Xu Jin learned an important truth that morning.
Freedom was expensive.
Not just in money.
In survival.
He stood in his kitchen, staring at a pan that definitely should not be smoking this much. His hoodie sleeves were rolled up. His hair was tied back with a rubber band he found on the floor. His phone sat on the counter playing a cooking tutorial video at double speed.
"Okay, crack the egg gently—"
Xu Jin cracked it aggressively.
Shells everywhere.
The kitten sat on the counter watching, tail swishing, eyes bright with judgment.
Xu Jin sighed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm new at adulthood."
The kitten meowed.
Xu Jin pointed a spatula at him. "You're new too."
Another meow. Louder.
The smoke alarm beeped.
Xu Jin turned off the stove, waved the smoke away, and opened the window.
Cold air rushed in.
So did reality.
He didn't know how to cook.
He didn't know how to clean properly.
He didn't even know how to fold laundry.
And now he had a living creature depending on him.
Plus another one.
He looked at the kitten.
"I need to name you," Xu Jin said.
The kitten blinked slowly.
Xu Jin grinned. "You slapped my hand yesterday. You're feisty. Let's call you… Yunhu."
Cloud Tiger.
White fur. Attitude of a predator.
Perfect.
Yunhu flicked his tail proudly, as if accepting the title.
Xu Jin laughed. "Great. Now we're both doomed."
Next door, Liang Chen's apartment felt like a different world.
Warm wooden floors. Cream-colored curtains. A low bookshelf filled with novels and poetry collections. A small tea table near the balcony, with two chairs — one adult-sized, one with a cushion placed higher.
A faint scent of herbal tea lingered in the air.
In the kitchen, an elderly woman hummed while slicing vegetables with practiced hands.
Grandma Liang had lived with her grandson for years. After his parents passed away, they had quietly become each other's entire family.
She didn't move fast anymore, but she moved with purpose.
Liang Chen stood beside her, washing rice.
"You came home late yesterday," Grandma Liang said without looking up.
"I visited the pet shop."
"Oh?" She sounded interested. "Did you finally adopt a cat?"
Liang Chen paused. Then shook his head.
"No. A young man insisted on buying the kitten I wanted."
Grandma Liang chuckled. "Then it wasn't meant to be."
Liang Chen smiled faintly. "Perhaps."
They ate breakfast together at the small round table. Steam from the soup fogged the window slightly. Outside, the city moved fast. Inside, time felt slow.
Grandma Liang poured him tea.
"You work too hard," she said. "A little life at home would be good for you."
Liang Chen lowered his eyes.
Maybe.
But not today.
By evening, two apartments shared a wall.
One filled with calm warmth and tea.
The other filled with chaos, burned eggs, and a kitten sprinting across furniture like a tiny hurricane.
They did not meet again that day.
But the building already knew.
These two lives had begun to intertwine.