pick up cats

Bombay cats carry cat food for a full week.

The sycamore trees on the third floor are gradually flourishing, and the thick branches extend to the windows. A small half glass window is left on the left side for a long time for ventilation.

It has agility and soft waist, and with the buffer of branches and canopy, it is easy to escape from prison.

The Bombay cat has patrolled three times in the high-rise residence, like the occupant who is about to abandon the territory, walking on the catwalk reluctantly.

The sound of the whistle during off-duty hours vibrated the eardrums. After measuring the distance between the window gaps, the beard was immediately stained with moisture.

The leaves rustled, and it narrowed its eyes to perceive it carefully.

Thunderstorm night is coming.

The bronze-colored eyes widened in an instant, its arc-shaped ears turned backwards, and its tail slapped the table anxiously.

Everything related to rainy days, slippery ground, sticky air...all of these make it bored.

The Bombay Cats regretted choosing to leave today.

Creak, the door slammed softly, and familiar footsteps approached slowly.

It didn't even want to jump off the window sill, squatted into the cardboard box, and licked the black fur in a leisurely manner.

Song Limian took off his coat and came to look for it.

He was wearing a pure black T-shirt with the cuffs slightly rolled up, and the knotted muscles of his left arm were covered by black and white braves, giving him a ferocious appearance.

On the even-skinned forearm, the scabbed scratches were long, and some scabs fell off at the end, revealing a whiter skin than the skin.

Song Limian is short, with long and slender fingers resting on the back of the Bombay Cat, stroking its spine with such strength that the Bombay Cat can't help purring.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Song Limian spoke slowly, softly, "Please."

The Bombay cat had a sense of vigilance as if its plan had been shattered. It stared suspiciously at Song Limian, trying to get a clue from that harmless face.

Unfortunately it failed.

Song Limian had been dyed dark brown not long ago, and his bangs were all stroked up, revealing a clean forehead and three-dimensional facial features.

The Bombay cat stared at it for a moment, then stepped on the opponent's knee involuntarily with its forelegs, and with its soft jaw line on its head, it "meowed" without any momentum.

It doesn't know much about human aesthetics. If you have to choose one of the bare two-legged beasts, Song Limian should be the most beautiful.

Song Limian is a little absent-minded today.

After the Bombay cat acted coquettishly, he only scratched its chin perfunctorily, his eyes were not focused, and he did not show his signature warm smile.

Song Limian finished preparing the cat food in silence, squatted aside, and waited for the Bombay cat to finish eating, then trapped it in his arms and carried it into the bedroom.

The Bombay cat lazily rests its left forelimb on the opponent's left chest, stepping on the heartbeat on the meat pad, and puts the escape plan on hold without hesitation.

Song Limian's breathing was more fluttering than usual, a rare sense of frustration emerged from the cracks in his bones, and his jaw was extremely tense.

The wind and clouds outside the window were changing, the air was humid and stuffy, the window was sealed by Song Limian, and the thick dark blue curtains blocked all light.

The Bombay cat realized the stickiness of the outside world, and curled up in Song Limian's arms, feeling at ease.

For cats who are afraid of water, this embrace is Noah's Ark in the last days.

The room is warm, and the plugged-in mobile phone is repeating a single song mixed in Chinese and English, with a joyful melody.

Song Limian closed his eyes and listened for a while, his limbs became colder and colder.

The Bombay cat was originally too lazy to be comfortable, but Song Limian suddenly exerted force, and it was imprisoned uncomfortable for a while, and quickly patted the opponent with the forelimbs that retracted its claws.

Song Limian let it go and apologized for his slow response.

The Bombay cat jumped onto the quilt, bent over and shook its fur, then squatted one foot away, confronting Song Limian with red eyes.

The fur on its back was wet, probably lumpy. The Bombay cat was uncomfortable all over, and its aversion to rainy days deepened.

A lock of Song Limian's hair was upturned, disheveled and showing a rare fatigue, Bombay Cat's pupils were slack, and refocused after a while.

It originally planned to flee when the weather cleared up, but now it felt that it might be able to delay a little longer.

——It hates all wet things, no matter the weather at the moment, or the tears that Song Limian shed.

So it gracefully stepped forward, buried its head in licking the back of Song Limian's hand, the human being was really appeased, and the originally bent fingers stretched out comfortably.

The Bombay cat raised its head.

Song Limian thanked him in a hoarse voice, the dry tears on his cheeks were an eyesore, but his expression was too gentle, and even the Pixiu on his arm was not very imposing.

"Meow." Bombay Cat accepted his thanks and jumped back into his embrace.

One and a half months later, Bombay cat felt the boredom of being kept in captivity again.

It has a surly personality and is not naturally suitable to be a house cat. It is really an accident that it has stayed in Song Limian's house for several months.

Song Limian likes to feed a budgerigar with blue body feathers and dark brown horizontal stripes on the back of the neck. The Bombay cat patrols the community and spends half a day looking for it.

In the end, he dealt with it and bit its wing.

Throwing the parrot into the old birdcage in the anti-theft fence, the Bombay cat gave a few warning snorts, slammed down the door of the birdcage and swaggered away.

It wanted to learn the lesson from last time and go out while the sun was shining, but it dragged along, and the time was close to dusk.

On this day, Song Limian's footsteps were particularly heavy when he returned home.

His cheeks were unnaturally blush, and one arm was used to cover the wooden cabinet in the entrance. After changing his shoes, he turned around and met Bombay Cat's eyes.

The Bombay cat is biting a heavy bag of cat food, dragging it non-stop, with a small hair tie wrapped around its neck, which looks really funny.

The hairband was something he found on the third day at Song Limian's house, and he liked it very much, so even if he was going to go far away, he insisted on wearing it.

Song Limian seemed to be unresponsive, he was in a daze for a long time before putting the key in the shoe cabinet.

The band-aid on the right cheek was warped, and Song Limian asked with hot breath, "Going out?"

The Bombay cat stood there awkwardly and let go. A row of teeth marks were evident on the edge of the cat food. Its bronze eyes were uneasy and stubborn.

Song Limian didn't speak any more.

Not long after, he dragged his heavy body around it, and ten seconds later, the Bombay cat's blown fur smoothed out.

It felt bored and fiddled with the cat food bag with its paws.

When Song Limian came back, he was hooking a small basket with his right index finger, which contained the Miao Xian Bao that Bombay Cat hadn't dug out.

He squatted on the ground, picked up the cat food and threw it in, Wen Tun said, "Come and get it if you want to eat."

He paused and said, "If you still want to come back."

His fingertips dropped to the ground and touched the Bombay cat's forelegs, making it uncomfortable.

The iron door was open not far away, releasing the attraction of freedom. It stared straight for a while, then raised its head to examine human expressions.

Song Limian pressed the back of his hand to his face, his eyes were half-opened and half-closed, and his eyebrows were furrowed unbearably. For a moment, the Bombay cat lost its longing for freedom.

It looked away, picked up the handle of the basket, and swayed into the storage room.

It stuffed the small basket into the secret base, took off the hair tie, threw it in and covered it with a cloth before returning to the living room.

Song Limian was lying on his back on the sofa, with his arms over his eyes, and a slender leg hanging outside the sofa. On the coffee table, there was an empty plastic aluminum tablet and a half cup of warm water, and there was faint white steam.

The Bombay cat nimbly jumped onto the sofa and touched Song Limian's forehead with its wet and cold nose.

Song Limian murmured his thanks.

Bombay Cat couldn't bear this thank you, so it walked up to his lap as if to make amends, stepped on his chest, and rubbed his face docilely and sticky.

Back in the bedroom, the mattress sagged, and Bombay Cat took the initiative to lie down next to Song Limian.

Song Limian had a cold handkerchief on his forehead, which was in stark contrast to his scalding body temperature. His head was tilted to the left, and his breath sprayed onto Bombay Cat's body.

The Bombay cat gave way to the left, and after a while, Song Limian fell asleep.

His hair was disheveled, the roots of his hair were dyed wet, and his red lips looked much duller against the crimson cheeks.

Bombay Cat looked at Pixiu on his arm, his mind was empty, and it didn't regain its mind until Song Limian turned over.

It thought for a moment, stepped on Song Limian's shoulder, and struggled to return the wet heavy towel to its original position.

one year later.

The man's waist is soft and well-proportioned. He is tall and has long legs and is nestled on the double bed, exuding deadly hormones all over his body.

With warm brows and eyes, he looked at Song Limian who was one person wide away without blinking, and asked softly with his right hand under his face, "Really?"

Song Limian's air pressure was low.

He is not used to sleeping with others, Song Limian would never have brought him home if the man hadn't passed out half an hour ago and sat straight on the ground without his ID card in his bag.

There is only one quilt left in his house, and the spare four-piece set has just been washed and not dried. Even if they meet by chance, Song Limian, who has always been considerate, would not let anyone catch the cold.

Originally thought that the bed was spacious enough, it would be fine to sleep for one night, but the man who had been pestering him all night in the bar woke up not long after.

After waking up, the man seemed to be still drunk, stubbornly and sincerely expressed his willingness to dedicate himself to repay Song Limian's kindness for staying tonight.

"I'm not interested," Song Limian said in a flat tone wrapped in indifferent coolness, "Don't ask any more."

Song Limian's right hand was hanging on the edge of the bed, and his shoulder touched the bedside table. His whole body was in a gesture of rejection. The man probably sensed his resistance, so he stopped talking.

The furnishings in the house are simple, and the owner of the house obviously doesn't care much about the mood of life.

The only things that can make the black and white furniture more vivid are the small pink flower bowl next to the desk, and the cardboard box with "Beast inside" written in oil-based pen in the corner.

The man's black eyes rolled, and he stared sideways at the wall clock. The pointer pointed to five past three.

Song Limian's breathing became longer and longer, and the man didn't want to end the night prematurely, so he asked aloud, "Since you're not interested, why did you bring me back?"

"...You're drunk." Song Limian's tone didn't fluctuate much, as if he was answering, but also as if warning him not to talk too much.

In order not to sleep on the street, the man chose to keep silent.

The next day, the man stayed in bed to no avail, and Song Limian politely but forcefully invited him out of the house.

With the face of his first love, the man acted coquettishly for a while, acting exaggeratedly, and ended in failure without accident, so he shouldered his loneliness, turned and left.

After bypassing a few alleys, he walked downstairs to a residential building, nodded at the passing guard, and then went upstairs.

Bang.

He slammed the door and stood in front of the mirror without changing his shoes.

The person in the mirror is about 25 years old, with a slender figure, and wearing ordinary clothes on this body, he is instantly elegant.

A head of long black hair curled at the end, lazily reaching the neckline, showing his casualness.

The man bent his fingers and tapped the mirror with his knuckles. The young man in the mirror had a round silhouette, his clear eyes were slightly narrowed, and his eyes were full of pickiness.

The height of his eyebrows and cheekbones is just right, the bridge of his nose is straight and fleshy, and his appearance is not amazing, but it fits well together.

Thinking of the feasting streets and lanes last night, and the soothing folk music in the dark bar, the man stretched out his red tongue and licked his lips.

He got drunk on purpose, staggered close to Song Limian who was paying, he calculated the angle and fell into Song Limian's arms, who would have caught his arm in time.

Song Limian stared at his face in a daze, as expected, he didn't push him away, but he didn't give him a chance to overstep.

Seven planned hugs, five planned kisses, three planned dedications...

All of them ended in failure.

The man "tsk", took off the light-colored contact lenses and threw them into a plastic bag.