The Passionate Age of Cats

Cat’s eyes always hang out of my window in the middle of the night, like fire and jewels. Her performance was like a light traveling dust, passing through some strange corridor into my dream.
She remained motionless and pale.
It’s like what I saw in the prison.
When the cat was executed, I was at the scene. Her father died early and her mother married far away from Xinjiang. I was the only one to collect her body. That was what she told me before she went to the crime.
In my dream, the cat strokes my face with her soft, slender fingers. She leans over to me and whispers to me, “Do you know who I love most?”
Do you know who I love most?
The cat’s breath coolly blows my tiny hairs, giving me a tender feeling. I said I didn’t know. She lowered her long eyelashes and said, “You imagine me as a man. I said you were a man and I don’t like you anymore.
The cat lay on my bed, her eyes were as black and bright as gems, and the flames were splashing. I had never seen such eyes in any girl I knew. Such eyes could only appear in dreams or movies.
The cat stared at the ceiling and said, “I must let you know!” She held out a finger and hung in the air, strange and for no reason. I could still see and touch her after she was far away from the world.
She said I must let you know! I love you. The second half of the sentence I saw in her eyes, the cat did not say it out. She often says only half a sentence and is a shy girl from beginning to end. She just said: I must let you know!
At night, a basin of henna flowers under the bed emits a strange odor, a little like the odor of guava ripening. It’s a very sweet odor. It’s so sweet that people think of two words: decay and death.
Normal girls don’t put henna in the house. This is a kind of flower that should be placed in the doorway, or in the patio, to see the sky and dew, the kind of flower that appears from the middle of the leaves, or as light as the moon, or as bright as blood. They walk up the girl’s long nails, shining charming luster.
Because of her unique childhood experience, the cat loved the space under the bed. She said it was safe and quiet. She liked to put everything she loved under the bed from an early age. In my dream, I saw the nail-flower placed under the bed by the cat blossom out of strange flowers, big and gorgeous, petal-shaped lips, open and close, say some vague words.
I never knew what they were talking about. I know that my mission in this life is to decipher them. This mission gives me a headache.
That night, the rotten smell of nail-flower filled our room, and the cat walked from the bed to the table to make up.
She said, “I’m going to put on a fantasy makeup.
I asked her if she was going on a date. Her eyes flashed enchantingly. She said she went to see my workshop director. I said good, but he is a vulgar, will not appreciate your dream makeup, it is better to put on a gorgeous makeup.
The cat obeyed me, and the damp room was filled with the smell of inferior cosmetics.
The cat once said that she would go to sleep with a man for me. I thought it was a joke and forgot it all at once. Her enchanting and secretive smile made me wake up like a dream. I think she must go to sleep with my workshop director. Yesterday, I cried with the cat. The factory had to optimize the combination. The workshop director hired the workshop worker. He told me that he might not hire me. Every time I went to see him, he always did two things. One was to press my shoulder, the other was to clap my hand on the back. It’s on him, and I won’t do anything else. Yesterday’s appointment list came down without me. According to the regulations, only 70% of the salary can be received in half a year. After half a year, we can find our way out.
The cat said she was going to see my workshop director.
She put on a heavy make-up.
Her eyes were enchanting and secretive.
She said you were waiting for me at home, and her voice was purely murmuring like a pigeon. She took off all her clothes. Her breasts were strong and as beautiful as Rodin’s sculpture. Why should she go to sleep with my workshop director? My work is not worth her sacrifice, nor am I worth it. I always think about myself before I think about cats. She has a deep affection for me and I am as plain as water to her.
I said you don’t go to the cat. You’re not happy sleeping with men.
The cat put on a purple dress, which made her firm.
She said: you, in, home, etc., I, back, back.
Like a purple lightning, she turned and disappeared.
This night when it gets dark, the sky is not dark, but full of abnormal blue and yellow color, which is a rare yellow light. This yellow light seems to come from both the depths of time and from the crevices of hell to the air, the sky and the earth are full of this yellow light.
Later I remembered that it was the color before the rainstorm, but it never rained that night.
I waited for her in the cat’s little black room. I heard the wind-bell-like sounds of henna flowers under the bed, repeatedly and slowly, and I heard a heart-beating word from their light and pleasant vibrations. Nail petals are falling. They are as spiritual as a cat’s nails. They float from under the bed to the bed. The cat’s voice leaked from the roof skylight, like an arrow, shooting down from my head.
The cat came back late at night.
The house smelled so sweet that I couldn’t tell whether it came from henna or cat.
The cat’s eyes were like fire and jewels. It was her last night of fire. She said, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed. I helped her take off her shoes and touched something sticky. I thought it could never be anything else. Its sweet smell climbed coldly up my fingers to my body and internal organs. I understand that a terrible thing has happened.
I took off the cat’s clothes and let her lie on the pillow. She let me hold her and her body trembled like autumn. She let me hold her tightly.
The cat said that the workshop director soon let her go to bed, but he tossed about midnight and could not get in. He kept on saying that he was very good, but he tried his best to get in. He panted that cats were not sexy enough. The cat says you can’t do it yourself, but I’m not sexy.
The director of the workshop said to the cat, “Not this time. I want you to do it again.” He was confident and arrogant, which greatly stimulated the cat.
So the cat did that terrible thing.
Cat, your corpse is my corpse. Yesterday we burned it together and turned it into smoke. Let me tell you in the language of smoke: I love you. My words are fragrant and fragrant. All of them are for you.