Perhaps sensing Zheng Tan watching it, the cat perched on the tree turned its head toward the street corner.
It looked somewhat like a stray cat, its fur stained with some dirt, and above its eyes were several uneven scratches, the healed wounds leaving behind trails of reddish marks, particularly conspicuous against its white fur. These injuries seemed to have been inflicted a couple of days ago.
Zheng Tan didn't know what had caused these scratches on the cat, but if the longest scratch had extended just one millimeter lower, the cat's left eye would probably have been ruined. On a brighter note, the cat was rather fortunate.
The cat just glanced once at the one man and cat at the corner, probably feeling no threat, and continued staring at the second-floor window of the building.
Ermao, sitting beside him, crunched into his last bite of egg pancake and smacked his lips, "What is that cat looking at? Is there some 'harmonious' scene inside?"
