Chapter 354: The Blood Feud Between Fatty Cat and the Antelope

“Alright, go sleep now!”

After testing the new livestreaming equipment, Aqing set down the little fox on her shoulder, unfastened the elastic strap, and patted its butt to signal it to go play elsewhere.

After all that fuss, it was already five in the morning—there was no chance of going back to sleep.

Everyone in the dorm was getting ready for the day; Lingren trudged out of the bathroom with a resentful expression, slumped onto Tang You’s single sofa, and muttered: “Our school’s dorm bathrooms don’t even have dual stalls—why bother building such a brand-new dorm if you can’t even have two people use the bathroom at once? So inhumane.”

An Sheng, who had been crouched on the windowsill waiting for Fatty Cat, turned his head to look at Lingren.

Aqing and Tang You went into the bathroom; Moyi Qing stood at the sink, tidying her appearance.

Because the air conditioning was on, the dorm area and the balcony were separated by double-glazed sliding glass doors.

Lingren’s aluminum-copper-level remarks drew no attention from those on the balcony.

“You clearly don’t treat me as a person at all! You make such outrageous remarks right in front of me—watch out, I’m going to tattle to Aqing.”

The little fox let out two soft “yīng” sounds, hinting that there were still people inside, and to mind her own image.

Lingren noticed the little fox, wide awake and nearly fused with the curtain, and froze in surprise.

Then—

Lingren sneakily glanced at the bathroom, crouched low, tiptoed over to the fox, reached out, grabbed a clump of fur from the tip of its tail, and yanked hard.

“Yīng?”

An Sheng tilted his head, puzzled by Lingren’s current performance art.

After yanking out the fluffy tail fur and confirming no actual fox hair came loose, Lingren immediately switched targets to the fox’s rump, grabbing handfuls of fur with both hands and pulling.

“I thought Aqing was just messing around, but this little fox really is a genetic mutation—she even said she wanted to pluck some of the fox’s white fur to weave into a felt rug.”

Seeing the little fox refuse to give up even a single hair, Lingren’s eyes darkened with disappointment.

Her family ran a tea house—since ancestral times, they’d set up tea stalls at the docks, and now operated a large commercial tea house.

In storytellers’ tales and ancient scholars’ writings, foxes were auspicious or mystical creatures, or carried an aura of taboo, as if forbidden by heaven and earth.

The treacherous fox-witch empresses in scholars’ novels, and the Sichuan opera “Fox Immortal’s Grudge,” adapted from Liaozhai’s tale of a fox repaying kindness—these were Lingren’s childhood memories.

She grew up listening to those stories, harboring a hazy longing for such mysterious creatures.

But the dull, stupid Arctic foxes in Erbin left her bitterly disappointed—absolutely none of the legendary spiritual essence.

Don’t even dream of them repaying kindness—just hoping they don’t shit in your pants is already a miracle.

“Pluck my fur… to weave a felt rug?”

An Sheng froze, tilted his head left—couldn’t grasp the logic—tilted it right—his right brain crashed.

But once he understood Lingren’s meaning, An Sheng flew into a rage.

“Outrageous!”

“You pluck my fur to weave a rug? Come here—I’ll pluck your fur to weave a pair of pants!”

The little fox’s snout darted forward, launching a rapid assault on Lingren’s chest and abdomen.

But after a few bumps, it retracted its snout and rubbed its sore nose with its paws.

Lingren stared, bewildered, at the little fox clutching its nose as if hurt.

“Wait—do you have any manners?!”

“Why don’t you rub your nose when you bump Mo Mo, Aqing, or Tang You—but you do it to me? Are you being polite? Little fox, do you even know what manners are? Huh?!”

“What’s going on?” Moyi Qing, seeing Lingren stumble backward and collapse onto the floor as if performing an opera, curiously poked her head out to ask.

“Wu wu wu—Mo Mo, the fox insulted me!”

Lingren, pouting pitifully, nestled against Moyi Qing’s arm and recounted the whole incident.

Moyi Qing suddenly recalled a joke.

He insulted me?

How?

He told everyone what I did.

Moyi Qing placed one hand on her chest, measured slightly, then moved it to Lingren’s chest—clearly three orders of magnitude smaller.

Lingren forced back a grin, pouting:

“Wu wu wu—Mo Mo, you’re insulting me too.”

…………

What began as the little fox’s provocation had, without notice, turned into Lingren’s desperate quest for comfort.

“Bro, what do you want?”

“If you’re asking about the car—it was the principal. He got drunk and drove off a slope.”

Amid the dorm’s merriment, time flew by; the brown-and-white Fatty Cat waddled into the dorm and asked An Sheng what he wanted.

“Let’s talk somewhere else—this place isn’t private.”

An Sheng leapt off the windowsill and landed on Fatty Cat’s broad back.

“Got it!”

Fatty Cat wobbled downstairs, and before all the students’ eyes, mounted a new electric scooter and headed for the administration building.

Students who witnessed the panda driving stood dumbfounded.

Even An Sheng was startled.

“You’re riding around so openly—aren’t you afraid Wang Qiqi will twist off your panda head?” An Sheng asked.

“Come on, it’s the 21st century—there’s already a black bear doing wheelie stunts on a unicycle. As a fellow feline, what’s wrong with riding an electric scooter to get around faster?”

“Foreigners’ dogs even have driver’s licenses.”

“You’re a bear.”

“No no no—I’m a cat.”

Though Fuli Lao Ye was powerful, Fatty Cat had to defend himself on this matter of his livelihood.

Cats live in cat houses.

Bears live in tree hollows!

Even if it meant offending Fuli Lao Ye, Fatty Cat had to argue this point.

Riding the electric scooter bought with the chemical plant’s salary, Fatty Cat charged upstairs, and while it was still dark, zoomed down the corridor and crashed straight into the principal’s office.

“Bang—”

The impact shattered the office door lock; Fatty Cat expertly turned on the air conditioning, opened the mini-fridge, and tossed two bottles of room-temperature mineral water to Fuli Lao Ye.

“Bro, don’t be formal—treat it like home. We’ll finish our business before 7:30 and get out of here.”

“You really aren’t shy.”

An Sheng scoffed, sat on the sofa, crossed his legs, and said: “You don’t know what happened?”

“Huh? What happened?” Fatty Cat asked, confused.

“A wild antelope secretly ordered the animals in the Department of Animal Science to ambush students. Such a huge incident—and you didn’t even know?” An Sheng said:

“It even said: ‘If Fatty Cat is unkind, don’t blame the antelope for being unrighteous.’”

“What? The antelope came back?”

Upon hearing the antelope’s name, Fatty Cat visibly tensed, his face darkening as if facing a mortal enemy:

“I didn’t expect—”

“The antelope dares return? Didn’t it learn its lesson from years ago? Now it dares stir up trouble on campus while I’m in the back mountains.”

“You… have a grudge?” An Sheng frowned. “If you have a grudge, why not settle it with you? Why target innocent students?”

“My grudge with it… is one of blood and ocean-deep hatred,” Fatty Cat growled:

“Two years ago, over a permanent government position in the conservation base, we fought in the woods for two days.”

An Sheng: “???”

What the hell kind of “permanent position”?

Actually, An Sheng didn’t understand.

Pandas and antelopes are both National Level One protected species, with strictly monitored population numbers.

They can’t be like foxes—snuggling up to humans, purring, and mooching food.

For both, who understood the value of a permanent position, anything was worth doing to “get on shore.”

The antelope had returned.

It intended to knock Fatty Cat off his perch.

It also planned to kill the new president of the Agricultural Science Academy.

(End of Chapter)