“I am a cat.” But “I” am not me.

I once wanted to have a cat too,

Until I was bitten by one,

And that desire gradually faded.

Eileen Chang said: “I don’t like it when people only talk to me about things from over a decade ago, as if I were already dead.” But I still want to tell a childhood story—probably because I’m not Eileen Chang.

I’ve loved small animals since I was little. Strictly speaking, my first pet was a hamster given to me by my roommate last year for my birthday, but now I can’t even remember the name I gave it. Looking back, I really wasn’t a qualified owner. Due to various reasons, it left me after just a few months, and I didn’t make it happy. Taking care of a little life truly requires great attentiveness—what a shame. I hope next time I can be a better caretaker.

I digress. Let me tell you about my childhood story instead. My fragmented memories are few and far between, and I don’t entirely trust them because they often deceive and trick me, making me hallucinate. Like now, I remember raising a little chick when I was young—my entire summer was spent with it. I even gave it a name, Xiaobao. Strangely enough, I remember its name, though I’m not sure whether it’s real or just faulty data stored in my memory.

Let’s not dwell on that. Xiaobao was an adorable little hen who could lay eggs after turning one. But that summer, she was still newly hatched and couldn’t lay eggs yet. Still, she seemed to recognize her name—whenever I called her, she would always come running to me. I napped with her, and no matter how long I slept, she never left my side, staying obediently nearby. I don’t remember what happened afterward because she grew up, and by winter break, I couldn’t recognize her anymore. Though it was long ago, I always remember it as if childhood stretched endlessly, yet all that time passed in an instant.

“The night is beautiful tonight.”

I am not Natsume Sōseki, nor Fan Liuyuan.

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