Cat 134: Outsmarting the List

Chapter 134: Outsmarting the List

[“Want to Be Human” Livestream:]

“Hahahaha! Finally, those three players woke up—and instead of guessing it was supernatural, they think the cat is a cat demon. I’m dying!”

“I don’t care about the players, I care about the two men the cat’s been following. One’s Mr. Qu, but who’s the other? We’ve never seen his face, but from behind he looks a lot like Mr. Qu. Could Mr. Qu have a twin?”

“I was just about to ask—is Mr. Qu a twin? Can anyone clarify? I’ve only played this instance once, and I remember there’s only one Mr. Qu—not a twin.”

“Honestly, I’ve seen this instance several times and there’s definitely only one Mr. Qu. Every time, his temperament doesn’t really change—always the yandere vibe—never saw him with another personality.”

“Maybe the other guy isn’t Mr. Qu? Maybe he wears a wig and copies Mr. Qu’s style to throw suspicion elsewhere?”

“But that character’s never appeared before. Was the instance updated? If so, we’d see the update as viewers.”

“Or maybe, since we’re seeing things from the cat’s perspective, we’ve encountered a character no one’s seen before? Every time the cat enters an instance, things play out differently.”

“And you all still have energy to discuss plot—I’m so anxious! The cat’s about to follow Mr. Qu!”

Yan Jiyun ultimately decided to risk following after them.

The instance ran for seven days—there was no chance the players would be confined to just the classroom building; the teachers’ dorms were bound to be part of the exploration.

Normally, Mr. Qu shouldn’t need to board at the dorms; someone so impeccably dressed would probably drive here in a low-key sports car, and as the art teacher, shouldn’t need to supervise evening study… then again, perhaps all homeroom teachers did. He couldn’t judge by appearances.

Faculty enjoyed excellent housing—actual apartments, not just single rooms. The building looked quite new.

Modern, with elevators—even floor numbers displayed digitally.

Mr. Qu entered the lift, which headed up and stopped at the fifth floor.

Yan Jiyun hopped up and hit the call button; the lift came back down.

Suddenly, the light above the elevator flickered, maybe just faulty wiring.

Yan didn’t turn off the light, but as soon as the doors opened, he darted in.

As soon as the doors slid shut, the elevator lights went out. The stylish apartment was less impressive in the dark.

He felt lucky—it was easier to blend in. In human form, maybe he’d have been spooked, but as a cat, darkness was his element.

The elevator reached the fifth floor. Warily, he crept out.

There was no light in the hallway. He could smell a faint trace of mint—the same scent that belonged to Long-Haired Number Two, but couldn’t pinpoint the direction.

He hadn’t gotten close enough earlier to know if it was Mr. Qu’s scent or the other man’s.

There was no retreat in this corridor—if he was caught, he’d have no escape.

The corridor ran straight both ways, all lined with doors.

To the right, the mint smell was stronger.

He hadn’t heard which apartment Mr. Qu had entered; the elevator had blocked out all sound.

Following the trace of scent was his best bet.

He hadn’t felt fear in the dark elevator, but here in the empty corridor, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

Should he wait for Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi, his teammates, before exploring?

He was so close to getting the contest list; with it, he could narrow down the suspect pool. But to quit right now would be… unsatisfying.

What if Long-Haired Number Two was the culprit?

That would mean walking straight into the tiger’s den—fifty-fifty odds of running into the killer, and in a level 4 instance, solo exploration was risky.

Yan Jiyun decisively turned back for the elevator—only to find a figure behind him.

A cold waft of mint hit his nose.

Yan Jiyun’s hind legs kicked into high gear, trying to dash away, but Mr. Qu’s reflexes were sharp—he clamped a hand around Yan’s neck and lifted him effortlessly.

“Little black cat, you’ve been tailing me since this afternoon. Did you follow me here because you wanted—?”

Yan’s green eyes widened, heart full of despair: What could I possibly want?!

“To be adopted?”

Yan’s pupils shrank at the turn his words took. He tilted his head with false innocence, staring up at Mr. Qu.

Maybe being adopted by Mr. Qu wouldn’t be so bad?

Was he offering a home?

But Yan still remembered the image of him breaking a player’s neck—his fragile throat was now in this man’s grip, and his legs scrambled in alarm.

Mr. Qu opened the apartment door and carried him inside.

So that’s why he hadn’t heard any noise—Mr. Qu’s apartment was right here: 505, of course.

Not too big, not too small—perfect for a bachelor.

The door banged closed behind them, and Yan was deposited on the floor.

As a bold cat, he began claiming territory like any true feline—sniffing, rubbing, testing Mr. Qu’s vigilance.

The apartment was furnished with taste: mellow wood tones, cloth sofa, a white upright piano, everything in harmony.

No doubt a musician’s home.

Yan leapt onto the piano lid, circling to test Mr. Qu’s reaction.

He turned only to find Mr. Qu standing right behind him.

Why didn’t Mr. Qu make a sound when he walked?

Scared him half to death.

Yan leapt calmly down from the piano, lingered a while in the living room to further relax Mr. Qu, then dashed toward the bedroom and study.

Mr. Qu shadowed him like a bodyguard.

“You sure know how to make yourself at home.”

Of course.

Yan flicked his tail in response, right under Mr. Qu’s gaze.

Mr. Qu reached to grab that long tail.

He actually understood that? Yan tracked his movement and dodged left, then right, neatly escaping every attempt.

That’s when Yan finally spotted one of the class lists on the study desk.

Scanning the names at lightning speed—thirty students from his own class, but no Jiang Shiwen.

So it was just Senior Three (Class 18)’s class list—nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, as he pawed at the paper, he found a second sheet below it.

Just as he was about to nudge the top page aside, a sudden force pulled him from the desk.

Mr. Qu scooped him up, carried him out of the study, shutting the door behind him.

Yan stared back as he was taken away—just missing the chance!

But then he saw a shadow move behind the door—there was someone in there!

His pupils widened. Was that Long-Haired Number Two?

No wonder he’d smelled him out in the corridor—they both lived here?

Yan’s fur almost bristled: not only were Mr. Qu and Long-Haired Number Two twins, they were roommates!

Yet no one at school knew of his “twin.”

Yan kept glancing at Mr. Qu’s back; finally, Mr. Qu followed his gaze and peeked behind him.

Pretending to notice nothing, he admonished, “Make a mess of my desk and I’ll mess up your fur.”

With an evil grin, he began ruffling Yan’s fur the wrong way, standing every slick hair on end.

Yan: “……”

That’s not how you pet a cat!

He really did it—ruining his cool-cat image.

Yan reminded himself: Mr. Qu was no ordinary man, after all—a killer NPC.

For now, he had to bide his time for another chance—plus, he really was hungry after all that running.

Mr. Qu seemed quite satisfied to see the black cat go limp under his “innocent” ministrations.

As a reward, he smoothed the fur out again.

He set Yan on the sofa. “If you want to be my pet, you’ll need to follow some rules. No rebellion.”

Yan’s fur restored, he sprawled out comfortably—rolling his eyes at Mr. Qu. There was no way he’d accept being his pet so willingly.

His full name, Mr. Qu Wanqiao.

Face-to-face with the cat, he announced, “First, you’ll need a name. Second, we’ll have three rules.”

Was this… like becoming roommates?

Plenty of people saw their cats as housemates these days.

Yan was curious about the three rules, but chose to ignore the prospect of a new name for now.

Qu Wanqiao tapped at the sofa, pondering: “Staff notation? No, that’s too ordinary. I see enough of that daily. Let’s go with ‘Wuyun’—Black Cloud.”

Yan did his best to appear not to understand—the man’s naming sense really was terrible!

But he remembered the hidden quest—he needed to keep Mr. Qu’s temper in check.

Then Qu Wanqiao continued, “Now, about these three rules.”

Yan shrank back, putting some distance between himself and Qu, but Qu simply scooped him up, holding him close as he explained:

“One, obey. Two, obey. Three, obey. If I point east, you can’t head west. If I call a deer a horse, you must agree. Wuyun—got it?”

Yan lifted his forearm to lick the battered fur, smoothing it again.

Obedience? Easy enough for a cat.

As he groomed, he glanced at the study. Why had Mr. Qu locked his twin in the room—pretending not to know he was there? At this point, he wasn’t even a stranger, just a stray cat. There was no reason to hide anything.

Catching his gaze, Qu Wanqiao asked, “There’s nothing in my study. Why are you staring at it?”

Nothing? Your twin is right inside!

He’d nearly gotten the list, too.

Mr. Qu really was obsessed with “obedience.” He’d enforced it as a teacher—students had to obey or he’d deal with them ruthlessly. Animals, too, now had to toe the line.

But what, exactly, counted as disobedience to a cat?

Wasn’t he supposed to be the villain? No evil plots, no tasks tonight?

Yan flexed his claws on the sofa, pulling out a loose thread.

Snap.

Then another, then a third—until a dark shadow loomed above him.

Sometimes he couldn’t resist a good play.

Qu’s brown eyes bore down; he stood beside him, unmoving. Yan stared back, neither blinking.

A contest of wills—whoever blinked first lost.

He noticed that Qu’s right hand was behind him—was he holding a weapon?

After a few seconds, Qu lifted his hand, calling out, “Wuyun.”

Yan instantly guessed he was angry, and bolted under the dining chair!

Qu revealed the weapon—a pair of scissors.

Was he going to snip the cat?

Terrifying!

But Qu did no such thing—he simply snipped the loose threads off the sofa.

Click.

Yan let out a sigh. So he wasn’t the target.

After finishing, Qu went to pull him out from under the chair, but Yan kept retreating.

Throwing his hands around the sides, Qu tried in vain to grasp him; no matter how hard he reached, Yan was one step ahead.

“Wuyun, come out.”

Yan, of course, wasn’t coming out—Qu was definitely mad.

Undeterred, Qu pushed the chair aside, only to see the cat dart under the sofa instead.

Yan had avoided the sofa initially, assuming it would be dirty from dust—not to mention still thinking of himself as a full-sized adult cat. But six or seven months old, a few whiskers’ length of space—and he could fit!

It was surprisingly clean and roomy.

Qu felt the cat was challenging his authority—maybe his three rules hadn’t been clear enough.

He set a cushion on the carpet, sat cross-legged, and addressed him: “Wuyun, don’t go under the sofa. No scratching the furniture, or hiding under the table, or running in the house.”

Yan paid these rules no mind—hoping Qu would eventually forget the new addition and leave him free to do as he pleased.

Clearly, neither brother could read the cat’s mind.

Qu’s voice grew especially gentle—his daytime, elegant teacher tone returning: “Wuyun, I’ve bought you some good food. Won’t you come out?”

Yan: “……” The gentler Qu’s tone, the scarier he became. Absolutely not going out!

[“Want to Be Human” Livestream:]

“God, the cat finally faces off with yandere Mr. Qu. Will he come out? Is Qu going to lift the sofa like that Li Mama did in the last instance?”

“I don’t know Qu, but I love his crazy side. The cat really drives him there so casually!”

“I think Qu actually likes the cat—he even picked a name for him.”

“Honestly, I’ve gotten used to NPCs giving the cat all sorts of names. And the cat has a knack for picking ‘pooper scoopers’ who love felines.”

“Isn’t anyone going to mention how the cat kept staring behind the door? I’m first-person—maybe it was just me, but I thought I saw a shadow inside!”

“Bro, I’m also on first-person view. I’m pretty sure too—was Mr. Qu hiding someone? He’s still got secrets—this is wild!”

Yan continued to lounge under the sofa. Qu eventually gave up; after sitting on the cushion for a while, he went to the fridge for a steak.

He was apparently making dinner.

It was an open kitchen—the aroma of meat filled the room.

Yan’s stomach rumbled. Who would’ve thought Qu could cook?

But he couldn’t let temptation distract him—he needed that list from the study and a way out.

With Qu preoccupied, Yan poked his nose out and saw him at the stove, back turned, stirring the pot. The smell was irresistible—but the goal was the study.

Stealthily, he slipped from under the sofa.

Carefully watching Qu’s back, he crept across the floor.

Qu put the meat on a plate. Yan ghosted out, noiseless, right to the study door.

Just as he was about to leap up and slip in, the study door creaked open from inside.

He nearly dashed inside.

Wait—there was a person inside. If he went in and nosed around for the list, he might get caught.

The door opened wider, then narrowed again.

He made up his mind and squeezed through as the gap was closing. After all, he’d dealt with Long-Haired Number Two before—they were “old acquaintances” now.

Long-Haired Number Two had ditched the cap, his face fully revealed.

Those brows, those eyes—that face and hair… sure enough, an exact copy of Mr. Qu!

They really were twins; it’s rare to meet siblings so perfectly matched.

Yan Jiyun faced off with Qu Number Two once more.

Qu Number Two closed the door and planted himself in a chair, staring at Yan. “So, did you follow me home, or did you follow him?”

Yan: “……”

What kind of question was that?

What did it matter? They lived together!

And talking to a cat—who only listens when it wants to—is hopeless anyway.

Yan didn’t even know what to call Qu’s brother; was he the elder, the younger? In any case, “Qu Number Two” would do—they could have been cast from the same mold.

Qu Two commandeered the desk; if Yan leapt up, they’d be almost touching. He had to circle around to approach the pages, then flip them.

There wasn’t much to attract a cat’s attention here—but there was a tennis ball lying in the corner.

Yan dashed over and batted the green ball.

It was heavier than expected, rolling slowly, but still he nudged it over to Qu Two’s feet.

Qu Two arched a brow, unmistakably unlike his brother in expression and temperament.

Picking up the ball, he muttered, “Want to play fetch? I guess you really followed me home.”

They’d failed to catch the cat before, and now, bonding through play.

But why was he so hung up on who the cat followed?

Qu Two tossed the ball. Yan pretended to have fun, chased it, then brought it back.

After three rounds, Yan faked exhaustion and leapt onto the desk beside the list, pawing at the edge as if by accident—ready to flip to the second page.

Qu Two scoffed, “Useless. Worn out after a few sprints.”

Yan shot him a glare, then stretched out, slipping his paw to the second sheet.

Finally—different names.

Qu Two had no idea he’d just watched a performance done purely for the sake of “sword dancing beside the king”—a ruse with real intent.

He grumbled, “’Wuyun’ is a lousy name—cats are for eating, I’d call you Guoba instead.”

Yan: “……” That’s even worse than ‘Wuyun’—how uncultured can you get!

Fortunately, he’d managed to memorize twenty more names on the second page.

No third page.

It was the “National Vocal Competition Training List,” not the “Final Competitors List,” but Jiang Shiwen was among them.

Mission accomplished.

Now—how to leave?

Just then, his stomach growled loudly. Yan decided to fish for sympathy from Qu Two: “Meow~” I’m hungry.

Qu Two’s face stiffened. “Looks like Guoba is a bad name, too—all you think about is food.”

Yan: …… Didn’t even pick my own name!