Chapter 39
Chapter 39
After making his selection, the white light within the glass column coalesced, revealing a pair of football boots of distinctly ancient design.
[Item Name: Jazzy Moves]
[Type: Armor]
[Quality: Fine]
[Defense: Basic]
[Attribute: None]
[Special Effect: Increases maximum running speed; significantly reduces stamina consumption during prolonged walking or running]
[Background: These boots once belonged to an unparalleled winger, the inaugural European Footballer of the Year and a master dribbler. Throughout his illustrious three-decade career, he never received a single yellow or red card. Another athlete, hailed as the King of Football, once remarked: "He was the one who taught us how to play the game."]
"Not bad at all… and no equipment requirements", Feng Bu Jue muttered. "Even if I find better foot armor later, these should fetch a decent price."
As he equipped the boots, a system prompt chimed: [When the equipped item occupies the 'Fashion Accessory' slot, players may choose their preferred appearance in the menu.]
Feng Bu Jue checked the option. This feature allowed players to display either the default shoe appearance or the actual equipped item. Once the in-game mall opened, countless accessories would become available. By then, many players would likely opt for cosmetic outfits purchased with real money rather than showcasing their actual gear.
But during the closed beta phase, before the mall’s launch, most players preferred to display their equipped items. It was a subtle form of vanity—people naturally wanted to flaunt what others didn’t have. The envious glances of others provided a satisfying ego boost.
After organizing his inventory, Feng Bu Jue disconnected from the nerve interface.
Emerging from the Gaming Pod, he found two hours had passed in the real world. The night was deep, wind howling outside, the city’s sky choked with light pollution that drowned out the stars. Not that Feng Bu Jue ever bothered to look.
In big cities, young people rarely went to bed before midnight, regardless of whether they had to rise early the next day. They’d rather nod off on crowded subways at 6 a.m. than sacrifice their precious post-work hours. Feng Bu Jue epitomized the night owl. He’d wake at noon and sleep near 4 a.m., convinced those predawn hours were when his creativity peaked.
Tonight, though, with a few hours still until midnight, inspiration struck abruptly. He brewed a pot of coffee, sat at his computer, and began typing.
His pen name was "Bu Jue", and he was serializing a novel for a magazine titled Second-Rate Detective and the Cat. Originally, he’d intended to write about a top-tier detective, but in his era, commercial fiction required gimmicks. Like comics using female characters to draw readers, novels had to follow market trends. Human curiosity and fascination with the unusual were timeless selling points.
Back when he’d been struggling financially, Feng Bu Jue had even considered writing erotic fiction. As a self-proclaimed artist, he found kindred spirits in historical figures like Miller (the French painter who once traded sketches for shoes and provocative works for beds) or Titian (who did it for pleasure, admittedly).
In the end, he’d compromised by adding a gimmick to write the detective stories he loved. Second-Rate Detective and the Cat split a single protagonist into two characters. The original lead was a sharp-witted detective, but now he’d become a well-meaning but inept amateur sleuth. One day, he discovers his cat can talk—and only he can understand it. Conveniently, the cat possessed godlike deductive skills.
The magazine editor had praised Feng Bu Jue for this twist, noting the comedic interactions between the detective and cat lightened the story’s darker tones. Feng Bu Jue himself had grown fond of the format—it eased tension in intense scenes and padded the word count.
Beyond the serial, he was also working on a longer novel, the kind that might finally earn him some real money. He’d been stuck on it for a month, but tonight, inspiration returned. He resumed writing Nightmare’s Duality.
………
The night passed quietly. At dawn, as the sky lightened, Feng Bu Jue saved his document and stood from his desk. He stretched, stifling a yawn as he checked the time: 4:40 a.m. He suddenly remembered—yesterday was Qingming Festival. Dream Corporation had deliberately chosen this day to launch the Terrifying Paradise closed beta, a marketing ploy for a horror-themed Mmorpg.
Since he was up anyway, the breakfast stalls outside his housing complex would’ve opened. With his mind still tangled in storylines, he decided to grab food before sleeping.
Pocketing his keys and loose change, he headed downstairs. Fifteen minutes later, he was returning with a scallion pancake and fried dough stick.
Back in the complex, elderly residents were emerging for morning exercises or lining up early at the community hospital. Feng Bu Jue rarely interacted with neighbors—this was usually when he’d just fallen asleep. For him, the day began at noon.
"Meow~" A spotted cat by the roadside yowled at him as he passed.
Feng Bu Jue paused, locking eyes with the cat for a few seconds. Yep, those eyes were fixed on his breakfast.
"Of all the creatures…" He crouched beside the stray, noting its collarless neck. "You eat fried dough?"
"Meow." The cat, unbothered by strangers, seemed to reply, Of course.
"I’ve been surviving on plain noodles myself lately", he said, breaking off a piece of pancake and offering it. "This is the only greasy thing I could afford with my last few yuan."
The cat sniffed the offering, then devoured it. Licking its lips, it meowed again—clearly asking for more.
He fed it another piece. "You’re not even cute-looking. No pedigree here. Yet you’ve got the nerve to beg from a stranger—and the audacity to ask for seconds", he mocked, instinctively breaking off another piece. "Go dig through trash cans like a proper stray!"
Speaking of trash cans, Feng Bu Jue glanced at the three tall, conical bins by his apartment building—nearly a meter and a half high, wide at the top, narrowing downward. A cat would need a full bin to climb out safely. Otherwise, it might jump in and get buried when garbage trucks came.
Sighing, he crushed half the pancake into his palm and offered it. "Life’s tough for strays, huh? I heard a cat froze to death last winter under a car here. The driver started the engine at dawn… and crushed it." He stroked the cat’s head, words he’d never say to people slipping out. "You strays only live three years on average. Me? I might die any day from my mystery brain disease. Today, we share a pancake. Maybe in the next life…" He bit the remaining half himself, muttering, "…we’ll be brothers."
"Xiao Feng? Is that you?" A familiar voice called.
He turned to see his landlord, Madam Liu, returning from the market with a vegetable basket.
"Really you! I thought I might’ve mistaken someone else", she said, eyeing the cat. "Sun’s rising in the west—never seen you downstairs this early! And feeding strays? You give one meal, and five more’ll show up tomorrow. You’ll be doing neighbors a disservice."
"True", Feng Bu Jue mused. "Guess there’s only one solution…" He held his breakfast in one hand and scooped up the grubby cat. "Take it home."
Madam Liu blinked. "You’re serious? Asked me first?"
"Look, this complex allows dogs. This cat won’t go outside", he said, flashing a grin.
"You’re keeping it?" She’d assumed a joke, but her gaze shifted between him and the cat. "Huh… You two do look alike." Her eyes dropped. "And this one’s male too."
Feng Bu Jue’s lips twitched. "Auntie, that ‘too’ in your sentence makes no sense. I’m a man."
"Save the grammar lessons. You’re the educated one", she huffed. "But if you keep it, clean up after. This building’s full of elders—complaints about smells, and I’ll—"
"I’ll cook it", he interrupted.
"Meow!" The cat squirmed in his arms, as if understanding.
"Boil your own head!" Madam Liu snapped, striding off. "Come on, let’s go."
"Where?"
"To the pet clinic for shots", she said. "What if it’s got feline distemper?"
"Uh… Thing is, my funds are…"
"When have you ever had money?" She cut him off. "I’ll cover it. Deduct it from rent." Pausing, she added, "Wait—I need to drop these groceries first."
………
By 7 a.m., Feng Bu Jue returned home—not just with the cat, but also a litter box, cat food, plastic bowls, and toys.
"Next life, let’s not be brothers", he told the cat, holding it up. "You’d better reincarnate as a woman and repay me with your body."
"Meow." The cat yawned lazily, its expression radiating disdain.
As Feng Bu Jue unpacked, he pressed his answering machine. A robotic voice announced: "You have one new message."
A dial tone followed, then Wang Tan Zhi’s voice: "Feng Bu Jue, not answering again? It’s a day off today. I’m bringing meat dishes over this afternoon. You’ll be home anyway. See you then."
The cat leapt onto the phone, pawing at the keypad before losing interest and flopping onto the couch.
"Like I’m cooped up home all day", Feng Bu Jue grumbled. But truthfully… he really was that idle.
(End of Chapter)
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