It was a cat, but it lived nine lives.
In its first life, it lay beneath the apricot platform, listening to Confucius say that the sound of “benevolence” was like bells and chimes. It wagered one life on an answer: Was there anything in this world worth more than life?
In its second life, it crouched beside an execution ground and watched Qin official Zhao Jia spend his life writing laws in blood. It gave up one life to ask a question: If rules have no compassion, are they still rules?
From the Spring and Autumn period to the Republic of China, from the apricot platform to the alleys, it used nine lives to journey through two thousand years of China. It had seen the blades of emperors and generals, and the tears of ordinary people; heard Ji Kang play Guangling San on the execution platform, and the camel bells accompanying Zhang Qian through the desert; watched over a touch of celadon blue in A Jiu’s kiln, and a family letter on the Zhao family’s doorstep.
Nine lives, nine dynasties. It thought it was witnessing history.
Only in its final life did it discover that it wasn’t witnessing history. It was history.
In its ninth life, it crouched on the threshold of an alley in Beijing and carved five words with its claws:
“Keep watch. I’ll come back.”
Who was it waiting for?
Someone who had been gone for two thousand years.
A promise that had never been kept.
A family letter written across nine lives.
A cat has nine lives. When the nine lives become one, it is the Chinese people.
Cats are very spiritual animals. I like them because they have strong healing abilities 👍 👍