Right on Target (TARGET)
Su Heting hadn’t heard a word clearly—his mind was a muddled mess, still tangled up with thoughts of food. But when Xie Zenshu pulled him over, he thudded headfirst into Xie Zenshu’s arms.
Dawn was approaching, and the patrols in the old streets would soon be out. Xie Zenshu didn’t linger any longer. He scooped Su Heting up and carried him toward his own home.
Su Heting listened to the steady beat of Xie Zenshu’s heart, then raised two fingers in a crooked salute at his temple. “To hell with it,” he muttered.
Xie Zenshu pretended not to hear.
Su Heting curled up like that and fell asleep halfway there. His tail couldn’t quite wrap around Xie Zenshu’s arm, so it just draped loosely over it, forming a half-hearted loop.
Hermit had a match today, one he’d handed off to Xie Zenshu to play in his stead. Nervous, he hadn’t slept well all night.
As dawn neared, he got up and stared blankly at the wall, torn between heading to the safe zone to gamble with his life or just giving up. He waffled back and forth until nearly lunchtime before finally deciding to spare himself the agony. He grabbed his phone and started venting to his friends.
Hermit: Hey, Beauty, you there?
Beauty replied mercilessly: No. Get lost.
Hermit: My heart’s all jittery.
Beauty ignored him. Hermit figured she was busy—running her stall at night and her shop during the day—so he switched targets.
Hermit: Hey, Cat, you there?
Hermit: Where’ve you been these past couple days? Don’t tell me you got nabbed by Xingtian again?
Hermit: Come out and chat for a bit.
Cat didn’t reply.
The Hermit tried his old trick: My heart’s all jittery.
Su Heting’s head was pounding, and the incessant beep of messages dragged him awake. Groggy, he lifted his phone and scrolled through Hermit’s bombardment of texts. By the time he reached "heart’s all jittery", he was already considering blocking him.
Hermit: You’re really not here??? You okay? You haven’t replied to anything.
Hermit: If you don’t reply today, I’m calling the cops.
Su Heting: Xingtian?
Hermit responded with an excited string of exclamation marks: You’re alive!!!
Su Heting: State your business or get lost.
Hermit: I’m so nervous about the substitute player. Keep me company for a bit.
Su Heting’s head throbbed and the lingering nausea of a hangover still clinging to him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and rolled over and was about to reply when something suddenly dawned on him.
Wait.
He bolted upright, the soft blanket sliding off him as he found himself facing an unfamiliar floor-to-ceiling window. The sunlight streaming in was so bright it left him dazed for several seconds.
What the—?
Su Heting threw off the blanket and stumbled out of bed barefoot. The floor was covered in a plush carpet—whether it was Persian or Pakistani in style, he had no idea, but it felt nice underfoot. He took a couple of frantic steps before realizing—his pants were missing. He was only wearing a pair of shorts.
No way.
Su Heting was in disbelief.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure which was worse—coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants, or accepting that his alcohol tolerance was abysmal. Both were equally devastating.
His phone on the bed continued beeping furiously as Hermit angrily demanded a reply, but Su Heting had no time for that. He needed to figure out where the hell he was.
“Mr. Cat,” a very short housekeeping robot struggled to push open the door as its large, friendly black eyes blinked as its shovel-like hands nervously clasped together in front of it. In a synthesized voice, it said, “Good afternoon.”
“Who—” Su Heting asked numbly, “—whose house is this?”
“This is Mr. Xie Zenshu’s home.” The robot seemed shy, sliding backward under Su Heting’s intense gaze as if it might bolt if he got any fiercer.
"Oh." Su Heting tried to recall last night but could remember nothing except spinning buildings. He touched his shorts and continued woodenly, "Xie... did he take my pants off?"
The housekeeping robot met Su Heting's gaze, then "whooshed" behind the door. Peeking out slightly, it whispered, "Mr. Xie took them off for Mr. Cat."
Su Heting's expression darkened and lightened unpredictably.
A bolt from the blue.
He thought, Fuck, my underwear was completely exposed.
While Su Heting was lost in thought, the housekeeping robot inched a bit more into view before dutifully reminding him, "Mr. Cat, it's time for lunch."
Su Heting asked, "Is Mr. Xie not here?"
"Mr. Xie has a match and left half an hour ago." The robot gently swayed the door. "Mr. Cat, it's time for lunch."
"Don't call me Mr. Cat," Su Heting said. "Call me Su Heting."
"Okay," the robot tensed up again, retreating slightly. "Mr. Cat, it's time—"
Su Heting sighed, realizing Xie Zhenshu had programmed the robot to remind him to eat at set times. Beyond their designated tasks, these robots couldn't do much else. They were the same type as the service robots in "Jade Pool", perhaps even a bit dumber.
He walked over and lightly flicked the robot's head as a gesture of reassurance. "Let's go."
Hermit was spamming the chat, venting his frustration. He felt utterly unloved, convinced that Jiali and Su Heting had broken his heart. Though his fingers pounded the keyboard furiously in his mind, his messages came across pitifully.
Hermit: Life is so hard.
Hermit: You're inhuman. What are you doing?
Hermit: You're so busy, I'm leaving.
Hermit: Enough. I've had it with both of you. I'm really leaving now. You...
Su Heting suddenly replied: What time's the match?
Hermit perked up: 5 PM. The betting pool will open soon.
Hermit: Don't miss out—bet on me, all on me!
Su Heting opened a webpage while eating.
Hermit's match was niche, with few bettors. After some thought, he placed 5,000 on Hermit's ID.
Hermit: ???
Hermit: Something's wrong with you.
Hermit: I’m touched, but I’m not fighting tonight. If you lose all that money, what then?
Hermit: If you lose, I’m not covering your meals.
Su Heting swiped to his account, deliberated, then bet another 10,000.
Hermit: Are you possessed???
Hermit: IT’S NOT ME FIGHTING!!!
Su Heting: I know.
Su Heting: If it were you, I wouldn’t bet.
Hermit: Rude much?
Su Heting: Got a problem with the truth?
Hermit: Sniffles.
Hermit: Where’d you even get that much money?
Su Heting: Won it off King Shen.
Su Heting: I want to go to the venue. Got tickets?
The Colosseum was strict about ticket distribution. They updated match lists weekly in advance, allowing audiences to research fighters’ past records and stats for informed betting. Priority for live tickets went to high-rollers first, with limited public releases afterward—making them notoriously hard to get.
But who was Hermit? The self-proclaimed black-market know-it-all and capable of anything. After a moment of feigned hesitation, he replied proudly: “Well, it’s tricky... but since you asked, for our friendship’s sake, I’ll pull some strings and get you one.”
The Hermit: "But you seem so confident in Xie Zhenshu. Does he have some secret winning formula?"
Su Heting pondered for a moment, opting not to mention Inspector. Instead, he replied: "Less shady shortcuts, please. Players should approach the competition with a clean heart."
Hermit bombarded Su Heting with question marks and expressed his willingness to witness it in person.
Su Heting arranged to meet Hermit at the entrance of the Colosseum.
He quickly finished his meal, then took a shower under the guidance of the domestic robot. The guest bathroom had a hairdryer, but Su Heting was in a hurry. After hastily drying his hair and tail, he slipped on the shirt prepared by the robot.
Only after putting it on did he realize the issue.
The shirt was a size too big, hanging loosely on him—clearly Xie Zhenshu’s. Alone in the bathroom, Su Heting stared at the mirror for a moment before tugging the collar up to his nose and giving it a cautious sniff.
No particular fragrance, just a clean, fresh scent—the same as the bed he’d slept in. Surrounded by this scent, the cat felt as if Xie Zhenshu was holding him...
No, no, Su Heting quickly stopped that train of thought.
"Today is cloudy, with light rain expected by 8 PM," the domestic robot trailed behind Su Heting, holding up an umbrella. "Please take this umbrella, Mr. Cat."
The sunlight Su Heting had seen upon waking was actually from the indoor display screen—a mood-setting feature randomly adjusted by the robot. Hearing the call, he turned back and took the umbrella.
The domestic robot clasped its shovel-like hands nervously with its large eyes gazing innocently at Su Heting, as if awaiting further instructions.
Unfamiliar with such robots, Su Heting stepped out and was about to descend the stairs when he turned back and said, "Bye?"
The robot lit up happily before waving. "Bye!"
"My name is Su Heting," he said as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out while walking away, he added, "Next time, don’t call me Mr. Cat... Hello?"
"Don’t ‘hello’ me—it’s me," Monk suppressed his anger and forced a polite smile as he clutched the spare flip phone he’d just acquired. "Where are you? I—"
"Ah," Su Heting pulled the phone away, feigning ignorance. "Wrong number."
"Wrong number my ass!" Monk exploded. "You little— Hello? Hello?!"
The call ended again.
Monk placed the spare phone on the table, turned around, and in front of the armed team members, clasped his hands together and began reciting a calming mantra.
Su Heting arrived first. Not spotting Jiali at the Colosseum entrance, he sat on a street bench to wait for Hermit. Around five, he opened his phone and checked the betting page again.
Hermit’s opponent tonight was Fei Yi, another relatively obscure fighter Su Heting hadn’t heard of. Skimming through Fei Yi’s record, he noticed six consecutive losses. Out of boredom, Su Heting scrolled further down the red streak and found Fei Yi’s wins in recent months were few and far between.
This lucky? Every win came right at the brink of elimination.
Su Heting opened Fei Yi’s match details, reviewing each opponent one by one. Soon, he noticed something bizarre—Fei Yi only defeated high-ranking players while losing to nobodies.
—Hey, this can’t be a coincidence, right?
Su Heting closed the betting page, reopened it, and refreshed.
The username "Mao" was currently supporting "Hermit". Fifteen thousand wasn't much—just the right amount for a niche player like Hermit. But unfortunately, the bid under "Fat Viper" had already been refreshed. The ID named "Wei Zhixin" had just topped it with a million.
Wei Zhixin again.
The monk was right.
Him and this guy were like oil and water.
By the time Hermit arrived, he was panting heavily. He slumped onto the bench, trying to catch his breath, but before he could even say a word, he watched in horror as Su Heting switched accounts and dumped the remaining fifty grand on "Hermit."
Hermit was so shocked he nearly choked. His legs went weak as he clung to the armrest of the bench, exclaiming, "Have you lost your mind???"
"You're the one who's lost it," Su Heting snapped, shutting off his phone with an air of defiance. "Tonight, I strike it rich."
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