The first time fluffy white cat slipped into his apartment, Dan Heng thought it was an accident. A faint jingle of a collar, the soft padding of paws against his spotless floor — then two ocean blue round eyes staring up at him like he was the intruder.

But it kept happening. Each evening, no matter how carefully he closed door or windows, the cat found a way back in, curling itself into a ball on his neatly folded blankets.

It was the same today, a hairy ball of white fur lying on his coffee table as if it were just a place to shed fur.

Just as he was about to drink some warm tea and read a book, a loud and nervous knock on the door echoed through the apartment.