Married a Big Cat After Transmigrating to the Interstellar Era – CH7

Chapter 7

Jian Mo lowered his eyes without replying.

Meng Zhan didn’t press further.

Getting Jian Mo to accept an examination and treatment had already cost him a favor — he had to trade it for lessons in etiquette. A mental knot like Jian Mo’s wasn’t something that could be untied with a few words.

Besides, Meng Zhan sighed as he looked at the report.

The results were just about what they expected. Even with his intervention, Jian Mo probably wouldn’t last more than two years.

Berserkification didn’t cause much physical discomfort — if you didn’t pay close attention, you might not even notice anything wrong with your body.

But it made people feel their consciousness being stripped away bit by bit, forcing them to watch themselves cross death and descend into hell.

After leaving the medical room, Meng Zhan exchanged a glance with Uncle Ye. Neither of them mentioned the test results.

Only Shi Xiaowang asked curiously,

“Is Da Meow okay?”

“Mm, everything’s fine,” Meng Zhan smiled.

“Alright then, little duke — shall we begin class?”

“Yes!”

Shi Xiaowang nodded eagerly.

“Just call me Xiaowang, Teacher Meng.”

“Alright, Student Xiaowang,” Meng Zhan replied cheerfully.

“Though it’s a bit late, it’s fine,” he said, checking the time. “Go on, run five laps along the outer path.”

“…Huh?”

Shi Xiaowang was dumbfounded.

Wait, class hasn’t even started — why am I being punished already?!

“Physical fitness and mental power go hand in hand. If your hardware’s weak but your software’s overloaded, you’ll crash,” Meng Zhan explained.

“The main reason your mental power is unstable is because your body’s too weak. I’ll be staying for a month. During this time, besides spiritual training, we’ll also improve your physical condition.”

“Oh… okay.”

That actually made sense. Shi Xiaowang himself could tell — back in the apocalypse, he’d had to trek through mountains for herbs and plants; that alone gave him more exercise than this body had seen in nineteen years. This frail body really needed training.

But beginnings are always the hardest. After less than five minutes of running, he felt like he might collapse any second. He was breathing so hard he couldn’t even hear his own footsteps.

Only now did he truly realize how enormous the Marshal’s estate was — after five minutes, he hadn’t even completed one lap.

A few people stood outside watching. Meng Zhan stretched lazily and asked, “Uncle Ye, where will I be staying these days?”

“Come with me, it’s ready,” Uncle Ye said, leading him toward the guest rooms.

Before leaving, Meng Zhan gave Jian Mo a teasing look.

“You’d better not go in there. The little duke’s not in great shape — if he collapses, make sure to help him up, alright?”

Jian Mo shot him a glance and ignored him.

Five laps — that was a daily training routine the late Marshal had set for them when they were young. For Jian Mo, it was nothing. But he still remembered the pampered little prince who used to cry for his parents halfway through and ended up with blisters all over his feet.

Jian Mo frowned as he looked toward the direction Shi Xiaowang had run off.

Compared to that prince, Shi Xiaowang seemed even more fragile — not just delicate, but brittle. Jian Mo worried he wouldn’t make it.

After all, years of weakness couldn’t be undone in a day. This exercise was really too much for him.

At first, Shi Xiaowang thought the same. But after gritting his teeth through two laps, he gradually found his rhythm. Though his vision was going white and he was utterly exhausted, his mind felt strangely light and clear.

It wasn’t until a lion appeared on the path that he realized — he’d already finished his fifth lap.

The lion stood in the middle of the road, watching him. Shi Xiaowang didn’t slow down at all; he simply threw himself forward, draping over the lion’s back. After gasping for a while, he murmured weakly,

“Da Meow, I’m so tired…”

The lion seemed to sigh — though he wasn’t sure he heard it right.

Then he felt the lion shift slightly, and before he knew it, he was lying flat across its back.

“Eh?”

Shi Xiaowang blinked, confused — and then realized the lion was walking him home.

“Ah!”

As they neared the front door, Shi Xiaowang finally reacted. He wrapped his arms around the lion’s neck, burying his face into its thick mane, rubbing happily.

“Did you come pick me up, kitty car? You’re the best, Da Meow! I love you so much!”

The lion paused mid-step — but didn’t explode. His eyes held a mix of helplessness and amusement.

Like a child, he thought.

“You’re back,” Meng Zhan said, sipping tea as he watched Jian Mo carry Shi Xiaowang to the sofa, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

“Mm.”

Seeing Meng Zhan, Shi Xiaowang quickly got off the lion — but not before giving its fur one last stroke.

“Here, drink this and we’ll start class.”

Meng Zhan handed him a bottle of nutrient tonic for conditioning, then teased when he saw Shi Xiaowang’s reluctance to leave the lion.

“Don’t worry, the lion’s yours — he’s not going anywhere. You can play with him later.”

Shi Xiaowang chuckled awkwardly, drank the tonic, and followed Meng Zhan into the study.

Though easygoing in manner, Meng Zhan was strict in teaching. From theory to practice, every day was fully scheduled — not a moment left for laziness.

That night, using the excuse that he “hadn’t seen the lion all day,” Shi Xiaowang lured Da Meow into his room again. He’d meant to play, but ended up falling asleep beside him in minutes.

Jian Mo thought he’d give up the next day, but before Meng Zhan even woke up, Shi Xiaowang was already out running laps again.

Seeing his persistence day after day, Jian Mo’s initial worry slowly turned to admiration. He admired the boy’s quiet resilience — like a blade of grass: soft, but unbreakable.

Aside from mental power and interstellar botany, Meng Zhan also taught him pharmacology, reasoning that since they had the resources, there was no harm in learning.

Half a month passed. From theory to medical instruments, Shi Xiaowang gradually became familiar with the equipment.

He was quite satisfied with Meng Zhan’s plan — though busy, the lessons were logical and connected. It didn’t feel overwhelming.

And, most importantly, he knew all this would be useful in the future.

After two weeks, his mental power had clearly strengthened. The once-murky sea of consciousness was gradually clearing. It made him hopeful — maybe soon he’d feel his purification ability again.

However, the determination of daytime turned into playful clinginess by night.

Ever since Da Meow carried him home that day, Shi Xiaowang discovered the lion was soft-hearted — perhaps upholding some feline virtue of “respecting the old and loving the young.”

And so, the once-cautious boy grew bolder and bolder. He often turned the sleeping, dignified lion into a tousled heap of fur — then laughed until he cried.

Jian Mo had tried resisting. He locked his bedroom door, refusing to respond to Shi Xiaowang’s whining outside.

Then Shi Xiaowang tried climbing the balcony. His wobbly but determined attempt nearly gave Jian Mo a heart attack. In the end, Jian Mo gave up and moved into Shi Xiaowang’s room instead, turning the sofa into his “lion’s den.”

He was helpless, but didn’t really mind.

After all, though the boy was noisy, he’d tire out quickly and sometimes fell asleep beside the sofa without a sound. And Jian Mo… enjoyed seeing him like this — carefree, genuine, shedding that polite mask.

As Shi Xiaowang’s spiritual power improved, so did his body. From panting after half a lap to finishing five with ease, his once-pale face now glowed pink with health, his smiling peach-blossom eyes always bright — like a cheerful little fairy in bloom.

Sometimes, Jian Mo would doze off on the couch waiting for him to finish his run.

And that usually ended with a round of indignant “revenge.”

Hearing footsteps, Jian Mo’s ears twitched. Shi Xiaowang paused near the sofa, then crept closer.

Jian Mo stayed still, pretending to sleep.

The next second, the majestic lion suddenly sprang up from the couch.

He froze, eyes wide, claws halfway extended in disbelief and embarrassment.

“Ah, you woke up already?”

Shi Xiaowang stood with one hand midair, looking innocent and confused.

The great lion — proud and imposing — had never suffered such humiliation. His fur puffed out like a blowfish, making him look even fluffier.

Which only made Shi Xiaowang’s fingers itch more.

The lion instinctively stepped back half a pace, wary.

Shi Xiaowang looked at him, hesitating.

Jian Mo took a deep breath, deciding to give him one last chance to explain.

“You’re so sensitive,” Shi Xiaowang said admiringly.

“…”

He waited for that?

Jian Mo exhaled sharply, retracted his claws, and — suppressing several unkind thoughts — turned and stormed upstairs.

“Eh? Where are you going?”

Seeing the lion flee, Shi Xiaowang followed in confusion.

Uncle Ye had just stepped out of a nearby room when the lion slammed the door shut with a loud bang, right in his face.

Adjusting his glasses, Uncle Ye stared at the closed door.

This scene felt… familiar.

“What happened?” he asked when he saw Shi Xiaowang chasing after.

“I just… touched him,” Shi Xiaowang blinked innocently.

“Just touched him?” Uncle Ye frowned.

That reaction? The old Jian Mo might’ve blushed, sure — but now? Even if Shi Xiaowang rolled all over him, he wouldn’t react like that.

“What exactly did you touch?”

“The… cat bell.”

“The what?”

“The… balls,” Shi Xiaowang explained plainly.

There was a crash inside — something (or several things) had clearly been knocked over.

Uncle Ye froze, posture stiffening, glasses sliding down his nose. Words failed him.

Downstairs, Meng Zhan — mid-sip of water — nearly choked from laughing, coughing as he hurried away.

This was one of those premium-level jokes you kept to yourself — because if Jian Mo ever found out, someone’s legs would definitely be broken.

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