Sunri took in the scene before him,
the corners of his mouth held down with effort—
yet still lifting, just slightly.
Of course he could see Ye Lingyun’s embarrassment and confusion.
For all his strength, the swordsman was strangely simple
when it came to ordinary human interactions.
Sunri didn’t tease him.
He only let a quiet warmth settle in his eyes.
His gaze shifted to Pardy—
the child who, thanks to Mo?Dou’s gentle closeness,
had momentarily forgotten fear
and rediscovered a child’s softness and curiosity.
Nothing comforted Sunri more than that.
As a father,
he would trade anything
for even a moment of peace for his son.
Kyle Roan, propped weakly against the burlap sacks,
noticed the commotion as well.
He was gravely injured,
his body frail—
but his mind remained clear.
Watching Pardy cradle the cat,
Sunri standing guard with quiet tenderness,
and Ye Lingyun wrestling with his own wounded pride,
a familiar warmth—
mixed with a sharp, unexpected ache—
struck Roan straight in the heart.
Once,
in that small home untouched by shadows,
Maya used to bring back injured animals to nurse.
And little Lily, still tiny then,
would chase after the recovered strays—
laughing, bright as sunlight.
And he—
after long days among gears and roaring steam—
would sit on the old gear?bench outside their door,
watching his wife and daughter play in the evening glow,
the air filled with the scent of dinner and the quiet warmth of a simple life.
That warmth had been torn away.
Maya and Lily were missing—
their fate unknown.
The gentle scene before him cut into his heart like a dull blade, again and again.
Yet strangely,
from that pain rose a thin, stubborn thread of strength.
He had to live.
He had to recover.
He had to find them.
He had to bring back
these small, ordinary, precious moments
into their lives again.
This yearning—
sparked by watching others’ bonds—
momentarily drowned out the agony of his wounds and the despair gnawing at him.
He covered his face,
shoulders trembling,
but made no sound.
Lin Che paid little attention to the “cat?interaction theater” happening nearby.
After finishing Roan’s treatment,
he didn’t rest.
Instead, he began methodically reorganizing
and replenishing his medical kit.
He washed his hands again with the clean water they’d found,
checked the condition of each instrument,
counted the dwindling medicines,
and sorted out whatever clean cloth and rope
the storage room could offer.
His movements were focused and precise—
as if he were in a fully equipped infirmary,
not a cramped refuge in the middle of a desperate escape.
To him, ensuring medical readiness was the foundation for surviving whatever came next.
Roan’s condition was only temporarily stabilized.
He needed close monitoring.
And those who would soon descend into the power core would almost certainly face danger.
Just as Lin Che placed a newly found roll of gauze into his bag,
a silent shadow dropped onto the toolbox beside him.
Mo?Dou.
At some point it had left the gear crate and wandered over to him.
Its golden eyes watched Lin Che’s profile—
the calm concentration,
the steady, long fingers working with gauze and metal tools.
Lin Che sensed the gaze,
tilted his head slightly,
and met Mo?Dou’s eyes.
His expression didn’t change.
He simply gave the cat a small nod and returned to his work—
as if the black creature’s presence was neither surprising nor particularly interesting.
Mo?Dou tilted its head,
studying him for a few seconds.
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Then it hopped down,
walked to Lin Che’s feet,
circled his leg once,
and brushed its body lightly against his calf.
Lin Che paused,
looked down.
Mo?Dou finished its nudge and did not leave.
It simply sat there,
tail curled neatly around its paws,
looking up at him—
its gaze still cool,
yet its posture unmistakably accepting.
Not far away,
Ye Lingyun—still trying to calm the sting
of being “rejected by a cat”—
caught the scene from the corner of his eye.
He froze.
The same cat that had flicked its tail at him and looked at him with disdain was now voluntarily rubbing against Lin Che—
the expressionless doctor.
Ye Lingyun blinked, stunned.
He looked again—
yes, Mo?Dou was truly sitting at Lin Che’s feet,
relaxed, even allowing Lin Che to stroke its head.
It even narrowed its eyes in contentment.
A wave of indescribable sourness,
mixed with deeper confusion and a hint of self?doubt,
washed over Ye Lingyun.
He instinctively sniffed himself again—
this time more thoroughly,
from sleeve to collar.
Only sweat, dust,
a faint trace of metal and steam from the earlier fight,
and the subtle herbal freshness from his Azure Cloud cultivation
(which he personally thought smelled quite pleasant).
Absolutely no bad odor.
Why?
Was it because Lin Che smelled like medicine?
Did cats like medicine?
Or because Lin Che had treated the wounded and carried the aura of a “healer”?
Or…
was the cat simply judging people—
and decided Ye Lingyun was less pleasing than Lin Che?
The great swordsman fell into deep self?doubt,
his elegant features tightening,
his expression shifting between confusion,
frustration,
brooding thought,
and even a faint, wounded grievance.
He stared at his own hands—
hands capable of cutting steel and shredding metal nets—
and for the first time questioned their “approachability.”
Sunri watched the entire sequence of expressions,
lifting a hand to his lips to hide the laugh threatening to escape.
This swordsman friend of his was unexpectedly entertaining.
Amy saw it too.
She quickly turned away,
shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter.
Pardy hugged his knees,
looking from the dejected swordsman to the calm doctor petting the cat,
head tilted in utter confusion at the complexities of human?cat relations.
A faint, long?absent smile touched Roan’s pale face.
This brief, slightly ridiculous interlude was like a small breeze dispersing the heavy gloom in the storage room.
It reminded him that even in dire straits,
with companions met by chance yet fighting side by side,
life could still offer these small, vivid moments that warmed the heart.
Lin Che seemed entirely unaware of Ye Lingyun’s emotional collapse or his own unexpected “cat affinity.”
After giving Mo?Dou a brief rub on the head,
he simply returned to organizing supplies,
the corner of his mouth lifting by the smallest fraction.
Mo?Dou sat by his feet for a while,
then stood, stretched luxuriously,
and padded back up to the top of the toolbox,
curling into a ball once more—
as if everything it had done was merely on a whim.
The storage room settled into quiet again.
The green glow of the chemical lamp burned steadily,
casting long shadows across the dusty walls.
From far away,
the deep, constant rumble of the power core echoed faintly—
like the heartbeat of a steel giant.
Rest was precious,
and brief.
In a few hours,
when night deepened,
they would have to move—
to descend into the heart of that “heartbeat,”
to face unknown dangers and buried secrets.
But for now,
in this dim, oppressive refuge,
because of one black cat’s wandering whims and selective affection,
their taut nerves loosened,
their heavy hearts lifted just slightly,
and the bonds between them grew a little more vivid,
a little more alive.
Ye Lingyun finally abandoned his contemplation of “feline philosophy,”
closing his eyes again—
though the faint press of his lips betrayed the lingering ripples within.
Pardy coughed softly,
and Sunri drew him close,
voice low and warm as he told stories of the forests of his homeland.
Amy leaned against the wall,
lost in the lamp’s glow,
fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her shirt.
Roan, following Lin Che’s instructions,
sipped the water Amy had brought,
breathing steadily,
gathering strength.
And above them,
Mo?Dou’s tail tip flicked gently in its sleep—
slow, rhythmic.
In the darkness,
the faint light and the quiet pulse of life gathered strength for the journey ahead.
Then—
a distant pipe shuddered.
Mo?Dou’s eyes snapped open,
golden and sharp,
fixing on something in the dark.
