Cat 270: This is His Caramel

Chapter 270: This Is His Caramel

The reason Yan Jiyun was angry was simple: he had never wanted to reveal to Qi Feng that he was Caramel. When Ninth Master realized it in the instance, he’d been deeply unsettled, and it had taken all his courage to finally resolve to tell Qi Feng the truth. But now, Qi Feng was telling him he couldn’t remember, which made it impossible not to be upset.

He studied Qi Feng carefully; in the instance, the other had never said outright he suspected Yan Jiyun was Caramel.

Yan Jiyun had been prepared to just go for broke and confess, but now he found himself stuck in this awkward limbo, feeling even worse.

Did he really not know, or was he only pretending?

Qi Feng avoided meeting Yan Jiyun’s intense gaze—if one looked closely, his fingers were trembling slightly.

Yan Jiyun changed tack and asked, “Does your wound hurt?”

Qi Feng answered, “Not too much.”

They both seemed to forget there was a third person in the room.

Lan Mo poured Yan Jiyun a glass of water. “I saw your message. Just now, Feng-ge was dressing his wound and didn’t notice.”

He apparently thought Yan Jiyun knew this place because Qi Feng had told him, and didn’t press further.

Noticing the odd atmosphere between the two, he asked with great curiosity, “What happened during your last instance? This bit about remembering or not remembering—there’s no such thing as a player only recalling half the game after coming out. I’ve never encountered that in all my years.”

Yan Jiyun pondered his words and asked directly, “Have you ever entered an amnesia-themed instance?”

Lan Mo grinned. “You’ve come to the right guy—I actually have. That instance had a bizarre setup. All the players lost their memories; we had to complete the tasks and also find our teammates. It was a real nightmare.”

Yan Jiyun: “And afterward? You remembered everything?”

Lan Mo: “Of course. Once you exit, any memory restrictions are lifted. The system shouldn’t have the ability to erase player memories.”

Yan Jiyun let go of his earlier nerves and, slowly turning to Qi Feng, caught his eyes just before he could look away.

“So that’s it.”

Qi Feng, caught by that pair of beautiful eyes, automatically asked, “Are you hungry? After all that running, you must be.”

Yan Jiyun looked at him, half-smiling. “I am.”

Lan Mo: “…” Brother, that’s not what you said just now—you said you’d buy or cook if you got hungry!

“Bro, your hand’s injured; how will you cook?”

Qi Feng said, “That’s why I have you. You can help in the kitchen.”

Lan Mo: “Alright then. Jiyun, sit tight for a bit—we’ll have food soon.”

This temporary lodging felt like a real home—good for both living and working—with a closed kitchen that blocked both sight and sound. That is, unless you were Yan Jiyun.

He found himself seeing things from Qi Feng’s perspective for once. Qi Feng, anxious after being hurt and before seeing him in person, now seemed flustered by other concerns. The mix exposed his inner turmoil.

Yan Jiyun had thought himself so brave just moments ago. Calming down, he realized he probably should have just shown up as Caramel—his impulsiveness had scrambled his careful plans.

Truly, one should never act on impulse—it only ruins your logic and prearranges.

He pricked up his ears, listening to the noise from the kitchen.

Lan Mo was always nosy, and tremendously gossipy.

Lan Mo: “Bro, what’s up between you two?”

Qi Feng: “What do you mean?”

Lan Mo: “Is it worth getting so upset after the last instance? Was it really that dramatic? Did you actually have a forced-drama arc?”

Qi Feng: “Just part of the scenario.”

Lan Mo: “So after clearing a top-tier instance, how did you enter Yan Jiyun’s instance?”

Out in the main room, Yan Jiyun perked up—finally, Lan Mo was asking the important questions.

Qi Feng: “My account is linked to Caramel’s, so I entered. I wanted to bring Caramel out.”

Lan Mo knew Caramel had become a player in Destiny because of Qi Feng.

Lan Mo: “Where’s Caramel, by the way?”

Trust Lan Mo to always hit the sore spots.

Yan Jiyun didn’t hear Qi Feng answer.

“What did you do to Yan Jiyun in the instance, anyway? He stormed in here, fired up—you didn’t hit him, did you?”

“No,” Qi Feng replied. “Now chop the meat—you’re talking too much.”

“Why mince it? Weren’t we stir-frying?” Lan Mo said. “Oh, I get it—you want to make meatballs. I love those!”

“…”

After that there was only the sound of Qi Feng directing Lan Mo to chop and dice in the kitchen. It grew very calm; Yan Jiyun heard no more about the instance.

He strongly suspected Qi Feng’s claim to have forgotten some things was a deliberate excuse…

Indeed: remembering how Qi Feng had handled crises in the instances, he realized Qi Feng always acted after thinking things through, weighing all sides, never being impulsive.

He’d exited the instance early yet hadn’t waited for Caramel at the instance exit as before—that was one inconsistency.

He always maintained a poker face in front of teammates, yet tonight had actually blushed—that was another.

He claimed to remember only his in-instance NPC arcs, but the storylines in the game were all interconnected, not isolated. Plus, Lan Mo had just confirmed there was no such thing as selective memory loss for players in these circumstances—a third inconsistency.

Clearly, Qi Feng just didn’t want to put him on the spot. Most likely, Qi Feng simply hadn’t come to terms with this absurd yet inevitable truth.

If Caramel had only ever existed in the game, it would’ve made sense—but Caramel was his cat in real life. No one would ever jump to this conclusion right away; even Qi Feng needed some time to process and adapt. When he first saw Yan Jiyun, his shock was understandable, and he’d responded by telling a little lie.

Now Yan Jiyun understood—he had come too quickly, leaving Qi Feng no breathing room. Qi Feng just needed time to adjust to the new reality.

His own cat had become a real, living person—a member of his team. Yan Jiyun substituted himself into that point of view and realized that his emotions would have been just as complicated.

With a low chuckle, Yan Jiyun cursed under his breath, “Damn.”

Having figured it out, he stretched out on the sofa, all his anger gone, and dozed off with his eyes closed.

With Lan Mo still around, though, he couldn’t sleep too deeply.

The smell of food gradually woke his appetite—he truly was hungry.

Tonight there was fried fish.

He took the initiative to sit at the dining table, watching dish after dish appear, and didn’t hesitate with his praise: “It’s sure to be delicious.”

Everything was something he liked—everything he could eat.

Tonight, Lan Mo was the one wearing the apron since Qi Feng’s right shoulder was injured and temporarily out of commission. In the kitchen, Qi Feng mostly barked instructions.

Lan Mo glowed at the compliments, “Thanks for the praise, hahaha! Every dish tonight is the handiwork of yours truly, Chef Lan. I’m actually pretty awesome.”

The three of them sat down together.

Qi Feng came out of the kitchen and said nothing more. “Let’s eat.”

Yan Jiyun picked up a piece of beef wrapped in egg white. “Delicious.”

Lan Mo, hearing this, followed suit, snagging some beef. “Oops—there’s no salt. Better let me stir-fry it again.”

Just then Qi Feng handed him a dish of soy sauce. “Dip it. Guaranteed to be salty enough.”

Lan Mo: “…”

Yan Jiyun skipped the broccoli and picked up a small fish, pan-seared until dry rather than deep-fried.

Lan Mo watched him munch with relish—so crispy that just listening made your mouth water. The little fish had been seared by Feng-ge himself, timing perfectly controlled. Lan Mo recalled there was no salt on those either.

He tried one, then sighed, “This has no salt either. Tastes great though.”

Qi Feng pushed the plate in front of Yan Jiyun. “Eat more.”

Lan Mo: “…” Wait, weren’t the little fish for everyone?

There were stir-fried dishes too, chicken wings and pork as the mainstays. Since Yan Jiyun couldn’t eat rice, he focused on beef, chicken, shrimp, and crispy small fish.

Lan Mo found these dishes tasteless and wondered why he kept forgetting the salt.

Qi Feng, fearing infection, avoided seafood, so all the fish went to Yan Jiyun, who ate his fill tonight.

After dinner, Lan Mo dug a drink out of the fridge. Seeing it, Yan Jiyun licked his lips, wanting some too, but Qi Feng neatly slid over a cup of cool water instead.

Yan Jiyun: “…”

Lan Mo, full and satisfied, decided to return to his personal space to get some proper work done—they needed to prepare for the next top-tier instance—so in a moment, he’d packed up and disappeared into his room.

Only Qi Feng and Yan Jiyun were left.

With no third party present, silence lingered between them.

Qi Feng knew his earlier excuse wouldn’t hold any longer; he could only keep the truth from Yan Jiyun for a short while—and had never truly planned to deceive him.

Yan Jiyun was also mulling how to broach the subject. Tonight’s dinner was Qi Feng’s way of easing his guard. There was no real memory loss. And Qi Feng hadn’t once mentioned Caramel—he clearly knew everything.

After a long pause, both tried to break the silence, speaking at once.

Qi Feng: “You—”

Yan Jiyun: “I—”

Qi Feng: “You go first.”

Yan Jiyun: “You go first.”

They exchanged looks, and fell silent again.

Qi Feng squeezed his own fingertips, steeling himself into silence. Tonight’s meal had been his way of reassuring Yan Jiyun—he remembered everything as soon as he came out of the instance. He’d wanted to look after this “newbie” since their first encounter in the Tournament. In the mermaid instance, Yan Jiyun had felt an unexplained affection for him.

The appearance of the copycat cat in the Christmas instance had allayed his suspicions about the relationship between Yan Jiyun and Caramel—for a while. But then, saving Yan Jiyun with his own account brought the doubts back. In the most recent instance, when Yan Jiyun stopped hiding and openly acknowledged the bond at the end, all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

He was utterly astonished. If it weren’t for Lan Mo reminding him as he returned, he might have forgotten to deal with his own wounds.

He’d eliminated his own cat in the Tournament! In the mermaid instance, the “mount” he’d ridden was actually Yan Jiyun! In the Christmas instance, he’d nearly let his own cat die before his eyes!

But then—how could Caramel be Yan Jiyun?

How had he become Caramel; how had Caramel become Yan Jiyun?

Was he human, or was he cat?

Qi Feng’s feelings oscillated between excitement and a peculiar ache. But more importantly, in the last instance he’d developed a special affection for Yan Jiyun, and judging by the look of things, that feeling was mutual. At the end, Yan Jiyun had licked his face madly—what else was that but kissing?

So when Yan Jiyun had suddenly shown up, shame had surged in him, and he hadn’t known how to face him.

Qi Feng’s jet-black eyes glanced at Yan Jiyun, pressed lips suggesting a mind in turmoil.

Yan Jiyun himself hardly knew how to explain. Glancing at his remaining time on the transformation card, he scratched his head. “Do you want to see Caramel?”

Qi Feng nodded. “I do.”

“Then turn around,” Yan Jiyun prompted, gesturing for him to face away. “I’m going to count to five.”

“Five… four… three… two…”

“One.”

Qi Feng clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then slowly turned around.

Now, sitting where Yan Jiyun had been, was only a sleek, radiant black cat perched on the sofa, its beautiful emerald eyes gazing at Qi Feng.

The black cat mewed carelessly: “Meow.”

Qi Feng’s eyes stung with heat, and he thought: Yes—this is his Caramel.