As dusk fell, the tantalizing aroma of braised pork belly drifted from the kitchen. On the living room TV, a war drama was playing, and Li Yunlong was delivering his classic line: "It’s the elites I’m here to fight!"

Jiang Xia smiled to himself. He walked out of his bedroom and saw Jiang Wende sitting on the sofa, his eyes glued to the TV. Back then, it wasn’t just his dad; even he had loved watching it.

"Dad," he called out.

"Mm."

Jiang Wende responded with a quiet grunt, glancing up at him for a second before turning his attention back to the TV.

It was a scene that was both incredibly familiar to Jiang Xia, and yet one he had almost forgotten.

Ever since he was a child, Jiang Wende had basically taken a hands-off approach to raising his son. He would occasionally ask about his grades or check in on how things were going, but as long as he didn’t get into trouble, that was good enough.

As for his daily life and studies, those were largely left to his mother, Xia Shanshan. After all, she was a Chinese literature teacher, a professional educator. She handled the roles of both mother and teacher, leaving Jiang Wende to simply focus on working hard and earning money.

But that wasn’t to say Jiang Wende didn’t care about his son. It was just that fathers often keep their love buried deep in their hearts, never showing it excessively.

These were things that Jiang Xia had only gradually come to understand in his past life, long after he had truly become an adult.

Seeing his father again, now a man in his early forties and in the prime of his life, with no gray in his temples yet.

Remembering what happened to his father in his past life, his nose began to tingle, and guilt washed over him.

"What’s wrong?" Jiang Wende gave him a puzzled look. For some reason, he felt like the kid was acting a bit off today. ’Has he never seen his old man before or what?’

"N-nothing." Jiang Xia took a deep breath and walked over, pretending to get a drink of water to hide the complex emotions churning within him.

In the past, on the anniversary of his father’s death, he would stand alone and mumble a torrent of words. Now, seeing him in person, he found he had nothing to say.

In his memory, the father and son duo rarely chatted. There was one exception: the night of the celebration dinner after he got into his next level of schooling. Jiang Wende, who hadn’t touched alcohol in years, had a rare drink. The two of them sat on small stools on the balcony, looking out at the city lights, and his father imparted a great deal of life advice to Jiang Xia.

Unfortunately, he had taken some of the words to heart but ignored others. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so arrogant as to start his own business, only to fail spectacularly and leave his parents to bear the consequences.

By the time the accident happened, it was too late to be a dutiful son.

"Your mom told me you came home today and fell straight into bed," Jiang Wende said suddenly. "I just want to say, the college entrance exams are coming up. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Stay calm. Success always comes to those who are prepared."

"I know. Don’t worry, Dad. I definitely won’t let you two down."

Jiang Xia nodded forcefully, then changed the subject. "But Dad, don’t just lecture me. The same goes for you. You need to rest more. And please, never drive when you’re tired."

Jiang Wende was taken aback for a moment, then chuckled and scolded, "I’m your old man, I’ve been driving for over a decade. You think I don’t know that? Instead of worrying about me, you should worry more about your mom. She puts way more effort into you than I do."

"Hehe, I can worry about you both."

With that, Jiang Xia scurried into the kitchen to help.

Dinner was a simple home-cooked meal of four dishes and a soup. The family of three ate while watching TV. Compared to the cringey fantasy dramas of the future, the historical dramas of this era were a breath of fresh air.

"Mom, I need to go out and buy some drawing paper tomorrow," Jiang Xia said, taking a bite of the juicy braised pork.

"Is a hundred yuan enough?"

Xia Shanshan glanced at him. She had never quite understood her son’s choice to pursue art. As a very traditional teacher, she placed immense value on academic subjects and always felt that dabbling in art and music was for the unscholarly—a path typically taken by students with poor grades.

But since it was a decision he had made after careful consideration, and he had indeed shown more than enough talent for drawing, she had let him be.

"That’s enough, that’s more than enough," Jiang Xia nodded hastily.

Special animation paper with registration holes wasn’t expensive and could be found in most bookstores. The only thing was, he might need a large quantity.

Jiang Wende immediately took out a hundred-yuan bill and placed it on the table. Xia Shanshan said, "You can have the money, but you have to get a satisfactory result on the upcoming first diagnostic exam. Don’t end up with high scores in your specialized subject but failing grades in your academic courses."

"No problem."

He agreed without hesitation. ’Looks like I’ll have to start paying attention in class from now on,’ he thought.

After dinner, Jiang Xia returned to his room and focused on finishing the storyboard for the first episode. Around 11 PM, Xia Shanshan’s voice suddenly came from outside his door.

"It’s getting late. Wash up and get to bed. You need to be well-rested to make your studying twice as effective."

Hearing his mom talk as if she were giving a literature lesson, Jiang Xia couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through his heart.

"Got it, Mom. I’ll go to sleep right away."

Just as he said that, the living room light went out.

About half an hour later, Jiang Xia yawned. The storyboard for the first episode was finally complete. For a seven-minute video, he had drawn over one hundred and seventy storyboard panels.

Even though he was essentially just copying it, to grind out so many in a single day was an astonishing feat, even in his past life in Japan, a country with a complete animation industry chain.

Jiang Xia quickly ran through the final animated sequence in his head one more time, making a few more tweaks to the camera angles and dramatic tension. Only then did he consider the storyboard for the first episode truly finished.

The next steps were to draw the key-frame animation based on the storyboard and create the backgrounds for the first episode. As long as he could get these two stages done, the first episode of *Cat and Mouse* would be more than halfway complete. The rest could be left to the computer.

Standing under the warm spray of the shower, Jiang Xia was already starting to look forward to what kind of waves this classic masterpiece would make in this world once he successfully recreated it.

◇

The next day, Jiang Xia slowly woke to find the sky already bright. Perhaps it was from seeing his parents again, but he had slept soundly and peacefully the night before.

The clatter of porcelain bowls came from the kitchen. Jiang Xia, still in his pajamas, walked out of his bedroom and discovered that Jiang Wende had already left for the day.

"You’re up? I was just about to wake you."

Holding a spatula, Xia Shanshan began to lecture, "Have you been skipping your morning reading? I’ve told you since you were a child: a good morning sets the tone for the whole day. How could you forget that so quickly? How will you remember anything if you don’t read? It doesn’t matter if it’s Chinese or English—it all comes down to memorization."

"Yes, yes, I know, Your Majesty," Jiang Xia said helplessly. Having lived two lives, he’d heard these words so many times his ears should have grown calluses, yet for some reason, he wasn’t tired of them at all.

"Don’t you have to go buy drawing paper today? Hurry up and eat." As Xia Shanshan spoke, she scooped two fried eggs into his bowl. "You’re going to school this afternoon, right? Are you coming back for lunch?"

Jiang Xia thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I probably won’t be back."

"What do you mean, ’probably won’t be back’?"

"I mean I won’t be back."

Looking at the fried eggs in his bowl, he popped them into his mouth one after the other.