Chapter Text
It was supposed to be an ordinary morning.
Li Lun stretched under the covers, eyes half-lidded with sleep, a soft sigh escaping him as the pale morning light crept through the curtains. Something warm was curled up beside him, fluffy and familiar. His hand absently reached out and stroked the soft fur pressed against his side.
“Snowfur…” he murmured, voice husky with sleep. “Still glued to me like usual, huh?”
(li lun's cat SNOWFUR)
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He cracked one eye open. And froze.
There was no cat beside him.
Instead, a boy lay tangled in the sheets, pale and delicate, bare skin dusted with sunlight, silvery-white hair tousled across the pillow like fine silk. His limbs were sprawled loosely, one hand resting by his cheek, lips parted slightly as he breathed, utterly at ease. He was completely naked.
Li Lun bolted upright, heart punching his ribs.
“WHAT THE—?!”
The boy stirred, eyes fluttering open, soft black irises blinking up at him with slow, sleepy confusion. He stared at Li Lun, not a trace of panic or modesty in his expression.
Li Lun, meanwhile, was losing his mind.
“Who—what—why are you in my bed?!” he blurted, snatching the edge of the blanket to cover the stranger. “Where did you even come from?!”
The boy blinked once. Then again. Then, with no answer, he turned his head and closed his eyes like it was none of his business.
Li Lun gaped. “Don’t just go back to sleep! Are you—are you drunk? Homeless?! A ghost?!”
Still nothing. Just that peaceful face, like a pampered prince sleeping in someone else’s bed by divine right.
“…Snowfur?” he said hesitantly, as if the name might make sense of this madness.
The boy didn’t respond.. But there was something off. That serenity. That odd stillness. That unbothered calm.
Li Lun stumbled out of bed, still trying not to peek at the boy’s figure, and hurried to throw a robe over him.
“I’m calling the police,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone. But even as he said it… he didn’t move.
Instead, he just stared.
The way the boy curled up tighter into the sheets.
The way he let out a soft huff, nose twitching slightly.
The way his fingers flexed once, like he was going to knead the blanket.
“…No,” Li Lun whispered. “No. That’s—That’s impossible.”
But the image of Snowfur—his quiet, odd, pampered white Persian—climbing into his bed every night… curling up at his side like this…
It wouldn’t leave his mind.
And Li Lun, despite every ounce of logic he had, didn’t call the police.
Not that day.
Nor the next.
He didn’t speak to the boy much, either—just watched him from a distance, reserved and suspicious. He gave him a spare change of clothes, made him food, and waited for an explanation that never came.
But then came the moments.
The boy curled into a perfect ball on the couch.
He hissed at the running water.
He pawed at a dangling curtain cord.
And one afternoon, when Li Lun scratched absentmindedly behind his ear, he purred.
That was the moment.
“…Snowfur?” Li Lun whispered, breath catching.
The boy hesitated, his midnight blue eyes wide. Then, slowly… he gave the tiniest nod.
It wasn’t dramatic. No sparks, no thunder. Just a quiet, uncertain acknowledgment—and Li Lun felt the ground shift beneath him.
He stood frozen in the living room, hand still hovering in the air where it had brushed the boy’s ear. He had purred. A soft, involuntary sound that had slipped out the moment Li Lun’s fingers touched that familiar spot behind his ear.
“…You really are him,” Li Lun murmured. “You’re Snowfur.”
The boy didn’t answer—he never did, not in words. But the way his gaze flickered shyly away, how his shoulders curled in on themselves as if to shrink from the world, was all the confirmation Li Lun needed.
His chest tightened with something he didn’t know how to name. Wonder, confusion… maybe even fear.
He sank onto the couch beside him. “You’re not just a dream… are you?”
The boy—Snowfur—shifted, drawing his knees to his chest. The hoodie Li Lun had given him swallowed his small frame, sleeves drooping past his hands. Still barefoot, still cautious, still a little awkward in his human shape.
But those eyes.
Those warm, soft, too-intelligent eyes that always watched him when he worked late into the night. The same eyes that blinked slowly in affection when he fed him treats. That curled beside him each morning, silent and warm and utterly devoted.
Li Lun let out a shaky breath. “How…? Was it magic? Some curse? Why didn’t you show me sooner?”
Again, no answer.
But after a long pause, Snowfur leaned his head slightly toward Li Lun’s shoulder, just barely brushing against him, and let out a soft, quiet sound.
Not quite a meow. Not quite a word. Just a hum.
Like trust.
And just like that, something inside Li Lun melted.
“…Yichen,” he said softly.
The boy blinked.
“I… I can’t keep calling you ‘Snowfur.’ Not if you’re going to stay like this.” He gave a small, awkward smile. “Let’s go with Zhuo Yichen.”
The name felt strange at first—too formal, too human. But as the boy lifted his head, cheeks dusted pink, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile forming on his lips… it felt right.
“Yichen,” Li Lun repeated, gentler now. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
Yichen tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, left this time, and blinked again, soft and slow.
The moment was undeniably catlike.
Li Lun chuckled under his breath. “Yeah… you really are Snowfur.”
Yichen’s expression twitched—offended? Flustered? It was hard to tell.
But when Li Lun reached up and scratched the top of his head again, just behind where his ears would be… Yichen let out another soft, involuntary purr.
And this time, he didn’t pull away.
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the windows by the time Li Lun set a bowl of congee on the small dining table. He glanced over at the boy—no, the cat—still sitting on the edge of the couch, wrapped awkwardly in one of his oversized T-shirts, staring at the food like it might jump up and bite him.
"Eat," Li Lun said, arms crossed.
The boy blinked up at him, head tilted slightly. "How?"
Li Lun paused. "You… use chopsticks." He picked up a pair and gestured. "Like this."
The boy reached out with hesitant fingers, gripping the chopsticks with all the grace of a kitten swatting at the string. He poked at the bowl, missed the congee entirely, then clumsily toppled the spoon beside it. Li Lun sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
The boy’s expression fell just slightly. He looked up at Li Lun with soft, dejected eyes, lips trembling in a way that reminded Li Lun far too much of the pouting fluffball that used to curl up on his pillow.
"...Alright," Li Lun relented, moving closer. "Give them here."
He sat beside him, scooping a bite of the warm congee and holding it out. The boy leaned forward, took the bite gently, and immediately brightened, a soft hum of approval escaping his throat.
“You like it?” Li Lun asked, not quite meeting his gaze.
The boy nodded. Then, without thinking, he gave a
small, pleased purr. Li Lun froze, spoon mid-air.
"...Did you just purr again?"
The boy blinked. Then flushed. He turned his face away, burying his cheeks into his shoulder in embarrassed silence.
Li Lun watched him for a long second. His cat—his Snowfur—was sitting here, eating from his hand. A boy with soft skin, shimmering eyes, and the unmistakable mannerisms of the creature he once swore didn’t understand a single thing he said.
The chopsticks slipped from his hand. This was going to be a lot more complicated than he thought.
Li Lun placed the bowl down with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back on his heels. "You’re not making this easy, you know."
The boy tilted his head again, watching him curiously, then reached out slowly, his fingers brushing the chopsticks as if wanting to try again. His hands were still clumsy, movements more instinctive than learned, but he steadied the utensils with surprising care.
Li Lun narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to try again?”
The boy gave a small, quiet nod. He bent forward, poking at the congee, tongue sticking out just slightly in concentration.
The chopsticks trembled. Wobbled. Then, successfully lifted a bit of rice and broth. He blinked—delighted—and brought it to his mouth with ungraceful determination.
He missed his lips. Half of it dribbled onto the shirt. But he didn’t seem to care.
Li Lun opened his mouth to scold him, then stopped when he heard it.
A soft whisper. Barely a breath.
“Tasty…”
He froze.
The boy seemed to freeze equally. His eyes widened as if startled by his own voice, as though the word had tumbled out on its own. A moment later, he quickly looked down again, embarrassed.
Li Lun sat upright, heart skipping. “Wait… You just spoke.”
The boy curled inward slightly, his grip tightening on the chopsticks. A flicker of panic crossed his face, like he’d done something wrong.
Li Lun’s tone softened. “Say that again.”
The boy bit his lip, then peeked up at him, gaze uncertain. “Tasty…” he murmured again, shy but firmer this time.
Li Lun smiled, stunned.
He leaned forward, his heart fluttering at the sound of the boy’s voice. "You’re speaking now."
Yichen nodded slowly, still looking away, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.
Li Lun sighed softly. This was real. The little cat he’d taken in, the one who had turned into a human, was now speaking. And, despite the awkwardness and the surprise, the shift felt... right.
“Yichen,” Li Lun said, gently. “It’s good to hear you speak.”
Yichen blinked at him, still a little unsure, but something in his eyes softened as he heard his name. It wasn’t just the cat anymore—he was human, but still the same in so many ways.
Yichen stared down at the bowl again, steam curling into his lashes. He fumbled with the chopsticks, less from lack of coordination now and more from the lingering tension that hung between them. His small, pale hands gripped too tightly, as if afraid that speaking again might shatter something fragile.
Li Lun noticed. Without a word, he reached over and gently adjusted Yichen’s fingers, guiding them into a more natural grip.
“You’re holding them like you’re about to fight them,” he said lightly.
Yichen blinked. His ears—still hidden, but not completely—twitched beneath his hair. He tilted his head slightly to the left, the same way he always had when Li Lun used to scold him for scratching the furniture.
“I’m not,” he murmured, voice so soft it was barely a protest.
But the corners of Li Lun’s mouth lifted. “No? Then eat properly. You can say it’s tasty after you get some in your mouth.”
A flicker of a pout crossed Yichen’s lips, but he obediently tried again. This time, he managed to scoop a decent bite and get it to his mouth. He chewed slowly, then let out a tiny sigh through his nose.
“…Still tasty,” he whispered.
Li Lun laughed.
It wasn’t loud, but it was real. Yichen looked up at him quickly, startled, then gave a shy smile of his own—brief, flickering, but real too.
They sat in that fragile, quiet warmth for a while. The world outside the kitchen might not exist. The only sounds were the clink of chopsticks against porcelain and the soft, contented breaths of a boy learning to be human.
Then, Yichen paused again. His expression turned thoughtful, then curious.
“…Why… do I have a name?” he asked suddenly, not quite meeting Li Lun’s gaze.
Li Lun blinked. The question, so simple, felt far too heavy.
“Because…” He reached for the right words, surprising even himself with how hard it was to say them. “Because you’re not just a cat anymore.”
Yichen looked at him, but with confusion.
Li Lun continued, quieter now. “I thought you deserved something more than ‘Snowfur.’ A name that’s yours. So I gave you one.”
Yichen whispered it under his breath, trying the syllables on his tongue. “Yi… chen…”
Li Lun nodded. “It suits you.”
“…Thank you.” It came out soft, as always, but clear.
Li Lun smiled again. Then reached out, slowly, brushing a stray grain of rice from Yichen’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re learning fast.”
After dinner, the warmth lingered.Li Lun stood at the sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, rinsing the last bowl beneath a stream of warm water. The soft clatter of porcelain echoed faintly in the quiet kitchen. The light above hummed gently, casting a golden glow over everything.
From the living room, he could hear the occasional sound of soft feet padding across the wooden floor—Yichen exploring again. Not that he hadn't explored this house a hundred times already as a cat. But now, with longer limbs and unsteady balance, everything seemed new to him. Li Lun allowed himself a small smile as he heard the boy thump gently onto the couch.
He dried his hands on a towel and stepped out to check on him.
Yichen was curled up oddly, legs folded beneath him on the sofa like he was trying to remember how he used to sit. One hand batted at the edge of a dangling throw blanket, fingers toying with the tassels. His expression was quietly curious, nose twitching at the fabric’s texture. There was something unmistakably cat-like in the way his gaze darted, in the way his shoulders hunched as he prepared to spring up—
And then he slipped.
It happened too fast for Li Lun to think.
Yichen's foot caught the edge of the cushion. He gave a startled yelp—not quite a human one, not quite a meow—and tumbled forward.
Li Lun lunged instinctively. "Yichen—!"
His arms caught something warm and soft, and then the world tipped sideways. Both of them fell, a brief, muffled chaos of limbs and motion—
Thump.
They landed on the sofa with a jolt, cushions bouncing beneath them. Li Lun blinked, wind knocked out of him.
Yichen was beneath him, wide-eyed. Their faces were close—too close. Far too close.
And then—
Their lips met.
Just a brush. A soft, accidental thing. More surprise than intimacy.
Li Lun froze.
So did Yichen.
Yichen blinked up at him, dazed, lips still brushing Li Lun’s—and then, with a soft pop, two fluffy white ears suddenly sprouted from his head, twitching wildly. Heat flooded his cheeks as the tips of his ears burned pink, standing straight up in embarrassment.
He tried to look away, but his ears gave him away, trembling with flustered panic.
Li Lun, still frozen above him, couldn’t help but stare.
“…Are those ears?”
Yichen clamped his hands over his head with a gasp, his face going red. He shrank beneath Li Lun, eyes panicked, mouth parted in shock.
“I—I didn’t mean—” he stammered, voice cracking, hands trying to press the ears down. “They just—when I—I got startled—!”
Li Lun blinked at the ears twitching above the boy’s hair, soft, downy, unmistakably feline. His mouth parted, then closed again.
For a long second, neither of them spoke.
Then, Li Lun exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
“…Okay,” he said at last, more to himself than anything. “That’s new.”
Yichen gave a miserable whimper and covered his face.
“I didn’t want you to see…”
Li Lun’s voice softened. “Hey. I’m not mad.”
Yichen peeked at him between his fingers, still hiding his ears.
Li Lun, after a pause, reached forward. Gently, carefully, he pushed Yichen’s hands away from his head, revealing the soft, snow-white ears twitching atop his hair.
“…They suit you,” he said.
Yichen blinked. “You’re not… scared?”
“I’ve seen you knock over six potted plants in a single day. This barely ranks.”
That earned the tiniest puff of breath—almost a laugh—from Yichen.
Li Lun hesitated for a moment longer, then brushed his thumb gently over one of the ears. It twitched under his touch.
Yichen flushed so deeply that his whole face turned pink.
Li Lun sat back finally, clearing his throat and trying very hard not to think about the kiss. “Alright,” he said briskly. “No more climbing the couch like it’s a tree branch.”
Yichen looked up at him from the cushions, still flustered. But there was a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.
“…Okay.”
Li Lun stood and offered his hand. “Come on. You need to change out of those clothes.”
Yichen looked confused. “Why?”
“Because you can’t keep wearing the same shirt forever, and you got soup on it earlier.”
“…Oh.”
He disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later with a fresh, soft set of clothes—loose grey sweatpants and a faded blue hoodie. Comfortable. Non-threatening. He held them out.
“Try these.”
Yichen hesitated but took them with both hands, nodding gratefully. His fingers brushed Li Lun’s for the briefest second.
“Go ahead. You can change in the bathroom,” Li Lun said, gesturing down the hall.
Yichen looked down at the bundle in his arms, then back up. “Bathroom…?”
“…The room with the mirror and the sink,” Li Lun added.
Yichen’s lips formed a quiet oh. He padded off, footsteps light.
Yichen padded away obediently. Li Lun turned back toward the living room, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Those ears… and that kiss…
It wasn’t what he thought it was. Just an accident. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Yichen stepped back into the room wearing the clothes, the hoodie hanging loosely on his frame, sleeves nearly covering his hands.
He looked… normal. Almost.
But something caught Li Lun’s eye.
A flicker of movement behind Yichen’s leg, near the waistband of the sweatpants.
His brows drew together. “Wait.”
Li Lun stepped closer, gaze narrowing. “Was that… a tail I saw?”
Yichen froze. His eyes widened, lips parting in alarm—and then, slowly, ever so hesitantly, he nodded.
A faint puff of white fur peeked from behind his shirt again, twitching like it knew it had been exposed.
“So you even have a tail.”
Yichen gave the faintest nod.
Li Lun hesitated. “Can I see it?”
Yichen’s face flushed a deep red. His ears—those soft, twitchy ones—flicked upward in visible embarrassment.
He looked away at first, flustered and unsure… but after a long pause, he gave a small, nervous nod.
Yichen groaned into his sleeves. “It’s too fluffy.”
Li Lun gave him a look. “You think I’m going to judge you for being too fluffy?”
The boy peeked up at him again. “…You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly—hesitantly—Yichen let out a breath and shifted his stance.
Something unfurled from behind him.
A long, thick tail—white as snow, soft as clouds—curled into the air and dropped gently behind him. It swayed once, shyly.
Li Lun blinked.
“That’s… wow.”
Yichen looked horrified. “You hate it.”
Li Lun crouched a little to get a better look. “I don’t hate it. I just—how is it even that fluffy?”
Yichen grumbled. “I told you.”
Li Lun reached out, then paused. “Can I—?”
Yichen bit his lip, then nodded once.
Li Lun touched it lightly. The fur was soft—absurdly soft. Like freshly washed fleece.
He drew his hand back slowly, watching the tail sway again.
“…This is going to take some time getting used to,” Li Lun admitted.
Yichen looked up at him nervously. “You don’t… think I’m strange?”
Strange?
Li Lun gave him a half-shy smile. “I’ve seen you completely naked, and your ears. This? This is just confirmation.”
Yichen’s cheeks puffed a little. He didn’t reply.
Li Lun crossed his arms, mock-serious. “Now you owe me a name explanation. What am I supposed to call you? Ears? Fluff? Tail-san?”
Yichen gave a soft sound, somewhere between a huff and a laugh.
“…Yichen,” he said again, almost a whisper. “Just… Yichen.”
Li Lun nodded slowly. “Alright. Yichen.”
His name felt even more real now. More human. More whole.
And Li Lun realized, as he watched the boy’s tail curl around his side like a self-soothing hug, that the lines between cat and person were beginning to blur.
And he didn’t mind at all.