Guess who's back with a spicy little snack? That's right-me. And I brought you a fresh new chapter to feast on. So grab your forks, unhinge your jaws like story-hungry snakes, and dig in. Bon appétit, my fellow chaos gremlins.

[Chapter 8]

The bus ride blurred past the city lights, but my mind was stuck on everything that had happened. The robbery. The fear. The quiet strength in Mo Longyan's eyes.

Eventually, the familiar streets of Baicheng Road came into view, and the bus gave a final hiss as it pulled to a stop. I stepped off, cool night air brushing against my skin, and crossed toward Jingyuan Apartments - an aging five-story building wedged between a steamed bun shop and a late-night pharmacy that looked like it never closed.

The lobby lights flickered overhead, as usual. I passed the broken elevator and glanced at the piece of paper still taped to the wall:

"Elevator repairs scheduled. Please be patient."

I'd heard they were fixing it someday. Just not today. But let's be honest - I don't think they will. They still haven't repaired it since last summer.

The stairwell echoed as I climbed to the third floor, shoes scuffing tile.

From next door, a man's deep voice cut through the silence - sharp but weary.

"...I told you, it's over between us. You can't keep hanging around like this. I have a wife now."

A woman's voice, low but firm, followed.

"That doesn't mean it stops, Jian. Not for me."

I paused at my door. The air felt heavy, like I'd stepped into someone else's tension. Their voices dropped to hushed murmurs. I didn't mean to listen, but I heard enough to know this wasn't the first time.

Finally, I unlocked my apartment and stepped inside.

The scent of cold air met the quiet warmth of stillness. My apartment was small, modest - just enough furniture to feel lived-in, but nothing extra. Exactly the kind of place you collapse into after a night like this.

Before I could even take my shoes off, a familiar shape darted across the floor and brushed against my leg.

小灰 (Xiǎo Huī) = Little Grey - my cat. I lied. I wasn't completely alone in Beijing.

A scruffy grey tabby with one torn ear and a habit of glaring at the world like it owed him something. Suspicious of everyone but me.

He blinked up at me, tail flicking lazily, then walked off as if to say, "You survived. Good. Feed me."

I dropped slowly and leaned back against the door, closing my eyes.

The clock on the wall glowed: 1:37 a.m.

The weight of the night - the robbery, Mo Longyan's calm strength, the shock - pressed on me still. Shaken, yes, but strangely grateful.

That night swirled in my mind. Would I see Mo again? Somehow, I hoped yes.

It all hit me at once, louder than any neighbor's drama.

Was that adrenaline still talking? Or something deeper? 

"And what would I even do with that feeling if I saw him again?" I said.

No time to dwell.

The sun would rise soon, and university would call me back to its relentless pace. I barely had time to sleep, let alone process any of it. Tomorrow, I'd walk the campus halls half-awake, carrying the night's memories like a secret shadow.

For now, the city slept.

And I finally could, too.

[Author's Note] 

Yes, the cat is real.

His name means "Little Grey," but don't let that fool you - he acts like he runs Beijing and has the attitude of a retired gangster who once ran the alleys of Beijing.

But Little Grey, in his own grumpy way, is the heart of the apartment - the only living thing in that space that doesn't ask questions or expect explanations.

Yeah, he's got one of his ears torn, yeah, his trust issues have trust issues, and he stares at people like they just ruined his entire week, like you've personally offended him just by existing.

But he's loyal. Shows up when it counts. Also demands food like it's a legally binding contract.

Honestly, not a bad roommate. Just don't touch his ears.