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Babe was the most perceptive of the litter of five, always quick to read the mood of a room. When the family told it not to climb onto the stove, Babe would tuck its paws neatly beneath it and settle down quietly to one side, watching the old grandmother bustle about her work. Only when the family had all sat down to eat would Babe appear, just so, right beneath their open palms. Babe was well loved by the other cats too, being as it was both lovely to look at and well-versed in the subtle ways of cat society. Every now and then, it allowed itself a small touch of vanity, quite certain that Qiantang was the finest place in all the world, blessed with fish and shrimp enough that one could never eat them all.