Behind the Windows of Thousands of Homes, the Cat Knows Everything

I was once a pure-bred British shorthair held in the palm of my hand, living in a home with floor-to-ceiling windows, being raised tenderly, and having no worries year after year. Until the male protagonist cheated on her, the female protagonist collapsed and left, never to come back again. The new woman opened the door and moved in. She thought I was an eyesore and a burden, so she kicked me out with her own hands. Once I fell into the clouds, my wealth and wealth became an old dream, and I became a destitute stray cat in the community. I dare not go far and stick to this familiar building. Hidden in shadow during the day, peeking through the window lattice at night, from surviving by rummaging through trash cans to skillfully climbing up every open window sill. I gradually figured out the secret of the whole building: Whose family is loving during the day and having a cold war late at night? Who is trying to be strong when alone and collapses late at night? Whose home is warmly lit, but the inside is already rotten; Whoever hides an affair secretly has an unparalleled reputation in front of others. Human beings are good at disguise, good at acting, and good at packaging broken days into peaceful years. They think that closing the windows is a secret. Little did they know that behind the Wanjia window, all the lies, tenderness, quarrels and loneliness were all seen by a silent cat. I have seen the warmest fireworks in the world, and I have also seen the deepest ravines in people's hearts. I am homeless, but I have seen all the destinations in the world.