Cat 94: Different Animals

Chapter 94: Different Animals

[Be a Real Person] Livestream Chat:

“Damn, it turns out this scenario is really hard! I thought the kitten would just bulldoze everything with the panther, tiger, and lion crew in tow.”

“Same, I never expected someone to set the kitten up—a real snake move. Drag them out and finish them!”

“I personally think it’s Dr. Peng. I can’t think of anyone else. That intern was really suspicious just now, and he works right under Dr. Peng.”

“It might not be Dr. Peng, though. Maybe he just exposed Dr. Zhou to get promoted—he’s been here a long time, so wanting to move up is only natural, but he wouldn’t want to destroy Dr. Zhou completely.”

“My CPU brain is overheating. Even though you can list every NPC the kitten’s met, any one of them could be the mastermind.”

“What’s so hard? It was obviously Deputy Director He. Dr. Zhou is the director’s person; Dr. Peng is He’s.”

“Why doesn’t the kitten just stick to Dr. Peng’s path? He’s already promoted to supervisor—why not keep following Peng and use him to boot the boss altogether? The Dr. Zhou line’s collapsed, hasn’t it? He’s locked up now; what’ll the kitten do?”

“Well, master, what IS the ‘big secret’ you said this scenario held?”

Yan Jiyun didn’t immediately leave the treatment center.

Now responsible for the gorilla zone, Tata’s death would naturally be laid at his door as well.

He checked his character status: almost no changes, except one—demotion, just as expected.

[Player: Yan Jiyun]

[Role Species: Black Panther]

[Animal Level: Junior Popular Animal]

[Living Area: Panther Enclosure]

[Popularity Ranking: 47]

[Human Role: Jiang You]

[Position: Keeper Group A Supervisor (Suspended)]

[Staff Level: Junior Manager (Suspended)]

[Managed Staff: 10 (Suspended)]

The so-called punishment was suspension; he was now a nobody. If he bolted for the exit, chances were he’d be brought in for questioning.

The NPCs who took Dr. Zhou didn’t even bother indicating what regulatory body they were from—almost comically fake.

He felt it made no sense that Dr. Peng wouldn’t finish Zhou off if he could; it just didn’t fit the scenario’s logic. Clearly, this situation was “waiting for him.”

From the “Tata rescue” task onward, the system had pegged Yan Jiyun as part of Zhou’s faction: Zhou was implicated, so Yan was immediately punished too.

Still, Yan Jiyun wasn’t angry; the system’s rush to align him with Zhou only proved something deeper was up.

Tata’s death was suspicious.

All the blood-sampled animals had issues.

Dr. Zhou’s experiments were fraught with problems—so much so that Dr. Peng coveted his “merit.”

Deputy Director He and Peng were both highly suspect—were they trying to wrest something from Zhou? They’d concocted a story blaming Zhou for Tata’s death, and this “regulatory body” had arrived suspiciously quickly.

These were the issues Yan Jiyun faced.

As he hid in the treatment room, he suddenly heard Dr. Peng asking, “Have you seen Jiang You?”

They replied that they hadn’t.

“Bring him back,” Dr. Peng ordered. “He was drawing animal blood samples all over the place last night—I suspect Tata’s death isn’t unrelated to him.”

Yan Jiyun: …

Dr. Peng really was stabbing him in the back. Who exactly ordered those blood draws? The system’s malice was on full display.

Dr. Peng continued, “Also, sedate and bring the black panther, South China tiger Chengzi, the wolf king, the brown bear, and Caesar to the adult animal medical zone for another examination.”

Yan Jiyun was now certain Dr. Peng was behind Tata’s death. Why else would he want every animal that had had blood drawn confined—there was a clear agenda.

He hoped the black panther and Chengzi would hide, and not get caught.

Yan Jiyun dared not drive away; one false move and coldhearted Dr. Peng would have him caught at once.

This was the first floor—he had to escape. He looked at the treatment room window.

He needed to know where Dr. Zhou was being held and whether the focus was those large animals—what exactly had been done to them?

The window was stiff—probably not opened for years, rusted at the hinges.

He pushed hard, and a harsh creak gave him away.

Footsteps rushed over; Dr. Peng hurried closer, calling, “Jiang You’s still inside! He hasn’t left! Quick, get him!”

Damn, the window would only open ten centimeters, pivots jammed, nowhere near enough to get through. No other exit, either.

Faced with the choice between an invisibility gadget and his experience card, Yan Jiyun instantly opted for the experience card.

Dr. Peng arrived so fast that Yan Jiyun had only just switched back to cat form when the door opened. All they saw was a black feral cat leaping out, tail streaming.

Dr. Peng paused. “Forget it, just a stray cat.”

Landing lightly on all fours, Yan Jiyun kept his guard up; Dr. Peng might be bluffing.

He vanished into the shrubbery—plants everywhere in the zoo, hideaways at every turn.

The “regulatory agency” vehicle had not left. Yan Jiyun circled behind the rescue center and followed the faint scent of blood from Dr. Zhou’s hand to the waiting car.

He crouched behind a wooden trash bin—again with the trash bin; every scenario tried to tie him to one.

Debating whether to follow—the longer he lingered, the less experience time he’d have.

Forget it—he followed.

He was a “wanted man” now; getting information would be hellishly difficult.

Dr. Zhou, hooded in a black sack, looked for all the world like a criminal.

Yan Jiyun waited until the front-row NPCs chatted with those in the back, then slipped in through the open back door and tucked himself under Dr. Zhou’s legs, nudging the man to give him more space.

Dr. Zhou was bound and hooded, and could see nothing, only feeling a pair of paws prodding his shins.

This sensation—it felt like a cat.

He stayed calm: Must be my imagination.

He remembered seeing a black stray in the zoo last night—who knows where it came from.

But he stretched his legs, making room for Yan Jiyun.

Settle comfortably now—there could be no better hiding spot than between Dr. Zhou’s legs.

The car started, and with Dr. Zhou’s legs as shield, Yan Jiyun couldn’t fall out, though the winding route made his head spin.

He could see out another window: these weren’t real “regulators”—they just drove in circles within the zoo, never outside.

As they looped endlessly, the system issued a warning:

[Warning! Player detected off post during work hours!]

[Warning! Player detected off post during work hours!]

[Warning! Player detected off post during work hours!]

[Please return to your assigned post within three minutes or you will be penalized.]

Yan Jiyun was helpless; there was no way to go back. With one penalty, another surely followed.

Three minutes later, just as expected, came a second punishment.

[[Global] Player Yan Jiyun violated work post rules; penalty applied.]

[[Global] Deducting 100 popularity points from player Yan Jiyun.]

He eyed the bolded “[Global]”—clearly, a warning to the other players.

Let it go; this was what the system did—only publicizing negativity and malice to stoke panic among players and satisfy the perverse tastes of certain viewers.

He suspected the only purpose of popularity points was deduction. He’d always been at the bottom—what did it matter?

He only knew that popularity influenced the final score. Take them, then—his goal was to clear the scenario, and he still had points to spare.

If the system was punishing, it meant it didn’t want him pushing the boundaries.

But rules were made to be broken; as long as it wasn’t a matter of life or death, Yan Jiyun figured he’d keep on sneaking.

He focused on the current crisis: Dr. Zhou’s entrapment by Dr. Peng.

After a dozen minutes of aimless driving, the “regulators” stopped the vehicle—right back at the rescue center.

Dr. Peng and his crew weren’t so brazen as to remove Dr. Zhou right in front of the public.

They dragged Dr. Zhou into a restricted area—one Yan Jiyun had never visited.

Hooded Zhou was shoved from the car, and as soon as the coast was clear, Yan Jiyun slipped down after him—hitchhiking all the way in.

All black as he was, he should have been spotted, but the “regulators” paid no heed to a stray cat, just following the script.

Dr. Zhou was escorted down a stone path. Only crickets and birdsong remained; Yan Jiyun hadn’t mapped every inch of the zoo in previous panicked dashes, but he had a rough sense for the layout. He hadn’t taken these forest paths before.

The stone path, he guessed, led near the medical area.

The rescue center was in the medical block—shouldn’t be far. The odd tour was just to confuse Dr. Zhou’s sense of orientation.

Who were they kidding? Zhou had lived in the zoo for years; a hundred loops wouldn’t throw him off.

Yan Jiyun trailed them, and soon a familiar building came into view.

Back at the lab—they’d brought Dr. Zhou to the laboratory after all. The entire spectacle of having him dragged off was just for show; the real purpose lay in the lab.

Dr. Peng had gone to elaborate lengths to frame Dr. Zhou for animal death—so what was hidden in the lab?

All along, Zhou had controlled the laboratory. There must be some crucial secret within—something at the heart of these animal experiments.

Yan Jiyun watched as they pushed Zhou into an inconspicuous elevator and even caught them hitting the button:

B3.

He’d thought B1 was as deep as it went; there were two more floors underground. Peng must have wrested all of Zhou’s authority away.

Peng was indeed a master schemer—he’d been plotting this usurpation for a long time, every step prepared to perfection.

Yan Jiyun had to follow Zhou to get the truth—or his popularity deductions would be for naught.

Peng’s people were everywhere—no way to change back to human form. Since he was in cat shape, best to remain so; he still had experience card time, and could always switch back and use tools later.

The elevator required a staff ID card for entry. His was suspended—his badge wouldn’t work, “No access” flashing in red.

Circling the area, he found a side door to a stairs—the emergency staircase, unlocked and almost invisible.

He jumped, pulled the handle, and squeezed in.

Each descending flight was barred by an iron gate—not solid metal, but barred, so he could slip straight through.

He recalled—it was B3.

Perhaps because of all the gates above, the interior doors weren’t tightly shut, nor was there security on patrol.

Descending, he noticed there was no B2-level door—he ended up at B3 directly. Where had the middle floor’s entrance gone?

B3 was not at all what he’d imagined.

Inside, it was utterly quiet. The hallway, unlit and deserted, was lit only by motion sensors—a footstep or a touch to a switch made the lights flicker on, dying again after a minute or two.

This underground lab was startlingly modern.

Yan Jiyun proceeded in utmost caution.

Sparse traffic and wide corridors meant danger of exposure at any moment.

They’d descended to B3, but he could hear nothing from Zhou. Not a peep—couldn’t they at least make some noise?

As he thought this, he heard Dr. Peng’s voice.

“Where’s Zhou Yiqun?”

“Director Peng, we’ve got him in Room 1.”

Room 1—where was that?

Yan Jiyun looked around. A blue placard read: Rooms 01-04 left, 06-08 right. He was at an intersection; ahead must be 9–12, if there were that many rooms.

Dr. Peng was riding high, striding like a conqueror; this time, he’d come alone.

Yan Jiyun crept after him.

B3’s layout was simple, no twists and turns. Peng soon stopped. Someone opened a door for him, and upon ordering the opener away, he stepped inside. Once the other NPC had left, Yan Jiyun crept up to the door to listen.

Peng spoke with the air of a petty man finally on top: “Junior, I used to envy you. Professors all fought for you, everyone admired you. But I never understood—why come to a zoo? If not for you, I wouldn’t have been looked down on all this time. We graduated from the same school, but you were always Zhou ‘Laoshi’, and I was just Dr. Peng. It’s ironic—we had the same mentor.”

Dr. Zhou stared silently at Peng.

Peng rambled on: “But I’m glad now. Turns out you ran illegal experiments. You should count yourself lucky I didn’t expose those—otherwise you’d be finished, brought low in one blow. Wouldn’t that be painful?”

Yan Jiyun sensed Peng was almost feverish with excitement.

He couldn’t see Zhou’s expression, but he now realized—the two had not only gone to the same school, but studied under the same mentor. They were senior and junior classmates.

At last, Zhou spoke: “So should I thank you?”

Yan Jiyun wished the conversation would turn useful—otherwise, what was the point of all this dialogue?

Peng sneered, “Not necessary. You’ve always been too lofty to thank anyone else.”

Their dynamic was now laid bare: Zhou had overshadowed Peng at every turn.

Zhou, the golden child, came to hide at the zoo. But why?

Zhou replied blandly, “If you know that, good.”

Peng showed a flicker of anger, changing the subject: “Zhou Yiqun, tell me your findings. If you do, I’ll set you free—I’ll see that Director He pardons you, sound fair?”

Zhou responded, “So that’s why you brought me here. Why ask about the outcome of an illegal experiment? If I refuse?”

“Then you’ll be stuck here in this dungeon,” Peng threatened, “with only two buns and a cup of water a day; you’ll die too slowly even if you want to.”

Zhou scoffed, “Suit yourself. My work has nothing to do with you. If you want academic achievements, work for them yourself.”

Peng abruptly seized Zhou by the collar. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing here.”

Unconcerned, Zhou replied, “If you know, you can do it yourself.”

“If I cut the power to B2,” Peng pressed, “your research will be finished, won’t it?”

A concrete clue: Zhou’s experiments were on B2.

But what exactly was the research?

Could it really be tied to those “consciousness exchange” studies?

Peng pressed further, “By the way, I’ve ordered Chengzi, Caesar, and the wolf king brought here. I’ve observed them for a year—they’re more human than any animal. They’re your test subjects, aren’t they?”

Yan Jiyun: actual test subjects?

Zhou said nothing further, so Peng clearly knew plenty already.

Peng went on, “Now that the gorilla’s dead, you have one less test subject. What I’m curious about: are they human, or just have a human mind inside?”

Zhou fell silent.

Realizing he would get nothing more, Peng finished coolly, “You won’t talk now, but I hope you won’t regret it later.”

Yan Jiyun was glad he had followed—they finally offered some clarity about Zhou’s mysterious experiments.

From what he’d seen, Peng’s “overly intelligent” animals did seem different.

Had Zhou’s experiments succeeded? Was Peng now racing to grab the prize?

Peng left, and Yan Jiyun darted away to hide around the corner.

From his surveillance, the door holding Zhou would not be hard to pick with the right tool.

His experience card was about to expire—time to use his gadgets at last.

The invisibility cloak and the lock-picking kit.

He’d gotten the idea for these from former teammates, but he’d sprung for the most expensive versions—this cloak had a longer duration and could be used three times, half-hour cooldown each. Premium tools, premium price.

His new lock kit opened any door automatically—just slap it on.

With Peng having led away Chengzi and the others, Yan Jiyun wanted to save them too.

Switching from cat to human form, and hearing no footsteps, he skipped the cloak for now—no one expected anyone could bypass all these locked doors, anyway.

He rapped on Room 1, unlocked it, and slipped inside. “Dr. Zhou, it’s me.”

“Xiao Jiang?” Zhou asked.

“Yes, I’ve come to get you out.”

He’d barely said so when hurried footsteps approached.

Shit!

Could they never give him a break?

Yan Jiyun quickly opened the door and said, “Someone’s coming—Dr. Zhou, let’s move!”

But Zhou was calm. “Xiao Jiang, listen. You probably overheard Peng just now, but right now, only you can help me. Listen carefully, and remember everything I say.

“There’s a door on B3 leading to B2—Peng doesn’t know about it. Go to Room 319; inside is a staircase down to B2. That’s where years of research are stored. After night falls, transfer everything out. Chengzi and the others are not test subjects, but those we must protect. Please, keep them safe and get them out of the zoo.

“If Peng finds the lab, it’ll be the end for Chengzi and the others. I’m counting on you.”

After a brief silence, the system abruptly issued a slew of missions.

[Player has triggered a hidden main quest: Different Animals.]

[Main Quest 1: Identify the different animals. (Completed)]
[Main Quest 2: Find out their true identities. (In Progress)]
[Main Quest 3: Rescue the different animals. (In Progress)]

So the system had been holding back, and now dumped a pile of quests at once?

When the quests finished on screen, Dr. Zhou shoved him out. “Go now—take my route down to B2! I’ll find my way out and meet you there.”

No sooner had he left than he ran into two people, one of them Peng’s intern.

The intern called out, “Jiang You, don’t run!”

Yan Jiyun: …

He hadn’t even started running yet.

Would he ever get out of this scenario alive?