The System Mistook Me for a Cat

The system had searched and found that "all children who have been to Disneyland will be very happy" and that "Disney is the place with the highest concentration of happiness in the world." Most parents would think, "Then let's take the kids to Disney!" However, the system always took an unconventional approach—its thought was:

Buy it.

If the child likes it, then buy it!

But it forgot one thing: though it often talked about buying, and Chu Tingwu never stopped it, the truth was that Chu Tingwu had never been to Disneyland.

She had only been to the amusement park in Jin City.

Later, after moving to Shangjing City, she visited many amusement parks, went to the zoo multiple times due to school activities, explored animal conservation bases, traveled to Antarctica, hiked the Kashe Mountains, and wandered through the World Forest Park... but still hadn’t been to Disney.

Until Disney extended an invitation.

The staff member from Disney’s film company initially just wanted to bring up a common topic to help Chu Tingwu open up and chat. But to her surprise, she discovered—

"You’ve never been to Disney?!"

Chu Tingwu: "=="

Is that so strange?

The staff member looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Though Disney really wanted to invite Chu Tingwu for a visit, she had to return to school.

She could skip class for competitions, but skipping school to go to an amusement park? That wouldn’t do.

So, they settled on the May Day holiday. Chu Tingwu agreed to visit Disney then and discuss the movie project in detail.

They would sit down for hours, talking about the film’s theme, what Chu Tingwu hoped it would convey, and how much creative adaptation she was comfortable with.

On the afternoon of April 30th, she flew with Three-Five-Five to the largest Disney park in the U.S.

No matter the season, Disney’s crowds were always bustling, and Chu Tingwu could tell the company took great pride in owning the world’s most iconic and profitable IP.

Their beloved animated characters were everywhere. During the parade, the staff member accompanying her pointed excitedly, saying that one day, Chu Tingwu’s own likeness might join them.

It sounded fun, but Chu Tingwu remained composed: "I think we should first discuss the scope of my personal IP licensing."

The staff member: "...Haha, of course."

Are you really only nineteen?

Chu Tingwu had just turned nineteen, and during her break, she’d even gotten her driver’s license—no more unlicensed driving for her.

While strolling through the park, she was stopped by a family who asked her to take their photo with the Disney princesses. Noticing Chu Tingwu’s subdued reactions, one of the performers—a princess—approached her, waving and gesturing for a photo together.

Nearby, others were recording, and when they spotted the interaction, they naturally focused their cameras on them.

Chu Tingwu smiled faintly.

Many attractions at Disney allowed pets, and while Chu Tingwu wasn’t overly excited—she was happy as long as the system was—she noticed Three-Five-Five’s curiosity and took the cat on some of the milder rides.

Gradually, she found herself enjoying it too.

The staff suggested Three-Five-Five could ride on the parade float, but Chu Tingwu declined. She noticed people taking photos—some even seemed to be focusing on her rather than the performers.

Staff member: "You’re quite famous!"

After Chu Tingwu’s skateboarding videos went viral abroad, every subsequent upload gained significant traction. Later, when her company’s VR pods were sold overseas, a peculiar superstition emerged among users: "After getting the pod, you must binge WU’s videos first." It was like those chain posts claiming, "Share this on [celebrity]’s birthday for good luck!" Except... well, Chu Tingwu’s birthday posts did come with actual rewards, and her company offered discounts on all products.

The only catch was that she celebrated her lunar birthday, forcing her international fans to learn the lunar calendar.

That night, staying at a Disney hotel, she stumbled upon videos about herself. Visiting Disney during a holiday wasn’t unusual—though people did raise eyebrows at her choice of the overseas park over the closer one in Sea City. Still, most just liked the posts and scrolled on.

But the next day, the content took a bizarre turn—

Why was Master Chu climbing Disney’s castle? And why were the staff not stopping her but instead watching and filming?!

Chu Tingwu: "=,="

Because they were gathering footage.

After discussions, Disney’s film team finalized the movie’s theme and title: *A Serendipitous Journey*.

The name didn’t mention cats or Chu Tingwu’s full name, which satisfied her. If she hadn’t intervened, it might have been titled *Tingwu and the Cat*—arguably more poetic in a way!

The director loved the "meaning" behind Chu Tingwu’s name, saying it fit their romanticized perception of Chinese names:

"It’s like embedding a poem into a name!"

Chu Tingwu: "Not really. My family didn’t overthink it when naming me..."

"My grandmother—my father’s mother—chose my name. Our generation’s middle character had to include the ‘mouth’ radical, so they picked ‘Ting’ (listen). My grandmother passed away, so I don’t know her exact thoughts, but her hometown happened to have this song..."

The director listened to the song.

A boatman’s chant, rough yet melodious, carrying a tinge of melancholy and the local dialect’s slurred diction. The director adored it and wanted to use it as the film’s opening theme.

Being a folk song, securing the rights was easy. The director planned to rearrange it—"more powerful," "uplifting and sweet, evoking anticipation," "just... more of *that*"—and turn it into the closing track.

Chu Tingwu: "Hmm..."

She suggested the director collaborate with Shao Lingwu but stayed out of the rest.

Shao Lingwu, back in Shangjing City: "..."

@S05:

[SOS! I expected competition in romance, but this is an unexpected battlefield...]

Shao Lingwu: He’d braced for rivals in love...

But now even composing for Chu Tingwu had competition, and from Disney’s entire music division?!

Without hesitation, he booked a flight to Disney’s headquarters.

Compared to their legendary composers, he was a nobody. But stripping away fame and status, what truly moved people was the music itself.

Chu Tingwu: "Well said!"

Chu Tingwu: "Then I’m heading home."

Shao Lingwu: "..."

Between Disney visits and film talks, Chu Tingwu finalized the movie’s direction. Significant adaptations were inevitable, and contract negotiations dragged on, but at least she was assured Disney wouldn’t produce anything she disliked.

Besides, the system was watching.

After watching Shao Lingwu argue his case for a while, she gave Three-Five-Five’s butt a pat and left.

Though Three-Five-Five had no idea why the little one had to pat her rear.

Shao Lingwu was indeed inexperienced—under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even have a chance to stand before the Disney music department, and his family’s influence wouldn’t help here. But she had a feeling he wouldn’t come out worse for it.

And then Shao Lingwu never returned.

The school knew he was "interning" at Disney and readily approved his leave, while Chu Tingwu always managed to get the latest updates on the movie from him—though the system reported them even earlier.

During this time, Disney took many of her unpublished sports-related videos, and Chu Tingwu casually obtained a helicopter pilot’s license during her break.

Time flew by. When Zhou Qiang returned from her off-campus exchange program and went to Huake University to track Chu Tingwu down, she discovered that Chu Tingwu had been "borrowed" by the veterinary medicine department at the neighboring medical university.

Zhou Qiang: “…In what capacity? As an animal?”

The student who answered nearly jumped in fright: “No, no, no! It’s as an animal communicator. Professor Li is researching animal acupuncture and wanted Chu Chu’s help.”

Human medicine had developed over millennia, but modern veterinary therapy still lagged behind—after all, animals couldn’t speak. If traditional Chinese medicine were applied to animals, extensive experimental data would be needed to confirm dosage ratios.

But with Chu Tingwu around, her talent in "animal linguistics" and "animal psychology" was undeniable. Soon, the neighboring university came to borrow her again. This time, since Huake had finished finals early and was on break before the medical school, they lent Chu Tingwu out as a translator.

When Zhou Qiang found her, Chu Tingwu was holding a dog while surrounded by barking… except none of the barks came from the actual dog.

Getting caught imitating dog barks wasn’t too embarrassing—after all, how could they become doctors if they couldn’t handle a little awkwardness?

The students calmly greeted Zhou Qiang and bid Chu Tingwu farewell, only to sprint three hundred meters the moment they were out of sight.

Chu Tingwu: I can still hear you =v=

Zhou Qiang had come to reserve Chu Tingwu’s time for a movie outing.

Chu Tingwu: “But *The Wonderous Journey* won’t premiere for at least two more months…”

Zhou Qiang: “The moment the release news dropped, you got booked!”

Chu Tingwu: Well, I don’t mind a big group sleepover.

To accommodate all her friends and family who wanted to watch the movie together, she booked an entire theater for the premiere. Since it was in Shangjing City and some friends couldn’t make it, she gave away the extra tickets, telling them to pass them on to classmates and relatives—anyone who could come was welcome.

On opening night, Chu Tingwu even spotted Teacher Wang—the student of Teacher Zhang Youyi.

If not for Teacher Wang back then, Chu Tingwu might never have met Teacher Zhang Youyi. Now, they had become as close as family. The thought left Teacher Wang with complicated feelings.

…Well, today, he had brought his wife, who had recently moved to Shangjing, to watch the movie "starring" Chu Tingwu.

“Since Chu Tingwu is so popular, the seats were randomized—”

Zhou Qiang: “Should you really be the one saying that?”

Chu Tingwu sat in the third row, slightly to the left, while Zhou Qiang was in the center of the sixth row. The others were scattered about—perfect for focusing on the film.

She settled in, letting Three-Five-Five sprawl across her lap. The cat mother’s tail flicked lazily, brushing against the person beside them, who instinctively turned to look.

Chu Tingwu: “Sorry, are you allergic to cat hair?”

She recognized the girl—a student from Tsinghua University. An Shiyan had given her the ticket. She was from the same department, an older student, but very young. Chu Tingwu called her “Little Ye.”

Little Ye, who seemed only sixteen, glanced down at Three-Five-Five and shook her head, though her expression remained serious.

Chu Tingwu: Could it be…?

Little Ye: “I’m a dog person.”

Chu Tingwu: “I didn’t ask you to pet her ==”

The brief exchange ended as the movie began.

Chu Tingwu turned to the screen—

A familiar boat song played as the camera swayed gently, revealing a figure lying on the deck.

The person’s brows were slightly furrowed, as if still asleep or listening to the soft voice humming the song in a dream. But the next second, someone shook them awake, and the singing abruptly ceased.

The ones doing the shaking were tourists on the sightseeing boat. They had spotted someone lying there and rushed to check—only for the girl to snap her eyes open with a wary expression. She let out a sharp “hiss,” and when someone reached for her, she suddenly broke free of the crowd, leaping up to crouch on the ornamental dragon head at the ship’s edge.

The camera zoomed in, lingering on the rotting wood of the dragon head, accompanied by a faint, ominous creak—as if it couldn’t bear the weight.

Amid the creaking, the side characters in the movie quickly explained the situation.

The girl was also a tourist. Someone had noticed she seemed upset earlier, as if she had boarded the boat to clear her mind, but no one knew why she had fainted. Throughout this, the girl’s expression remained guarded—not just toward these people, but toward humans as a species.

Then, a tour guide rushed over, breathless, calling out, “Ting… Ting, T-Ting—”

“Wait, let me check the name—”

“Tingwu!!”

The moment the name was shouted, the wooden dragon head beneath the girl’s feet shattered. As the wood splintered, a crow flew past the camera, drawing a gasp from the audience. But when the crow vanished, “Tingwu” didn’t fall into the water—instead, she was already sprinting across rooftops.

From her posture and facial expressions, everyone could tell…

Little Ye: “A cat?”

It was unmistakable—a cat had taken over a human’s body!

The scene then shifted to “Tingwu’s” perspective. Her inner monologue was unmistakably feline, peppered with “meows” every few words—

“Tingwu” was a kitten.

Perhaps the most energetic of her litter, she had already begun learning to use her instincts—running, jumping, and even attempting to hunt. But it was clear to the audience that she didn’t remember much.

As if, upon entering a human’s body, she had lost most of her memories, leaving the little cat confused and wary.

The movie featured plenty of action sequences and chases, set against the backdrop of the modern Sea City. The body’s original owner had apparently been visiting to unwind, but a bustling metropolis was no place for a “human cat.”

Yet soon, the situation on-screen began to shift.

Because a crow calling itself "Phoenix" showed up, claiming it could help this little cat—

Chu Tingwu: "Return to my body?"

Phoenix: "Become an excellent cat."

Chu Tingwu decided to catch a bird to satisfy her cravings.

Laughter echoed in the movie theater. From a cat’s perspective, living in a human body while being accompanied by a well-meaning but clumsy crow in an unfamiliar city was clearly no easy feat. Yet, Di○ney didn’t let the plot delve into the tangled, harsh realities.

Due to her feline-enhanced agility, Chu Tingwu, startled by a car, accidentally stumbled into a parkour competition. Despite starting late, she somehow took first place. The organizers wanted to award the champion—only to realize she hadn’t even registered. Still, the other competitors treated her to a meal, assuming she was a drifting contestant, and kindly let her stay in their rented apartment.

Meanwhile, the tour guide was still frantically searching all over Sea City.

The contestants had come to Sea City for the upcoming international parkour competition, chasing their dreams. But just as they were passionately discussing their futures, their wallets were stolen in the blink of an eye.

Everyone gave chase, and Chu Tingwu joined in. Before the contestants could cheer, they noticed that even though she was close to catching the thief, she took a different turn at the fork in the road—

The audience was puzzled until the protagonist stopped, face-to-face with an adult tortoiseshell cat perched on a wall.

The tortoiseshell’s fur was fluffy, but she seemed thinner than the average stray. Her slightly hoarse meow cut through the now-silent background music, sounding almost mournful in the quiet theater—like a call for something.

Then, Chu Tingwu let out a sound akin to a kitten’s whimper.

The mother cat leaped down.

Around the cat’s neck was a silver tag engraved with "Three-Five-Five." The human stood still as the cat slowly approached. Finally, Chu Tingwu crouched, pressing her forehead gently against the cat’s, the sunset light catching on her lashes.

Then, the sound of chaos grew louder—the thief, cornered, had run back into the alley.

Spotting the two blocking his path, the thief cursed and waved, demanding they move—

The audience expected Chu Tingwu to act, but instead, she shrank back and let out a tiny, kitten-like hiss. Then, a flash of ferocity gleamed in the tortoiseshell’s eyes.

By the time the contestants caught up, the thief was writhing on the ground in pain, while Chu Tingwu picked up the stolen wallets.

The competitors were effusively grateful.

The audience couldn’t help but laugh: "She didn’t do it—she just recruited a cat to fight for her!"

By now, it was clear: the story wasn’t overly complex. It used the "parkour competition" as a way for a human-cat hybrid to integrate into human society, learning from scratch how to be human—

Without entirely abandoning her feline instincts.

She had her cat mother teaching her, paw-by-paw, how to better utilize her athletic gifts. She had a talking crow coaching her on life skills—if it weren’t for the lack of supplies, the crow might’ve even helped prepare a milk bottle.

Amidst this clumsy adaptation, Chu Tingwu made plenty of blunders but also earned praise and awed gazes from fellow parkour athletes. Eventually, she successfully registered for the competition.

Meanwhile, the tour guide trudged out of the police station with a sigh.

He was explaining to the officer, "I just can’t find her anywhere," and the officer reassured him—just as an advertisement truck rolled by, cycling through close-ups of all the contestants. And there, perfectly timed, was Chu Tingwu’s face.

To the tune of a lively jingle, the competition began, and police cars raced toward the event.

As Chu Tingwu stepped onto the starting line, she realized something was off with her shoes.

The hidden subplot surfaced—one of the contestants didn’t want her to win. The crow brought backup shoes, but she didn’t put them on.

Instead, she kicked them off, shedding her jacket too, as if casting away restraints. Her golden eyes burned with determination.

The crow: "Caw?"

For a moment, it seemed like a fleeting illusion—but then the girl muttered a few cat-like curses, turning the competition into a cat café.

By the time the police arrived, Chu Tingwu had already won. The tour guide rushed forward, only to slip—his hand shot out to grab her. She tried to dodge but was blocked by the crowd, tumbling onto the podium.

Her head hit the edge, and long-lost memories began surfacing.

Turns out, she wasn’t actually a cat.

A kitten’s soul had passed through her, leaving behind its essence while briefly suppressing her memories.

Phoenix was the ancestral phoenix spirit awakened by her grief, vowing to care for her in place of the family she’d lost—only to discover, upon meeting her: *Why is my fledgling a cat now?*

Chu Tingwu: "...Didn’t you ever question it?"

Phoenix: "But whether you’re human or cat, you’re still my fledgling."

What’s wrong with being a cat? Cats are adorable!

Better to be a happy cat than a sorrowful human.

Di○ney’s films often aren’t "grand"—they don’t focus on saving the world, becoming heroes, or protecting nations.

They use movies to explore small, endearing dilemmas.

Like *"The struggles of my youth,"* *"I want to pursue my music dreams,"* *"I want to be a cop,"* *"I want to love the world, but I’m struggling."* And now, their protagonist wants to *"become a cat"*—or rather, she already is one.

The message is delivered through the film:

*"From a cat’s perspective, the things that weigh you down are no bigger than a ball of yarn."*

*"When sadness and stress threaten to crush you, give yourself permission to turn into a cat."*

And so, opportunities arise. Miracles happen. Maybe not every hardship in life comes with a miracle—but at the very least, it makes the wait a little easier.

In the film’s final scene, Chu Tingwu stands atop Mount Vinson in Antarctica. From parkour to polar skiing, much time seems to have passed. She reaches up to adjust her goggles, the camera zooming in on her bright eyes—

Just as she begins her descent, those eyes flicker into feline slits.

The end credits open with the sound of howling wind. Though the screen fades to black, the sound of skis gliding lingers before softly fading away.

Chu Tingwu blinks, noticing Little Ye’s gaze fixed on Three-Five-Five’s collar.

There, hanging from it, is a silver tag identical to the one in the movie.

Chu Tingwu smiles: "Want to pet her?"

*So she recognized it!*

Little Ye nods—then reaches out and pats *Chu Tingwu’s* head.

Chu Tingwu: "?"

Wait, that wasn’t an invitation to pet *me*!

Little Ye withdrew her hand, forming an "eight" with her fingers to prop up her chin. "I think cats are pretty cute now," she said.

Chu Tingwu: "Obviously."

The script had actually been discussed for a long time, as Chu Tingwu's life was full of dramatic moments that could easily be adapted into films—each one seemingly more epic than the last. But in the end, they settled on this story: her encounter with the system, her meeting Three-Five-Five, and how she rediscovered pure joy through parkour.

This was enough.

It ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‍was a beginning, not an end.

Besides, the system was quite pleased with the decision, declaring:

"Once we buy out Disney, we can make ten more sequels!"

No point in exhausting all the material now—that’d be such a waste!

Chu Tingwu: "=="

Someone save Disney!!