Chapter 47: Hajiru doesn’t want to wear a cat collar.

The blue Bentley glided smoothly into the villa’s parking lot, finally easing to a gentle halt in its designated spot.

Lu Qingqi huddled in the rear corner, her claws nervously scraping at the seat fabric, her heart pounding a frantic mantra:

‘Please don’t see me, don’t see me…… Hurry and crack the window, let me slip out……’

The engine cut off just as the front door swung wide.

Lu Qingqi tensed to bolt—too late by a hair; she’d barely launched when she saw the man step out, pulling the door shut behind him.

And this very scuffle had snagged his notice.

A towering shadow fell over her in an instant, carrying that all-too-familiar chill.

Lu Qingqi went rigid, paws frozen midair, not daring to twitch.

Liu Wangjiang scanned the interior, his brow arching faintly—clearly caught off guard by the pristine white cat in the back.

He tugged open the rear door, voice threaded with mild curiosity.

“Where’d this cat come from?”

Lu Qingqi’s heart lurched.

No time for second thoughts—she twisted mid-leap, desperate to vault free.

But halfway through the air, her nape seized tight.

The entire cat lifted steadily in someone’s grasp.

Her paws flailed wildly at empty space, tail ramrod straight; she craned up—straight into Liu Wangjiang’s fathomless eyes.

He regarded her with keen amusement, fingertips lightly pinching the soft fur at her nape.

“Quite the pristine little cat.”

“Pleasant on the eyes—and that scent…… a touch like Qiqi’s.”

The man’s voice carried a teasing edge.

“I’ll keep you.”

You keep a what?!

And what Qiqi?!

We’re rivals, you know—cut the mush!!

Lu Qingqi screamed inwardly, but only “meow-meow” whimpers escaped; her thrashing felt like tickles in his hold—futile as could be.

Liu Wangjiang’s fingertips nipped that nape scruff, utterly ignoring the flailing limbs in his arms—dismissing it as a feral kitten’s knee-jerk to strange turf.

Cool marble tiles stretched from the villa entryway; Lu Qingqi dangled paw-free, views blurring past exorbitant crystal chandeliers, wall-hung abstracts—each corner a mix of the familiar and the alien.

She’d visited Liu Wangjiang’s home as a child.

But post-fallout, never again.

She thrashed harder, paws clawing air, throat rasping urgent, hoarse “woo-woos”—but his grip was iron.

Until Liu Wangjiang halted mid-living room, fingers loosening just so—setting her on the plush sofa.

Lu Qingqi arched in a flash, white lightning streaking for the villa door.

The door stood ajar—a sliver from Liu Wangjiang’s hasty entry—her one shot at escape!

But she’d barely hit the threshold when her nape yanked taut once more, the whole cat hoisted airborne again.

Liu Wangjiang gazed down at the bristling white furball in his arms, brow quirking higher, eyes glinting with deeper intrigue.

“Wilder than I figured.”

His thumb rubbed an ear-tip, tone oddly amused.

“But the tougher the break-in…… the sweeter the yield.”

“Like unruly strays.”

“Or restless souls.”

Lu Qingqi’s fur crawled under his stare; her struggles hitched a beat.

Then Liu Wangjiang drawled on, as if to her—or himself.

“Little thing—ever consider it?”

“Training…… taming—linchpins of human evolution.”

“Primal eras: snarling wolves broken to tail-wagging guardians; hill-dashing boars penned docile and fat; free minds molded into meek tillers.”

“So…… bending a wee stray to heel?”

“Child’s play, no?”

Words done, no pause for her—nape in vice, he wheeled toward the bedroom.

Bedroom breached; amid her writhing, Lu Qingqi’s gaze snagged the desk—heart clenching vise-tight.

The desk bore a frame.

Herself within.

But photo-her: locks longer than usual, face softened to feminine—dripping contrived allure, pure “sissy” air.

When’d this snap?

Why’d Liu Wangjiang have it?

Thoughts detonating brainward—but no mulling; nape tugged tighter, Liu Wangjiang at the drawer.

Click—the drawer slid free.

Neatly arrayed: sundry items.

A finger-thick slender silver chain.

A black cat collar, tiny bell affixed.

A palm-span steel rod, tip rounded—tease-toy, yet edged with unyielding threat.

Lu Qingqi panicked white-hot—paws flailing berserk, throat hissing terror-laced “hiss-has”—but Liu Wangjiang unmoved, hauling her out bedroom, to the living room’s vast rosewood desk.

The chill collar snapped ‘round her neck.

She dodged—but Liu Wangjiang’s off-hand pinned her back.

Helpless, she watched the chain’s end thread the collar’s ring—locked iron to the desk corner’s metal hook.

Chain clattered floorward—length granting half-meter roam ‘round desk.

Door-dash? Choke-yank tight.

Liu Wangjiang crouched, fingertip nudging the collar bell.

Ting-a-ling—the chime lanced the quiet living room.

He eyed the bristling yet leashed white cat on floor, amusement thickening in gaze.

“Now…… time to school you in manners.”