Chapter 57: Huahua, Who Has Given Too Much for This Family

Earlier, during lunch, Zhou Shu had discreetly inquired about the details concerning Huahua. Although Huahua had been around since Zhou Shu was a child, he had truly forgotten some of the specifics.

According to his grandfather, he had found Huahua even before Zhou Shu was born. At the time, he was working in the fields when a half-dead little tabby cat suddenly appeared. In the countryside, all cats could catch mice, and tabby cats were especially famous for it. Villagers feared nothing more than mice ruining their grain, so their feelings toward cats were generally positive—apart from the nuisance of mating season in spring, which was truly aggravating.

When Zhou Shu's grandfather found the feeble tabby, he brought it home, unsure whether it would survive, but reasoning that was better than leaving it to die in the fields. As it turned out, cats really did have nine lives: with just a little water, some chewed-up steamed bread, and meat, the little tabby managed to pull through.

As the tabby grew, not only did it keep the house free of mice, but even the neighbors were spared any rodent troubles. The family also noticed that the cat grew to an unusual size, surpassing what anyone knew of normal tabbies, but they didn't think much of it. Zhou Shu's parents, though paleontologists, were aware there were many large cat breeds on Earth; perhaps Huahua was just a cross between a tabby and some larger species.

Three years passed before Zhou Shu was born, and Huahua truly had watched him grow up. At the time, his parents were too busy with work to look after him, so his grandparents took on the responsibility. Yet, with age, there were inevitable lapses; young children, once they learned to walk, could dart off in a flash, far beyond their elders' ability to catch up.

That was when Huahua’s presence became invaluable. Once it understood clearly that this human child was part of the family, Huahua assumed the role of "cat-mother"—even though it was male. Whenever Zhou Shu’s grandparents were momentarily absent, Huahua would stay close by, even if Zhou Shu was tucked safely in his stroller. Once Zhou Shu could run, Huahua followed him everywhere.

His grandmother confirmed the stories about Huahua beating up dogs. Not all dogs were the same; some were well-behaved, even timid, but others were wild, barking at everyone and biting at the weak. Children running about the village would inevitably encounter such brutes.

It was for this reason that the villagers came to respect Huahua’s fighting prowess. That size was not just for show. If not for timely intervention by the dogs’ owners, some of those dogs might not have survived. Sometimes, even the owners couldn’t help, and both man and dog would be chased down the street by Huahua.

Most people understood, though, that Huahua never intended to go too far. If it really wanted to, no dog owner could outrun it; two strides and Huahua would catch up, leaving its opponent with a face full of scratches. As these incidents accumulated, people began to praise Huahua for its intelligence—it not only caught mice, guarded the house, and watched over children, but also never caused trouble for its own family.

Over time, Huahua became the undisputed boss of the village, though everyone was fond of it. Watching a cat catch and wallop a dog was never met with alarm—sometimes, it was even a source of amusement. And Huahua didn’t just fight; it protected. It had fended off several dog thieves, saving many a household’s pet.

In twenty years, Huahua had certainly lived up to its name—no one knew how many stray queens in the village it had impregnated. The kittens it sired were all clever and agile, to everyone’s delight. Now, though age was showing in its gait and its body had grown plumper, and though it was less active in public, people cherished it even more. For a tabby cat to live twenty years was truly rare.

Now that Zhou Shu knew Huahua was a beast of unusual kind, especially since the Demon Suppression Bureau wouldn’t exterminate such creatures, he began to think differently. Huahua would have to be registered with the Bureau. While the Bureau generally didn’t target these beasts, what if someone reckless came along? Even if not malicious, an uninformed beast-talker might try to forcibly recruit Huahua as an assistant, causing all sorts of trouble.

He would not leave it to chance—best to get things sorted, register Huahua as his own cat and eliminate any future danger.

Besides... his own form had undergone some slight changes; it probably wouldn’t return to normal in a day or two, and he was due back at the Bureau the next evening. Why not make the visit now? Back in school, if you wanted people to forget your embarrassing moment, you just had your dorm mate do something even more ridiculous. That’s what good friends were for, after all.

The same principle applied here: comparison. His own change was significant, but beside Huahua, it would appear less dramatic. And this was his home turf; he knew all the landmarks, while the Bureau’s people did not.

With that in mind, Zhou Shu glanced at Huahua sunning itself atop a pile of bricks, a sly smile playing across his lips.

“Huahua, it’s not that I want to set you up, but I really do need your help.”

Huahua, perched on the bricks, seemed to sense something. It looked around, saw nothing, then lay back down in the sun, though its tail tapping the bricks betrayed its inner restlessness.

After a while, Zhou Shu received another call from Captain Wang, saying they had arrived at the village entrance and he could bring the tabby over.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Shu walked over to the bricks and called, “Huahua, come down, let’s go for a stroll to the village entrance.”

Seeing Huahua unmoved, he resorted to the local cat-summoning call.

“Mimi mi~ mimi mimi~ mimi mimi mimi~”

At this, Huahua finally raised its head, stretched its front paws and arched its back in a luxurious stretch, then leapt down from the bricks and led the way to the village entrance.

Clearly, Huahua could understand human speech.

Man and cat soon reached the entrance, where three vehicles were parked—two SUVs and an equipment van. Several people in plainclothes milled about, their air marking them as outsiders, while Captain Wang stood beside the equipment van, peering into the village.

This setup was much like what Zhou Shu had seen in the demolition zone that night, though without the "SWAT" markings—likely a plainclothes version, or perhaps the vehicles used when not on active duty.

When Wang Kairun saw Zhou Shu approaching, accompanied by a cat whose size and breed were clearly mismatched, he immediately smiled. He walked over, followed closely by a stern-faced man. As they drew near, Zhou Shu’s system scanned the man and detected firearms; Zhou Shu instinctively glanced his way.

Wang Kairun noticed Zhou Shu’s alertness, mentally noting how useful his "vigilance" skill was—he could always spot a gun. He explained, “Since I often deal with mutant corpses, I pick up a special marker pheromone. My combat skills aren’t strong, so if I go out alone, I can easily attract nearby mutants. That’s why researchers like me always bring armed personnel.”

Zhou Shu wasn’t sure why Wang Kairun was explaining this, but he nodded anyway.

Just then, he saw Huahua sniff at Wang Kairun. Before anyone could react, and as the stern man’s face darkened and his hand moved toward his pistol, Huahua suddenly made a retching motion. Afterward, it shook its head, whipped its tail, and retreated behind Zhou Shu.

Both Zhou Shu and the stern-faced man were taken aback. Only Wang Kairun smiled wryly, “See, that’s how it is. Mutants, when they smell the pheromone on me, feel an urge to attack. Supernatural beasts like Huahua really dislike the scent; even the beast-talker’s partner at the Bureau can’t stand me.”

“I see. That must be tough—you all have it hard in your line of work,” Zhou Shu said.

At the same time, he recalled his first encounter with Huahua that day; at first, Huahua had shown some aversion to him too, a feeling that later faded.

And speaking of mutants—he had personally killed two, and handled them to extract source energy.

Could he have been marked as well?

Realizing this, his expression changed.

Was this... actually a good thing?