Little Reed took the two chopsticks stuck in the unfinished lunchbox, and poked the dead mouse.

No movement.

Really dead?

Feeling that the chopsticks weren’t handy enough, Little Reed tossed them aside, ran to the kitchen, and fetched the pair of tongs that hadn’t been used since moving in. Using the tongs, he dangled the mouse, as if to make sure it was truly dead. Then he grabbed his digital camera and took photos from every angle, before rushing back to his computer—he didn’t even bother playing his game anymore—and hurriedly posted the photos on the forum, vividly describing what had just happened. As a result, many people replied saying they didn’t believe it.

A seasoned cat owner posted several photos: some of the mice in the pictures were riddled with holes from bites, others were nothing but incomplete limbs and tails, with the torso missing.

Little Reed turned to look at the black cat in the living room, who was stretching lazily and didn’t even bother glancing at its prey, then continued arguing with people on the forum. At that moment, his phone rang again. Little Reed wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear, typing furiously on the keyboard at the same time.

Logan Bennett circled the room once, found no scent of other mice, and decided not to keep watch here any longer.

Just as he was about to return to his chair for a nap, Logan Bennett twitched his ears and heard someone singing downstairs.

He walked out of the room and onto the balcony, filtering out the sounds of Little Reed talking on the phone and typing, and listened carefully. This time, he heard it clearly.

“Last night’s~ last night’s stars~ have fallen~ disappeared into~ the distant Milky Way~~~”

Logan Bennett: “……”

That deliberately lowered voice, which still couldn’t hide its unique timbre, the vibrato added for emotional effect, and the fact that this song was even older than Logan Bennett himself…

Damn it, that annoying bird downstairs is up in the middle of the night singing old nostalgic songs again!

Chapter Six: The Four Jerks of the East District and the Rich, Handsome Parrot

Downstairs from comrade Little Reed lives a rather unusual resident, whose peculiarity lies mainly in the pet he keeps—a rare blue-and-gold macaw.

This bird is named “General,” and is the paragon of “tall, rich, and handsome” among parrots. Its value rivals that of a fully renovated 100-square-meter apartment in downtown Chuhua, and its price is still climbing.

With high intelligence, fluency in multiple languages, and a striking appearance—not to mention the principle that rarity increases value—it’s no wonder this annoying bird is so expensive.

Unlike most balconies in this residential building, the fourth-floor balcony is completely enclosed with thick wire mesh, mainly to prevent the bird inside from flying out. It’s not that they’re afraid it’ll escape, but rather that it might bully people and animals. This guy looks well-behaved, but is actually full of mischief.

“General” has a nickname: “Cat’s Bane.” This guy especially loves to bully cats, particularly biting their ears. It’s said that several cats at the school have been bitten before. Logan Bennett heard this from Mr. Carter when he first arrived here. Mr. Carter repeatedly warned Logan Bennett, intending to make him more vigilant—beware of fire, theft, and parrots. Just look at the size of this bird, and think about the bite force of a macaw, and you’ll know how much damage it can do when it gets aggressive.

However, after getting to know it, Logan Bennett realized that this bird actually chooses its targets when bullying cats. The cats in the East residential area are fine—as long as they don’t provoke it, it generally won’t attack. But if it sees a cat from the West residential area, then sorry.

Perhaps influenced by its owner, this bird especially loves singing old nostalgic songs. Some of the songs Logan Bennett has only heard in retro documentaries, some he doesn’t recognize at all, but just from the melody, he can tell they’re from decades ago—like the one he just heard, which dates back to the 1980s, and that’s one of the newer ones.

What Logan Bennett finds most astonishing is the bird’s abilities. If the average parrot has the intelligence of a four- or five-year-old child, then the one downstairs is probably on par with an adult—a genius, even.

Why do I say that?

The bird downstairs was still singing softly. Logan Bennett couldn’t take it anymore, looked up at the starry sky with a long sigh, then scanned the balcony, found a metal mosquito coil holder, pushed it to the edge of the railing, and stretched out his paw to tap it lightly.

“Dang-ding, dang-dang, dang-ding-dang-ding…” [Damn it, you’re so noisy!]

The singing downstairs stopped abruptly. The next moment, Logan Bennett heard the sound of wings flapping and claws hitting the wire mesh—“clang, clang”—clearly, the bird hadn’t expected to hear such a sound at this hour, so it got excited and ran to the edge of the mesh.

Soon after, there came the sound of pecking from downstairs. It sounded like the bird was pecking at some kind of food packaging.

“Da-di, di-di, di-da-da-da, di-di-da…” [You’re actually here!]

No one would have guessed that, in the middle of the night, a cat on the fifth floor and a parrot on the fourth floor of Building B, East Faculty Residence, Chuhua University, were communicating in Morse code.

Actually, Logan Bennett wasn’t very skilled at Morse code—he’d only learned it recently. The one who could really use it fluently was the most inconspicuous and seemingly useless tabby cat, Big Ben.