Ao Bai habitually squatted on the cat tree, staring blankly into the night as he waited for Qiao An to come home.
From a distance, he saw two people holding hands. Qiao An was bouncing and skipping along, chattering and laughing about something...
"They're holding hands! They're holding hands!"
"Who? Who?"
In an instant, all the animals in the house had gathered on the windowsill. Ao Bai occupied the high ground, Little Bai and Little Qing stretched out their necks, and the Little Fox pressed itself against the glass to watch.
"They're holding hands! They're holding hands!"
Ding Fengchun, who had been waiting for Qiao An to return for a late-night snack, saw all the household animals plastered against the windowpane and walked over, curious.
By now, Qiao An and Mu Zimo had reached the ground floor. They were still holding hands, but Ding Fengchun had no major reaction, merely raising an eyebrow slightly.
