The System Mistook Me for a Cat

[Discussion] Let’s talk about which field Master Chu really excels in?

OP here is from Jin City, not from No. 5 High School, just one grade below Master Chu.

I first heard about Master Chu during my first year of high school when she was a sophomore at the school next to ours. Back then, our school’s group chat mentioned that the neighboring school had a famous internet celebrity student. Little did I know that before I even graduated, Master Chu had already become a successful young entrepreneur, an international gold medalist in the Biology Olympiad, and a well-known cat influencer (what even?).

I didn’t get into a university in Shangjing City, but even in the place where I study, legends of Master Chu circulate—from home-use smart robots to VR teaching systems, to the game *Learning is Hard* that everyone plays, and the recently aired *Adventurous Life*… Honestly, when people around me heard it was a new Disney movie, they said, “I’ll watch it when I have time,” but when they found out the character was based on Master Chu, it became, “Let’s see if we can still grab tickets for the premiere!”

On the entrepreneur track, Master Chu is probably the most famous; on the professional YouTuber track, she’s the wealthiest.

So which field does she really belong to?

Second floor:

She’s rich and has free time—she can do whatever she wants, right?

By the way, is her nickname just “Master Chu” now? Sounds like the guy who drives a tricycle next to my house.

Third floor:

Master Chu can indeed drive a tricycle [image]

And ride horses [image]

And ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‍drive without a license (no pics for this one though—rumor has it she often broke traffic rules abroad, driving unlicensed and speeding, but no one’s ever caught it on camera orz).

Fourth floor:

She also seems to know how to sail and has a helicopter pilot’s license. Recently, she’s been studying for an equestrian qualification (according to a friend in the know, but take it with a grain of salt)… She’s just really busy, which is probably why she didn’t make a live-action biopic but instead licensed her likeness to Disney for an animated movie.

Fifth floor:

Why can’t we just say her name outright? Will the account get banned?

Sixth floor:

That’s tied to the rumors. The legal team of Wu Voice Group is jokingly called the “Cosmic Court.” It’s said that even if you slander Master Chu at home, their legal team will track you down and send a cease-and-desist—truly, “no matter how far, justice will be served.”

As a result, online discussions about Master Chu have become unusually civil. But if you don’t name her directly, there’s a chance they’ll let it slide… Not that we’re saying anything bad here, and isn’t this the Wu Voice App forum anyway? (shrugs)

OP:

We’re getting off-topic, folks! Look at the title!

Eighth floor:

Your title’s the problem. No one said a person has to stick to just one industry. If you want to discuss which field she’s in, shouldn’t you first list all the fields she’s involved in?

Ninth floor:

*The Complete Library of the Four Treasuries* (an encyclopedia-level task).

OP:

…I started this thread, not a book!

After idly posting this discussion, it quickly turned into a casual chat. Hearing the boss call for him, OP put down his phone and went to help out.

He attended university in Bao City, and this year’s winter break coincided with Bao City’s Cold Wine Festival. He’d arranged with his family to work part-time during the break and only go home on New Year’s Eve.

…Or maybe it was because of the “distance makes the heart grow fonder” principle—staying in Bao City was better than going home and getting scolded.

The Cold Wine Festival is a Bao City tradition, though it wasn’t a big deal in previous years. Only in the last two years, with government support, has it gained fame as a tourist attraction.

Bao City residents love alcohol, and almost every household has its own brewing techniques. As the New Year approaches, they bring out their homemade wines to exchange with friends and family or sell in shops.

The ingredients vary—common ones include sorghum wine and rice wine, with small tasting cups for fruit wines. The rarer ones are the “five-poison wines.” Once, while delivering food, OP saw a customer’s house with a large transparent jar containing a coiled-up snake and nearly screamed in fright.

OP worked part-time at a fried chicken shop, which successfully cured his craving for fried chicken. But the shop’s bayberry wine was even more famous than the chicken, and the set meals included rice pudding—a very eclectic mix.

At first, he thought the shop was unremarkable, but it was clearly well-known in the area, sometimes even requiring staff to help with deliveries.

The shop didn’t have many seats, and in the winter, customers preferred ordering takeout.

But as he fried chicken pieces, he noticed a few customers who’d ordered walk in like regulars. After sitting down, one of them said, “Only bayberry wine? I remember the rice wine here was really good too.”

The boss replied, “Rice wine has a lower alcohol content, so we didn’t make much. Want some? I’ll grab you a couple of cups.”

Regulars, huh?

OP glanced at the group—five people, all seemingly young… very young. The smallest looked no older than ten.

She was a big-eyed little girl. The other four—two guys and two girls—appeared around OP’s age. The girl whose face he could see had long hair and a gentle demeanor, examining the bayberry wine packaging. Next to her was the little girl, and beside the girl was a young man rubbing his eyes.

The little girl spoke like a mini-adult: “Xiao Xiao, you should just get the surgery. Your eyes always get irritated when you wear contacts in winter.”

The short-haired girl across from her—her hair slightly curled at the ends—chimed in just as maturely: “Xiao Xiao, your cousin Zihan has a point.”

OP: “Pfft.”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh, but the customers were sharp—one of them immediately turned to look at him.

It was the one who hadn’t spoken yet but stood out the most.

The one who’d asked about the rice wine earlier. From OP’s angle, he could only see the person’s back, but the customer had strikingly golden hair.

When the customer turned, OP realized he was mixed-race—the features were obvious.

A handsome guy.

But his expression was cold and aloof… a very unapproachable kind of handsome.

OP, caught eavesdropping (though the shop was tiny), felt awkward, but the guy seemed to notice and smiled at him.

His smile was infectious, instantly dissolving the intimidating aura of his natural looks. He’d just glanced casually before turning back to chat with his friends.

OP noticed the instrument case leaning against his chair.

Were they students from a nearby school?

But after listening for a bit, he realized that wasn’t the case. The golden-haired customer was a local, but the others seemed to be friends visiting from out of town for the “Cold Wine Festival.” They also had some work to do, but their schedule seemed relaxed.

**Document Translation:**

I wonder when I’ll get to go out and have fun... Well, Antarctica is out of the question, but maybe we can look forward to Universal Games developing a holographic game—something even more immersive than semi-holographics—where I can explore an Antarctic map to my heart’s content.

He wasn’t going home, partly because he could only play VR games in the dorm. If he went back, he’d be swamped with household chores and wouldn’t have time to indulge in gaming.

The fried chicken was ready.

The owner had also found the rice wine, reportedly made from rice grown in their hometown—the same kind used for the rice pudding. As the server set the tray down, he overheard the blonde customer say, “Their rice pudding is delicious, but it can be a bit plain on its own... Ah, Zihan can probably have some rice wine. The alcohol content is really low.”

The server placed the tray down. “Thank you for your—”

His polite smile stiffened slightly when he caught sight of the person sitting beside the blonde customer.

…No wonder the figure had looked so familiar earlier!

Chu Tingwu raised a hand. “Hi.”

After signing an autograph and taking a photo, Chu Tingwu quietly asked her fan—who worked at the shop—to keep her visit under wraps. This was a private trip, and she didn’t want to be swarmed for signatures everywhere she went.

That said, compared to other public figures with similar follower counts, Chu Tingwu rarely encountered fans asking for autographs. Maybe it was because she wasn’t exactly a celebrity, an influencer, or even a professional athlete. Before getting too excited, most people probably remembered her more as a businesswoman (?) and half-expected a squad of bodyguards to materialize from the shadows if they made a scene.

Though Chu Tingwu suspected no “bodyguard” could actually outfight her.

She’d come to Bao City to participate in the freestyle martial arts exhibition match at the Cold Wine Festival’s opening ceremony.

A booze-centric festival opening with martial arts might seem odd, but if Bao City’s tourism board deemed it fitting, Chu Tingwu had no objections—originally, they hadn’t expected to book her. But after her appearance on *Extraordinary Encounters* skyrocketed her fame to household-name status (which, incidentally, matched their slogan about their wine being “for all ages”), they decided to shoot their shot with an invitation.

And Chu Tingwu accepted.

Her exact words: “Do I have to drink your wine before the match?”

Bao City Tourism Board: “Absolutely not!”

After the New Year, Chu Tingwu would turn twenty. This year, she’d promised Great-Grandma to spend Lunar New Year’s Eve with the Chu family and return to Shangjing City on the third day of the new year. Before that, though, she still had to attend the annual company meeting at the Wu Voice Group headquarters in Jin City... The thought of relocating branch offices to other cities made her wish they’d just switch to virtual meetings—prizes could be mailed to the winners.

Who wanted to go back to the office right before the holidays?

So, Chu Tingwu dragged along Zhou Qiang (who also wasn’t going home for New Year’s), roped in Chu Xiao (who’d been sent by his family to “help out”), and brought her little cousin Chu Zihan, heading to Bao City early to crash at Shao Lingwu’s place.

Since he was a local, he was their designated tour guide.

And since they’d already snagged a local guide, why not hit up some drinks before the festival kicked off?

Zhou Qiang asked curiously, “Is your family still slaughtering pigs this year?”

Shao Lingwu sipped his rice wine. “Yeah, it’s a yearly tradition.”

His family also brewed their own liquor—the variety depended on whatever experimental batch his mom felt like making. They pounded rice cakes by hand before the New Year, and his grandfather always sent over vodka, though Shao Lingwu never touched the stuff. The adults in his family loved their drinks, but they’d never force alcohol on minors.

Shao Lingwu: “The rice wine here is pretty good.”

It really was. Later that afternoon, when the organizers invited Chu Tingwu to a meeting, she spotted the same shop’s homemade rice wine among the festival’s showcased drinks. She didn’t taste it, but the scent alone was unmistakable.

I wonder if there’ll be snacks to sample at the exhibition. The rice pudding today was great too.

---

Chu Tingwu and the others were staying at a hotel, but after she left, Shao Lingwu didn’t make it out—Zhou Qiang and the gang cornered him.

They barged into Chu Xiao’s room, shoving Shao Lingwu inside as Chu Xiao warned, “Don’t sit on my bed.”

At most, he could perch on half the sofa.

Shao Lingwu: “==”

“What do you guys even want…?”

Zhou Qiang: “I saw your name in the movie’s end credits!”

During production, Disney hadn’t fully used Shao Lingwu’s adapted composition, but they’d acknowledged the clever, catchy elements in his version. Chu Tingwu hadn’t known the details, but when she checked, she spotted “Javier S.” in the international credits—and “Shao Lingwu” plain as day in the Mandarin version.

After returning from the U.S., Shao Lingwu seemed more driven. He’d never shown it before, but prolonged success had built his confidence—until a true industry heavyweight put him through a humbling reality check.

Zhou Qiang hadn’t noticed anything during their trip, but after watching the movie, she picked up on something—

“So, you like her?”

Nod.

“Did you confess?”

Slow nod.

“Are you two together?”

Slow… shake of the head.

The moment Shao Lingwu denied it, even Chu Xiao snapped to attention, his expression disbelieving—though with his contacts out, he might’ve just been zoning out.

Chu Xiao: “You’re *not* dating? What’s the current status, then?”

Ah, not zoning out after all.

Shao Lingwu: “Well… I told her how I feel.”

And then?

Shao Lingwu: “And then she knew.”

Zhou Qiang delivered the killing blow: “That’s it?”

Shao Lingwu: “…”

You can’t just barge into a local’s hometown and bully him like this!

After Shao Lingwu explained the situation, the room fell silent—until Chu Zihan spoke up: “Shao Shao, even kids in my class are dating—”

Aren’t you in *third grade*?!

“Just say ‘I like you.’ Don’t be scared! Say what you feel, or she’ll run away.”

Shao Lingwu: “Wait—”

Before he could finish, they collectively shoved him out the door, making him suspect Chu Xiao just wanted him out of his room.

Not that it mattered—he didn’t even need five minutes to walk home from the hotel.

Was it really *fear*? He wondered.

Ironically, the elementary schooler in the room had nailed it. Shao Lingwu *was* afraid—not of rejection, but of failing to convey his feelings accurately.

*Like* felt too flippant. *Love* felt too heavy. He couldn’t find the right word, yet he wanted Chu Tingwu to know it wasn’t just her brilliance that drew him in. She’d always shine in his eyes, but admiration wasn’t the same as love. What he cherished was *her*—Chu Tingwu, as she was.

Long before he’d spoken the words aloud, his heartbeat, his pulse, his uneven breaths and burning skin had already said it all.

So even if there was no response, it didn’t matter… because Shao Lingwu believed it was undoubtedly his own fault.

He was childish, emotional, immature, and prone to mood swings, with all sorts of little flaws. He worried that he hadn’t grown enough to be worthy of Chu Tingwu—though she would never care about such things—but he wanted his presence to be something she could take pride in.

If he simply wanted to date Chu Tingwu, he could have been much more impatient. But if measured against a lifetime, there was no need to rush.

…But he really wanted to be in a relationship. QAQ

Lost in thoughts about elementary school matters, Shao Lingwu was absent-minded during dinner. His father spoke to him twice before finally giving his shoulder a light smack: “What’s on your mind?”

Shao Lingwu: “Tingwu.”

Shao’s parents: “…”

What to do? Their son seemed to be a hopeless romantic.

A mother knows her son best. Though they didn’t see each other too often throughout the year… Shao Lingwu wasn’t the type to hide things from his family. Raised in an open-minded and emotionally stable household, he had previously mentioned that he was pursuing Chu Tingwu.

Though it didn’t seem like there had been much progress.

Shao’s mother: “Since your friends are here, why not take them some of our homemade wine to try?”

They had also booked tickets for the opening day of the event and planned to attend.

This year, the Shao family had brewed cherry wine from cherries grown in their own garden. The next day, when Shao Lingwu brought the wine to the hotel, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Chu Tingwu had gone out again, this time to inspect a venue, and she returned with a pile of souvenirs—alcohol.

While drinking, she noticed that her metabolism seemed far stronger than others’; alcohol had no effect on her. But perhaps because she couldn’t get drunk, she never indulged. At the event, she had sampled a little and could only comment that the flavors varied—though even the subtlest differences were magnified to her senses. She could even detect that two wines hadn’t been brewed in the same batch.

—As usual, she left a room full of stunned onlookers.

A staff member even joked, “Do you really have the abilities of a cat?”

After the movie’s release, many believed there was some creative exaggeration and animalization, but after digging up Chu Tingwu’s old videos, even more people teased her, saying she “really must be a cat in disguise.”

Though if Chu Tingwu were truly a cat, her body structure would have to be completely different to leap seven or eight meters in the air like in the film. It was all in good fun.

Chu Tingwu: “Hmm. Would you be curious about which flavor of cat food your cat prefers?”

The staff member froze.

She really would be curious.

…But. After Chu Tingwu left, it hit her: How did Chu Tingwu know she had a cat?

When Chu Tingwu returned to the hotel, she found everyone else holding their own “wine-tasting session,” though it had clearly already ended. Chu Xiao’s room was filled with the scent of cherries, while Chu Zihan was sprawled asleep on the bed. Zhou Qiang and Chu Xiao were both on the balcony, letting the cold wind sober them up, their silhouettes looking somewhat desolate. Meanwhile, Shao Lingwu was slumped over the armrest of the sofa, half-sitting, as if trying very hard not to take up too much space.

Only half a bottle of the cherry wine Shao Lingwu had brought remained. Chu Tingwu tapped the bottle, and the sleeping figure jolted upright.

But he was clearly still disoriented.

Because Shao Lingwu closed his eyes, slowly raised a hand to cover his mouth, then turned to face the opposite direction before flopping back down.

Chu Tingwu: “……?”

She didn’t mind, but Shao Lingwu still needed to go home that night—she wasn’t sure if he’d sober up by then.

She didn’t call the front desk, quickly discovering that the room actually came with tea bags for brewing hangover soup. Typical of Bao City. The screen door on the balcony was slightly ajar; she woke Chu Xiao and Zhou Qiang, made them drink the soup before sleeping, and closed the window to prevent them from catching a cold.

As for Shao Lingwu… she failed to wake him.

Clearly, he had drunk the most, but his drunken state was surprisingly well-behaved. His brows were slightly furrowed, and his hair was even more disheveled.

After being nudged a few more times by Chu Tingwu, he finally opened his eyes, dazed, and once again covered his mouth—

Chu Tingwu: “I’m not going to force it down your throat.”

Shao Lingwu: “Mm…”

His breath probably smelled.

His alcohol tolerance wasn’t actually bad. At first, he had just wanted to pour a couple of glasses for everyone to try, but while his hearing was sharp, his sense of smell wasn’t. Only after drinking too much did he realize this year’s cherry wine was stronger than usual—and by then, everyone was already tipsy.

Chu Xiao had been the first to sober up, dragging Zhou Qiang to drink water and get some air. He later claimed he had tried to stop Shao Lingwu, but the latter just kept drinking in that sluggish, half-delayed manner, one cup after another.

His expression never changed: *Cherry wine? Smells nice? I’ll have a sip. Cherry wine? Smells nice? I’ll have a sip. Cherry wine? Smells nice? I’ll—*

Chu Xiao: “…”

*Fine, drink by yourself then.*

Though Chu Tingwu didn’t know the full story, it didn’t stop her from piecing things together. She set the hangover soup aside to cool, then sat on the other end of the sofa, propping her chin in her hand as she watched the drunken spectacle with amusement.

She had not only drunk alcohol today but also worked up a sweat after meeting a few martial arts practitioners. Her body temperature still hadn’t settled.

But Shao Lingwu’s face was clearly redder, because the hand covering his mouth silently shifted to cover his entire face.

Chu Tingwu heard his heartbeat suddenly speed up—whether from drunkenness or sobering up, she couldn’t tell, but judging by those slightly confused eyes, it didn’t seem like the latter.

Deciding to take the initiative, Chu Tingwu asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Shao Lingwu: “Tingwu.”

Chu Tingwu: “Hmm?”

A second hand joined the first, now fully covering his eyes.

“Mm…”

She could hear his heart pounding even faster—*thump, thump, thump*—panicked and erratic.

“Tingwu,” Shao Lingwu whispered.

It seemed he had so much to say, but his racing heartbeat had already said it all. At this distance, Chu Tingwu could sense every change in him. Sometimes, the body expressed emotions far more honestly than words ever could—so every day they spent together, she heard a confession in a different rhythm.

For Shao Lingwu, perhaps he was constantly overthinking and preparing, sometimes even despising himself. But for Chu Tingwu, who understood every shift in him, there was only one concern: Could a person truly accept having no secrets at all in front of the one they loved?

Because “love” was just…

Shao Lingwu: “Can I… can I become your family?”

His hands, which had been covering his face, dropped away—as if these words had been brewing in his heart for a long time, finally spilling out with a hint of drunkenness.

His heart skipped a beat.

Chu Tingwu wanted to laugh, and indeed, she did. She decided to follow her instincts in responding:

“All my family members are cats, but you’re a puppy.”

Shao Lingwu: “!?”

He didn’t refute it.

He seemed to forget to refute it.

His thoughts moved slower in his drunken state, but he understood what she meant.

So he lowered his head, momentarily stunned, then whimpered, “Oh… so I’m a puppy.”

He admitted it.

“I’m a puppy, wuwu…”

Zhou Qiang and Chu Xiao, hesitating outside the door: “……”

They had just woken up to see Chu Tingwu bullying someone—should they step in and help? Urgent.

Shao Lingwu didn’t know what he was thinking either. He just felt overwhelmingly, unbearably sad, as if realizing the impossible future where cats and dogs couldn’t be together. Not because they didn’t like each other, but simply because cats and dogs just… couldn’t—

Then the puppy felt the kitten move closer.

The kitten cupped the back of his neck and kissed his forehead.

Chu Tingwu pressed her cheek against his, her eyelashes brushing away his tears, and wrapped her arms around him, saying,

“It’s okay. Even if you’re a puppy, I still like you.”

All the difficulties, the confusion, the differences—none of it mattered in the face of “she likes me.”

It had always been that way.

And it always would be.

So the puppy’s confession—she accepted it.

---

Zhou Qiang and Chu Xiao’s rock-paper-scissors match on the balcony had reached its seventh round.

The score was now 3-3. They had agreed that whoever lost would be the one to open the door, but this time Zhou Qiang hesitated, trying to back out. Chu Xiao gestured that she couldn’t do that and refused a rematch. Their silent argument quickly escalated into a “physical confrontation,” wrestling on the balcony.

Shao Lingwu: “Wait! Xiao and Zhou Qiang drank too…”

Chu Tingwu glanced over: “Ignore them. They’re dancing.”

Zhou Qiang: “…We. Are. NOT!!”