In the winter afternoon, the sunlight was just right.
On the edge of the withered, yellow lawn of the East District courtyard, four cats lay in a row on a wooden bench.
All four cats were in the same posture, tucking in their paws and squinting with their faces turned outward, basking in the sun on the wooden seat.
Zheng Tan hadn't been one to tuck in his paws at first because it was such a cat-like thing to do, which made him feel somewhat repulsed. But when he saw the cats around him all doing it, he unwittingly began to follow suit, and to his surprise, tucking in his paws was quite warm and not tiring at all—it was just right for the weather. Habits are a terrifying thing; once formed, they become second nature. Now, Zheng Tan often mimicked them by folding his front paws and tucking them in.
