Chapter 132: The Cat

Fatty’s logic was sound; if it were up to me, I would have done exactly as he suggested. However, my older brother has an incredibly stubborn temper. He was absolutely determined not to burn that shoe. And so, we held out until daybreak. Fatty went to talk to my brother again, but a little while later, he returned looking utterly defeated. Seeing the expression on his face, I couldn't help but chuckle. "What’s wrong? No use, right? I told you, with my brother’s mule-headed temper, nothing you say will make a difference."

"I don't care what happens anymore, let him deal with it all by himself! If Sun Zhongmou is supposedly the best in the world, then let him handle it!" Fatty fumed.

What could I do? I could only offer a few words of comfort. Afterward, we went to untie the ropes we had bound around the coffin—it really was an unsightly spectacle if outsiders were to see it. The number of people coming to pay their respects had dwindled by today. By noon, I was so exhausted I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I went to take a nap. Who would have thought that a short rest would turn into a deep slumber? When I woke up, it was already night. I had finished my meal, but Fatty was nowhere to be seen. When I called him, he said he was spending the night at the village committee office. The tone of his voice suggested he was still nursing his grudge against my brother; he even told me to come over and let my brother suffer a little through the night. I naturally couldn't do that. After hanging up, I stayed by my brother’s side and tentatively tried to persuade him once more, suggesting that there had been enough trouble lately and that it would be better to avoid further complications by just letting Fatty handle the shoe.

"Do you remember the cat from last night?" my brother asked, looking at me.

"I remember," I replied, stunned, wondering why he had suddenly brought that up.

"There is something wrong with that cat. It wasn't just a stray that happened to wander in; someone sent it to test us," my brother said mysteriously.

I hadn't even considered that. Hearing him say it, I felt this must be the reason for his stubborn refusal to burn the shoe. I asked, "What's the situation, brother? What did you discover?"

My brother shook his head. "I don't know. Last night, when you and Fatty were asleep, I was the first to spot the cat. By the time Fatty woke up, I had already been watching it for nearly half an hour. Its eyes were too strange—they looked like a human's. For several reasons, ordinary strays are afraid of me and would never dare lock eyes with me for that long. Based on that alone, I can conclude it’s no ordinary cat; someone deliberately let it in. If Grandfather’s remains are truly in that coffin, then something has already gone wrong."

"Who do you think it is? Could it be Tang Renjie? Why would he send a cat?" I grew nervous, knowing my brother would never speak without cause.

"It wouldn't be Tang Renjie. It’s likely an outsider. Sending the cat in is a way to confirm if Grandfather is really in the coffin. Whoever is behind this is coming with ill intent," my brother said.

I suddenly recalled the dream I had last night—the old woman with the cat’s face, wearing that very embroidered shoe. Thinking back to how terrified Fatty said the owner of that shoe was, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. I wanted to call Fatty and beg him to come over, no matter what. Although my brother was here, he wasn't exactly an expert in these matters, and there I was, along with two defenseless women in the house! But I held back, fearing my brother would think I didn't trust him. Besides, knowing Fatty, even if he stayed at the village committee, his heart was surely still here. He was a man with a sharp tongue but a soft heart.

I naturally felt no sleepiness tonight. I braced myself to stay awake, and just past midnight, I suddenly heard Fatty scream from behind the house, followed by his furious cursing. My brother immediately stood up and charged out, but before he left, he told me, "You guard this place."

Hearing Fatty’s scream, I knew I hadn't misjudged him; he really had been keeping watch around my house. I didn't know what was happening outside, and I was anxious to go, but my brother had ordered me to stay. After he dashed out, I heard the sound of footsteps receding into the distance; it seemed my brother and Fatty were chasing something.

I thought the problem would be resolved quickly, but ten minutes passed and neither returned. Just as I was growing frantic, I looked up and nearly fell backward in fright. Resting on the windowsill of the back window from the previous night was a cat’s face, its eyes peering into the room as if it were a human spying on us.

My brother was right—the cat was utterly bizarre, especially its eyes, which looked far too much like a person’s.

Could this be a diversion?

Every hair on my body stood on end. I stared at the cat, not daring to move, and could only shout, "Go away!" I grabbed a stool to hold in front of me for protection.

The cat showed no fear of humans. Once it saw I was alone, it seemed to sense my fear; it stopped peering in and brazenly jumped inside. Cats are naturally agile; it leaped from the windowsill onto a chair, and with another bound, landed directly on the coffin lid.

It shifted its body on the lid and let out a 'meow' at me, its gaze mocking.

"Get out!" I yelled, swinging the stool at it. It dodged, and the stool slammed into the coffin without so much as brushing its fur. To my shock, the beast arched its back, glared at me viciously, and even made a motion as if to lunge! I had been scratched by a cat when I was a child because I got too close to its kittens, so I instinctively covered my head and ducked as it prepared to spring. But then I realized it hadn't actually pounced. Looking up, I saw it staring at me with a look of derision, as if the words "idiot" were written in its eyes.

"What exactly are you, and what do you want?" Being mocked and taunted by a cat was unbearable, but recalling my brother’s mention that such a creature might feed on restless spirits, I didn't dare get too close and could only interrogate it from a distance.

Just then, the coffin lid began to rattle, just as it had the night before. It seemed to be telling me what the beast intended to do. It was fortunate that my brother and I had been cautious and tied the coffin shut before nightfall; otherwise, whatever was inside might have already escaped.

But the cat was truly sentient. It began to gnaw at the ropes, and under its claws, the thick rope began to fray and fuzz, clearly on the verge of snapping. I couldn't stand it any longer. I grabbed a small stool and rushed forward to smash it. This time, I was at close range and aimed accurately; I was certain it couldn't dodge. Yet, it twisted its body in an impossible arc, not only avoiding the blow but charging straight at me. In my haste, I raised my arm to block it, only to feel a stinging, burning pain. Looking down, I saw two long, bloody claw marks on my arm!

The cat returned to gnawing the rope. My brother was right—it had been sent here on purpose, and its objective was clear: to release the shoe from the coffin.

Just as I was searching for something to throw, the cat let out a sharp cry. I saw a pebble strike its leg. It glared viciously into the darkness outside and, with a single leap, fled out the window. A second later, my brother and a panting Fatty charged into the room. My brother looked at me, said nothing, and performed a backflip onto the coffin. "Find another rope," he commanded.

By the time we finished, it was the dead of night again. This time, a heavy gloom hung over the three of us. Fatty no longer suggested burning the shoe; it was clear that someone was targeting it. Frowning, he asked, "Could it be the old man’s mistress?"

I paused, suddenly feeling that it was a real possibility.

"Coming at a time like this, they must be trying to cause trouble before the funeral. Tomorrow is the day of the procession; that person must be here by now," my brother said softly.