Am I A God?

A new item had appeared in the diamond hall.

It was an adorable mini-dress with a cat princess print. It cost five diamonds to use. Putting it on would gift the wearer the ability to use two skills at once for ten whole minutes.

Zhao Yao stared at the dress wordlessly. He closed the Book and let out a dismissive snort.

“Cross-dressing? That’s never gonna happen. I’d rather die,” he thought to himself.

The power the dress afforded was tempting, but he vowed never to use it as he left the extradimensional belly and entered the real world.

He stepped foot into his bedroom, where Baiquan was busy training. He was doing push-up after push-up enthusiastically, his face flushed red from the exertion. Beads of sweat were forming above his brows.

“C’mon, Baiquan. I know you’re dedicated to this, there’s no need to exercise in my bedroom. Jeez,” Zhao Yao commented, “Continue in the living room, won’t you? I need a nap,”

“Yes, Boss. Off I go then,” Baiquan complied.

Hanako looked up from the couch when she heard the bedroom door open. She gulped as Baiquan walked out gingerly, panting and flushed.

“Oh my, that looks intense,” she thought, blushing beet red.

Baiquan noticed her weird expression but did not bother trying to make sense of it. He walked straight into his own room to continue training.

Growing stronger was all he could think about these days. The exercises he did, such as push-ups and sit-ups, were simple, but the result was immense. He was becoming noticeably fitter.

Baiquan was as much the paragon of physical excellence as Matcha was not. The ginger cat was perched on the massage chair again. He put his phone down, extended his paws, then stretched luxuriously.

He let out a huge yawn.

“My, my, my. The view at the top is beautiful, but it sure is lonely,” he sighed dramatically, his eyes on the screen of his phone.

The statistics of his Mobile Legends match was displayed. He had killed a staggering five opponents, a triumph by his standards.

Humming, he started another 5v5 match against a team of AI opponents.

“Humans are far too scheming. I can flaunt my true intellect and skills when I play against computers,” he concluded.

His train of thought was interrupted when his body suddenly froze and tensed. He had, quite unfortunately, grown familiar with this uncomfortable sensation. He knew that it meant he had lost all control of his limbs to a certain ragdoll.

Matcha narrowed his eyes as he involuntarily sprinted towards Elizabeth, phone dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“What do you want, Yeti? Why did you infringe my privacy with your stupid mind-control? he demanded angrily, “I was busy learning!”

Elizabeth did not seem too interested in what Matcha had to say. She was occupied with adjusting her Louis Vuitton purse. She held it in front of her at first, then waved it from her paw, before leaving it on her back.

“Hmm…What’s the prettiest way for me to pose with my purse, do you think?” she asked.

Matcha tilted his head to the side, confused. The poses looked the same to him.

“I don’t know why I bothered asking. Come, help me take some photos. Take as many as you can and I’ll choose a good one later.”

Matcha’s whiskers shook with fury.

“You,” he started, “Made me come here just to be your photographer?! Do you know how busy I am?!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him.

“Busy? You were just playing your game, no? You can always play later.”

“You women know nothing! That’s not just a game. It’s more than that! In fact, it’s my religion.”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed him casually, “Be nice and take some good photos for me. I’ll send you $10 as a reward after.”

Matcha’s demeanor changed instantly.

“Well, Lizzie, I have to say you have found the perfect cat for the job. Who but I, Matcha Leibovitz, can take the most moving photos? I can turn a dog into a wolf through the lens,” he said confidently.

With that, he raised his phone and aimed it in her direction.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful. Do you want to look cute? Or would a modern look be more you? Or sexy, perhaps? Retro? One set of photos would cost you just $10. I’ll give you two sets for the price of one. I’ll even photoshop them until they’re nothing short of perfection.”

“Stop talking.”

Elizabeth took a few more shots of her new purse, then turned to Matcha.

“So here’s what you got to do. I must look good in the photo, but so does my purse. Anyone who takes one look at the picture must spot the purse, but it shouldn’t feel like we’re deliberately showing it off. The spotlight should still be on me. Comprendre?”

“Low-key glam, got it,” Matcha nodded, looking intently at Elizabeth through his camera lens.

He held his phone in one paw and used the other to direct her position.

“Look here, Lizzie! I want you to embody subtle beauty in our first shot,” he instructed.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in a way that was not subtly beautiful.

“What does that even mean, you idiot?” she asked, exasperated.

“I’m not an idiot! I’m Matcha Leibovitz!”

“Whatever, just tell me what to do. Be precise about it!”

“Fine,” Matcha raised a paw into the air, “Look here. Yes, right here. Raise your chin a bit. Your smile can be sweeter. Okay, you’re overdoing it now. Yup, that’s the sweet spot! Show off your tail. Beautiful!”

Rapid clicks could be heard from the camera shutter.

Matcha leaped to away to capture Elizabeth from another angle.

He raised his phone to her, “Turn your upper body toward me and look right into the camera.”

“That makes my back ache.”

“Hang in there, we’re almost done. I just need you to up the melancholy factor. You need to look sad and deep in thought, as if I’ve abandoned you when you’re pregnant with my kitten -,”

His words were cut short when he threw an involuntary punch in his own face.

“She’s completely unprofessional. I’m just helping her get in the zone,” Matcha frowned, rubbing his cheek.

“Fine, then think about how disappointed you’ll be if Baiquan had prepared all your favorite food, but the other cats finished them without you. That’s it. Hold it there. You’re doing terrific, sweetie.”

Click click.

Dust Ball took a look at the duo as she slunk towards them. She let out a yawn and flopped belly-first onto the windowsill.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked.

“Portrait photography, duh,” Matcha responded impatiently, “Since you’re here, you might as well help us with lighting.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Well, if you don’t, I’ll destroy all that catmint you’ve stashed away in the septic tank.”

Dust Ball gritted her teeth.

“Stupid fatty,” she thought angrily, “Looks like I must find a better hiding spot.”

With that, she was enlisted as Matcha’s unwilling assistant.

“Can we move the spotlight further away? It’s blinding Elizabeth.”

“Her hair is all matted. Lizzie, don’t move. Dust Ball, lick her fur clean, please.”

“Where’re the props? Dust Ball, grab the carpet. Seriously, you don’t have a photographer’s eye at all. Keep this up and you’ll stay a lowly assistant forever.”

“Elizabeth, give me your sexiest look. Yes, that’s right, lift that butt and that raise that tail. Show all of you to me -,”

That earned Matcha more punches in rapid succession. He looked at his model begrudgingly through eyes that were swollen shut.

“I don’t mean any offense, Elizabeth. I’m a professional,” he stated.

After a tedious hour, the photoshoot could finally wrap up. Matcha was browsing through the photos with a content smile on his face,

“I think I did a pretty good job. Come see!”

Elizabeth hurried to him eagerly. Matcha was an idiot, but he did seem to know his way around a camera. She was excited to see what he had captured.

Her anticipation soon fizzled into disappointed as she flipped through the hundreds of shots.

“Why do I look so…chunky?” she remarked, brows furrowed.

“And what’s with this lighting? My face is as wide as a 50-inch TV.”

“And this?! Why did you take a photo of me grooming myself when I was having a break?!”

Elizabeth shot Matcha a death glare.

“Matcha Leibovitz? More like Matcha Piece-of-s**t,” she said coldly.

Matcha found himself retreating ever so slightly.

“This is what abstract photography is like,” he murmured.

“Seriously, what use are you? You suck at your stupid games and you suck at taking photos,” she huffed, flipping through the photos quickly.

Only three photos were passable and she sent them all to herself.