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"Yesterday Ruoning was there," he said, coughing awkwardly. "If I cleaned the room in front of her, she would think I was disgusted by the cat and she would fight with me again." "So I should suffer." "You are not suffering. You are making a fuss." I looked at the bed and said nothing. I had spent years being told that my allergy was an overreaction, that the cat was harmless, that I should be more generous. I had believed it enough to keep medicine in my bag and antihistamines in my desk. I had learned to check the sofa before sitting. I had learned to sleep with the window open. But I had never learned to make him choose me. That afternoon Xia Ruoning posted a photo of the cat at the vet. Gu Chenzhou was in the background, holding a bag of cat food. "Even ten thousand yuan would be worth it," she wrote. I looked at the photo and felt nothing. I liked it. His call came within a minute. "Anran, do not misunderstand. I was passing by to deliver documents. Ruoning said something was wrong with the cat. I was worried, so I took her to the clinic. We gave it a bath." "Okay." He was silent. "You are not angry?" "It is your cat. You should take care of it." In the past I would have fought. Now I was calm. He noticed the calm and mistook it for peace. "Anran, you have changed. You are so much more generous now. It is good." Yes. Because I no longer cared.0

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