Chapter 10 — My Cat is Pregnant, Neighbors Want to Take Responsibility

One day before Tham Canh Tieu left for training in the province, I cooked him a farewell party. He knocked down three salty dishes and one clean soup, then pushed the bowl aside.

"I'll be back in two months."

“Yes.”

“After returning, if you pass the selection round—” “You will pass.”

He glanced at me: "Are you sure?"

“I've seen you swim before.”

He stood up and walked in front of me.

“Then draw me a picture to take away.”

“Draw what?”

“Whatever.”

That evening, I painted a small watercolor – two cats, one British Shorthair, one Russian Blue, lying side by side on the window sill watching the moon. The next day I secretly stuffed it into his suitcase. Arriving at the airport, he texted: I saw it. I replied: Practice well. During the two months of training, we called every day. During breaks, he would send me a photo of the swimming pool, and I would send back a sketch drawn during the day. There are times when we don't say a word to each other, just turn on the video call and everyone does their own thing. You stretch, I paint. Doan Tu led his three children to roll around at my feet. The days passed peacefully and completely. After the poster was published, commercial cooperation invitations sent to "Thap Quang" tripled. I accepted a few projects that I could do online and earn a decent income. The graduation project passed the defense smoothly and was evaluated excellently by the council. As for Lam Uyen Thanh. . . Tong Nam forwarded me a message from an industry chat group: Studio Thanh Lan had its contract terminated by the investor due to unsatisfactory quality, founder Lam Uyen Thanh was exposed many times for using unlicensed resources, and her reputation in the industry completely collapsed.

“It's worth it.”

Tong Nam's comments were concise. I did not send this news to Tham Canh Tieu to see. Not needed anymore. Two months later. I watched the entire live broadcast of the Asian Games Qualifiers. Tham Canh Tieu ranked first in the 200m butterfly qualifying round, ranked first in the semi-finals, and in the finals— Champion. Meets A Asian Games standard. Officially enrolled in the National Team's Asian Games roster. I sat alone in the living room, staring at the image of him standing on the podium receiving the award through the phone screen. Doan Tu jumped onto the sofa, rubbing his head against my hand.

“Your dad won.”

I whispered to it. It doesn't pay any attention to me. Five minutes later the phone rang. Video call from Tham Canh Tieu. I picked up the phone. In the screen, he was still wearing his competition uniform, his hair was wet, and he had a gold medal on his chest. The surrounding area was noisy and bustling, someone was calling his name.

“See?”

He asked.

“I see.”

"I'm home."

“Congratulations.”

“Not congratulations.”

He stared into the lens.

“You said you were home.

Come find me.” My nose stung, but I tried to suppress the emotions from spilling out.

"Then go home quickly."

“I'll be there tomorrow.”

He smiled, someone standing next to him pulled his hand.

“Canh Tieu, come out for an interview—” “Wait a minute.”

He said the last sentence into the camera: "The first thing when I get home tomorrow is to come look for you." Call off. I hugged Doan Tu, burying my face in his soft fur. You said you'll arrive tomorrow, you'll actually arrive tomorrow. At 3 p.m., I heard the sound of suitcase wheels rolling in the hallway. The doorbell rang. I opened the door. Tham Canh Tieu stood outside door, backpack, suitcase propped up at my feet. Compared to two months ago, he was a little thinner, but his spirit was extremely radiant, his eyes sparkling.

“We've arrived.”

“Yes.”

He looked down at me, then took a step forward, pulling me into his arms. The hug is not strong, but very tight. My cheek pressed against his chest, I could clearly hear his heart beating - much faster than I imagined.

“Two months is too long.”

He said.

"You don't call every day."

“Not enough.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and said nothing more. At this moment, all words are redundant. From outside the stairs, my grandmother's voice echoed: "Are you home? Where is Vi Vi? Are you a couple? That's great—" I pulled him into the house and closed the door. Doan Tu took his three children, who were now grown up, jumping down from the table and running around Tham Canh Tieu's suitcase. He squatted down to caress the smallest child in the herd.

“This one looks like Anh Tu.”

"Just saying, Anh Tu is not their father."

"Dad's spirit is also genetic."

I gently kicked his suitcase: "Go home and put your things away first, then come here to eat."

“Are you cooking today?”

“I'm cooking today.”

He stood up and looked at me.

“From now on, I will cook every day.”

I glared at him.

“If you cook every day, you will pay me one thousand yuan a day.”

“Okay.”

“I'm not telling the truth—” “Okay.”

He carried his suitcase and walked out the door. As he passed me, he bowed his head and gently touched his lips to my forehead. Light as a feather.

“I'll be there in 5 minutes.”

The door closed, I stood still at the entrance, touching my forehead. The palm of the hand is hot. One year later. 200m butterfly swimming final at the Asian Games. I sat in the stands, clutching a cheering banner with a drawing of a British Shorthair and a Russian Blue. Tong Nam sat next to him, so nervous that both legs were shaking.

“What lane number did he swim in?”

“Lane number 4.”

The starting signal rang out. Eight athletes simultaneously rushed into the water. In the first 50m, Tham Canh Tieu ranked third. 100m, rose to second. 150m, tied for first place. The last 50m— His butterfly swimming pace suddenly accelerated, the amplitude of rising out of the water was much higher than the others, each stroke of his hand carried a force as if it wanted to split the whole lake in half. Touch the lake. The electronic board lights up. First class. When I stood up, my legs were weak. Tong Nam stood next to him and screamed, but I couldn't hear anything. I just saw him take off his swimming cap, stroke his face and then look up at the stands. Passing through thousands of people, his eyes precisely stopped at me. Then he raised his fist. I smiled, holding up the banner in my hand. The surrounding audience turned to look at me. Not important. When the awards ceremony ended, I stood waiting for him in the athletes' aisle. When he stepped out, he was wearing a gold medal around his neck, and his hair was still not completely dry. Walking in front of me, he took off the gold medal and put it around my neck.

“The first one is for you.”

“I can't give you this—” “I'm sure it will.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. Along the hallway, there were reporters' lenses pointed at us, flash lights flashing several times continuously.

“Go to hot search tomorrow and see.”

I said.

“Let it go.”

“Aren't you afraid that your fans will curse me?”

“Who dares.”

I couldn't help but laugh. At the celebration party that night, Tran Thac got drunk. holding a glass of wine and knocking it on the table.

“This guy Canh Tieu has never known what flirting is, yet he always flirts.

It's so annoying.” Chu Nghien, sitting next to him, chimed in: "It's all thanks to the cat. If it weren't for the cat, the two of them might still be just invisible neighbors." I sat next to Tham Canh Tieu, bowed my head and scrolled through my phone. On the surveillance camera screen at home, Doan Tu is leading his three children to lie face down next to the hole on the balcony that can never be filled, waiting for Anh Tu from next door to come over and play. Tham Canh Tieu leaned closer to watch with me.

“They even became a couple before us.”

“So you have to thank him.”

“Yes.”

He squeezed my hand a little tighter, "Thank you." Outside the window is a brilliant night scene of the city, in the distance there are fireworks lighting up the sky. The gold medal hangs heavy around my neck. As for your hands, warmer than anything in the world. RUN OUT OF.