Turning point of fate

Zhong Hua first saw the cat next to the trash can downstairs at the company.

The March wind still carried a chill. The small, dusty creature huddled behind a garbage bag, struggling to rummage through a half-eaten, discarded lunchbox. Its right hind leg was awkwardly curled, and with each movement, a soft whimper escaped its throat. Zhong Hua had just finished his night shift; his suit jacket draped over his arm, his briefcase heavy with the revised project plan. He intended to walk straight past, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot.

The cat suddenly raised its head, its amber eyes shining brightly under the dim streetlights. Zhong Hua remembered the cat at his grandmother's house when he was a child; it had the same eyes and would always lie on his textbooks while he did his homework, its tail occasionally brushing against the back of his hand.

"Hey." He crouched down, rummaged through his bag for the sandwich he hadn't eaten that morning, tore it into small pieces, and placed them on the ground. The cat took a half-step back warily, letting out a threatening growl, yet it couldn't help but stare at the food, its nose twitching slightly.

Zhong Hua stood up to leave, but was startled back by a sudden screech of brakes. A black sedan nearly hit a cat crossing the road. The driver leaned out and cursed. Amid the screeching of tires, he saw the cat limp into the green belt.

That night, Zhong Hua couldn't sleep. All he could see when he closed his eyes were those amber eyes and the image of the cat scurrying away in terror in front of the car wheels. At three in the morning, he got out of bed, put on his clothes, rummaged through the first-aid kit, found a cardboard box used for storing fruit, lined it with an old towel, and quietly went downstairs.

The green belt was covered in overnight dew, and a chill crept up the legs of Zhong Hua's trousers. Zhong Hua shone his flashlight for a long time before finally finding the cat behind a clump of roses. It was curled up in a ball, its fur matted with blood at the site of its wound, shivering at the sight of the beam of light.

"Don't be afraid." He softened his voice and slowly reached out his hand. The cat hesitated for a moment, then rubbed its head against his fingertips, the warm touch making Zhong Hua's heart soften instantly.

After examining the cat, the on-call veterinarian said it had a broken hind leg and was also suffering from anemia due to malnutrition. "It needs to be hospitalized for observation for a week," the veterinarian said, filling out the medical record. "Are you its owner?"

Zhong Hua was stunned for a moment before realizing the doctor was asking him a question. "I guess so." He took out his phone to pay the deposit and watched the nurse put the cat into the incubator. The little thing looked at him through the glass, its eyes no longer wary.

"Let's give it a name?" the nurse said with a smile, "so it'll be easier for us to register it."

Zhong Hua gazed at the deep night outside the window, remembering how his grandmother always called him "Ahua" when he was little, and how the old cat always followed him around meowing. "Let's call him Ami," he said.

The following week, Zhong Hua's life was completely disrupted. He used to stay at the company until late at night and often worked overtime on weekends. His performance was consistently ranked first in the department, and the director had patted him on the shoulder more than once and said, "Xiao Zhong, I'll save one of the promotion spots for you at the end of the year."

Now, he leaves work on time every day, goes to the vet to see Ami, feeds her nutritional paste, and listens to the doctor's instructions on care. One night, he worked overtime until eight o'clock and remembered that Ami might be hungry. He surprisingly asked his supervisor for leave, which made his colleagues look at each other in surprise—everyone knew that Zhong Hua was a well-known "workaholic".

The day Ami was discharged from the hospital, the sun shone exceptionally brightly. Zhong Hua placed it on the passenger seat and laid a clean towel on it. The little guy anxiously clung to the car window, watching the street scene rush past, making soft purring sounds in its throat.

When Zhong Hua got home, he realized how deserted his apartment was. The 30-square-meter one-bedroom apartment had almost no decorations except for the necessary furniture. The bookshelves were full of professional books, and the refrigerator only contained frozen dumplings and milk. He found a cardboard box, lined it with an old sweater, and ran downstairs to buy a litter box and cat food. He worked until midnight before finally setting up a "new home" for Ami.

At night, he lay in bed, listening to a slight noise coming from the living room. He got up and saw Ami tiptoeing, cautiously exploring the unfamiliar space, her tail held high. When she saw him come out, she limped over and rubbed against his ankle.

Zhong Hua crouched down and gently stroked its head. Ami comfortably squinted its eyes and buried its face in his palm. At that moment, he suddenly felt that this place where he had lived for five years finally felt like a "home".

Zhong Hua used to never eat breakfast, but now every morning he toasts an extra slice of bread, eats one himself, and watches Ami lick her milk little by little. When he gets home in the evening, no matter how tired he is, he plays with Ami for a while with a cat toy, watching her hop and jump chasing feathers. After her wound healed, her jumping posture is exceptionally agile, like a little gray lightning bolt.

Once, when he had a cold and fever, he lay in bed feeling groggy. In his hazy state, he felt something furry licking his cheek. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ami squatting beside his pillow, looking at him with concern, making low whimpering sounds. Zhong Hua smiled, reached out and hugged it. At that moment, the suffocating feeling from his stuffy nose seemed to lessen a little.

After stopping weekend overtime, Zhong Hua started learning to cook. The first time he stir-fried tomatoes and eggs, he added too much salt. He frowned and swallowed it, but Ami came over and carefully licked the egg crumbs he had dropped on the floor, eating them with relish. Later, he bought a cookbook and learned little by little by watching videos. Now he can make a decent three-dish meal with soup.

On the day of the department dinner, the director brought up the promotion again, saying that the application materials had been submitted and that he should prepare his performance review report. His colleagues raised their glasses in celebration, but Zhong Hua, looking at the photo on his phone of Ami sunbathing by the window, suddenly felt less excited.

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