Chapter 31

Chapter 31

After getting an earful, Huo Jingzhong hightailed it out of there, and Qi Mo returned to the living room.

He picked up Baby Yan from the plush playpen and placed him in a clean stroller, then wheeled him into the kitchen.

"Baby, let's whip up some dumplings tonight, and I'll steam you some egg too," Qi Mo said before grabbing a bag of flour from his storage space.

He poured half the bag into a large mixing bowl.

Then he prepared a large bowl of water, added some salt, and gradually mixed it into the flour.

Add water, stir, add water, stir, add water, stir...

Knead, knead, knead...

The chubby little baby watched his daddy intently, oddly quiet, not even cooing. His round, bright eyes didn’t blink, only his chubby feet gave the occasional wiggle. He had a baby bottle in his mouth but wasn't drinking—it was just dangling there, the nipple between his tiny teeth.

Between kneads, Qi Mo would peek at Baby Yan—a habit he'd formed in his past life’s apocalyptic hellscape.

Back then, if you didn’t keep a close eye on your child, someone might snatch them and eat them.

Once the dough was well-kneaded, he covered the bowl and let it proof for half an hour.

It wasn’t too hot yet—only in the high 90s Fahrenheit.

But in about two weeks, as moisture evaporated, temperatures would hit triple digits—104, 122 degrees—hot enough to heatstroke you to death.

Cooking would be unbearable by then.

So, Qi Mo planned to make extra food while he still could.

While the dough rested, he took out five pounds of pork belly, cut it into chunks, and fed it into a hand-cranked meat grinder.

Gripping the handle, he gave it a steady crank...

Soon, a heaping pile of ground meat filled the bowl. Qi Mo then pulled out some cabbage.

Washed. Chopped.

Grabbed some green onions.

Washed. Chopped.

Took out some celery.

Washed. Chopped.

He also fished out some corn kernels and peas from his space.

For each of the four types of meat fillings, he tossed in some peas and corn.

Then he doctored up each one with salt, a pinch of MSG, cooking wine, soy sauce, ginger-scallion infusion, and more.

Finally, it was time to work the fillings.

Qi Mo slipped on rubber gloves and stirred hard.

Only when the mixture turned springy was it ready. With the fillings done, Qi Mo got back to kneading the proofed dough.

Roll the dough into a log shape and cut it into small pieces.

Next comes rolling out the dumpling skins.

In his past life at this point, Qi Mo wouldn’t have known how to do this—it was something he learned later.

No food without labor.

Having expertly made a hundred dumpling skins, Qi Mo began wrapping dumplings.

Scoop a spoonful of filling, give it a pinch, and one dumpling is done.

A hundred dumplings took no time at all.

He tossed them into a food storage container and stored them in his spatial inventory.

Whatever went in would come out exactly the same—no worries about spoiling.

The evening glow slowly dimmed, and night fell.

Qi Mo lit a candle.

In the kitchen, that faint, flickering light bathed the room in warmth.

Beneath the smoking rack in the yard,

a fist-sized ball of milk-white fluff tilted its head, gazing skyward.

Is he back yet?

Probably.

Where is this place?

Hasn't Gege returned yet?

Great! Gege isn’t here! Rawr rawr rawr…

A pair of big, round, sapphire-blue eyes stared at the fish on the rack.

Fishies! Want fishies!

But if I steal it, Gege will swat me.

Drool flowed like a faucet…

His long, snow-white, fluffy tail swayed back and forth, looking heart-meltingly adorable.

Irresistibly pet-able.

Qi Mo finished wrapping all four types of fillings, setting aside four of each kind before storing the rest in his space.

For future meals, he could just take them out and boil them.

Water went into the pot, and he fired up the burner.

He washed a few sprigs of cilantro and chopped them as garnish.

Finally, Qi Mo began pulling out small bowls and arranging them.

Then he cracked ten farm-fresh eggs into a large bowl, stirred them, added water, stirred again, a few drops of cooking wine to cut the eggy taste, and a few drops of sesame oil for aroma.

He skipped the salt and soy sauce—Baby Yan shouldn't have salt yet.

He ladled the egg mixture into small bowls.

He took out the steamer, placed each small bowl inside, and started steaming...

Steam for ten minutes, then turn off the heat.

Let it cool for a few minutes.

He kept one portion and stashed the other nine in his storage space.

The cooked dumplings were drained and cooled by now.

Along with a few boiled broccoli florets, a handful of baby bok choy, and a poached egg, this was Qi Mo's dinner for the night.

Qi Mo brought the steamed eggs and dumplings to the dining table and lifted Baby Yan from his cart.

A small dish of vinegar with a bit of chopped cilantro—dipping the dumplings in it was to die for. Qi Mo could barely contain his delight.

He tore off a tiny piece of dumpling skin and fed it to Baby Yan.

Baby Yan opened his mouth—the soft dumpling skin, with a hint of saltiness and the rich flavor of meat, was pure bliss for the little one, who was used to his no-salt diet.

Watching Baby Yan go "ah-ah-ah," Qi Mo laughed, "There's salt in this, so you can't eat too much."

After finishing the dumplings, Qi Mo sat back satisfied.

Only then did he start feeding Baby Yan the steamed eggs.

The toddler refused at first, wanting more dumpling skin, clamping his little mouth shut tight.

But after getting a couple of forced bites, Baby Yan came around.

The steamed eggs were just as delicious.

After feeding Baby Yan, Qi Mo pulled out some cherries from his storage space to supplement their vitamins.

Once the big and little ones finished eating, Qi Mo took Baby Yan out to the yard for a little walk to help their food settle.

Sparks flew under the grill in the yard, and Qi Mo walked over with Baby Yan in his arms.

A small white ball of fur stood out like a sore thumb.

Qi Mo moved in for a closer look.

It was about fist-sized, entirely fluffy and round, with a tail longer than its body, swishing side to side.

As he approached, the little kitten lifted its head and looked at him.

A pair of large, round, sapphire-blue eyes—if not for the color, Qi Mo would have thought it was Baby Yan staring at him.

"Are you a little kitten?" Qi Mo crouched down and asked.

Looking up, the kitten’s little heart went wild—I finally get to see Daddy and big brother for real!

This kitty is just too darn cute.

But Qi Mo’s never seen this kind of kitty before.

Looks like a teacup breed.

But it’s so stinkin’ cute—no clue how it got in.

The gate’s not sealed tight, but even a mouse would struggle to slip in, much less a kitten this tiny—no way it squeezed through.

The walls are four meters high. Not to underestimate the little furball, but at that size? No shot it jumped in.

Unless it darted in when he was moving the cart.

"Who’s your human?" Qi Mo cautiously reaches out.

He’s kinda nervous—what if it’s feisty and swipes at him?

Qi Dong stocked up on snake antivenom but skipped rabies shots—gotta play it safe.

Before his hand’s even near it, the kitten—who seems remarkably intelligent—leans its head forward and rubs against his palm...

Silky-soft fur—unreal how good it feels—and Qi Mo instantly falls for it.

"Who’s your human? Want to stay? I’ll throw cash at your owner if I have to." Qi Mo can’t help but ask.

Dude, I’m a cat! Why the negotiation voice?

Seeing no response, Qi Mo laughs.

"You can’t talk! Why am I polling a cat?" Qi Mo mutters, amused.

The kitty spins in frantic circles: "Meow! Baby Yan’s *your* kid! Baby Yan’s still just a sprout—not born yet!"

Too bad Qi Mo doesn’t speak feline.

Total gibberish to him.

"Want fish? Quit eyeing the grill—it’s hot and salted. You can’t eat that," Qi Mo warns.

Seeing the kitty’s ears droop, Qi Mo wonders, Since when can I read a cat’s mood?

"Hold up—I’ll grab you plain fish. Raw or cooked?" He pauses, then thinks, What am I *doing*?

Why do I keep trying to chat with a kitten?

Shaking his head, Qi Mo heads to the kitchen, grabs ten shrimp from his space, tosses them into a steamer, and fires it up.

Soon, the shrimp are peeled and ready.

The kitty—now trailing him—is circling his feet, brushing its fluffy tail against his ankle.

That feel? Qi Mo’s a goner. Totally hooked.

Head over heels, he shreds seven shrimp and drops them on a small plate: "Dig in—cooled off now."

Baby Yan, eyes glued to the kitty, watches as his daddy holds the remaining three shrimp.

Why does the Chubby Baby's food seem less than this kitty's?

Qi Mo tore open the last three shrimp in his hand and fed them bit by bit to the chubby baby in his arms.

After finishing the shrimp, Qi Mo patted the Chubby Baby, then reached over to stroke the very docile little kitty.

Never mind, I'll ask around the village tomorrow if anyone lost a cat. If no one did, you're mine. If someone did, I'll throw money at them until they agree to give you to me," Qi Mo said.

Having decided to keep the kitty, Qi Mo tucked the baby into the fancy playpen.

"Little kitty, I'll give you a name. From now on, you'll be called Snowball. Stay on the floor for now—you're still dirty, so you can't climb onto the bed. I'll make you a cat bed first. You'll sleep in it tonight, and tomorrow I'll get you some cat litter." With that, Qi Mo headed toward the storage room.

Soon, he came back with a pair of scissors and two milk cartons from storage.

He emptied the milk and cut a round hole as the entrance.

Then he cut a round hole in each of the two milk cartons, taped them together, and made a ping-pong-ball-sized hole on the upper level as a window.

He placed a towel on the lower level and a tile on the upper level—thus completing the two-story fancy kitty house.

He placed the villa under the fancy playpen.

Qi Mo called out "Snowball" twice. The little furball had been weaving around his feet earlier, but now the kitty was gone, vanished without notice.

Looking up to search, Qi Mo found Snowball smooshed under Baby Yan’s chubby belly.

The chubby Baby Yan, all plump and weighing seventeen or eighteen pounds at nine months old, was much larger than the tiny kitty. The poor thing could get squished!

This kitty I just got my hands on...

"Baby Yan, how could you crush Snowball? You’ll squish it to death!" Qi Mo quickly picked up the chubby baby.

To his surprise, Snowball, who had been pinned under Baby Yan, popped right back up, shook its tail, and was once again a fluffy and pristine kitty.

Qi Mo sighed in relief—thank goodness it was fine.

Placing Baby Yan aside, he checked the baby thoroughly and found no scratches or bite marks.

Looking at the big-eyed chubby baby, Qi Mo grabbed Snowball, who was wandering around the fancy playpen, and made the two babies sit side by side.

Looking back and forth between them, Qi Mo thought:

Why do Snowball’s eyes look so much like the Chubby Baby's?

The two babies tilting their heads together looked like brothers.

Pfft, as if—I couldn’t possibly give birth to a cat.

If anyone could, it’d be Huo Liangzhou.

No use overthinking it. Qi Mo spoke seriously, “Huo Jingyan, you’re already a big boy now. You gotta act right. You can’t bully the kitty or crush Snowball—you’ll squish it to death.”

Baby Yan blinked his big eyes, turned to look at the little furball, grabbed it, and went to chomp down on it.

Qi Mo swiftly caught Baby Yan’s hand and covered the baby’s mouth with his other hand.

“Dummy, why do you put everything in your mouth? That’s not food. You can’t play with it till it’s all clean,” Qi Dong sighed.

The little kitty Snowball really was docile—whether squished or grabbed roughly, she hadn’t even scratched Chubbs once.

After pulling the kitty from Chubbs’ mouth, Qi Mo tapped Snowball’s nose and scolded, “Snowball, you can’t just climb onto the bed without washing up! You got your brother’s bed all dirty.”

“But good job for not scratching him. Keep it up,” he praised without hesitation.

After a heatwave, freezing temps could follow. Having a chubby, gentle kitty around could not only keep Baby Yan company but also save lives in emergencies. The kitty’s like a little furnace—perfect for keeping the baby warm.

Especially with two in the belly. If the cold hits hard, they’ll freeze. But with Snowball warming the sheets, the babies won’t get chilled.

Snowball: *“Meow, I’m not dirty—not one speck! Totally clean. Not a speck of dust!”*

Qi Mo grabbed the meowing Snowball. “Bath time, stinky!”

He lit a candle in the living room.

With some light, brave Baby Yan wouldn’t cry.

Taking Snowball into the bathroom, Qi Mo pulled some warm water from his storage, mixed in some cold, then started scrubbing Snowball.

Once Snowball was clean, Qi Mo reached for a towel—

—but the little cat shook herself dry on the sink, spraying water everywhere. He reached out, surprised to find that her fur was already fluffy and dry, like she’d never been bathed at all.

Qi Mo stared at the kitty. “You some kind of mutant?” he asked.

Snowball: *“I’m not a mutant! I’m your kid now, deal with it.”*

Watching the handful scamper up his head and plop down on top, Qi Mo glanced in the mirror—what a lively little furball.

She probably wasn’t someone else’s pet. Most likely lured here by his fishy BBQ.

Should I keep her or not?

Just me and Baby Yan—place feels empty. And a mutant cat? Raised right, she’d be a killer guard-dog. No creep’s getting past her at night.

But what if she’s got fleas?

Back in his old life, he’d dealt with animals—giant rats, killer mutant hounds.

Even got bitten once. Didn’t kill him.

Eh, she’s adorable. Keeper.

Snowball clearly loves being clean.

No blow dryer needed—just shake and dry. Great for snuggling Baby Yan.

Playmate, heater, guard—total package.

Tomorrow, I’ll ask around the village if anyone’s missing a cat. For now, Snowball’s officially his.

Stuffing Snowball into her fancy penthouse cat condo, Qi Mo carried a lantern in one hand and Baby Yan in the other, trudging upstairs to bed.

He hit the pillow and—lights out. Today wiped him out.

Warm currents surged through his body, flowing toward his limbs as Qi Mo fell into a deep sleep.

A white puff popped up.

Baby Yan, who hadn't fallen asleep yet, immediately crawled over excitedly upon seeing the white puff, grabbed its tail, opened his mouth, and chomp chomp chomp—gnawing relentlessly.

Snowball mrowled pitifully, "Mrow mrow mrow, as the older brother, how can you bite your little brother's tail? Waaah..."

Snowball, bullied, retaliated—lick lick lick.

Big bro’s fur is so soft—tastes great too!

Hearing the pitiful whimpers, a pair of golden slit eyes opened, only to find the two little ones tussling playfully. The eyes shut—letting them duke it out.