Translator:	Author:	Original Source:
MJCross	Cat’s Glasses	SFACG

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By the time the four of us strolled over to the street-side stall at the village entrance, it was just past five.

Old Feng was busy at his makeshift kitchen counter on the stall cart, chopping ingredients and plating dishes.

When he saw us sit down, he didn’t greet us, and just gave us a glance before going back to his work.

Old Feng was a lean, middle-aged man who looked to be around forty.

He was the quiet type, barely saying a word. Even after you paid, he wouldn’t bother making small talk.

For a while, I even suspected he was mute.

His personality alone already made running a business difficult, but his appearance didn’t help either.

The left side of his face was covered in dark, rough scars, and his left eye was completely blind.

With his silent demeanor and the way he focused on chopping vegetables, he looked more like a horror movie extra than a street vendor.

Between his personality and his intimidating looks, it was no surprise that business was terrible.

Even during the dinner rush, we were the only ones eating here. How was he supposed to make a living like this?

“This stir-fried pork tripe with green peppers is great, but maybe Tangerine would prefer fish?”

“Sure, cats like fish, but I’m a human now. I wanna try everything.”

As Haitang and Tangerine browsed the menu, Zhao Zhao had already gone over to grab some drinks.

The menu was just a flimsy A4 printout, and we had to write our own orders down. After that, we had to take it over to Old Feng ourselves.

If we wanted drinks, we had to fetch them from the cart.

Eating here meant you weren’t just a customer—you were also your own waiter.

With nothing else to do, I rested my head on my hand and watched Tangerine write down the order.

The fact that she could write at all was impressive.

This notebook really was something—it even taught her how to read and write.

After observing for a bit, I couldn’t help but praise her.

“Tangerine, your handwriting actually looks pretty nice.”

She carefully copied the menu’s characters onto the order sheet.

Though she was still a bit clumsy, she wrote with clear effort.

Whenever she made a mistake, Haitang would gently correct her.

It wasn’t exactly elegant, but it was neat and legible—pretty remarkable for someone who had only been human for a day.

“Nothing like that, it’s all thanks to Sis Haitang’s teaching~”

“Oh, come on. This is all you, Tangerine. You’re a fast learner. No matter how good a teacher is, you wouldn’t be writing like this in just one night if you didn’t have talent.”

Once the order was done, Haitang took it over to Old Feng.

He gave it a quick glance and immediately started cooking, not bothering to say a word.

Honestly, his reluctance to talk wasn’t the real issue, he could’ve just hired a couple of part-time waiters to help out in the evenings.

With his skills, if he put in a little effort, paying a few employees wouldn’t be a problem.

But no, he insisted on doing everything himself. As regulars, the three of us always felt bad for him.

He was a fantastic cook, but barely anyone came to eat here. If that wasn’t a waste of talent, I didn’t know what was.

At least he still served the food himself. Every time he finished two dishes, he’d bring them over to us.

Because of his limited equipment, most of the dishes at his stall were either stir-fried or deep-fried, with the occasional grilled item on a small charcoal rack.

Since we were his only customers tonight, the food came out fast.

Before long, seven dishes covered our table.

Old Feng was generous with his ingredients, and with two girls at the table, we had definitely ordered too much.

Halfway through the meal, Haitang raised her plastic cup and announced, “Alright! Let’s all welcome Tangerine as my new little sister!”

Although she was obviously trying to provoke me, I wasn’t petty enough to let it get to me.

I still clinked my cup against hers. Unfortunately, plastic cups didn’t make that crisp clink—just a flimsy krrrk.

“Even if Tangerine’s living with you, she’s still my little sister,” I said, reaching out to ruffle Tangerine’s hair.

She didn’t dodge, letting me pat the little tufts of hair that resembled cat ears.

Her eyes turned misty, and she held up her cup, her voice quivering with excitement.

“Thanks, you guys… I’m seriously so happy right now!”

Next, it should’ve been Zhao Zhao’s turn to say something, but instead, he stiffened up and kept his eyes locked onto Tangerine… ’s back.

His voice was low and cautious.

“We’ve got company.”

Hearing that, I instinctively turned to look.

A group of young thugs, armed with iron rods and chains, swaggered toward us like they owned the place.

From the way they carried themselves, they weren’t here for dinner.

Even Old Feng, usually indifferent to everything, frowned slightly.

This scene was straight out of a textbook—classic troublemakers picking a fight.

Was this some kind of storyline triggered by my protagonist aura?

They all looked to be under twenty, which meant they weren’t locals.

Our village wasn’t big, and most people our age knew each other.

“You should leave,” Lao Feng muttered.

It was rare for him to speak, and the first thing he said was to tell us to go.

The guy might have looked scary, but deep down, he was just a softhearted old man.

Realistically, I could leave. But would Haitang? No way.

She had inherited every ounce of her father’s sense of justice. There was no way she’d just walk away from this.

Not to mention—let’s be real—these seven thugs put together probably weren’t even a match for one of Haitang’s legs.

“Leave? But we’re having such a great meal~” Haitang grinned as the thugs approached.

She looked way too happy—like a kid about to play with a brand-new set of punching bags.

From what I knew, third-rate punks like these usually targeted vendors like Old Feng, demanding money.

Their logic was simple: street vendors were technically operating illegally, so they wouldn’t dare call the cops.

And if they didn’t pay up?

The gang would come back every day to harass them until they caved.

The leader was a chubby guy with a mohawk, wearing sunglasses even though the sun had already set.

His studded leather jacket was clearly too small for him. If he weren’t so fat, he might’ve had some death-metal frontman vibes.

He spun a heavy chain in his hand, making it whistle through the air.

It was definitely an intimidating sound—too bad he almost smacked the guy behind him with it.

The rest of his crew had the same post-apocalyptic, Mad Max aesthetic.

Were they straight out of a Fist of the North Star audition?

With a dramatic CLANG, the mohawk guy smashed his chain onto an empty plastic table, shattering it instantly.

Though he was shorter than Lao Feng, he still tilted his head up in a condescending attempt to look tough.

“Listen up, old man. We work for ‘Thunder Tiger’ Lei Laohu. This street belongs to us now. You’ve been running this stall for a while, right? Time to start paying taxes.”

Then, he noticed us staring at him and waved dismissively.

“What are you looking at? Mind your own business. We don’t shake down customers—we have principles.”

That nearly made me burst out laughing. Seriously? Proclaiming to be gangsters in this day and age?

I glanced at the gangly, malnourished guys behind him. Do they even have the muscles to fight?

Lao Feng, for all his silence, was a proud man.

He wouldn’t smile for customers—did they really think he’d bow down to some punks?

Sure enough, he slammed his cleaver onto the cutting board and growled,

“Scram.”

The Mohawk’s expression darkened. Realizing he’d picked the wrong target, he lifted his chain again and shouted,

“Then forget it! This stall’s closed! Boys, trash the place—ACK!”

Before he could finish his line, Haitang drop-kicked him in the gut.

The guy went rolling like a bowling ball, clutching his stomach and failing to get up.

And just like that, the fight was over before it even began.

Now this is true strength.

If I ran into these third-rate thugs alone, I might’ve actually been scared. But with Haitang here, I could just sit back and enjoy the show.

Sure, as a grown man, relying on a girl a year younger than me was kind of embarrassing—but come on, she earned a black belt in karate by this age. Her combat skills were off the charts.

Compared to these wannabe gangsters, she was like a fictional super robot facing off against a bunch of low-tier robots in the real world—they weren’t even in the same dimension.

Some of the thugs hesitated for a second but didn’t back down.

With a roar, they swung their iron rods and chains at Haitang.

“Oh dear, what kind of man would dare attack a delicate young lady like me?”

The “delicate young lady” in question—Haitang—effortlessly dodged their attacks.

Then, with a casual demeanour, she sent them flying one by one with well-placed kicks.

It was like she wasn’t even fighting—she was just juggling them in the air.

Zhao Zhao took on the role of cleanup crew, stomping down on anyone who tried to get back up.

Meanwhile, Tangerine kept eating her food, cheering her on with a mouth full of food, spamming “666666¹.”

And me? Well, I’m the commentator, of course.

Without my narration, how else would you all know what’s happening?

It took less than a minute.

All seven members of the Mad Max reject squad were sprawled out on the ground, staring helplessly up at Little Haitang’s skirt.

By the way, her safety shorts were black.

Safety shorts are definitely a menace to society.

I stepped forward, standing behind Little Haitang, and with all the bravado of someone hiding behind a true powerhouse, I declared:

“Do you guys even know who the last person you should ever mess with in this village is? It’s the one standing right in front of you—our fearless and brilliant Little Haitang! The undisputed empress of the city outskirts! The undefeated legend of the borderlands! The bloodstained black belt! The student council president of Biyang Girls School’s middle school division, and soon-to-be president of the high school division! The inheritor of the legendary Rider Kick! The absolute wall—GAH!”

Before I could finish my grand speech, she stomped down hard on my foot, leaving me gasping in pain.

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