Chapter 56: Xiao Man
Xiao Man’s golden fur shimmered with moonlight-refined specks of radiance, its four paws alternating as it tapped the brick surface, each fold of its spine like coiling a spring’s force as it sprinted upright along the vertical wall.
Its speed was no slower than on flat ground.
This was a ninety-degree wall—had Newton’s coffin lid been nailed shut?
Even Qi Qi, watching from the ground, was stunned, its feet skidding to a hard stop as it reared up, head tilted high.
In the instant Qi Qi lifted its head, Xiao Man arched its back, twisted its waist, and flicked its tailtip into a streak of gold, executing a flawless backward somersault midair.
Its posture was breathtaking: its fluffy tail fanned open like a fan, the pale white down on its belly pierced by moonlight, as if wrapped in a flowing veil of gauze.
One could no longer tell where the shadow ended and the moonlight began.
Qi Qi’s gaze never left Xiao Man’s figure.
It lifted its head, stretched its neck, leaned back, and stood upright on its hind legs.
As Qi Qi toppled backward with a thud, Xiao Man landed lightly behind it, making not a single sound.
Xiao Man did not move after landing, sitting still and elegantly licking its paw.
It glanced—intentionally or not—at Qi Qi, sprawled on the ground, then turned its gaze away.
Though no sound had been made, the audience swore they clearly heard a “Pfft~~”…
【Aaaaaah!】 The audience went wild again.
【Xiao Man is so cool!】、【Queen! Queen! Queen!】、【The ultimate tsundere lady】、【Kill me! Kill me!】
【Slaughter me to entertain them】、【I’m shipping this pair!!!】
No one knew where they’d found this sugar.
Later, more and more people began shipping them.
After a brief tussle, Qi Qi seemed hungry again and trotted off to hug the meat chunk and keep eating.
Xiao Man no longer teased it, returning to grooming its fur.
This time, Qi Qi didn’t fidget—it sat still and let itself be licked.
The two cats ate, played, groomed each other, and played again.
When Qi Qi finished devouring the large chunk of meat.
Xiao Man showed no attachment, leaping onto the wall with a flash and running off without a backward glance.
It was Qi Qi who stood in the courtyard, staring up at the direction Xiao Man had vanished, for a long time…
——
The mystery was solved.
Qi Qi’s daytime lethargy was because it had exhausted itself at night.
Its poor appetite was because it had eaten well at night—that one chunk of meat was as big as its head.
The Qingyin Wildlife Research Institute promptly issued an explanation.
Qi Qi, having left its mother leopard too early, needed companionship or human intervention to simulate a natural environment and help it develop survival skills.
The most suitable candidate here was the Qinling golden cat, Xiao Man, also a medium-sized felid with a comparable body size.
The Qinling golden cat and the snow leopard share a closer genetic lineage with tigers.
Moreover, Qi Qi’s recovery was rapid, and it needed increased physical activity.
As for bringing meat, that was Xiao Man’s own initiative—not arranged—and even Xiao Man’s caretakers couldn’t stop it.
The kitchen was locked tight, yet it still managed to steal the meat.
Cat Mao Tou’s fans fully understood: Second Boss—who dares to discipline it? Stealing meat? That’s normal. They’d already seen it steal meat for the long-eared Gugu chicken months ago.
Rumor had it it even adopted the Gugu chicken as a subordinate.
As for other netizens not fans of Cat Mao Tou, besides being captivated by Xiao Man and calling it “The Tsundere Queen of Moonlight Shadows,”
they also worried about Qi Qi’s injury: “Bone fractures take a hundred days to heal—how can it run around so wildly after just a few days?”
They asked whether the golden cat might injure it, and whether the reversed day-night cycle would harm its health.
The protection center answered all these questions.
Qi Qi’s recovery was extremely fast—unbelievably so. Analysis suggested it was due to its juvenile stage, during rapid development; human recovery rates cannot be compared to those of wild animals.
(Actually, it was the effect of the Spring Rain Array.)
Xiao Man, the Qinling golden cat, had been rescued as a kitten and had lost all wild instincts—it would not harm Qi Qi. Additionally, their similar sizes meant normal play would not cause injury.
(Whether being treated as a toy might cause psychological trauma wasn’t considered—besides, the upgraded Sensory Array had already been approved.)
The reversed day-night cycle was irrelevant—snow leopards are naturally nocturnal.
Oh, and there was another group: those deeply obsessed with the ship.
They stormed Cat Mao Tou’s official account, shouting 【Write it! Write it! We want to see Qi Qi and Xiao Man!】
The readers’ voices made Xiao Zhao obediently comply—in the following chapters,
scenes appeared where Xiao Man outwardly scorned Qi Qi but secretly cared for the injured cat: gently tapping its tail to soothe Qi Qi’s emotions when no one was watching, then immediately fluffing up and denying it when Ding Xiao Man caught her.
There was also the loyal Gugu chicken, misunderstanding the lady’s intent, stealing Qi Qi’s dinner; Xiao Man muttered “Troublesome,” yet secretly defended Qi Qi, even making a dazzling moonlit appearance to stop the chicken, revealing her protective nature.
Qi Qi became Xiao Man’s little shadow, clumsily mimicking the lady’s elegant gait and falling over, only to be secretly lifted by Xiao Man’s tail despite her disgusted expression—pure tsundere, saying no but doing yes.
These scenes sent shippers into raptures—they screamed, drew art, made memes, and wrote fanfiction.
Even some super-skilled creators began making animations.
Then, the never-satisfied netizens demanded merchandise, with a very convincing reason: 【You’re good at this, right? Big Potato made plushies—hurry up! T-shirts, hoodies, pillows, bags—I can’t wait! I’ll buy them!】
Who does that? Rushing to hand over money.
Above was the unserious side.
There was also the serious side: Qi Qi got its own documentary.
Not made by Hanyun—they were too busy to handle it.
This time, Shaanxi Television and Qinghai Television joined forces.
Titled “Life Relay,” it showcased the rescue details, telling the full story of Qi Qi’s discovery, treatment, and survival, including content on snow leopard diet, habitat, and high-altitude ecosystems.
It also answered Luo Yihang’s earlier question: Why had Qi Qi suddenly become so popular?
Because the live-streamed “cloud monitoring” model shattered professional barriers, turning netizens into “cloud conservationists,” creating the phenomenon of “nationwide binge-watching.”
Because Qi Qi’s tenacious will to live, its desperate yearning for life amid despair, carried the beautiful symbolism of “transcending death,” becoming a vessel for public emotional projection.
Because Qi Qi’s story transformed the abstract concept of “biodiversity conservation” into a tangible, relatable narrative of life.
Because Qi Qi became China’s exemplar in international ecological governance…
In short, Qi Qi’s story touched the hearts of millions.
Qi Qi’s rise to fame was not merely a victory of “cute pet economics,” but a microcosm of China’s ecological protection shifting from “government-led” to “public co-governance.”
It proved that when professional rescue, public emotion, and technological dissemination merge deeply, wildlife conservation can transcend species boundaries and become an emotional bond between humans and nature.
As a result, topics and videos related to Qi Qi surpassed thirty billion views!
Searches for Qinghai, Kunlun Mountains, and snow leopards all increased by at least 200%.
All of this was beyond Luo Yihang’s expectations—and entirely unforeseeable.
Yet whether Qi Qi became famous or not made no difference to Luo Yihang; his intention had never been merely to save a fragile life.
During this time, Luo Yihang had other matters to attend to.
The new jade-wood spirit-collecting array had begun to function.
And far away, thousands of miles off, the “high-level spy” deserved praise—his work was excellent…
(End of Chapter)
End of Chapter
