Liar

Jiang Wenzhe glanced around the room but found nothing amiss besides the faint, lingering scent of roasted meat. Yet, the absence of visible proof didn't mean nothing had happened—the seed of suspicion had been planted.

With more pressing matters at hand, Jiang Wenzhe set aside his doubts for the moment and got back into the car.

He sat in the back seat, the partition between the front and rear compartments fully raised. His long legs crossed, a laptop resting on his thigh, he processed work documents with one hand while dialing a number with the other.

"Mr. Jiang, what can I do for you?" His life assistant, Jiang Xiao, answered promptly, his tone respectful.

"Please contact the property management and pull the surveillance footage from around my house for the past three days. Check if anyone has broken in recently," Jiang Wenzhe said, pressing his fingers to his brow in an attempt to ease his irritation.

Jiang Xiao probed cautiously. "Mr. Jiang, did someone break into your home?"

"I haven't taken stock of anything yet, so I'm not sure," Jiang Wenzhe replied. "Also, get in touch with a security technician to install cameras in every room of my villa, with no blind spots."

He was a man who valued his privacy above all else—so much so that he never hired a live-in housekeeper or even a part-time cleaner. He handled everything himself.

Obsessive cleanliness, a stern demeanor, an absence of emotion, an intense need for privacy, a man of rigid routine—these traits defined Jiang Wenzhe today.

The thought that someone might have sneaked into his home without his knowledge, touched his belongings, and even cooked a meal in his kitchen kindled a fiery rage within him, leaving him seething.

"Understood. I'll arrange it right away," Jiang Xiao said, lowering his voice as he sensed the frustration simmering beneath his boss's words.

*

Meanwhile, back at the villa.

Lin Sangyu had barely sent Jiang Wenzhe off. She'd been lying under the sofa for a while, just about to climb onto the coffee table, when a sudden noise from outside the front door startled her back into hiding.

Oh, not again!

This time, she was genuinely frightened and stayed put, not daring to move a muscle.

Naturally, she didn't see the security technician install the cameras.

And so, she remained blissfully unaware that every move she made from then on was being transmitted, without delay, in crystal-clear clarity, to the man who now watched with his chin propped on one hand and eyes as deep as a still pool.

On the monitor, Jiang Wenzhe watched a snow-white sugar glider slowly poke her head out from under the sofa. After scanning her surroundings for danger, she cautiously crawled forward.

Quite cautious, isn't she?

Jiang Wenzhe zoomed in on the footage, getting a full view of this uninvited "parasite."

The sugar glider's fur was pure white, but her paws and the tips of her ears were a soft pink, like a blooming crabapple blossom—white petals with a blush of rose. Her two large, dark eyes were round and slightly protruding, radiating an almost absurd cuteness.

Next, he watched the little thing flap her gliding membranes and half-fly, half-scuttle to the stairwell, hugging the ground. Then, she began her Herculean ascent up the stairs, bounding step by step. From Jiang Wenzhe's god's-eye view, it was utterly comical.

Sugar gliders don't have true wings; their so-called flight is merely gliding, only possible from high to low, which severely limits their movements.

A knock came at the door—"tap, tap, tap"—and his executive assistant, Yang Ning, entered. She was dressed in a sharp black suit, her hair pulled back neatly, exuding an air of composed efficiency.

"Mr. Jiang, here are the documents for this afternoon's meeting for your review."

Jiang Wenzhe tore his gaze away from the monitor and let out a faint "mm" from his chest. "Thank you."

But the moment he looked away, just those few seconds, and when he returned to the footage after dealing with the documents, the little creature was now perched on the cup on his desk in the study, craning her neck to drink from his water!

Jiang Wenzhe stared at the screen for a long while, his expression dark.

His first instinct was disgust, even nausea. But after a moment, a strange, paradoxical feeling welled up inside him—he was so angry he almost wanted to laugh.

It was an odd sensation, like a man who had braced himself for a great battle, donned his armor, and stood ready at the gates, only to discover that the feared enemy was nothing more than a kitten that couldn't even walk straight.

In other words, like punching cotton—after all that effort, the cotton remained unharmed, and he'd only exhausted himself.

Unaware of the audience watching her, Lin Sangyu's stomach growled again. She smacked her lips. Lunchtime.

And so, right before Jiang Wenzhe's eyes, she proceeded to give a masterclass in animal behavior defying all logic.

Now Jiang Wenzhe understood exactly where that faint, burnt meat smell had come from that morning.

In some corner he hadn't thought to check, this parasite was eating the bugs he painstakingly raised, drinking his pristine water, and sleeping in his comfortable bed.

How many bacteria were on her paws? Did her fur harbor fleas? Would her urine smell of ammonia? Could she be carrying some disease, and might she have gotten it all over his bed?

This was beyond toleration.

And so, Jiang Wenzhe stewed in his fury until the workday ended. The moment he got home, following the camera feed's guidance, he went straight to the balcony of his bedroom and flung aside the concealing throw pillows.

Lin Sangyu felt a chill run down her spine. Before she could even react to the man's contorted face, she was seized by the scruff of her neck—her fate sealed in his grip.

Jiang Wenzhe was not one to show mercy.

He simply opened the window and hurled Lin Sangyu out like a piece of trash.

To which he added, without missing a beat, "Come back, and I'll fry you up and eat you."

But by the time those words left his mouth, Lin Sangyu had already landed safely on the ground. His words, spoken from the third floor, scattered on the wind.

Thick-skinned as she was, Lin Sangyu thought, "Oh, sugar daddy, you think you can get rid of me that easily?"

She shook her head, got right back up, and scampered toward the locust tree beside the villa.

When she reached the top, she launched herself with a neat "whoosh" and landed gracefully back on the villa's balcony.

Jiang Wenzhe stood off to the side, his gaze cold and unyielding. With a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, he picked up Lin Sangyu by the scruff again—this time, flinging her with even more force, sending her into a spectacular 360-degree midair spin.

But he couldn't keep this up forever.

Lin Sangyu knew she was in the wrong, so she decided to beat a temporary retreat and wait until the man was gone tomorrow to make her next move.

Yet, no matter where Lin Sangyu hid in the villa, Jiang Wenzhe could find her with unerring precision.

Lin Sangyu checked every inch of her body. There's no tracking device on me, is there?!

What the heck is going on?

This silent war dragged on for half a month, finally ending with Jiang Wenzhe's surrender.

He'd tried everything: locking windows, locking doors, sealing up the villa until there wasn't a single opening. But he'd forgotten one crucial thing—he himself had to come and go every day. All he had to do was leave the door ajar for a second, and this little creature would spring into action as if possessed, gliding down from the tree across the way, swooping over his head, and landing with pinpoint precision.

Then, flapping her furry gliding membranes, she'd claw her way up his pant leg, scramble onto his shoulder, and nuzzle her soft little head against his neck.

All the while, she'd let out pitiful little squeaks—so adorable, so heart-tugging.

Sometimes, Lin Sangyu would even pluck a delicate wildflower from the villa's garden and, holding it in her mouth, roll it into the man's palm. She'd stand upright, wave her little pink paws, ears pricked, jumping and hopping.

As if to say, "Here, human, accept my flower!"

No matter how many times he threw her out, the little creature always came flying back to him with her soft fur and coquettish cries.

She simply wouldn't stay gone.

And so, day by day, the iron in Jiang Wenzhe's resolve softened, worn away by her relentless charm.

Fine, let her stay.

After all, from his observations, he realized this sugar glider was already an adult.

In other words, she wouldn't live much longer.

He had Jiang Xiao take the sugar glider to the vet for deworming, a bath, and vaccinations. He stocked up on treats and snacks for sugar gliders and set up a cozy little nest for her in the attic on the fourth floor.

Then, he had to deal with his own belongings. He locked the bug room and his bedroom door securely whenever he went out, and covered all his personal items with glass cases.

"I won't chase you away anymore. Stay," Jiang Wenzhe said, running his hand over Lin Sangyu's round belly, which housed her pouch. "So you're a female. How do you have such thick skin? No matter how many times I throw you out, you just won't leave."

Lin Sangyu grumbled inwardly, "I've got thick skin? And what does that make you? Some kind of masochist? After everything I've done to you, you're still begging me to stay."

Hmph.

Oh well, Lin Sangyu stretched, exposing even more of her belly for easier petting. "Fine, I'll let bygones be bygones, considering the mealworms and cod strips you're buying me."

And so, the two called a truce and settled into a routine of adjusting to each other.

For Lin Sangyu, Jiang Wenzhe was like a wealthy husband in the human world—always away from home, but whenever he returned, he showered her with endless treats.

Jiang Wenzhe was generous and rich. Though he didn't allow her in the bug room, the snacks he bought her were infinitely better than the bugs she used to fry herself. What's more, he was handsome and fit. His robes and pajamas at home were always loose and carefree, offering the glider a feast for the eyes.

The only thing she needed to do now was fly over to greet him whenever he came home. Though it seemed Jiang Wenzhe wasn't fond of that display—one second he'd catch her in his hands, the next he'd fling her away as if she were a viper.

But then, oddly enough, one day Lin Sangyu decided not to bother with the whole routine of turning the other cheek, and she didn't greet him. That day, Jiang Wenzhe acted like he'd taken the wrong pills, his face dark as a storm cloud.

Normally, Lin Sangyu was allowed to stay out until just before Jiang Wenzhe went to bed. But that day, he grabbed her none too gently and dumped her straight back into her nest.

And the next morning, when he fed her, the portion of bugs was pitifully small, to say nothing of the post-meal fruit.

There was something even stranger: to this day, Jiang Wenzhe kept all the villa's windows locked tight. Originally, it was to keep her out. But now?

Was it to keep her confined inside, unable to leave?

Lin Sangyu pondered this for a long while and finally concluded:

"Indeed, human, you're smitten with this glider, aren't you?"

"Can't bear to part with me now, can you?"

Fine, fine. Honestly, I wasn't planning on looking for another home anyway.

If animals and humans were on equal footing, and if Jiang Wenzhe could hear her thoughts, he might well have killed her on the spot.

As far as he was concerned, everything he'd done stemmed from a sense of responsibility.

Even though he still wasn't used to having a "warm-blooded animal" around other than himself, as her owner, he would do his duty.

Just like every family with a cat or dog—or a child—keeps the doors and windows shut, it was the most basic safety measure.

It was just responsibility, nothing more.

Jiang Wenzhe thought, "If the little thing behaves, I can be generous and keep her forever, until she dies, until she rots."

But she didn't behave.

She deceived him.

As the harsh winter waned, the temperature climbed, the ice cracked, and hidden currents surged beneath the surface.

It was an unremarkable morning, and Lin Sangyu was quietly perched on the dining table, having breakfast with Jiang Wenzhe.

Yes, Jiang Wenzhe was eating breakfast at home now.

One day, he'd happened to learn that sugar gliders are highly social creatures, extremely clingy. If left alone for long periods, they could develop problems ranging from fur loss and appetite loss to depression and self-harm in severe cases.

He couldn't bring himself to raise a few more, so he compromised by spending a little more time with her.

"You can't eat that."

Lin Sangyu had just crawled over to his plate, about to snatch a bite of that suspicious green fruit, when he pressed a finger to the top of her head and sent her tumbling back with a single flick.

"Squeak."

When force didn't work, she tried sweetness. Lin Sangyu pressed her little paws together and begged like a puppy for a treat, her voice turning plaintive.

Jiang Wenzhe scoffed, picked up an empty bowl, and clamped it over Lin Sangyu completely.

"Avocado. It'll kill you if you eat it."

"Squeak squeak squeak!!!"

The world went dark, and Lin Sangyu immediately half-rose, pushing against the bowl with all her might, as if she were Pangu splitting the heavens and earth.

But just as she managed to lift a tiny sliver, an even greater force pressed down—Jiang Wenzhe's hand.

"Keep it up, and I'll fry you," he warned, his tone impatient and sharp.

The next second, Lin Sangyu fell silent.

"You really do have some sense about you," Jiang Wenzhe remarked, almost approving.

Lin Sangyu rolled her eyes inwardly. "Just you wait until you're gone. I'll eat whatever I want."

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

At eight-thirty, after cleaning up the kitchen, Jiang Wenzhe headed off to the office.

Hiding in the shadows, Lin Sangyu kept an eye on him as he opened the fridge, noting that the avocado was still there.

Whatever. You only live once—I'm going to eat that thing!

Of course, she couldn't open the fridge as a sugar glider. But she could in her human form.

She'd been living the good life for too long, and her guard had dropped.

The moment Jiang Wenzhe left, she couldn't wait to transform into her human self, waltz over to the fridge, and pull out the avocado, taking a big, satisfying bite.

Wow, so oily, so rich, so gross.

Blech, blech, blech. Lin Sangyu immediately spat it out.

Luckily, reason hadn't completely abandoned her. She made sure to spit it into the kitchen sink, ran the garbage disposal, and washed it all down—no trace left behind.

But her mouth still felt greasy, and the man wouldn't be back for hours to brush her teeth for her. What suffering.

Lin Sangyu licked her lips, and a lightbulb went off.

"Now that I'm human, how hard can it be to brush my own teeth?"

And so, with a sudden burst of energy, she flew up the stairs and into Jiang Wenzhe's bathroom. Her eyes immediately locked onto the toothbrush hidden under the glass case.

It just goes to show, once you learn a skill, you never forget it. It had been ages since she'd brushed her teeth, but she picked it up with ease.

Lin Sangyu hummed a cheerful tune while she brushed.

"Two tigers, two tigers, running fast, running fast…"

After finishing, Lin Sangyu cleaned up any trace of her presence and made sure to close the door firmly behind her when she left.

She thought she'd covered her tracks perfectly, airtight and watertight.

But the chill swept back in, cutting through the warmth of spring—a damp, creeping cold.

The cold snap had arrived.

The chill seeped into the expansive office, frosting the air with a layer of ice.

The scene shifted. The man lounged back in his office chair, arms crossed over his chest, his expression inscrutable, having watched the entire spectacle in silence.

Hah. Liar.