Chapter 63

They had been working together for a while; a few syllables were enough to understand each other. A Jin plucked his guitar, signalling everyone to get ready, paused, then glanced at the cat on the nearby stool.

Zheng Tan was already impatiently flicking his tail. It's just singing a song—do we really need foreplay? So fussy.

To be safe, their first song wasn't fast; its tempo was similar to what Fang Shaokang had sung, of course, definitely not in his style.

Zheng Tan tapped the glass bottle rhythmically; keeping the beat wasn't hard for him, and the onlookers were certainly more tolerant of a cat than of a person, so even if he made a mistake they'd understand.

After all, he's a cat.

After the song ended, A Jin and the others were quite pleased; they had thought the glass‑bottle percussion would sound jarring, but once they locked in the rhythm the effect was surprisingly good, and they could try adding similar elements later.

A Jin gave Zheng Tan a thumbs‑up and prepared to switch to a slightly faster song.

Zheng Tan secretly felt proud, the tip of his tail twitching unconsciously; indeed, he still had face—look at those onlookers, even the big‑eyed little girl clapped until her hands turned red.

Compared to when he performed with Fang Shaokang, Zheng Tan feels much better now—not because of the onlookers, but due to his receptiveness to the music. He can't grasp Fang Shaokang's feeling for old songs like 'Walking Four Directions,' but he can easily immerse himself in this rock‑style pop tune.

After all, Zheng Tan's body houses a young person's soul, a young person's thoughts.

In a corner of the square, amid hazy lights, rhythmic music drifted out.

When the music started, even the usually somewhat dull bassist, though he remained silent and composed, his plucked notes were full of motion and rhythm.

When they played with feeling, A Jin and the others forgot that a cat was crouching beside them, forgot they were performing with a cat, and simply sang those rhythmic songs out of habit.

After a series of urgent notes, when the chorus came in it was like new green breaking free from bonds and sprouting, swaying wildly; all shyness and restraint were swept away.

What moves people isn't just the rhythm and melody; there's also the abandon and passion woven in—hot‑blooded youth.

What makes people boil isn't just the song, but also this atmosphere, which offers a way to vent—just for this moment of unrestrained release; that's enough.

They're still young; perhaps they can't yet express the original singer's mature emotion. But they've taken a big step—who can say they won't shine brightly in the future?

If at first they were just playing around, now Zheng Tan is fully immersed. He bangs the bottles with passionate fervor, a stark contrast to his lax attitude when he first performed with Fang Shaokang. Young people are easily swayed by the atmosphere, not realizing what they're doing—even if he's just a cat now, it's the same.

The instrument shop owner sitting nearby clicked his tongue in praise: 'Your cat's bottle‑tapping is impressive! I've never seen a cat make a bottle sound like that—it's like stirring eggs.'

Fang Shaokang: '…Heh.' He too had never seen it before.

The crowd around grew larger; at first most were people coming to watch the cat tap bottles—parents with kids, aunties who'd finished dancing. Gradually a batch of young people gathered here. People love a spectacle, they flock to the liveliness, see the crowd and join in, then get swept up by the atmosphere—some sing along, some keep time, some cheer. For the youngsters, these are familiar, easy‑to‑sing songs.

Fang Shaokang took a camera out of his backpack and started taking photos.

"Hey, that's not a DSLR, is it? You've got money to buy a DSLR and still come here to busk?! Are street performers that rich now?" a person who had heard Fang Shaokang sing asked.

"Well," Fang Shaokang calmly raised his hand and pointed in a direction, "I borrowed it from a photography club student over there; I'll have to return it later."

That person looked toward the direction Fang Shaokang pointed—just a sea of people, couldn't tell which spot he meant—but there indeed is a photography club here, and from time to time students come to hold a photo exhibition. He shook his head and said nothing more.

When Zheng Tan's right hand got tired he switched to the left, then back again, enjoying himself greatly; moreover, while tapping the bottles he occasionally glanced at the donation box, and seeing people continually stuffing money into it made him even happier.

They didn't pack up until after ten o'clock, when the crowd in the square had thinned.

Zheng Tan tossed the iron spoon aside, rushed to the donation box, and peered inside; the light was poor, so he couldn't tell exactly how much money was there, but it should be enough for transport and lodging.

As A Jin packed up after the performance, his excitement hadn't faded: 'Just now I had a moment where I felt like a star—so many people cheering, so many applauding, just like the dream I once had.'

"Yeah, yeah, that feeling is really great!"

The others echoed him.

The instrument shop owner walked over to chat with them; these kids were heading north tomorrow, so he took the chance to encourage and give them a bit of a push, so they wouldn't struggle to get out of a deeper slump later—the road is still long, they still need to grind.

Fang Shaokang didn't count the money in the box right away; after the performance he sealed the box, helped the kids pack their gear, brought it to the instrument shop, and tallied the cash there.

"Thirty‑six hundred?!"

A Jin and the five of them were stunned. Usually when they busked in the square they made only a few dozen yuan an hour, and even less when solo, so they'd treated street performance as just an experience, a way to temper themselves, never expecting to earn much. Yet the figure they'd just calculated left them unable to believe it.

They weren't formally trained, had no fame, and were still just greenhorns fresh out of the woods; after their street‑performance experience, this amount of money really meant a lot to them.

Fang Shaokang took 1,800, handed the rest to A Jin, and said, 'Here, as agreed—split fifty‑fifty.'

"Um… Mr. Fang, you also put your earlier money in there, so you should take a bit more," A Jin said.

Even though they knew this earnings were unusually high, they also understood that without that black cat they couldn't have so easily drawn so much attention in the square.

"Fine, let's go!" Without further explanation, he shoved the money into his bag, shouldered it, and walked out.

Zheng Tan hurried to follow. He had no objection to Fang Shaokang's split. After all, Fang Shaokang isn't poor, and 1,800 is enough for transport and lodging—no need for a five‑star hotel, just better than the previous cheap inn.

"Thanks, cat brother!" A Jin raised his hand and shouted.

Zheng Tan flicked his tail, not looking back.

They still had belongings left at the cheap inn; they'd originally planned to check out, but the landlord said checkout had to be by noon, otherwise they'd be charged for an extra day.

To leave the inn sooner, Zheng Tan poked Fang Shaokang in the backpack, hoping the guy would just check out—after all, they'd earned money busking tonight.

In the end, Fang Shaokang didn't pay a cent; he merely pawned the used mountain bike, since he wasn't going to ride it again, letting it serve out its last usefulness.

Leaving the inn, one person and one cat headed for the nearest four‑star hotel; exhausted, Fang Shaokang planned to take a shortcut—a side path that avoided detours.

There were streetlights along the road, but it was very late and hardly anyone about; as they walked, Zheng Tan's ears twitched, and peering out from the backpack zipper he saw two shady figures trailing behind.

Could they be robbers?

Regardless, their behavior didn't look like that of good people. Zheng Tan poked Fang Shaokang.

"I know," Fang Shaokang whispered.

Since Fang Shaokang said he knew, Zheng Tan stopped reminding him and focused his main attention on the two people behind.

Confirming there were only two of them, Zheng Tan breathed a sigh of relief—two were manageable; more would have been truly troublesome.

The two drew nearer, each holding a steel pipe.

At a glance they were clearly no good!

When one of them approached, Zheng Tan leapt from the backpack, clawed the man's face, used his agility to dodge the incoming swing of the pipe, sprang up and kicked the man's torso hard twice, putting real force behind it, both kicks landing low.

Damn it, they actually tried to rob me of the hard‑earned cash I made busking with a thick‑skinned face?!

Are they seeking death or just refusing to live?

Kick him again!

Zheng Tan thought, since I won't be staying here long anyway, there's no need to hide; I'll leave tomorrow, and even if these guys want revenge they won't find me.

When Fang Shaokang knocked another person unconscious with a stick, he turned around and saw the cat kicking the man's crotch, and the kicked man screamed as if he had been castrated, while the steel pipe in his hand had already fallen to the ground.

After being kicked, the man lay on the ground wailing; Zheng Tan no longer paid him any attention, glanced at Fang Shaokang, who was holding a swinging baton, apparently already prepared.

"Let's go, don't bother with them, just a petty thug." Fang Shaokang put away the baton and said.

Zheng Tan tugged his ears, jumped into Fang Shaokang's backpack, they were close to the hotel, probably the hotel wouldn't allow cats, so it's better to hide.

Before they even left the side path, Fang Shaokang's phone rang.

"Yo, second brother, why are you calling me at this hour… I'm not sleeping, I'm looking for a hotel… just ran into something, someone robbed… damn, I really didn't go heavy this time, just knocked with a stick, also, you don't know, when that guy came out he was pulling, saying 'people get out, leave the cat, put the cash box aside', well I just… you think that's worth a beating? The security here is poor, tell your brother‑in‑law to be careful when he comes, even kids don't dare go here…"

Zheng Tan: "......" That's truly utter nonsense.

After hanging up, Fang Shaokang patted his backpack, "Hei Tan, tomorrow the fare will be saved." (To be continued..)

ps: Thanks to Liu Yan, kasimgfu's grand prize!

Thanks to everyone: Liu Yan, kasimgfu's grand prize, whose baby, can't bubble Dragon, Helen Yin, the drowned fish123, God | Demon, birdcheng, tears fluttering, Meow‑girl daidai, Cold Nine‑Head, _déath, Spirit Peak Jade Tree, Cat‑hair Maomao, Qian∈Yuan Heng Li Zhen, the cat under the eaves, the beam that rings for three days like three autumns, duduco, Chen Mo〓van, big big big trash, water condensing night, Yellow Spring Ghost Phoenix, jessicazhao, Sound Sand, Heart Pavilion Evening Matters, Curtain Sky Play Earth, Brother, du‑sorrow lonely, Earth Flying Squirrel, Yan Mountain White Water, Flame's Alloy, Meow Star's Sunlight, Cain Cat, Mist‑like Cat's Tips.

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