The System Mistook Me for a Cat

After lighting three incense sticks, Chu Tingwu lit another three and then began rummaging through her room.

Since today wasn’t an anniversary, there was no need to follow a strict ritual process. Chu Tingwu simply felt like talking to her late grandmother—though she knew, of course, that the deceased had long since passed on.

Perhaps the act of worship, passed down through generations, was just a way for the living to believe that the connection between them still existed.

The first day of being eighteen didn’t feel particularly special. Chu Tingwu found some old clothes she had outgrown in her wardrobe, along with stationery she hadn’t taken to Gold City. Finally, she took some cash, packed everything into her suitcase, borrowed an electric tricycle from next door, and donated it all to the Fallen Phoenix City Orphanage.

After tidying up, her room felt emptier.

The clothes her grandmother had worn most often were buried with her, but Chu Tingwu found a slightly worn yet clean black coat and draped it over herself.

Then, she began packing for her trip to Shangjing City.

This time, she packed faster. As she folded her clothes, her cat, Sanwuwu, came over to help flatten them. Chu Tingwu tucked her ID pouch into her bag and called out, “Phoenix?”

The system screen flickered into view at the top right corner of her vision, showing that a car had been called and would arrive in ten minutes.

She estimated the time, locked the door, and watched as her drone, Seagull, glided down from the second floor to perch on her shoulder. Chu Tingwu called out the system’s name again.

But the system replied coldly, “Don’t call me that.”

Chu Tingwu: ? Don’t you like it?

The system quickly retorted, “No, it’s just that it should be saved for important moments.”

Chu Tingwu: “Isn’t a name meant to be called?”

It’s not like calling it once will make it disappear.

The system: “Because…”

The unique superprogram seemed to ponder how to explain itself.

[Because my program can be modified, replaced, or even delete what humans call “memories”… Compared to me, this name is the only truly unique thing.]

Because this was the only thing the system possessed, a gift from Chu Tingwu.

Even though no one could take it away, the system still worried—what if calling it too often made it lose its significance?

When Chu Tingwu called the drone “Phoenix,” the system didn’t feel it was the same as “Phoenix.” Names could be repeated, but only when Chu Tingwu used it to address the system itself did it hold special meaning for both of them.

So the system solemnly declared, “Call me once in the morning, once at noon, and once at night, and that’s it. You can also use it in the dream classroom.”

Chu Tingwu remained expressionless, pinching the drone’s claws and elbowing its head:

Is calling a name really this complicated? Are we casting a spell here?

The system could say what it wanted, but Chu Tingwu went about her business as usual… Before boarding the plane, she replied to a few messages and sent a screenshot of her ticket to Teacher Zhang: “Everything’s going smoothly. I’ll be there by evening.”

Teacher Zhang and Aunt Mei had already moved into their house in Shangjing City.

Recently, the elderly woman had become somewhat addicted to gaming. If not for the time limits, she’d probably be online farming every day.

As Chu Tingwu closed her eyes to rest on the plane, the system seemed to finally relent—

It decided to “protect” its name in a different way.

Chu Tingwu: “=v=”

Chu Tingwu: “Goodnight.”

-

Within Wu Voice Group, the system had always been a mysterious figure.

The companies it had invested in, as well as its own team of agents, had no clear idea of its identity. Over the years, they had only vaguely guessed that it might be “in poor health and unable to appear in public,” “from a wealthy family with precise investment instincts,” and “disinterested in anything except Chu Tingwu.”

The manager often silently complained, thinking Chu Tingwu was a lucky girl, but he knew who paid his salary.

Until today, when the boss suddenly revealed its name, “Phoenix,” with no surname attached. Still, it was better than just a code name.

The manager thought something big was about to happen—

Boss: “Change all the names in my previous videos, movies, and contracts to this one.”

Manager: “Huh?”

If we could find you, our accountants would probably assassinate you.

The manager counted the number of companies, labs, and investments under the boss’s control and felt a headache coming on.

The video post-production studio would have the heaviest workload… Oh, now it was Phoenix Post-Production Company. Not only would contracts need to be revised, but animations and logos too. Why did you even use a pseudonym in the first place?

The manager kept grumbling internally but got to work. What seemed like a simple name change was actually a strategic move to consolidate resources in the U.S. The boss had instructed him to transfer some equity, eventually acquiring shares in Phoenix Pictures (yes, they were already named Phoenix), one of the most renowned film companies internationally.

The manager rubbed his hands together: Is the focus shifting to the film industry now?

Boss: “Hmph, how dare they share my name?”

But soon, the company would be entirely under its control, and the name would be its own. No need to change it.

Manager: “…”

Can you focus on something important for once?

Phoenix Pictures, though a prestigious name in film history, had been struggling lately due to the rise of short videos and the loss of key directors. Recent big-budget films had flopped, leaving shareholders in a panic.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍system’s entry into the scene was met with eagerness, as shareholders quickly offloaded their stakes. Only a few noticed the system’s identity, investigated the manager, and decided to wait and see.

After all, this was the boss behind that famous special effects team. Maybe it could breathe new life into the company?

System: “Can we crush Disney?” And buy it at a low price?

Manager: Are you trying to make me quit today?

Seeing the reluctance in its subordinate, the system quietly abandoned that goal and asked the company to prepare a report on its current film rights.

While the system swiftly handled a series of stock-shaking maneuvers, Chu Tingwu arrived at the familiar house, dragging her luggage and her cat.

Nearly a year ago, she had studied here with Chu Xiao and others for their competition exams. Now, she was back. Stars dotted the sky, the house carried the scent of its new occupants, and two black cat hairs clung to the doorway.

Chu Tingwu unlocked the door with her fingerprint and stepped inside to see Shi Kuai (Ten Pieces) and a yellow tabby cat in a tussle. Everyone stood at a distance—Aunt Mei in front of Teacher Zhang, Zhou Qiang shielding the cake on the table, Chu Xiao folding a cat-shaped origami at the far end, and Shao Lingwu trying to mediate between the two cats, who paid him no mind.

Shao Lingwu: Hey!

When Chu Tingwu entered, Shi Kuai was pinned down, but it wasn’t a life-or-death fight. No blood was drawn; Shi Kuai was just making the most noise.

But Sanwuwu was angry.

The tortoiseshell cat hated challenges to her authority. Even though she hadn’t marked this territory, she considered it hers the moment she arrived. Sanwuwu hissed, and the tabby froze, then flipped over, baring its teeth but with its tail tucked and body lowered.

Suddenly, Chu Tingwu crouched down and patted the tabby’s rear.

Tabby: “?”

The tabby glanced at her, utterly bewildered.

Chu Tingwu gently stroked the spine of the tabby cat, smoothing out its ruffled fur. The tabby squinted its eyes, but then Chu Tingwu reached out to lightly pat its head. The cat grew wary, turned its head, and hissed at her.

Three-Five-Five pounced over.

"How dare you hiss at my kitten?"

The tabby wasn’t much of a fighter, relying mostly on sheer bravery. But this time, its opponent was both brave and strong. The tabby was soon yowling in defeat, even biting its own tail in the chaos, leaving a mouthful of fur behind. It scurried to the corner of the room, tail tucked, clearly ready to climb onto the fridge if Three-Five-Five kept up the attack.

But the look it gave was unmistakable: "Your kitten is that big? You’re kidding me, right?"

Chu Tingwu also learned the backstory from the others:

The tabby was a stray in the neighborhood, already neutered. Ten Yuan, on the other hand, had been put on a diet recently. The vet had warned that if he kept gaining weight, it would be bad for his health. So Aunt Mei had started taking him out for walks, and over time, the two cats had become acquainted.

At first, Ten Yuan had invited the tabby over for a meal. He was a generous cat, after all. But when Aunt Mei closed the door, the tabby seemed to have misunderstood something and started yowling and attacking Ten Yuan.

After a bit of communication, Chu Tingwu realized the tabby was still very wary of humans, perhaps because it had been hurt before—or maybe it felt that being neutered was a form of harm. Still, it was a bit of a bully, and since no one had been wearing gloves earlier, they couldn’t easily intervene. But after Three-Five-Five gave it a good beating, the tabby bolted as soon as Aunt Mei opened the door.

Ten Yuan: "Meow-ow!"

He went over to lick the fur of his big sister, Three-Five-Five, who disdainfully stepped on his head to smooth out the messy fur on his crown.

Seeing her cat get beaten up for no reason, Teacher Zhang was understandably upset. When Aunt Mei opened the door to let Chu Tingwu out, Teacher Zhang reminded her not to pluck Ten Yuan’s fur anymore—at least not until it grew back.

Ten Yuan: "Meow—ow!"

Chu Tingwu decided to give Ten Yuan the small scarf she had unwrapped from her pile of birthday gifts.

The group gathered here was, of course, there to celebrate her birthday—Chu Xiao had brought gifts from the Chu family, Zhou Qiang was studying nearby, and Shao Lingwu, who had already passed his entrance exams, wasn’t worried about the upcoming college entrance exams in three months, so he had rented a place near the school early.

After some discussion, they decided to bring in a claw machine.

Because buying gifts for Chu Tingwu was just too difficult.

She lacked nothing and didn’t want anyone to spend too much. So, they decided to prepare a bunch of small, inexpensive gifts, wrap them up, and stuff them into the claw machine for her to play with.

But soon, the claw machine game turned into a four-person competition, with Chu Tingwu mainly responsible for unwrapping the gifts.

Compared to commercial claw machines, this one had a higher success rate, though it still occasionally dropped the prizes. They even developed techniques for swinging the claw and started keeping track of their individual success rates.

Finally, they decided to let the birthday girl have a try.

Chu Tingwu: "...Isn’t this supposed to be for me anyway?"

She tried once, but the claw machine was stubborn. Success didn’t depend on skill, speed, vision, or even hand-eye coordination. The claw just opened whenever it felt like it.

Chu Tingwu: "I don’t think the next try will work either."

The others: "What makes you say that?"

Chu Tingwu: "Intuition."

Shao Lingwu decided to sacrifice himself to test her intuition, successfully lowering his own success rate by 3.65%.

The competition heated up.

Chu Tingwu thought this wasn’t working.

No one said the claw machine had to be operated with the claw—

Chu Tingwu: "Meow."

Three-Five-Five nimbly leaped onto the claw machine platform. Chu Tingwu pointed to the prize chute below, and in front of everyone, the tortoiseshell cat crawled inside. With some teamwork, Three-Five-Five pushed out several gift boxes.

The birthday girl’s comeback only intensified the competition.

Chu Xiao accidentally pressed the start button, Zhou Qiang accidentally held down the joystick, and Shao Lingwu accidentally confirmed the downward movement—

Three-Five-Five dodged swiftly, and under the light, the cat turned its face, locking its gaze directly on Shao Lingwu.

Shao Lingwu: Why are you only looking at me!

Chu Xiao took a step back.

...Can’t you just take your hand off the button?