Work Text:
The alleyway behind Third Avenue smelled of damp brick, fallen sycamore leaves, and the lingering warmth drifting from a nearby noodle stall.
Cheng Xiaoshi was currently kneeling in a muddy puddle with his favorite sneakers already ruined, his face halfway beneath a rotting wooden freight pallet. Somewhere in the darkness, a tiny pair of amber eyes glinted back at him.
“Pspspsps. Come on, buddy. Here, look—meat. Good meat. Don’t you like processed convenience store sausages? It cost me five whole yuan.”
A tiny, ferocious hiss answered him, followed by a defensive swipe of miniature claws that narrowly missed his nose. Xiaoshi jerked back and rubbed at it, staring indignantly into the darkness.
“Hey! Uncalled for. I’m offering you fine dining, you ungrateful furball.”
“You're terrifying it.”
The voice came from behind him, quiet and smooth, carrying a note of dry judgment. Xiaoshi startled so violently that the back of his head struck the wooden pallet.
“Ow—dammit.”
Rubbing at the sore spot, he scrambled onto his heels and turned toward the mouth of the alley.
The stranger standing there was, frankly, the last thing Xiaoshi had expected to encounter at this hour.
He stood beneath the amber glow of the streetlamps, dressed in an oversized charcoal coat over a dark knit turtleneck. His white hair fell softly around his face, catching the light against pale skin, while dark eyes regarded Xiaoshi with an expression that suggested he had just witnessed something deeply embarrassing.
Xiaoshi forgot what he had been about to say.
The stranger stepped closer.
“Cats do not consume sodium-loaded chili sausages,” he explained calmly. “And shouting at a cornered two-month-old kitten while putting your face into its territory is textbook predatory behavior.”
Xiaoshi blinked.
His brain seemed unable to decide whether he was more offended by the accusation or distracted by the fact that the man was ridiculously handsome.
“I wasn't being predatory. I was trying to save it.”
He pushed himself to his feet and brushed at the wet grime on his jeans, though the effort was largely pointless.
“It’s freezing out here, and it’s been shivering under that dumpster.”
The stranger didn't argue. Instead, he stepped into the narrow alley and approached the pallet with quiet, deliberate movements. Stopping a few feet away, he lowered himself into a crouch and turned slightly to the side, making himself appear smaller.
From the canvas tote hanging over his shoulder, he produced a small paper dish and a foil pouch of kitten pâté.
Xiaoshi watched him squeeze a portion of the food into the dish and place it gently on the damp concrete before extending one relaxed finger toward the darkness beneath the pallet.
Then he simply waited without making a sound.
The contrast was almost absurd. Only minutes ago, Xiaoshi had practically been wrestling the kitten out of hiding. This man, meanwhile, barely moved, yet somehow the alley seemed to settle around him.
Within seconds, a tiny, scruffy calico head emerged.
Large amber eyes blinked cautiously at the stranger before the kitten crept forward on trembling legs. It sniffed the food, glanced once more at the white-haired man, and then let out a desperate little mew.
Its forehead bumped gently against his waiting finger.
The stranger's expression barely changed, but his hand moved to stroke over the kitten's damp ears. Something in his face softened then, subtle enough that Xiaoshi might have missed it under any other circumstances.
Unfortunately for him, these were not other circumstances.
His heart did something deeply unhelpful as he lowered himself beside the stranger.
“Whoa. You're like... a cat whisperer. Are you secretly a wizard?”
The stranger gave him a flat, sidelong look.
“It's basic feline psychology. Not sorcery.”
“Well, to me, it looks like magic.”
Xiaoshi rested his elbows against his knees, his attention moving between the kitten and the stranger before inevitably settling on the latter.
“I'm Cheng Xiaoshi, by the way. I run the photo studio on the corner.”
The stranger paused, though his fingers continued stroking along the kitten's spine as it purred against the concrete, the sound small and mechanical, almost like a tiny chainsaw. For a moment, Xiaoshi thought he might be ignored entirely, but then the stranger answered in a quiet murmur.
“Lu Guang.”
“Lu Guang,” Xiaoshi repeated, letting the name settle for a moment before a wide smile spread across his face. “Nice to meet you, Lu Guang. Do you feed the strays around here often?”
“Every evening at six.”
Lu Guang reached into his tote again and retrieved a small bottle of antimicrobial eye drops.
“She has an upper respiratory infection. I've been monitoring her for three days, but she was too frightened to approach until tonight.”
Xiaoshi glanced down at the kitten, then at the sausage packet still clutched in his hand.
“Until I chased her out with my chili sausage.”
Lu Guang looked at him for several seconds before answering.
“You nearly gave her a heart attack.”
Xiaoshi laughed, loud and bright, the sound echoing between the brick walls.
“Hey, teamwork makes the dream work.”
Lu Guang shook his head with a quiet sigh, though the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he wasn't quite as unimpressed as he wanted to appear.
***
That evening marked the beginning of what Qiao Ling would later call Xiaoshi's shameless feline crusade.
Every day at 5:50 PM, regardless of studio bookings or darkroom deadlines, Xiaoshi would close his ledger, grab his jacket, and bolt down the street toward the Third Avenue alleyway. He always arrived with something new in his hands, though he insisted every contribution was strictly for the kitten's benefit. At exactly six, Lu Guang would appear around the corner with his coat buttoned neatly against the cold and his canvas bag hanging from one shoulder.
At first, Lu Guang treated Xiaoshi as an unavoidable nuisance—a loud, overly talkative presence who had somehow appointed himself assistant to a stray-cat rescue operation. Xiaoshi, naturally, took that as encouragement.
Over the next few days, his contributions to Elizabeth's welfare became increasingly elaborate. On Tuesday, he arrived carrying an insulated styrofoam box lined with old towels, having apparently spent an embarrassing amount of time constructing a dry shelter beneath the pallet, complete with a makeshift entrance flap. Lu Guang inspected it thoroughly, nudging the entrance with one finger and examining the insulation before finally giving a small nod.
“Adequate. It will retain body heat.”
Xiaoshi celebrated the single word as though he had just won an Olympic medal.
By Thursday, he had moved on to other necessities—or, at least, what he insisted were necessities. He arrived with two cups of hot spiced ginger milk tea. Lu Guang tried to decline, but Xiaoshi ignored him and placed one directly into his gloved hands.
“Drink it. You look like you're made of icicles, and your hands are freezing. Babysitting strays won't do any good if you catch pneumonia.”
Lu Guang stared at the cup for several seconds before taking a sip. After a moment, he quietly admitted that it wasn't terrible.
That was enough encouragement for Xiaoshi to return the following evening with another cup.
By the second week, they had named the kitten Elizabeth. Somewhere along the way, something else had changed, too. Lu Guang was no longer coming to the alley solely because Elizabeth needed to be fed. A few minutes beforehand, he would find himself glancing toward the mouth of the alley, almost without realizing it, watching for the familiar bounce of messy black hair and the inevitable enthusiastic wave.
He never mentioned it. Instead, the routine continued as it always had, as though neither of them had noticed that somewhere between Elizabeth's recovery and Xiaoshi's increasingly unnecessary contributions, their meetings had become something they both quietly expected.
Until one chilly Friday evening, Xiaoshi arrived several minutes late. He came skidding around the corner, panting hard, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his black hair more disheveled than usual. Lu Guang looked up from the dish of salmon he was setting down.
“You're late.”
“A client wanted extra passport prints.”
Xiaoshi bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath before his grin returned. “Did Elizabeth miss me?”
“Elizabeth was asleep.” Lu Guang sat back on his heels and glanced at him. “I was wondering if you'd managed to get locked inside your darkroom again.”
Xiaoshi slowly straightened, his exhaustion forgotten almost immediately.
“Wait. You were wondering?”
Lu Guang's expression remained perfectly composed, which only made Xiaoshi's growing grin more suspicious.
“As in, Lu Guang was worried about me?”
“I was concerned that your absence would mean dealing with the veterinary clinic alone. Nothing more.”
“Liar.”
Xiaoshi dropped into a crouch beside him, their shoulders bumping lightly.
“You missed my radiant personality.”
“Your radiant personality gives me a migraine.”
“And yet, here you are. Every single day.”
Lu Guang didn't argue. Instead, he gently lifted Elizabeth onto his lap and checked her eyes, now clear and bright. The infection was completely gone. She had grown plump and playful, and the moment Lu Guang settled her against his coat, she began purring loudly enough that her entire little body vibrated.
Xiaoshi leaned closer. When he reached out to stroke the kitten's chin, his knuckles brushed against Lu Guang's, but neither of them moved away. Up close, Lu Guang smelled faintly of rain, cedar, and clean soap. The amber streetlight caught in his white hair, turning the individual strands almost translucent.
For a moment, Xiaoshi forgot about Elizabeth entirely.
“She likes you a lot,” he said softly.
The teasing brightness in Xiaoshi's voice had softened before he seemed to notice it himself, leaving something quieter in its place. Lu Guang kept his gaze on the kitten.
“Cats respond to calm environments.”
The tips of his ears had turned faintly pink. Xiaoshi noticed, and a small smile touched his lips.
“I like you a lot too.”
The words came almost casually, but there was nothing casual about the sincerity behind them. Lu Guang's hand stilled against Elizabeth's fur as he looked up, searching Xiaoshi's face for the familiar grin that would tell him this was another joke.
He found none.
For a brief moment, neither of them seemed to know what to do with the silence that followed.
Then thunder cracked overhead. Both of them looked toward the sky.
A second later, the heavens opened.
***
“Run!”
Xiaoshi scooped Elizabeth up before the kitten could register what was happening, tucking her securely inside his leather jacket and shielding her with both arms. Lu Guang grabbed his canvas tote, and together, they sprinted through the rain-lashed streets.
Water splashed beneath their boots as they raced toward Time Photo Studio, laughing breathlessly whenever one of them nearly slipped. The storm swallowed the rest of the city in noise, drowning out everything except their footsteps and Elizabeth's occasional indignant mew from inside Xiaoshi's jacket.
They burst through the studio doors and slammed them shut against the howling wind.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The studio was warm, dry, and quiet. Both of them were soaked to the bone.
Xiaoshi's black hair clung to his forehead, rain dripping from his chin and the edge of his leather jacket. Lu Guang's charcoal coat had grown heavy with water, his white hair hanging in damp strands across his face.
Then a tiny calico head emerged from Xiaoshi's jacket. Elizabeth blinked at the room, entirely dry and entirely unbothered.
“Meow.”
Xiaoshi looked down at her, then at Lu Guang.
Something about the ridiculousness of the situation finally broke through his composure, and he burst into helpless laughter. Lu Guang stared at him for several seconds before, unexpectedly, a quiet chuckle escaped him.
Xiaoshi stopped.
He had never heard Lu Guang laugh like that before.
It wasn't the faint breath of amusement Xiaoshi had caught in the alley. This was a real laugh—soft and unguarded enough to change his entire expression.
For a moment, Xiaoshi simply stared.
Lu Guang seemed to realize what he had done and immediately looked away.
“Go grab towels,” he said, though the warmth in his eyes hadn't disappeared. “Before she catches a chill.”
Twenty minutes later, the studio had transformed into a haven of warmth. The space heater hummed softly in the corner, while Elizabeth, having finished a bowl of warm broth, was curled into a small ball on a folded wool blanket.
Xiaoshi emerged from the back kitchen wearing dry sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, carrying two steaming bowls of instant noodles topped with fried eggs and green onions. He set one in front of Lu Guang, who sat on the couch wrapped in a thick towel.
“Five-star gourmet dining.”
Xiaoshi slid a pair of chopsticks toward him. “Eat while it's hot.”
Lu Guang accepted them and took a sip of the broth. A quiet sigh escaped him as warmth slowly returned to his cheeks.
“It's good.”
“Told you.”
Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Xiaoshi settled onto the rug beside him and leaned his shoulder comfortably against Lu Guang's knees.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The rain continued drumming against the studio windows, steady and soothing, while Elizabeth's soft purrs filled the quieter spaces between them.
It was strange how quickly the evening had changed. Only a few weeks ago, Xiaoshi had found himself kneeling in a muddy alleyway, trying to lure a terrified kitten out from beneath a pallet with a convenience-store sausage.
Now the three of them were gathered inside the warmth of the studio as though they had been doing this for years.
When the bowls were empty, Lu Guang looked down at Elizabeth before letting his gaze wander toward the photo equipment lining the walls.
“The shelter by the station is overcrowded. They won't take new strays until next month.”
“Then she stays here,” Xiaoshi said without hesitation.
Lu Guang tilted his head.
“You don't even know how to take care of a cat. You tried to feed her chili sausage.”
“That was before I met you.”
Xiaoshi turned toward him fully, and the joking expression on his face softened.
“And that's exactly why you're going to have to come over every single day to supervise me. You know... for Elizabeth's health.”
Lu Guang stared at him.
The heater cast a warm glow across Xiaoshi's face, catching in his dark eyes and making it harder to miss the sincerity beneath the familiar mischief.
“That sounds like an excuse,” Lu Guang murmured.
“It is,” Xiaoshi admitted.
His hand moved across the rug and stopped just short of Lu Guang's. When his fingers brushed lightly against Lu Guang's cool knuckles, Xiaoshi gave him plenty of time to pull away.
He didn't.
“I want you here, Lu Guang.”
Xiaoshi's voice was quieter now.
“Not just in a damp alleyway for fifteen minutes every evening. Here. With me.”
Something in Lu Guang's expression shifted.
For all the time they had spent circling around each other, this was the first time Xiaoshi had said it plainly. There was no joke to hide behind, no kitten to use as an excuse, and no convenient misunderstanding waiting to soften what he meant. Just a simple want.
Lu Guang glanced down at Elizabeth, still curled up beside them, before looking back at Xiaoshi. “And if I don't come?”
Xiaoshi blinked. “Then Elizabeth will grow up thinking chili sausages are a balanced diet.”
Lu Guang stared at him, and Xiaoshi's mouth curved into a grin. “Okay, fine. I'll try not to poison our cat.”
Our cat.
The words seemed to linger between them.
Lu Guang's gaze drifted briefly toward Elizabeth before returning to Xiaoshi. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, though no less certain.
“Someone has to make sure you know what you're doing.”
Xiaoshi's grin softened. “Does that mean you'll come back?”
Lu Guang let out a quiet sigh, as though the question required far more consideration than it actually did. “I'll come by tomorrow.”
Xiaoshi looked at him, but Lu Guang had already turned his attention back to Elizabeth.
“To check on her,” he added.
“Of course,” Xiaoshi said, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face.
Lu Guang glanced at him then, and something in his expression shifted—subtle enough that Xiaoshi might not have noticed it a few weeks ago. He noticed it now.
“You're still impossible,” Lu Guang murmured.
“And yet you're coming back tomorrow.”
The corner of Lu Guang's mouth moved, almost imperceptibly, before he pressed his lips together again. “Don't make me reconsider.”
Xiaoshi laughed softly and leaned back against the couch. Outside, the rain continued to fall over Third Avenue, tapping steadily against the studio windows while Elizabeth slept between them, warm and undisturbed.
It was strange, perhaps, how easily things had changed.
A frightened kitten beneath a wooden pallet. A damp alleyway. Two strangers who had kept finding reasons to return at the same hour each evening.
And now, Elizabeth slept between them while the rain fell outside, and Lu Guang sat beside Xiaoshi without any apparent intention of leaving.
Tomorrow, he would come back.
For now, that was enough.
Perhaps homes were built in much the same way—not all at once, but quietly, piece by piece, until one day you looked around and realized you had made room for someone without ever meaning to.
And somewhere between a frightened kitten, a damp alleyway, and the promise of tomorrow, the three of them had begun to do exactly that.