Chapter 84: The Abandoned Panda Cub..

No one knew exactly when it started, but that little gesture had become a tacit sign of understanding between the two of them.

The fuzzy little paw tried hard to form a fist and bump it against Xie Hui’s, the cub staring intently at Xie Hui’s wrist, looking very well-behaved.

The supplementary food Xie Hui prepared was strictly according to the notes left behind by the previous staff member. He soaked the dried meat in purified water, then soaked rice for a while, chopped the rehydrated meat into small cubes, and put the cleaned rice into a pot. After adding the meat, he sprinkled in some medicinal powder the staff member had left behind—apparently good for the cub’s health.

Xie Hui wasn’t picky about food. In his view, if it was edible, that was good enough; taste wasn’t a priority. In the apocalypse, picky eaters either starved or ended up wolfing down expired instant noodles and bread.

But… that didn’t include rats.

When handling the meat, Xie Hui had already guessed from the shape of the raw pieces—it was probably some kind of rat. Likely a fat one.

Once the porridge was simmering, Xie Hui checked the surveillance footage and saw the cub upstairs sunning his fur.

Without anyone watching, the tail-wagging was half-hearted. That short, stubby tail only flicked occasionally, as if he forgot most of the time.

At that moment, Xie Hui suddenly thought such a big villa really needed a housekeeper to help maintain it. After all, the original host had his own business. For a while now, Xie Hui had only attended online meetings and had his assistant bring over documents that required his signature.

That was fine for a short period, but over time, problems were bound to arise.

Now that the cub was older, he could probably come along to work. Xie Hui planned to ask his assistant to help fix up the office, set aside a space for the cub to stay.

It wasn’t that Xie Hui couldn’t afford a nanny—he just thought it was better to keep the child close.

Especially in a world like this, where this cub wasn’t even human during his infancy, yet he could already understand parts of human speech. If Xie Hui didn’t bring him along, he was afraid someone might tell the cub “your dad doesn’t love you,” and the food-loving little guy would naively believe it.

Once the porridge was done, Xie Hui scooped out just enough for a bowl, let it cool, then carried it upstairs.

The moment the cub heard footsteps coming up the stairs, his previously lazy sprawl across the mat disappeared. He stretched out his limbs with effort, tail wagging like crazy.

“Try it, see if it tastes good?”

The little panda instantly turned into a walking sticky rice ball, scampering to Xie Hui’s feet and circling him in excitement.

Xie Hui picked him up. Just as he grabbed the spoon, the cub had already buried his face in the bowl.

When it came to food, no one was more eager than this cub.

Watching the spoon still in his hand, Xie Hui felt a bit redundant and simply set it down, letting the cub eat how he liked.

But the more he watched, the more something felt… off. Why did the cub eat like a puppy?

Once that thought entered his mind, he couldn’t shake it. The resemblance just kept growing.

Xie Hui silently resolved: starting tomorrow, he had to correct the cub’s eating habits. Not saying he needed to be refined, but a proper panda should act like a panda—not like a puppy, even the tail-wagging frequency was uncanny.

Later, while watching cartoons with the cub, Xie Hui noticed the show seemed to be giving an educational segment related to this.

The meat he had prepared was indeed rat meat—more specifically, farmed bamboo rats. When pandas lived in the wild, they weren’t strictly herbivores.

These cubs looked cute when young, but when grown up, pandas were genuinely fierce beasts.

With time, both modern pandas and bamboo rats were no longer what they once were. Processing and drying the meat was to help young cubs digest better.

Mixing it into porridge helped train chewing ability—just like those crunchy snacks earlier.

After all, the cub was nearly a year old. Once he reached that milestone, he’d be able to eat bamboo shoots.

The cartoon was genuinely well-made—a mix of educational content and childlike fun, informative yet never boring.

…

When the assistant heard his boss say to decorate the office, he let out a big sigh of relief—finally, the boss remembered he had a job.

Until now, most company matters were handled by the secretary, who would bring them to the boss for review. Once approved, the assistant would then distribute them across departments.

But with a six-figure salary, he didn’t mind being worked to the bone. In fact, he looked forward every day to the cub’s first birthday so they could return to work together.

On the cub’s first birthday, Xie Hui didn’t invite many friends. For one, the lively cub seemed a bit shy around strangers. Secondly, he wasn’t exactly human.

Most people were like the original client—fully human—and Xie Hui didn’t want his child to be subjected to their strange looks.

Many people treated pets with love, even calling them “son” or “daughter.” But if they actually had a child who was an animal, deep down, they’d still feel a level of resistance.

So Xie Hui kept things simple and threw a modest, informal birthday party.

He got up early for once, carved freshly delivered bamboo shoots into the cub’s favorite cartoon characters, and prepared a variety of snacks.

Unless food was involved, the cub usually slept soundly.

Xie Hui placed the snacks by his bed, almost burying the cub in them.

He didn’t wake him up—just let him sleep in.

Midmorning, the cub woke up and saw a mountain of snacks. He instinctively rubbed his dark circles with a paw, then bit it to check if he was dreaming.

After confirming it was real, he launched himself into the snack pile, happily rolling around.

Standing outside the door, Xie Hui could tell just from the little noises that the cub was overjoyed.

At mealtime, Xie Hui brought out a homemade cake and dabbed a bit on the cub’s ear. When the cub tried to dodge, he smeared some onto his eye markings too.

The cub then copied him, chasing Xie Hui with a paw covered in frosting.

The day after the birthday, Xie Hui brought the cub to the office.

By now, it was hard to keep him in the stroller—he’d wriggle under the sunshade and squeeze out.

Even in Xie Hui’s arms, the cub wouldn’t sit still for long. He especially loved perching on Xie Hui’s shoulder, where he’d stay obedient and quiet.

It had been fine when he was smaller, but now that he was one year old, he was heavy enough that Xie Hui’s shoulders would go numb after a while.

Once in the office, Xie Hui sat at his desk and started working.

The cub sat on the desk chewing on bamboo shoots. With his paws and teeth, he peeled the tender shoots and neatly stacked the husks beside him.

Though his claws and teeth weren’t very agile, the cub seemed obsessed with peeling them perfectly clean before eating.

With the crisp sound of chewing mixing with the gentle clatter of keyboard taps, it created a one-of-a-kind harmony.