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The cat yawned lazily then stretched its tail flicked luxuriously as if completely unimpressed. Its golden eyes flicked toward Han Yan, sharp and judgmental, yet somehow elegant like a tiny, furry emperor passing its verdict.
In his mind, he could practically hear himself bonking his own head against a tree. A freaking talking cat… is this not supposed to be a slice-of-life novel what is going on, silly author?!
He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him but the more he looked at the little black cat perched so arrogantly on the rock, the less sense it made.
"Seriously? It's really actually a talking cat…" he muttered inwardly, rubbing his temple as if sheer contact with his own thoughts could restore some sanity.
The cat, apparently noticing his confusion, gave the tiniest twitch of its whiskers.
"You there, lowly human," it said with a flick of its tail, "do you always fumble this much?"
