After graduating from the Academy for High-Society Pets, I only needed three moves to snag a billionaire owner: The Wiggle, The Cling, and The Squeak. But my life of luxury didn't last long. Disaster struck. The sugar mama I hooked turned out to be a fake heiress! "What are we going to do, Dumpling? We're getting kicked out..." The fake heiress was crying her eyes out. What was a cat supposed to do? Swallow my pride and find a few more sugar daddies to support her, of course! 01 I never thought I, a distinguished graduate of the Elite Pet Etiquette School, would end up in the boonies. After my owner’s identity as a "fake heiress" was exposed, she was swept out the door like yesterday's trash. And I was collateral damage. On the day of the eviction, I clawed onto my gold-rimmed, velvet-lined cat bed, meowing my heart out, refusing to leave. My owner, Serena, couldn't bear it. She tried to bargain with her adoptive parents: "Can't we at least let Dumpling stay..." Dumpling is my name. Hearing this, I let out a long, thin, pathetic "Mewww—" I was pinching my throat so hard I nearly choked. But the real daughter shattered my dreams of staying in the lap of luxury with just four words. She said: "I'm allergic to cats." Game over. My rich-cat dreams? Crumbled. Serena and I were packed up and shipped off to the middle of nowhere. Looking at the rotting farmhouse, the shattered windows, the dead fields, and my now-bankrupt "sugar mama," I made a decision immediately— Run! I’m running away tonight! 02 Actually, it’s not like I haven't suffered before. A year ago, I was a nameless stray. My next meal was entirely up to fate. That was until one day, I passed by a ground-floor classroom window. Inside, there was a flock of women. Sharp chins, big eyes, legs for days. In the center stood an instructor, looking confident: "I guarantee, if you take my class, you will snag a Golden Meal Ticket within two months!" My ears perked up instantly. Meal ticket? And it’s golden? Did that mean I’d never be hungry again? From then on, I squatted outside that window every day, absorbing knowledge. Two months later, I had mastered the curriculum. I began scouting for a target. Serena was the mark I chose. The day I met her, she was stepping out of a car with a winged "B" logo. I remembered the teacher saying that was a Bentley. Only rich people drove those. Then I saw the bag in the passenger seat—Hermès. The logo on her shirt—subtle, understated, but definitely on the "Expensive Stuff" list the teacher mentioned. Certified Old Money. I took initiative and jumped straight into the car. Serena was startled. "Where did this cat come from?" She scooped me up and put me outside. I didn't hesitate for a second. I jumped right back in. Those who achieve greatness do not care about trifles. A gold-digging cat needs no shame. I copied the method the teacher taught: I gave her a wink. Then, combining it with my natural talents, I lifted my head and did The Wiggle. Serena face-palmed. "Stop wiggling. I don't even like cats. It’s not going to work." Ha. Just playing hard to get. If she really didn't like me, that door would have been slammed shut already. The teacher said rich people care about appearances. No problem. I can satisfy her vanity, as long as she spends that cash on me. I refused to leave, rubbing my fluffy head against her hand. Seeing she wasn't kicking me out again, I moved to step two— I jumped onto her shoulder, "accidentally" slipped, and dug my claws into the leather, leaving several deep scratches on the upholstery. This technique is called "Creating Sunk Cost." "Oh my god, you cat! You ruined my leather seats!" She complained, but there was no real anger in her voice. Her hand even cupped my butt to keep me from falling. Perfect! Rich, loaded, and emotionally stable. At that moment, I decided— I am entering this mansion today! "Meow-meow didn't mean to ruin your leather. I'm just a clumsy little baby..." I blinked my big, watery eyes, broadcasting the "innocent debutante" look I’d practiced. Then came the kneading and nuzzling, showing off my affectionate side. Serena’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering. "Have you decided? You really want to come with me?" I let out a long "Mewww—" and dove straight into her arms. This move is called "Sealing the Deal." From then on, I lived the carefree life of a wealthy pet. Serena named me "Dumpling." She said it was because I was too skinny, and she hoped I’d grow round and happy by her side. My food was Michelin-star grade wet food. My bed was encrusted with jewels. I even had a masseuse come over for weekly kitty spas. Heh. Humans and their tough talk. She started with "I~ don't~ like~ cats~." Her actions said otherwise. However, the good life lasted less than a year. Disaster struck. Serena's parents discovered that their biological daughter had been switched at birth by a nurse. Serena... was the fake heiress! The real daughter grew up in the countryside. Her adoptive parents had passed away, and she had lived a hard life. Worried the real daughter would feel slighted, the parents decided to put everyone back where they belonged. "Serena, you've enjoyed a good life for years. It's time you went back to the life you were meant to have." And so, Serena was shipped off to the boonies. And me, the aristocratic cat, became a barn cat. 03 Originally, I planned to bolt tonight. But the situation got a little tricky. Staring at the empty, giant iron pot on the wood-burning stove, the human and the cat were equally dumbfounded. "Dumpling... how do we cook with this?" You're asking a cat? Cat is helpless. Cat shakes head. But Cat is hungry. We hadn't eaten all day due to the travel. When we left the mansion, Serena didn't take anything. Because the real heiress said everything Serena owned technically belonged to her. Serena left empty-handed, taking only me. The family driver, pitying her, had slipped her a red envelope with $150 in it and stopped at a market to buy some raw meat and vegetables. He told her to cook them when she got to her new home. But the driver forgot one thing— Serena, the former princess, didn't know how to cook. Especially not on a primitive wood stove. "Maybe... we ask the neighbor for a light?" Serena carried me and knocked on the neighbor's door. The door was opened by an Alt Girl. Purple straight hair, ripped jeans, full sleeve tattoos, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her face screamed impatient. "Who are you? What do you want?" Serena jumped. She expected a simple farm wife, not a punk rocker. She’d never seen anyone dressed like this and froze up. Time for the Cat to step up. I pawed at the girl's pant leg, meowing softly. The girl cracked a smile instantly, lowering her cigarette. "Yo, kitty wants a drag?" Cat covers mouth. Cat shakes head. No smoking for kitty. Serena finally found the courage to speak. "Could we... borrow a lighter?" "Just say so. Why the hesitation?" The girl tossed a lighter over, teased me for a second, then waved us off. There were some dry branches in the yard. Serena gathered them for kindling. But the wood was damp. It wouldn't catch. Thick black smoke billowed out. "Why won't it light..." Serena held me, poking at the stove with a stick. My curious cat head leaned in to look. BOOM. Suddenly, the stove caught. Flames shot out of the opening, the blast knocking us both backward. Simultaneously, the sparks ignited a pile of dry straw on the floor. The already dilapidated mud house was instantly engulfed in thick black soot. Serena and I, faces now covered in black ash, sat on the floor in shock. "Mew..." Since entering high society, I hadn't been this dirty. My stomach growled. My white paws were now gray paws. The urge to run away intensified. But before I could meow, a drop of water landed on my head. I looked up. Serena’s eyes were red and brimming with tears. Big, heavy drops rolled down her cheeks, cutting two clear tracks through the soot on her face. I had never seen Serena cry. Even when she was kicked out of the mansion, she just bowed her head in silence. But now, her tears were like a broken necklace, scattering everywhere. I panicked. I tapped her leg gently with my paw. Are you okay? I wanted to ask, but only a tiny squeak came out. Serena couldn't hold it back anymore. She wailed. Overwhelming grief seemed to drown her. She clutched her chest like it physically hurt, her voice hoarse. "Mom, Dad... did you really not want me anymore? "Did you really have the heart to leave me here all alone..." A kitten doesn't understand complex human emotions. But I felt a sour, aching feeling in my chest that I couldn't block out. I frantically tried to wipe her tears with my paw, but my sooty paws just made her face dirtier. She looked like a little painted cat herself. This wouldn't do. Serena loved being pretty. If she saw I made her dirty, she'd be even sadder. I scrambled to dig into her pocket where she kept tissues. Stupid claws, grab it! Can't you see she's flooding the place? Serena finally noticed my struggle. Through the smoke, she saw me frantically trying to fish out a packet of tissues. She broke down even harder. "Dumpling... Dumpling, I only have you left." She scooped me into her arms, burying her face in my fur so hard I couldn't breathe. "Meow—" Okay, okay. I'm not leaving. Mom and Dad don't want you, but Cat wants you. Don't cry anymore, okay? Seeming to understand me, Serena’s sobs quieted down. Suddenly, the door creaked open behind us. "Holy sh*t!" The neighbor girl stood there, eyes wide. She looked at the wrecked room, then at our two soot-blackened faces, and asked the ultimate question: "Did you guys borrow a lighter to bomb the place?" 04 The neighbor girl—let's call her Roxy—was actually really nice. Seeing our house was uninhabitable for the night, she let us shower at her place. She skillfully cooked a meal using the meat and veggies Serena brought. I even got a small bowl. So tasty! It wasn't fancy pâté, but it had soul. Full and warm, I started to get sleepy. Before I drifted off, I heard Roxy asking Serena about her plans. "I can only keep you for one night. Tomorrow, you gotta figure it out." Serena nodded grimly. I didn't hear the rest. Too sleepy. I stuck my butt in the air and sank into dreamland. ... When I woke up, I found myself on a bumpy truck. My cat brain snapped awake. I looked around. Serena was holding me. Good. Serena stroked my fur. "Dumpling, don't be scared. This truck is taking fruit to the city. We caught a ride." She looked unwell. Probably because she’d never ridden in such a rough vehicle. Her brow was furrowed tight. To distract her, I exposed my belly for rubs. Usually, this made Serena squeal with joy and bury her face in my fluff. But this time, her eyes held an indescribable sadness. Like she was saying goodbye. Once in the city, the driver dropped us off. Serena held me and waited for a long time until the person she contacted arrived— Preston. Preston was Serena's ex-fiancé. They were a perfect match and had been in love for years. But after the fake heiress scandal, he immediately became the fiancé of the real daughter, Bella. "Serena." Preston rushed over. "Sorry, I was just finishing the engagement ceremony with Bella. I'm late." Serena froze. That engagement ceremony was supposed to be hers. She didn't expect Preston to accept the swap so quickly. He had even completed the ceremony smoothly. Serena held back her tears, steadied herself, and spoke: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you, but—" She lifted me up, reluctantly rubbing my head. "Dumpling is used to the good life. I can't bear to make her live in the country with me. Can you... please take care of her?" What? My eyes widened. My gold-digger DNA told me Preston was rich, meaning luxury awaited. But the thought of leaving Serena made my chest hurt. And... I promised her yesterday I wouldn't leave. "Meow!" I growled in protest. But the two humans didn't understand. Preston crossed his arms, scanning Serena from head to toe with a sleazy smile. "I can." Serena sighed in relief. Then Preston continued: "I can keep the cat. I can keep you, too." Serena’s expression changed. "I don't need that. You're engaged..." "That's just a business marriage." Preston waved his hand dismissively. "Serena, we have years of history. How could I just let that go? The one I love is still you." "You mean..." Preston smirked. "Be my mistress. I can guarantee you a high-quality life. What do you say?" What do I say?! I say catch these paws! I was furious. I couldn't take it anymore. I launched myself from Serena’s arms! I executed the Secret Art of the Cat: The Nutcracker. Aiming straight for Preston’s... sensitive area. "ARGH!" Preston let out a howl of agony, clutching his crotch, glaring at me with pure hatred. "Damn cat! I'll kill you!" His eyes were murderous as he stumbled toward me. Serena grabbed me and ran. Luckily, Preston was in too much pain to chase us far. He gritted his teeth and shouted after us: "Serena Hale! You just wait! One day you'll be kneeling, begging me to take you back!"
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