Cat 149: Shrinking Again!

Chapter 149: Shrinking Again!

[Want To Be Human] Livestream Channel:

“Holy crap, our kitten is incredible! Instantly triggered the quest upgrade—highlight moment! [No-thought praise.jpg]”

“This is my first time seeing a main quest upgrade after clearing an instance. Eye-opening! I didn’t know games could pull this kind of stunt with quest upgrades. Isn’t this basically a glitch?”

“I thought at first the two instances merged into one. But now it seems they each have their own storyline. After finishing the Mermaid instance, players find the exit to Mingya High, and in the very last moments the system can easily eliminate some players and then toss the rest into Mingya High (PS: the kitten going to Mingya High with Mr. Qu at the start was probably an exception). The two instances’ NPCs and plot structure are almost the same, except Mingya High had extra supernatural stuff. Once the Mingya High arc ends, players can leave the game. But now, with the kitten as an exception, he’s dug up the hidden info from both instances and learned the truth in advance, which directly triggered a brand-new main quest.”

“It’s so complicated. I don’t think my brain can handle this. Turns out I can only watch sub-level-2 hard instances; but the kitten dove straight into a level-4! My intelligence can’t keep up at all. Now the system upgraded the main quest, and I’m even more confused.”

“I actually think it’s simple. The kitten figured out the Mermaid instance’s secret—that’s why Teacher Lin suddenly started killing. In the instance, Mr. Qu guides Teacher Lin to kill, while in Mingya High’s instance, Mr. Qu is always guiding the players to seek the culprit—or maybe he’s also searching. So the culprit is being played by someone else? Could that be Mr. Qu X? Since the kitten found the hidden critical NPC in a level-2 instance, linking both together means the real quest is to find Mr. Qu. That’s the real fusion of the two instances.”

“I think I’m following upstairs bro’s logic now—thanks for the hint.”

“Where’s my head gone? Why still can’t I follow? Forget it, I’ll just wait for the kitten to explain—this big-brain analysis feels like another dimension to me.”

——

In a daze, Yan Jiyun found himself teleported somewhere unknown. A gloomy sky was drizzling steadily, and the raindrops speckling his face made him distinctly uncomfortable.

He didn’t yet know how difficult the upgraded main quest would be, but he did know that if he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d be soaked through.

He used his hand to shield his eyes from the rain, glancing around for clues.

Weren’t they supposed to be teleported to Mingya High?

Their main quest was to find the real Mr. Qu.

He had been right—the world really was shifting according to Mr. Qu’s will. Or to put it another way, they were now inside Mr. Qu’s mind, and Mr. Qu could be a super-genius, but perhaps also mentally ill. Back at Mingya, when Mr. Qu no. 2 heard that tape, he flew into a rage and it thundered.

If this was Mr. Qu’s mental world, then the weather would mirror his moods. When he was happy, it would be sunny; when upset, the sky would storm.

Mr. Qu had dissociative identity disorder, and all the players were inside his consciousness.

He guessed that Xiao Yue, who died, may have been one of Mr. Qu’s personalities. Based on Liu Yixuan’s timeline, Mr. Qu appeared after Xiao Yue’s suicide.

After Xiao Yue’s death, Mr. Qu took over his identity.

Yan Jiyun realized he’d never seen a photo of Xiao Yue.

The quest was to find the real Mr. Qu—meaning the primary personality. But both Mr. Qu’s he’d seen were not the main one?

Where was the primary self?

Finally finished the Mermaid instance, and now there was another, and his game timer hadn’t changed!

The system had deducted four hours from his game time—there wasn’t much left!

[Time until game end: 5 days 20 hours 43 seconds]

The rain worsened, and Yan Jiyun realized he stood in a miniaturized soccer field.

Weren’t there thirty-odd players when everyone entered the music building? Now not a soul was there.

He wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be Mingya High, but it looked more like an elementary school—all visible clues said the field was much smaller than standard.

Had the scene switched to elementary school?

Yan Jiyun guessed the logic: begin in elementary and proceed to high school, finding the fragmented personalities of Mr. Qu in each new instance.

This game really was intent on tripping him up—a newcomer—he realized now the joy of being a cat for a year. Maybe he should have just stuck to cat food. At this rate, the game would have him bald from stress.

While Yan Jiyun grumbled, the rain only grew heavier. The soccer field was a good way from the main building—he needed to run across.

But as he tried to run, he realized something was wrong.

He’d shrunk!

Standing in the downpour, he looked at his tiny hands left and right—so small, he must be no older than eight or nine!

Never mind, first things first—find dry cover!

He hurled himself, little legs pumping, across the rain-swept field toward the school building.

The game just got more devious each time; now it had shrunk their ages!

[Want To Be Human] Livestream Channel:

“I’m exhausted from roasting this instance, but I thought high-school kitten was already cute. Turns out he can be even cuter—little face all taut, still so soft and adorable.”

“Aaaaaa—even his human form is adorable—what if we see kitten age regression? I want to see him as a tiny black cat!”

“This damn game just keeps swindling me out of tips—I can’t help myself, gotta give the kitten more meals, so skinny, feeds must be up, but so frickin’ cute!”

“I don’t care about the plot anymore, I only want to see if the mean old system can make the kitten even smaller. I want to see him drinking from a bottle next!”

“Sis, you’re right—I’m dying to see that too!”

Yan Jiyun didn’t dare become a cat right now—before high school he was already like a six- or seven-month-old; shrinking further would make him a four- or five-month-old. Six months was barely young adolescent for a cat; below that was infancy, and the only thing kittens that age did was sleep.

Even though Yan Jiyun shrunk, his speed was still above the pack of little short-legs, and he darted into the first-floor school exhibition area quickly.

There, several kids of his new height were already gathered—all with impossibly tender faces, but this gave Yan Jiyun no comfort. Their chattering was a headache, and they were roughhousing besides. This must have been gym class, and everyone had come in out of the rain.

Scanning their faces, Yan Jiyun saw no familiar ones—neither Mr. Qu nor teammates.

When adults shrink to high school, you can still recognize youthful differences; but as kids, it was impossible—boys and girls alike changed beyond recognition.

He shook the water from his hair, nose itchy, and sneezed twice.

He prayed not to catch a cold. At least a sick student could get medicine, but a sick cat was in trouble. He checked his unused items—some for stomach upsets but nothing for colds. Next time, he resolved to hoard some meds, since other instance items were nearly useless anyway.

Just as he finished sneezing, a male teacher with a folder came over, “Everyone hurry to your classrooms—you all got wet, someone will bring ginger tea soon, be sure to drink it or you’ll catch a cold!”

“Don’t catch cold,” those words sounded like a spell.

Yan Jiyun followed the group back to the classroom, found his own seat, and the sneezing returned, his whole body cold.

Being soaked was unpleasant.

Before long, a cafeteria auntie came carrying ginger tea, one bowl per child.

The smell made Yan Jiyun wince—even with a human body, he couldn’t drink this stuff; it helped his cold not at all, and was too pungent.

With everyone holding a bowl, the classroom was soon full of ginger steam. The teacher, especially diligent, watched every child to make sure they drank. Those who did were praised; holdouts were coaxed.

Yan Jiyun hugged his hot bowl and pretended to drink, but he couldn’t keep it up long, and soon the teacher spotted him, striding over. He ducked in hopes of going unnoticed.

Didn’t see me. Didn’t see me.

The pretty, young, long-haired teacher stood over him and said, “Yan Jiyun, you need to listen to your teacher and drink your ginger tea.”

Listen?

He lifted his head to look more closely. Was this a coincidence?

Mr. Qu always harped on listening too; could this woman be another split off from his personality? There wasn’t a rule that all fragments had to look the same after all.

Yan Jiyun nodded obediently. “Okay, teacher. I just don’t want to get burned.”

He sniffled into the words—a sneeze just past, his voice was soft.

The teacher patted his shoulder. “Good child.” Then moved on to supervise others.

Yan Jiyun hadn’t used many experience cards in this instance, but now that class had resumed, the cards were draining like water.

To avoid being watched, he slipped out with his bowl.

The teacher called after him, “Where are you going, Yan Jiyun?”

He answered, “My grandma says if tea’s too hot, soak it in cold water. I’m just cooling it.”

She didn’t know how to reply—a reasonable excuse, and she had others to tend.

He hurried to the bathroom and dumped the tea.

He didn’t dare run outside in the rain.

Given the weather, Mr. Qu must be feeling sad about something.

But—where to find a sad Mr. Qu?

From first to sixth grade, how many classes were in this school? Where to even look?

Maybe he could single them out by elimination. In the Mermaid instance, the Mr. Qu persona split off as Xiao Yue. All entering players matched Xiao Yue’s age—so perhaps now Mr. Qu was a grader too?

So, the goal now was to pick out a grade-schooler Mr. Qu among the children.

Was this Mr. Qu’s elementary school memory? Did his personalities start fracturing that young?

In a world of genius, anything was possible.

Maybe Mr. Qu’s mental fissures began in elementary, then junior high, then high school, each time forming another persona. Perhaps his mental weakness split him more and more; or maybe his life was just hard—tragic despite his brilliance.

Yan Jiyun’s mind ran wild—a little pity for Mr. Qu seeped through.

Because of the rain, phys ed never finished and everyone was kept in their rooms. Still, no one was forbidden from using the bathroom.

After ditching the tea, Yan Jiyun didn’t return to the classroom—his experience card time was precious, so why not look for Qi Feng and the others now, before game time started draining?

Elementary students weren’t so numerous, and there was only one teaching building. Their class was on the third floor—third grade.

Third graders were eight or nine years old, slow to run.

He strolled down the third-floor hallway.

In a bathroom mirror, he’d caught a glimpse of himself—a, he hadn’t changed much since high school. If Qi Feng happened to see him, they’d meet up for sure. If not, well, once he turned back to a cat, he’d know where to look.

Restrooms are always on the building’s far ends. He happened to be by Class 1’s door and, peeking in, spotted blue hair—Lan Mo! He flashed him a three-sign, then moved on.

Class 2—he found Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi. They were always together, always watching out for each other.

He gave the two a three-sign, showing he was in Class 3, then ducked past his own room so as not to be caught by the teacher.

There were six classes in third grade, and the students in 1 and 2 were all very focused in class. Not an NPC looked up at him.

He was in Class 3. Further down were classes four, five, and six.

Only Class 3 had been at gym; all others sat at desks, postures perfectly upright—classic NPCs.

Some in four and five glanced at him, but they were just other players—not Qi Feng.

Just one class left—Yan Jiyun took a deep breath. Qi Feng had to be in six.

As if on cue, before he’d exhaled, six’s door swung open and a bowl-cut, black-rimmed glasses-wearing male teacher carried out a fainted boy.

Yan Jiyun jumped aside to give them space.

Six’s classroom was abuzz; someone opened a window and peered out.

Yan Jiyun went up and asked, “Who passed out?”

NPC student: “Zhou Zhou. He’s so frail; this is the second time this week he’s collapsed in class.”

Yan Jiyun: “Why?”

NPC: “Maybe he’s sick? We don’t really know. He got sick again, I guess.”

Yan Jiyun was about to ask more when a stern-looking teacher came from the office: “Whose class are you? Why aren’t you in class, causing a scene?”

He recognized his face—young Mr. Yang. He muttered, “I just came to borrow a book—forgot mine.”

Yang nodded. “Get it and go back, then.”

“Okay, teacher.”

Yang, not administration but a regular teacher at this stage, was holding a math book. Noticing Yan Jiyun’s lingering gaze, he shot him a look, and Yan Jiyun turned away—he didn’t want to be remembered by an NPC.

Clinging to the window ledge, Yan Jiyun peered in. Afraid once more he’d just be disappointed, he caught sight of a student in the last row who suddenly shot to attention. One look, and Yan Jiyun’s spirits soared.

Eyes brightening, he called out, “Qi Feng, borrow a book.”

Qi Feng, used to instance jumps, casually pulled a book from the desk and brought it over.

Yan Jiyun checked him up and down—a primary schooler can opener, surprisingly cute.

Because the system adjusted the main quest temporarily, he arrived in the new scene a little late. He told Qi Feng, just as he was about to ask about the others, and was pinched on the cheek.

He heard Yan Jiyun say, “Wow, you were adorable as a kid!”

Qi Feng wore short sleeves, stood just a little taller—already hinting at lank and limb to come. “Cute” was the wrong word, maybe; “handsome kid” was better. Still, from an adult’s view, Qi Feng’s poker-faced little man act just looked irresistibly cute.

He’d had physical contact with teammates before, but not out of the blue like this. If Lan Mo did it, he’d have kicked him at once, but he let Yan Jiyun get away with it—call it a penalty from their last match. One cheek pinch wouldn’t kill him.

He stiffened—then, politely, “You were cute, too.”

Having heard this from Qi Feng several times, Yan Jiyun absorbed it with equanimity.

Some classmates gave them odd looks, faces reading: “You talk like you’re already grown-ups.”

Checking for teachers, Yan Jiyun suddenly tugged at Qi Feng’s hand: “Come, let’s talk somewhere else.”

He let himself be dragged away by another kid, and it felt oddly right—and oddly wrong—at the same time. Still, they were just children; hand in hand was nothing. Yan Jiyun’s hand was a little cool.

[Who Saw My Cat] Livestream Channel:

“Why’s the rookie always clinging to my Feng-ge? Can’t he search for clues on his own? Feng-ge already carried him through the Mermaid arc, now what?”

“No need to be like that—teaming with teammates or rookies, what’s the difference?”

“Argue all you want, but Feng-ge and the rookie as elementary school kids, hand in hand—they’re adorable, like playing house.”

“Hahaha, Feng-ge’s never let any teammate hold his hand. Once in an instance he had to play tag and the NPCs made them hold hands, but he did not look happy—afterward, when Sister Liang asked what it felt like to hold his hand, Feng-ge refused to answer, just went to wash up, and looked like, ‘Leave me alone, stop touching me.’”

“I missed that scene—what did Feng-ge say?”

“He refused to answer, just hurried to wash his hands. But this time he seems… fine? That’s fishy.”

“Maybe he’s cursing the rookie inside? Feng-ge never shows much expression—no one really knows what he’s thinking.”

At the hallway corner, Yan Jiyun had his eye on a storage room. With no signs of Lan Mo and the others breaking away, he had to discuss the new scenario with Qi Feng alone first.

He hopped up on an old desk, arms behind him; if he could sit, he wouldn’t stand.

“What do you make of this new scenario?”

Qi Feng always thought the rookie was adaptive, though he didn’t sit himself—he leaned on the table. “It’s simple—find Mr. Qu’s primary personality.”

Yan Jiyun: “Eh? You already knew?”

Qi Feng: “I’d guessed, but I wasn’t sure. When did you figure it out—in Mingya High?”

Yan Jiyun answered honestly: “More or less. The two Mr. Qu’s were just too suspicious, and the system was updating when I arrived.”

Qi Feng: “Same for me. How much earlier did you get here?”

Yan Jiyun: “Not much—maybe fifteen minutes. By the way, I should mention just before you showed up, one of your classmates fainted and the teacher took him to the nurse’s office. Could that be important?”

Qi Feng: “Come on, let’s check.”

Both were men of action, so they left immediately.

The rain had stopped, so Yan Jiyun could go outside.

Exiting the storage room, they ran downstairs.

At the stairwell they encountered a grim middle-aged man, tall and skinny, white shirt tucked into slacks, so thin he seemed lost in his clothes. Under his stare, Yan Jiyun felt chills.

“It’s class time. Which class are you two from?”

Yan Jiyun exchanged a look with Qi Feng, grabbed his wrist, and tried to sneak past by bowing. But the man grabbed their collars in a flash.

Suspicious: “Ditching class, aren’t you?”

Yan Jiyun: “Teacher, our class had PE. Free period.”

Qi Feng improvised: “My desk mate fainted, I’m bringing his phone so his parents can be called.”

Still doubting, the man said, “I don’t believe it. You’re ditching class. Stand here in the hallway until I call your homeroom teacher.”

[Player caught skipping class by principal: stand here for five minutes.]

Yan Jiyun: “…”

A breeze blew down the hall. Yan Jiyun’s nose tickled and he sneezed hard: “Achoo!”

Qi Feng, also stuck, said, “Got a cold?”

Yan Jiyun glanced down. He’d just tried to run, only to be snatched. Frozen.

He found it odd—awkwardly, “Got a bit wet coming into the instance.”

So the two of them stood hand in hand.

Yan Jiyun, staring at Qi Feng’s hand, suddenly said, “Your hands are so soft; no calluses at all.”

Qi Feng: “…”

This rookie’s compliments really were unique.