Cat 219: Transmission Complete

Chapter 219 Transmission Complete

[To Be Human] Live Stream:

“Could the kitty really be dead? I’m getting scared—why isn’t he waking up?”

“No way. If he were dead, how could the stream still be running? Wasn’t it said earlier that the kitty has no compatibility with this instance?”

“That’s right—so why isn’t he waking up if that’s true?”

“Have you noticed the stream is getting darker? There’s a countdown in the top right—I checked other player streams, none of them have it. What does it mean?”

“I see it too! And a countdown! It’s the kitty’s life countdown!”

“In ten minutes, the stream will close. If he doesn’t wake up in five minutes, will his stream shut down for good? Does he even know?”

“What the hell kind of rule is this? The kitty can’t die! My daily happiness is this stream! Can’t I tip more to buy him another day of life?”

“Damn, it’s so cruel. Just thinking of never seeing the kitty again brings tears to my eyes!”

“This lousy game—give me back my kitty! I’ll sign a blood petition for his revival!”

“Two people signing!”

“Three!”

“…”

No one knew what to say in that moment.

They had already experimented: a person couldn’t have a printer function used on them twice in quick succession. They’d thought about reviving the unconscious shopkeeper to force answers, but as an NPC, he’d never spill the details.

But Yan Jiyun now lay here, not moving, not even breathing—they truly had no way left to help.

Chu Mo even wanted to take the printer apart, curious about its internal design. How could it shrink or enlarge a person, or draw out someone’s life force with a single function? This was only his second instance with Yan Jiyun, but they’d hit it off so well that he already considered him a friend. Seeing Yan Jiyun lying lifeless, a shadow darkened his gaze.

“I just want to smash this thing to bits!” It was rare for him to show his feelings so openly.

Qi Feng, pacified for a while by Yan Jiyun’s gentle comfort, slowly regained control of himself.

He asked Wen Ye, “Where’s the shopkeeper’s phone?”

The shopkeeper had pressed the control key while the phone was in his pocket. No one knew which function caused Yan Jiyun’s outwardly unchanged but lifeless state. The shopkeeper had acted fast—before they even processed Yan Jiyun’s collapse, he’d used the enlarge function to turn the brat into a giant.

Riled by the shopkeeper, the brat had realized he’d been tricked by the “Christmas elves” and, upon learning the truth, attacked the four of them.

Wen Ye, not wanting more trouble, knocked the shopkeeper out with a punch—a highly effective move, as the shopkeeper hadn’t stirred in the last fifteen minutes. Neither had Yan Jiyun, whose shallow breath had vanished.

Wen Ye handed the phone to Qi Feng, who noted it was well protected—still functioning after their fight with the brat, but only at 3% battery. In a few minutes, it might die altogether.

Qi Feng brushed aside his sadness. “Help me find a charger. The phone’s almost dead.”

The priority was saving Yan Jiyun. Not breathing didn’t always mean hopeless. He remembered, sometimes, if you lost half an hour, a life was lost; less, and there was still a chance. Yan Jiyun hadn’t been down for more than thirty minutes; there was still hope. Qi Feng was tenacious, never one to give up his or others’ chances.

[Where’s My Cat] Live Stream:

“I don’t like Feng-ge’s new ship, but this time I don’t want the new guy to die. Feng-ge is really grieving. He never looked this sad even in his falling out with Su Qiuming!”

“The new guy is great; at least he took the hit for Feng-ge—otherwise it’d be Feng-ge on the floor. I’d hate to see him dead; he’s way better than Su Qiuming ever was.”

“Don’t talk about our Qiuming that way! It wasn’t just Feng-ge’s fault back then. If he hadn’t insisted on saving that NPC, Qiuming wouldn’t have gotten mad. Anyone would’ve left that mission. Qiuming just chose the optimal move.”

“Let’s talk about the newcomer, not Feng-ge’s old drama. Everyone’s got history, right? Most players have had some kind of grievances.”

“Anyone know what function hit the newcomer?”

Viewers had never seen this scenario before. It was normal that no one knew which function had affected Yan Jiyun.

Yan Jiyun didn’t know either.

He had climbed onto Qi Feng’s shoulder of his own accord—no need to be picked up. The view looking down at himself was bizarre.

He was more anxious than anyone. If he didn’t return to his body soon, he might lose his chance to survive. Little Nine didn’t have a system, meaning it couldn’t house his consciousness long-term—it only existed in this instance.

He needed to get back to his body. The longer he was away, the lower his chances.

Yan Jiyun fixed his gaze on the phone in Qi Feng’s hand, as Qi Feng scrolled through the printer-linked app’s functions. There was no usage log, but he guessed which function the shopkeeper had picked.

It couldn’t have been print or copy—leaving only scan.

He tried another feature, but the “3% battery” was deceiving—the phone died after less than thirty seconds!

Before, Yan Jiyun’s spirit could move into his duplicates at will. Now, after what happened, he could no longer return to his body—only faintly sense it, like a lost signal in a mountain. If he was right, the printer had pulled out his consciousness, and if it didn’t return in time, he’d die.

But when Qi Feng used the printer functions, his mind was still present—so why had nothing worked?

The printer’s “enlarge” and “shrink” features were paired; if one could grow someone, the other could shrink them. So which function had extracted his consciousness? Scan?

But by his own reasoning, which button corresponded to which effect?

They’d tried every function Qi Feng could find—none restored him.

Qi Yunchu and Wen Ye had gone out to search for a charger, but in true game fashion, not even a socket could be found—let alone a power bank or cables. The game seemed determined to see him dead.

Qi Feng focused on rescuing him; Yan Jiyun started trying to save himself. Jumping from Qi Feng’s shoulder to the printer-topped table, he inspected everything carefully.

Planting a forepaw on one end and exploring every nook, he hopped up and down for good measure. Chu Mo, examining the machine as well, snatched him down, afraid he’d break it. Though he was only a copy, in full cat size he was just as heavy as the real thing—a solid thirteen pounds.

Chu Mo softened his tone. “Caramel, don’t climb up there.”

Only “Caramel” was allowed near the machine without getting yelled at.

Yan Jiyun didn’t want to be carried away. He clung to the printer shell; when Chu Mo pulled harder, he left a scratch on the plastic.

There was a difference in sound—smooth on the left, but raised, marked with letters, on the right.

He saw a fine line of text—he’d seen it earlier, but hadn’t paid it much mind. It looked unimportant. Yet now, it reminded him: this was no ordinary printer; it had another hidden function!

He remembered the screen layout, and realized the function he was thinking of wasn’t listed. They’d all huddled behind the printer while hiding from the shopkeeper, which had a tray at the back. At first, he’d assumed this was for paper, but this wasn’t an ordinary printer. Besides the usual print, copy, and scan options, there was one more possibility: fax.

This printer was well-concealed; the inventor had hidden the most critical function. Who would think to send a fax in a digital age, obsessed with paperless electronic documents? It was virtually obsolete.

Fax is transmission—surely it could transmit his consciousness back!

He’d realized it—no one else had.

Chu Mo and Wen Ye were clearly not office types. Qi Feng, despite his aura of command, probably never personally handled routine paperwork. What had Qi Yunchu done before the game?

Su Qiuming just sat as if none of this concerned him.

After Chu Mo dragged him away from the printer, Yan Jiyun hopped back onto his own body. He nosed around his neck, pawing out the silver cross. Qi Feng heard it clink to the floor, knelt, and pressed down his paw.

“Caramel, don’t stand on him—it’ll make him uncomfortable,” Qi Feng said softly.

Yan Jiyun thought, He’s nearly a corpse by now—he can’t feel a thing. He made sure the silver tag was clearly visible.

Qi Feng paused, recognizing the number 29 on it.

Everyone had a uniquely numbered ID tag. Qi Feng’s own was always around his neck, and now as he flipped Yan Jiyun’s over, the reverse side showed only the number 29—nothing more. Every player’s tag was unique, but the exact order had never been cracked. Why did Yan Jiyun’s only have two digits?

Wait—this wasn’t an actual tag. Though the numbers differed, they all shared the same appearance.

Qi Feng looked at his tag, then at his cat, and finally at the printer, as if a thought struck him. He released Caramel and strode to the printer to turn the screen on.

At that moment Yan Jiyun felt a wave of weakness—his consciousness growing dim. He was losing control of Little Nine.

Not that he couldn’t control it—he just couldn’t remain. His consciousness was drifting away from Little Nine’s body.

Anyone who looked at the cat would’ve seen its eyes only half open.

What to do?

Would Qi Feng discover the fax feature? Could it send his spirit back to its proper vessel?

[To Be Human] Live Stream:

“Looking at Little Nine now, it really does seem like the kitty is him.”

“I feel it too. Haven’t they noticed? He’s been pretending Caramel’s Little Nine all along?”

“Exactly! He pulled off Little Nine’s collar on purpose—so his cat identity wouldn’t be discovered. Otherwise, he’d have blown his cover ages ago.”

“But doesn’t it seem weird? When the kitty’s human form is active, all the copy-cats follow him. When he sits and stops talking, they don’t follow; only Little Nine does.”

“So our guess: the kitty is now in Little Nine? The other cats never approach Qi Feng, only Little Nine does, and its behavior matches exactly…”

“Damn! He actually has a hidden skill—to switch his mind into another copy-cat! Is Little Nine the new body? Is he really going to abandon his old one—if it’s not even breathing?”

“I don’t think so. Little Nine kept trying to return to his human self. He wants to go back, but can’t!”

“Ahh! So anxious—he seems ready to collapse, lying on his shoulder, eyes almost shut.”

“Two minutes left on the countdown—will Qi Feng make it? What clue did the kitty give him?”

“No use—I’m going to flood Qi Feng’s stream: save your cat, quickly!”

[Where’s My Cat] Live Stream:

“Emergency! Qi Feng, save your cat! Two minutes or he’s dead!”

“Emergency! Qi Feng, save your cat! Two minutes or he’s dead!”

“Emergency! Qi Feng, save your cat! Two minutes or he’s dead!”

“What’s with the spam? His cat looks fine!”

The audience was frantic. For the first time, they truly felt the urgency players faced under a time limit.

But Qi Feng couldn’t possibly check the chat, and even if he did, it wouldn’t help. The system filtered out any player- or plot-related information. He would never know Yan Jiyun had less than two minutes left.

Yan Jiyun’s head felt heavier and heavier. Ever since coming to this damn game, he’d grasped at any slim chance at survival. But now, he truly couldn’t save himself. His head drooped onto his own shoulder.

This time, he really had to say goodbye to his owner. He could only do so much. If there was a next life, and he didn’t come back to the game, he’d gladly be Qi Feng’s cat again.

To the others, it looked like the cat simply couldn’t bear to leave Yan Jiyun.

Suddenly, Qi Yunchu, sitting cross-legged on his mat, remarked, “Qi Feng, your cat is crying.”

Qi Feng turned, locking eyes with his Caramel—half-lidded, eyes wet, struggling to look at him.

His heart tightened inexplicably. Caramel was also grieving for Yan Jiyun.

[Where’s My Cat] Live Stream:

“Don’t hesitate! 30 seconds left!”

“For the love of god, press it! 29 left!”

“Still 28…”

“I’m wrecked! Would pressing your own ID work? What’s the kitty’s ID?”

“His owner is Qi Feng—they share an ID!”

“Damn, Qi Feng’s hesitating! I wish I could go in and press the button!”

“I’m desperate—kitty, oh my poor kitty!”

“What are you guys talking about? What owner, what kitty?”

“Ahhhh! Only 20 seconds!”

Qi Feng pressed the fax button.

Suddenly, there was a whoosh from the break room—and an automatic, mechanical female voice: “Please enter the correct number.”

He typed 2 and 9, then pressed send.

The voice responded: “Invalid number. You have two attempts remaining today.”

[Where’s My Cat] Live Stream:

“I’m dying, just 15 seconds!”

“I can’t take it, only 14 left!”

“My kitty! Thirteen left!”

Qi Feng didn’t bother guessing the fax logic. He had only one impulse, one wish: to trade his life for Yan Jiyun’s. Without his ID, he could offer his own.

He was vibrant, trustworthy, and after years in the game, he’d had enough.

Qi Feng stopped hesitating and entered the 11-digit ID number he’d long since memorized.

With the final number, he pressed the fax button with all his might.

Beep—

Transmission complete.

At that moment, Little Nine went limp, his chin resting on “Yan Jiyun’s” shoulder.