Chapter 20

The setting sun shattered into golden rays, sprinkling them on the meticulously arranged dining table, the sumptuous dinner, and the black cat tethered by a leash.

After finishing the cooking, the chef finally lifted the black cat and placed it in front of the seat opposite him.

The black cat let out a grateful meow and prepared to eat. But as soon as its head lowered, a fork blocked its way.

"Meow," it protested.

"Meow meow..." warning that it was getting angry.

"Meow, meow, meow!" warning the other party that it was about to explode.

Ansbillis coaxed gently, "If you transform into a human, I'll let you eat."

The black cat lowered its front paws, and its throat suddenly emitted a deeply broken tremor: "Meow... meow... meow..." The sound combined whimpering and pleading, and was particularly captivating.

Ansbillis stood up, took the cat leash, and calmly tied it around the cat's neck, paying no attention to the various lengths of wounds that appeared and disappeared on his wrist. He smiled and said, "Since you don't want to eat with me, I'll have dinner with my darling instead."

The black cat looked up at him suspiciously.

Ansbillis smiled and said, "Of course, my darling is still you."

A sense of unease flashed through the black cat's mind. Sure enough, Ansbillis walked out of the bedroom holding Oceania, sat at the main seat, gently brushed aside Oceania's golden bangs, lifted her chin, and planted a kiss on her lips, a kiss so tender and passionate that it reached the extreme.

However, during the kiss, his eyes blinked without rest as he looked at the black cat on the table.

The black cat also stared at him without blinking.

As time passed, the confidence and warmth in Ansbillis' eyes gradually faded—this was a sign that his patience was running out.

A malicious and mocking smile crept up at the corner of Ansbillis' mouth. His hand, resting on Oceania's neck, slowly slid downward, slipping into her collar, his thumb brushing against her collarbone, lingering on the button of her shirt. His gaze grew deeper, and his finger lightly flicked the button, causing it to pop out of the gap. The slightly open collar exposed a glimpse of skin.

Vivid and passionate images surged in his mind, forming a continuous sequence of actions, awakening his desires, causing him to forget his original purpose and become intoxicated in the sweet intimacy with his lover's skin.

He lifted Oceania's chin with his fingers and pressed his lips against the slightly protruding Adam's apple, moving downward.

"Meow!" the black cat let out a cry, suddenly growing in size and pouncing onto the table.

Ansbillis' eyes lit up, and he reached out to catch it, but in the next second, the slender and fair body vanished like a phantom, returning to its black cat form. If it weren't for the distinct imprints on the pizza that clearly showed it had been touched, one could almost doubt if the previous moment had been an illusion.

Ansbillis's heart tightened suddenly, quickly placing down Oceania, unclasping the cat leash, and sensing the breath of the black cat.

The black cat's eyelids trembled slightly, revealing a narrow opening.

"Where does it hurt?" Ansbillis restrained his trembling fingers and gently stroked its back.

The black cat curled up its limbs and closed its eyes.

"Don't close your eyes!" Ansbillis shouted uncontrollably.

The black cat was startled and weakly opened its eyes.

Ansbillis suddenly rushed out of the room, slamming the door loudly.

Huh?

The black cat widened its eyes. Did it overact?

It lay on its side on the table, lifted its head slightly, and looked around with its eyes rolling. After a while, the sound of the door being pushed came, and it tilted its head, pretending to be dead again on the table.

Although its reaction was quick, it wasn't faster than Ansbillis's eyes.

The last trace of regret that lingered in his chest faded away, and anger surged back. He walked to the black cat's side, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

There was a loud crash in the living room.

It was a gust of wind that blew the curtains and knocked over a small flowerpot by the window. Fake flowers spilled out of the pot, and colorful pebbles scattered all over the floor.

The black cat's body jerked, bent its limbs again, and fell down, emitting a faint sound from its mouth. If Ansbillis hadn't witnessed its lively performance earlier, he would have been overwhelmed with guilt and helplessness.

Now--

He was still at a loss, not knowing how to punish this cunning little thing!

"I saw it," Ansbillis said.

The black cat's eyes shifted, lowered its head, and its glass-like eyes kept stealing glances at him.

Ansbillis turned and walked to the living room, bending down to pick up the flowerpot, holding the fake flowers, and carefully putting the pebbles back into the pot one by one. By the time he picked up the last one, his mood had calmed considerably. He carried the flowerpot to the table and placed it in front of the black cat. "Don't want to talk to me."

The black cat closed its eyes, pretending to be dead.

He raised his hand, his fingers stopping two inches from the cat's fur, following the curve of its body, and slowly "stroked" its tail, then pulled his hand back, turned, and entered the bedroom.

The black cat suddenly flipped over, sat up, glanced at the open bedroom door, then at Oceania on the table, wagged its tail, and hopped over to the pizza, elegantly starting its meal.

Ansbillis lying in the bedroom didn't want to hear any noise from outside at all. If he didn't see the guilty and dejected figure of the black cat, he knew that what was to come next would definitely not be to his liking. Sure enough, he heard the clattering of plates.

It smells delicious.

Ansbillis thought spitefully.

The shrimp must be very appetizing, right?

And the sound of drinking water, savoring the fish soup, perhaps?

Not adding ingredients to fish soup is really too kind of oneself!

Ansbillis turned over and looked at the small window on the wall, where there was also a pot of fake flowers.

It was said to be violets, small, tender, and vibrant, appearing lively against the backdrop of green leaves.

Oceania was the one who liked tending to flowers and plants. There was a time when he even wore a flower crown everywhere, paying no attention to the curious gazes of others. He always did things his own way.

But for Ansbillis at that time, it seemed like the person he liked would rather pay attention to lifeless flowers and plants than to him. It was simply provocation! Contempt! Disdain!

So, he swept through Genghis' territory with Macavity's lunatics.

Watching Oceania and his offspring frolic on the battlefield, completely ignoring the flower crown on his head, made Ansbillis proud.

He felt that his position in Oceania's heart had been consolidated.

Later on.

He lost Oceania, completely.

The extreme pain and loss shattered his pride, forcing him to relearn a course called "respect," but it didn't include gardening. If it weren't for Messillon taking care of it, his garden would never have had plants like roses, not even a single leaf. In his view, that was simply asking for trouble.

The Red Sea cottage didn't have Messillon, so when decorating, he put in a lot of effort and ended up using fake flowers as embellishments. Apart from not needing water, they were hardly different from real flowers.

Ansbillis was deeply moved by his own good intentions and angered by Oceania's indifference and ruthlessness!

Heartless scoundrel!

He suddenly grabbed the pot of fake flowers and threw it away fiercely.

The black cat, which had been meticulously grooming its fur after eating and drinking its fill, lifted its head and watched as the fake flowers drew an arc in the air and flew overhead, yawning with a lack of interest.

Can't sleep in the bedroom tonight.

The living room sofa was not bad.

Ansbillis stewed in his frustration all night, feeling very miserable, and decided to unilaterally end the cold war he had initiated. Because he realized that for the black cat, his indifferent love might be exactly what it desired.

If that's the case, why should he indulge it?

Ansbillis lifted his lips in mockery.

It seems that he has been a good person for too long, making it forget its true nature. It's about time to remind it appropriately.

He walked out of the bedroom in big strides, then froze.

Yesterday, Oceania sat expressionless by the dining table, but there was another lively Oceania figure in the kitchen.

He tiptoed slowly towards the kitchen, afraid of disturbing him, yet also afraid of not having fully awakened from the dream. It wasn't until Oceania picked up the spatula and placed it on the stove, making a crisp clanging sound, that he snapped out of his daze. He rushed forward, embracing Oceania from behind and forcefully biting into the tender white nape of the neck.

The familiar taste of blood splashed from the wound, mingling with his saliva, bringing a sense of satisfaction as the blood of his beloved mixed with his own. Ansbillis couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan.

Oceania's expression changed slightly, and he chuckled lightly, reaching up to touch the back of his head. "You've shortened the time of my transformation."

As soon as he spoke, Ansbillis found himself holding a black cat in his arms.

Ansbillis: "..."

The black cat lazily yawned, flicked its tail, and went to sleep.

Ansbillis nudged it.

The black cat didn't budge.

"...Hey." Ansbillis said suspiciously, "Are you pretending again?"

The black cat relaxed its limbs, tilted its head, and feigned unconsciousness.

Ansbillis persisted in shaking it, unwilling to give up. "At least finish making my breakfast."

...

"Wake up."

It was another day with meals cooked by Chef Macavity.

The food was abundant, with a nutritious breakfast of milk and seafood sandwiches, a lobster-based lunch accompanied by delicious clam soup, and a dinner of grilled fish and curry crab, all to the black cat's liking. It ate until its belly was round, shaking its head as it digested, with a satisfied look on its face.

In contrast, the chef himself didn't look well from the morning. He seemed to have just come out of a coal mine, covered in black, even the carbon dioxide he exhaled turning into puffs of black mist. By evening, he merged with the darkness, only his eyes shining brightly, fixed on the black cat's every move without blinking, even in the absence of light.

The black cat decided to go to sleep on the sofa early.

Ansbillis didn't bother to send it back to the bedroom and instead made himself a cup of tea, took a book, and leisurely flipped through its pages across from the cat.

Every time he looked down, the black cat would glance at him. And when Ansbillis noticed, it would quickly lower its head and pretend to sleep.

At midnight, Ansbillis suddenly changed his position, his eyes fixed on the black cat like a sharp knife.

The black cat, initially half-asleep, had to wake up from its slumber due to his intense gaze.

Ansbillis looked at it excitedly, unable to contain himself. "It's midnight."

The black cat: "..."

Ansbillis asked, "Is this the condition for your transformation? Once a day?"

The black cat glanced at him, then lay back down and continued sleeping. Ever since it had become a cat, it strictly adhered to the sleep schedule of a feline, not sleeping past 10 o'clock at night and behaving as if it had taken sleeping pills during the day, never to be disrupted.

Ansbillis stared at it for a while, confirming that it was resolutely sleeping. Finally giving up the one-sided "gaze," Ansbillis turned off the light and transformed into a bat. It lay behind the black cat, spreading its wings gently and lightly draping them over the cat. The black cat half-awakened and opened its eyes, glanced around, and curled its tail around the bat's neck.

Bat: "..."

Although the posture was strange, they had merged to some extent.

The next day, dawn broke.

Ansbillis sat on the couch, holding the black cat in his arms, staring at it in silence.

The black cat woke up, saw him, stretched lazily, sat up, and prepared to run around the house to exercise its muscles. It had eaten quite a bit during the three meals yesterday and needed to work off some energy; otherwise, it was afraid of becoming a fat cat.

Just as it took its first step, it caught a whiff of the scent of blood in the air.

Ansbillis held a dagger and absentmindedly cut his own wrist.

"Is blood the source of your transformation?"

"Drink my blood."

He smiled indulgently at it.

However, the black cat felt a chill seeping from the depths of its heart.

How could it forget that regardless of Ansbillis's transformations over the past hundred years, his essence remained that of Macavity.

Lightly, it jumped onto the couch and licked the wound on his wrist with its tongue.

Ansbillis looked down at it from a superior position, allowing it to lick, but as its tongue left his wrist, the blade of the dagger swiftly cut through the skin, and droplets of blood eagerly poured out from the severed wound.

"Meow!" The black cat's fur bristled, and it nervously stared at the dagger in his hand, as if it were its mortal enemy.

Ansbillis observed it for a moment, smiled with pursed lips, put down the knife, picked it up, and rubbed his nose against the fur around its neck with force. "I missed you so much, so much."

Suddenly, the cat fur on his lips disappeared, transforming into bare skin with a familiar scent, instantly arousing all the emotions within him—longing, resentment, frustration, accommodation... He tightly embraced himself, locking the person in his arms, as if only in this way could he be certain—

His lover had returned.

He would never lose them again.