Xu Jin had never been good at losing arguments.
Especially not against his father.
The morning sun spilled across the marble floor of the Xu family villa, far too bright for someone who had slept at four in the morning after an all-night online game tournament. Xu Jin sat slouched on the sofa, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, one sock missing. His phone still glowed with victory messages from his gaming team.
Across from him stood Xu Jianhong — CEO of Xu Group, sharp suit, sharp gaze, coffee untouched in his hand. He looked every bit the powerful businessman the media loved to praise. Calm. Untouchable. In control.
Except when it came to his youngest son.
"You skipped another board dinner," his father said, voice even.
Xu Jin yawned. "I told you. Those dinners are boring. Old men talking about money."
"One day, you will be that 'old man'."
Xu Jin tilted his head, grinning. "Then I'll talk about games instead."
Silence settled between them — familiar, worn, like a ritual they repeated every few weeks.
Xu Jianhong sighed, not angry, not surprised. Just the tired patience of a father who understood exactly what kind of child he had raised.
"You're twenty-two," he said. "You can't keep running from responsibility."
Xu Jin swung his legs over the sofa arm like a lazy cat. "Who says I'm running? I'm exploring."
"You failed three university courses."
"I passed the important ones."
"You joined a racing club."
"I didn't crash."
"You disappeared for two days last month."
"I came back, didn't I?"
Each reply was playful, careless, and somehow charming. Xu Jianhong didn't raise his voice. He never needed to. His authority lived in quiet words.
Finally, Xu Jin stood, stretching lazily.
"Dad," he said, "I think I need space."
"Space."
"Yes. To grow."
"To play games."
"To find myself."
"To avoid work."
Xu Jin laughed. "You really know me."
His father set the coffee cup down. "Then don't make me chase you."
Xu Jin leaned in and kissed his father's cheek — quick, boyish, affectionate. A gesture that softened even Xu Jianhong's stern expression for half a second.
"See you later, old man."
He grabbed his backpack, skateboard, and helmet, and walked toward the door.
The housekeeper blinked. "Young master… breakfast?"
Xu Jin waved without turning back. "I'll eat outside!"
The villa gate closed behind him with a heavy, final click.
Xu Jianhong watched from the window.
Anger flickered — but it dissolved into reluctant understanding. His son was a spark that refused to be contained. Better to let him burn freely than force him into a shape he'd never fit.
He picked up his phone and sent a message.
Don't starve. Don't get arrested. Don't forget you have a home.
The reply came instantly.
No promises
Xu Jianhong shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.
Outside, Xu Jin skated down the sunlit street, wind lifting his hair, city stretching ahead like a playground waiting to be conquered.
He didn't know where he'd sleep tonight.
He didn't know what came next.
But freedom tasted sweet.
And today, he told himself, he might just get a cat.
Across the same city, another morning unfolded quietly.
Liang Chen arrived at Yunshan University at 7:40 a.m.
Not early. Not late. Perfectly on time.
Well… usually.
Some mornings, he appeared five minutes late, walking briskly through the courtyard with slightly messy hair and a soft, apologetic smile. No one ever scolded him. Not the dean. Not the administrators. Not even the strict office aunties who worshipped punctuality.
Because when Professor Liang entered a room, everything simply settled.
He walked through the grand stone gates of the university, canvas bag on one shoulder, thermos of tea in hand. The morning breeze lifted the end of his scarf. His features were gentle, his eyes calm, his presence warm without trying.
"Professor Liang!"
Students waved from the literature building steps.
He smiled. "Good morning. Did everyone finish the assigned reading?"
Groans followed — but affectionate ones. They loved him, even when he assigned essays that ate their weekends alive.
He was cheerful in a quiet way. He teased lightly. Encouraged shy students. Remembered names, favorite authors, writing habits. He listened when they spoke — truly listened.
But if a student acted bratty, disrespectful, or lazy on purpose, his warmth cooled instantly into polite frost.
Not anger.
Just distance.
And somehow, that was far more effective.
Colleagues greeted him warmly in the hallway. Staff members trusted him. Students adored him. He was, in every way, the model professor.
Almost perfect.
Except…
He forgot to eat when busy. Stayed late in his office without noticing time pass. Drank tea instead of having dinner. Walked home under streetlights with a tired but peaceful expression.
His colleagues teased him.
"Professor Liang, one day your students will have to adopt you instead of you adopting a pet."
He smiled, waving them off. "I'm fine."
In truth, his apartment was quiet. Clean. Orderly. A little too silent.
Last semester, a student had shyly suggested, "Professor, you should adopt a cat. It would suit you."
He hadn't answered then.
But the idea lingered.
On his desk, a small sticky note waited:
Visit the pet shop. Just to look.
Today, after class, he planned to finally go.
Just to look.
Nothing more.
By late afternoon, the city had softened.
Sunlight leaned golden across glass windows and concrete roads. After hours of skating through the city, buying snacks, and wandering without direction, Xu Jin finally slowed near a small street lined with cafés and boutiques. A tiny bell-shaped sign swayed above a familiar pet shop.
He stopped.
Oh right.
The bet.
His friend group's message still sat on his phone.
Winner gets to choose the prize. Loser pays.
Xu Jin smirked, pushing open the shop door with his shoulder. The bell chimed overhead. Warm air smelling of pet shampoo and wooden shelves greeted him.
He greeted the shopkeeper lazily and headed straight to the kitten section.
There he was.
A white fluffy male kitten, curled like a cloud inside his little bed. Blue collar. Clear, bright eyes. Soft paws tucked under his chin.
Xu Jin reached in, fingertips brushing fur.
A tiny paw smacked his hand.
"Hey!" Xu Jin laughed, shaking his fingers. "Got claws, huh?"
The kitten turned away with royal disdain.
Xu Jin grinned. "Fine, fine. Play hard to get."
He decided to walk around first, giving the kitten time to calm down. He examined toys, tapping a hanging feather wand absentmindedly.
That was when the shop bell chimed again.
Liang Chen entered.
He didn't look like a professor right now. No formal shirt. No glasses. Just simple casual clothes, clean and comfortable. His hair was loose, soft in the warm light. His steps were quiet. Measured.
He greeted the shopkeeper with familiarity — he came here often to buy food for the neighborhood strays.
Then his gaze landed on the white kitten.
His eyes softened.
He walked over.
"I'd like to see that one," Liang Chen said gently.
The shopkeeper smiled. "Ah, this little prince? Of course."
She opened the cage door.
Just as Liang Chen reached forward—
A voice cut in.
"I'm buying him."
Xu Jin stepped from behind a shelf, hands in pockets, grin playful.
Liang Chen blinked and turned.
Their eyes met for the second time that day — though neither realized how important that meeting would become.
Xu Jin saw a young man with gentle eyes and neat features, probably around his age. Liang Chen saw a tall boy with carefree energy and a smug smile.
Neither guessed more than that.
"I was here first," Xu Jin said lightly.
"I asked first," Liang Chen replied.
Xu Jin lifted a brow. "Then let's make it interesting."
The shopkeeper sighed. She already knew trouble was coming.
They started bidding.
Low numbers at first. Playful.
Then pride took over.
Numbers climbed higher. And higher.
Until Liang Chen paused.
He exhaled quietly. Smiled politely.
"I concede."
Xu Jin won.
The shopkeeper handed him the kitten carrier. The white fluff inside flicked a paw through the holes.
Xu Jin beamed.
Liang Chen paid for a small bag of cat food anyway — out of habit more than need — and left.
As he pushed open the shop door, Xu Jin called after him.
"Red cats are too expensive anyway, right?"
Liang Chen didn't reply.
But his ears were a little pink.
Evening settled by the time Liang Chen reached his apartment building.
He walked slowly, hands in pockets, city lights turning on one by one. His loss was ridiculous — money wasted, kitten lost — all because of an impulsive stranger.
He stepped into the lobby.
The elevator doors opened.
Just before they closed again, a hand slid between them.
Xu Jin stepped inside, holding a kitten carrier with a white paw poking out.
Silence.
Awkward.
Annoyance.
They stood side by side as the elevator rose.
Neither spoke.
The kitten meowed once, breaking the tension.
Liang Chen looked away toward the glowing floor numbers.
Xu Jin watched the reflection of Liang Chen in the elevator mirror, frowning slightly.
Finally, the elevator chimed.
Twelfth floor.
Xu Jin stepped out first.
Liang Chen followed naturally — he lived here, after all.
The hallway stretched long and quiet. Warm ceiling lights. Clean tile floors.
Xu Jin walked ahead.
But after a few steps, he felt it.
Footsteps behind him.
Steady. Close.
Following.
He slowed.
The footsteps slowed too.
He stopped.
So did they.
Xu Jin turned sharply.
Liang Chen nearly walked into him.
Xu Jin's temper — already irritated from losing a ridiculous amount of money — snapped.
He pushed Liang Chen lightly back against the wall, one hand bracing beside him, the other holding the kitten carrier.
The kitten squeaked softly.
Xu Jin leaned forward just enough to be threatening, not touching.
"You followed me here for a cat?" he said low. "What are you — a stalker?"
Liang Chen's eyes flashed.
Annoyance cooled into sharp clarity.
He pushed Xu Jin's arm away and straightened calmly.
"Are you always this unreasonable?" Liang Chen said. "I live on this floor. And if you continue this behavior, someone might call the police."
Xu Jin bristled.
"What did you just say?"
Tension wound tight—
Until a cough echoed down the hall.
An elderly neighbor walked past, glancing at them suspiciously.
Both of them froze.
Xu Jin stepped back first, jaw tight.
Liang Chen adjusted his sleeves and moved forward.
No more words.
No more closeness.
Only stiff silence.
Liang Chen stopped at Room 1207.
He unlocked the door.
Behind him—
Click.
Another lock turning.
Liang Chen turned slowly.
Xu Jin stood at Room 1208.
Right next door.
Kitten in hand.
Both of them stared.
The white kitten meowed again, innocent as ever.
And thus, two very different lives collided — over one small cat.