Felt opens its eyes lazily and shifts its rump with obvious reluctance. The east side of Chongde Hall's plaza…
Felt opens its eyes lazily and shifts its rump with obvious reluctance.
The east side of Chongde Hall's plaza is its favorite corner. In winter, it gets the warm afternoon sun there.
Before it knows it, the sun has slid to the other side. Felt follows the warmth and flops back down.
Every few days, this place turns lively for a while. When that happens, Felt hides in the shrubs and watches people in robes of different colors stream in and out.
Some footsteps are light, as if a wind could lift them skyward.
Others drag with heavy sighs, breath like silt settling in still water.
Sometimes someone stops in front of Felt, bends down, pulls out a meat cake from a sleeve, and crumbles it onto the ground.
It's cold, but it still smells good.
The person who feeds it comes every few days. And Felt has gotten used to wandering over after sunbathing to look around the hall.
A few familiar voices always call out.
"Its fur is so soft, like felt. So warm."
"Felt, come here!"
Each time they leave the hall, they call for Felt with a visible sense of relief and set food down.
"The imperial presence is daunting. Making it through today without a mistake is already a blessing."
A hand strokes Felt's head, grateful that another day has passed in one piece. Felt answers with a single meow.
People come and go.
Felt only cares whether the sky stays clear today.