Chapter 213: Actually, I Prefer Keeping Cats

September 26, 1949, morning at Yanjing Gongde Lin. The autumn sunrise filtered through the window lattice, casting mottled light and shadow on the floor of Li Yuxuan's room in the eastern courtyard of Gongde Forest. The morning bell had just rung, and from afar came the soldiers' drill commands, uniform and crisp, bearing the vigor unique to the New Era.

Li Yuxuan had been up for an hour. He wore a blue Zhongshan suit faded white from washing, stood at the desk, brush in hand, copying a model. On the xuan paper were verses from Li Bai's "Night Stay at a Mountain Temple":

The lofty tower stands a hundred feet high; one can pluck the stars with a hand.

Dare not speak loudly, lest we startle the Heavenly Beings.

The ink was the finest Huizhou ink, and the inkstone was a Duan Inkstone that Liu Guangzhi had specially procured for him. The brush tip moved across the paper, at times like a cleaving axe, at times like a soaring dragon. Li Yuxuan's expression was focused as he wrote, as if the whole world had been reduced to this sheet of paper and a pool of ink.

Footsteps sounded outside the door and halted at the entrance. The visitor did not knock immediately, as if waiting.

Li Yuxuan finished the last line, set down his brush, and exhaled, "Come in, the door is unlatched."

The door swung open, and Huang Wei entered carrying an enameled basin filled with hot water steaming. He looked a bit more spirited than two months ago, his face flushed, though the same straightforward stubborn spark remained in his eyes.

"Director, I've prepared hot water for you," Huang Wei set the basin on the face‑washing rack, turned, saw the characters on the desk, and his eyes lit up, "Yo, practicing calligraphy again."

He leaned over the desk, cocked his head, and clicked his tongue, "Director, your handwriting keeps improving. This Li Bai piece, 'Night Stay at a Mountain Temple,' truly captures Li Bai's original mood!"

Li Yuxuan twisted a towel to wipe his face, "The lofty tower stands a hundred feet high, one can pluck the stars… Li Bai wrote of a mountain temple tower; I am writing about the high wall of Gongde Forest."

There was a hidden meaning. Huang Wei caught it but did not follow up, instead continuing, "Your brush strength and intent now far surpass the orders you penned at the Third War Zone Headquarters during the anti‑Japanese war. Back then your writing was like dragons and phoenixes, always tinged with killing intent. Now… now the characters exude tranquility."

"Tranquility?" Li Yuxuan finished wiping his face, draped the towel back on the rack, "In the days of Gongde Forest, besides calm, what else is there?"

"There is," Huang Wei said earnestly, "learning, reformation, and…" He paused, "hope."

Li Yuxuan walked to the window and watched the war criminals already sweeping the courtyard at dawn. Du Yuming was raking fallen leaves, Wang Yaowu was watering the vegetable plot, Chen Changjie was polishing the corridor railings. Each worked quietly on his own task, no one whispered, no one shirked.

"Huaxia is about to be founded," he whispered, "We old‑era folks should have a new way of life as well."

Huang Wei stepped beside him and also looked out the window, "Director, you said… when Huaxia is founded, will our policies change?"

"For the better or for the worse?"

"Of course…" Huang Wei hesitated, "I hope it will be better. But what if…"

"No 'what if.'" Li Yuxuan turned, looking at the once‑valiant commander who had held Shuangduiji during the Huaihai Campaign before being defeated and captured, "Huang Wei, you must learn to view issues with a developmental outlook. Once Huaxia is founded, everything awaits reconstruction; what is needed are Builders, not prisoners. As long as we sincerely reform and recognize Huaxia's path, an exit will always exist."

Huang Wei was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Director, your calligraphy practice—is it also about… reformation?"

The question was cleverly phrased. Li Yuxuan smiled, "You could say so. Characters reflect their writer; when the mind is calm, the characters become calm. When the heart is convinced, the characters become proper."

He walked to the desk and pointed at the calligraphy, "Look at this: 'Dare not speak loudly, lest we startle the Heavenly Beings.' Li Bai feared disturbing the celestial immortals in the mountain temple. We are in Gongde Forest; our words and deeds must also have limits, lest we disturb the New Era's 'Heavenly Beings.'"

Huang Wei nodded, half‑understanding.

After the morning study session ended, there was a brief break. Li Yuxuan returned to his room to hang the morning's calligraphy to dry. As he pushed the door open, a gray‑white shadow whooshed down from the desk.

"Huzi!" Li Yuxuan scolded with a laugh, "Sneaking onto the desk again!"

The one called "Huzi" was a Chinese tabby cat, a little over a year old, that had slipped into Gongde Forest two months earlier from who knows where. Liu Guangzhi had wanted the soldiers to drive it away, but Li Yuxuan saw it and said, "Let it stay; Gongde Forest has many mice, perfect for it to catch."

So Huzi made its home in Gongde Forest. It was clever, knowing where the treats were—Li Yuxuan's room always received secret snacks from the war criminals: sunflower seeds hidden by Du Yuming, steamed buns saved by Wang Yaowu, and dried fish that Huang Wei occasionally "smuggled" out of the kitchen.

At that moment, Huzi crouched in the corner, licking its paws, its amber eyes looking innocently at Li Yuxuan. On the desk, the half‑piece of fried fish Li Yuxuan had eaten that morning had vanished, leaving only a few fish bones.

"You little cat," Li Yuxuan walked over, crouched, and tapped Huzi's forehead with a finger, "How many times have I told you? Share the fruits of labor equally. The fish meat is mine, the bones are yours—how can you gulp them all up?"

"Meow, meow," Huzi cried twice, rubbing its head against Li Yuxuan's hand.

"Yo ho! Acting cute, refusing to be scolded after a mistake?" Li Yuxuan set a stern face, but his eyes twinkled, "Look at this cat—if you don't give it fish meat it runs away—it knows how to run, knows how to hide, smarter than some people."

The remark carried an implication. Laughter came from the doorway as Huang Wei entered carrying lunch.

"Director, others may not know how fond you are of this cat, but I certainly do," Huang Wei placed the dishes on the table—today's spread was good: rice, stir‑fried cabbage, and a small bowl of braised pork. "We originally expected it to catch mice, but it ended up being raised to eat only fish meat. If the mice of Gongde Forest could speak, they'd thank you— you've bought off their natural enemy with fish, so they can rest easy."

Li Yuxuan stood, washed his hands, and sat down to eat, "Cats catch mice by nature, but if a better option exists, why labor to hunt them? Humans are the same. When peaceful days come, who wants to fight? When there is food and clothing, who wants to stir up revolution?"