

Confronted by this reality, Qi Feng slipped into a silent, reflective gloom.

Meanwhile, after dropping off the letter at Qi Feng’s door, Yan Jiyun returned to his apartment.

Today, he chose to leave mainly because Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi had just come out of their instance—both had survived once again.

Yan Jiyun let out a sigh of relief. Barring any mishaps, these two were destined to be his future teammates.

After three games together, Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi now had greater rapport with each other than they did with him.

The three had only played one instance together.

After leaving Qi Feng’s place, Yan Jiyun headed to their designated meeting spot.

This time, he would no longer go solo. The finals had proved that teamwork would become increasingly vital.

He’d been lucky to meet Qi Feng and Chu Mo last time. But everyone, in the end, had hidden motives and in a pinch, would always choose whatever benefited themselves.

He needed two partners he could truly coordinate with.

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi didn’t know his secret, but that didn’t matter. They also knew he liked to act alone within instances.

For now, these two were the closest he had to reliable allies, hard-earned through several rounds of mutual survival.

Instead of meeting outside, Yan Jiyun rented another apartment as their meeting place.

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi arrived together.

He’d rented near the free-player district, away from large guilds—a safer bet for them.

Their reunion was tinged with silent emotion.

They got straight to the point.

Their schedules didn’t quite line up. Yan Jiyun only had four days before the next instance, while Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi had seven.

If they wanted to enter together, the other two would have to cut short their rest by three days.

“What do you think? Should we do the next instance together?” Yan Jiyun asked.

“Why not?” Gu Wenzhu answered without hesitation. “We already agreed.”

Qiu Xi nodded as well.

With that settled, they began discussing which instance to choose next.

Gu Wenzhu commented, “Intermediate-stage instances are definitely harder. We need to be more cautious in our choice.”

They had four days—enough time to gather intel.

After over a month here, they’d learned the lay of the land.

Free players and guild members rarely mixed.

Yan Jiyun suggested, “Let’s try something different this time—let’s sell information too.”

He’d always run instances alone, but realizing how much his teammates lagged behind in points, he knew that as instances got harder—especially with Gu Wenzhu’s leg problems—they’d struggle to keep up. His own experience with the card system told him that even if they managed to rack up points, it wouldn’t be enough for all the resources they’d need.

“We haven’t done that many instances,” Gu Wenzhu worried.

“We may not have much info,” Yan Jiyun said, “but what we have is highly accurate.”

With so many players coming in daily, he wasn’t worried about demand.

He’d cleared four instances, each with a new ending, and racked up a good score—information worth selling.

Now that “Animal Madness Park” had been updated and old intel was obsolete, he could offer the newest data.

If other guilds could profit from selling info, why couldn’t he? Qi Feng likely owned or had deals with shops selling information.

Yan Jiyun and Gu Wenzhu focused on information sales, while Qiu Xi, the orphaned but diligent chef, managed logistics.

They picked several reputable shops, run either by guilds or free players, and approached them for quotes.

Combining their data, and filtering out duplicates, they packaged the freshest intel they could.

Lacking the manpower to run a shop, they could only opt for flat sales.

It wasn’t that Yan Jiyun didn’t want to share his points equally—with so much spent on cards in barely two days at the finals, he barely had any left. No telling how much harder upcoming instances would be.

With their plan set, they took their information to market.

First, they tried several reputable guild shops, but the offered prices were insultingly low. Three shops in, and not a single bid met Yan Jiyun’s expectations.

At the third, the staff showed open disdain.

As they stepped outside, Yan Jiyun overheard the whispers behind them:

“Newbies want to sell info at that price? What’s it made of—gold? Do they even know where they stand?”

“Seriously. Intermediate-stage info sells, sure, but trying to rip us off with random scraps? Idiotic. Do they not know which guild we are?”

“They think just because they’ve cleared a couple of instances they’re hot stuff? That one’s half-crippled; how much could he possibly know?”

Yan Jiyun winced inwardly.

What nonsense. If they don’t want to buy, fine—but why the pointless trash talk?

He asked Gu Wenzhu, “That shop—whose guild is it?”

“Quit-Smoking Guild. Why?”

“If they ever want to buy from us, it’ll be at top price.”

Gu Wenzhu grinned. “Fine by me.” Clearly, that guild had a reputation for being unpleasant.

Only the best-known of the guild shops remained.

This time, Gu Wenzhu did the talking, while Yan Jiyun observed.

Quit-Smoking was ranked fourth. Now, they approached the top-ranked shop—the Flagship Guild.

Yet the manager, upon learning they were here to sell info, refused outright without even asking the price.

Yan Jiyun and Gu Wenzhu didn’t argue and prepared to leave.

As they exited, two men stepped out from the back.

A man with a scar on his face asked, “Why did they leave so quickly?”

The manager replied, “Vice president, they came to sell beginner-stage intel. I turned them down.”

“What instance?” the scarred man asked.

“Animal Madness Park.”

The scarred man’s expression grew cold. “There was a system update for that instance just days ago. They might have new clues—you should have bought.”

The manager replied, “But they look like newbies…”

An intellectual-looking man by his side cut in, “Go after them. Bring them back.”

The manager hurried out to catch up with Yan Jiyun and Gu Wenzhu.

Yan Jiyun, having overheard every word, decided he would now double his asking price—after all, scarcity drives value.