Author Archives: Thandar

The campus broadcast starts at 12:10 every noon. After asking Huang Jiajia to bring her a pineapple bun, Ruan Cha headed straight to the broadcasting room on the sixth floor of Building C.

The first five floors of Building C are exclusively for the third-year students. Positioned at the quietest, innermost part of the campus, this location ensures no distractions from the playground near the front of the school, allowing students to focus on preparing for the college entrance exam.

Walking from Building B, where the second-year classrooms are located, to Building C takes about fifteen minutes round trip. Ruan Cha knew she wouldn’t have time to grab lunch at the cafeteria after her broadcast.

Contrary to her expectations, the broadcasting room was spacious and well-lit, furnished with the latest equipment. In the corner of the room, there was a tastefully decorated lounge area.

Two hydrangea plants adorned the table, while a lush, hanging pothos plant added a touch of greenery to the cabinets.

Ruan Cha looked around the room, marveling inwardly. It felt less like a broadcasting room and more like an elegant and serene private tea lounge.

Unlike other schools, second high’s broadcasting room was managed by the English club, and its decor expenses were covered by the club’s budget.

Ruan Cha had agreed to Lin Ling’s sudden request for her to cover this shift largely because she was considering joining the English club. It was a club that could help her seamlessly complete system tasks during future activities.

One of the requirements for applying to the English club was that the applicant must participate in a campus broadcast and receive approval from the English club president. Only then would their application be approved.

High school senior Chu Shuwei, who was organizing scripts, looked up and immediately noticed Ruan Cha. She was a new face—purely beautiful, with striking features. She wasn’t wearing the school uniform, which was likely still being tailored, but her striped shirt and black pencil pants gave her a sleek, refined look, making her appear tall and elegant.

He glanced at the duty roster for the broadcasting room. “Grade 11, Class 10—Ruan Cha?”

“That’s me.” Ruan Cha nodded, closed the door behind her, and approached. “Good afternoon, senior. Where is our class’s script?”

Chu Shuwei pulled out the top sheet of an A4 stack of scripts. “Your class changed the theme of the script yesterday afternoon. Did you get a chance to practice it a few times last night?”

“No, I was notified this morning,” Ruan Cha replied, taking the script and glancing at its contents. She quickly got a sense of it. The Class 10 script introduced a few international destinations suitable for group trips, targeting students.

Second High focuses on international education, with each class organizing study tours abroad annually. According to what Xie Chang’an had told her, Class 10 went to France during the second semester of their first year. Parents even helped out on the trip, drawing envy from other classes.

Chu Shuwei frowned slightly at her response. “This is your first time seeing the new script?”

Ruan Cha nodded indifferently. To be precise, she hadn’t seen any of the old scripts either. “Senior, could you please turn on the broadcasting equipment? It’s almost time.”

Chu Shuwei had initially planned to ask if she wanted to familiarize herself with the script, as reading an entirely English script without prior practice could lead to stumbles.

However, when he saw her calm and composed demeanor, his concern dissipated. He turned on the broadcasting equipment, adjusted the volume, and raised a finger to his lips, signaling to Ruan Cha that any sound made in the broadcasting room would now be heard by the entire school.

On the fifth floor of the cafeteria, Ji Feiyang sat down and immediately noticed Huang Jiajia and her two friends at the neighboring table. He couldn’t help but glance around the cafeteria in search of Ruan Cha. After scanning the room several times without spotting her, he adjusted his glasses and shamelessly leaned over. “Huang Jiajia, didn’t Ruan Cha come to the cafeteria with you all today?”

Since getting to know Huang Jiajia and her friends during equestrian class, Ruan Cha had been eating lunch with them regularly. Being in the same class made it more convenient for everyone.

Although Ji Feiyang wasn’t in the same class, his role as the school’s “information broker” meant there was no one at Second High he didn’t know.

“Ruan Cha got assigned to the broadcasting room today,” Huang Jiajia explained while unwrapping her meal. “She asked me to bring her back a pineapple bun. Ruan Cha’s so well-behaved. In our class, apart from Lin Ling, who loves to show off, and Song Mengyu, the English class rep, no one else ever volunteers for broadcasting duty.”

Fu Chen paused mid-motion as he picked up some food with his chopsticks. The image of Ruan Cha’s bright, smiling eyes from their past encounters flashed through his mind. On the surface, she certainly seemed obedient, but…

Recalling the striking contrast in her Grade 10 transcript with perfect 150s and scattered 10s, he wasn’t so sure how well her outward appearance matched her inner character.

Fu Chen’s slightly softened attitude toward Ruan Cha stemmed from his knowledge of their intertwined family history. His mother had lived a happy life in the Liang family, loved and cherished by her father and eldest brother. Meanwhile, Ruan Cha’s mother, switched at birth, had grown up in a town orphanage, inevitably enduring hardships.

Though the mix-up had been the hospital’s fault, Fu Chen felt an urge to do what little he could to ease his late mother’s conscience, ensuring she could rest easy wherever she was.

While the group chatted, a crisp and familiar female voice emerged from the campus broadcast:

“Good afternoon, from…”

The introduction was impeccable, with clear enunciation and a flawless, authentic RP (Received Pronunciation) accent. In the bustling cafeteria, the voice created a momentary pause.

Fu Chen set down his chopsticks and knocked lightly on the table to get Ji Feiyang’s attention. “Feiyang, Sleepbag, I’m heading back. You two take your time.”

Without giving Ji Feiyang a chance to dig for gossip, Fu Chen picked up his tray and stood. Almost as soon as he left the cafeteria, Ruan Cha’s initial self-introduction concluded, and her tone subtly shifted as she transitioned into reading the script.

At the dish return counter, Fu Chen stopped in his tracks, his expression freezing for a brief moment. Slowly, a look of admiration softened his sharp features.

It wasn’t just Fu Chen. Across Second High’s campus, many students and teachers tuned in upon hearing her accent. Those who recognized the pristine RP pronunciation couldn’t help but turn their heads in the direction of the sound.

Her voice carried an innate charm, clear yet relaxed, with a natural cadence that made each international travel destination she described sound irresistibly appealing.

While Second High’s student body was about evenly split between those proficient in English and those who weren’t, even those who didn’t understand what Ruan Cha was saying found themselves enjoying the broadcast. Her accent was so pleasing that it could easily serve as the number one background soundtrack.

In Class 10, one girl frowned as she overheard her classmates praising Ruan Cha and speculating about her identity. Turning to Lin Ling, she asked sharply, “Didn’t you say you prepared a ‘big gift’ for Ruan Cha? Was it just letting her become this famous in Second High? Seriously, even people who don’t understand a word are saying how nice she sounds—like a top-tier BGM!”

The girl couldn’t help but feel relieved after she spoke, thankful that when she’d wanted to spread rumors about Ruan Cha during lunch, Lin Ling had stopped her.

Lin Ling was equally shocked—so much so that she could hardly believe her ears. She even suspected that Ruan Cha had swapped herself out halfway through the broadcast and let someone else take over!

In Lin Ling’s mind, Ruan Cha’s perfect spelling during the English dictation was only because of rote memorization. A girl from a small town? It was impressive enough if she could read English without a thick accent. Lin Ling had fully expected Ruan Cha to stumble and stutter through the script.

But instead, Ruan Cha delivered the broadcast with a natural, authentic accent so perfect it felt like a foreigner was speaking. It was as though an invisible hand had slapped Lin Ling squarely across the face.

As Lin Ling listened to the impeccable intonation and precise pronunciation over the broadcast, her mouth hung slightly open, unable to form words for a long while. Did Ruan Cha grow up listening to the BBC? Why on earth does she sound like a professional announcer?!

Frustrated, Lin Ling threw her fork, still twirled with spaghetti, onto her plate with a loud clang. Crossing her arms, she let out a cold laugh. “Do you think I’d be kind enough to make her famous? Just wait. Keep listening to her broadcast. Some people—when they’re raised too high—fall even harder.”

Her tablemates exchanged uneasy glances. Truthfully, they couldn’t understand much of the broadcast themselves.

To be honest, if it weren’t for Lin Ling, they wouldn’t have paid any attention to the school broadcast. Watching a drama or listening to music was way more appealing!

As Lin Ling finished speaking, a brief pause did indeed appear on the broadcast.

Ruan Cha stared at the printed English script, her gaze narrowing slightly as a cool smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

The first half of the script introduced a few well-known international landmarks. But the latter half? It abruptly shifted to criticizing movies filmed at a particular location. The tone was combative, the language inflammatory, and it blatantly revealed the narrow-mindedness of its writer.

The sentences were complex, and the vocabulary uncommon. If someone were to read the script under pressure, two likely scenarios could occur:

1. If the reader had merely memorized the words without fully grasping their meaning, they might read the entire problematic section verbatim, oblivious to its implications.
2. If they weren’t familiar with the specialized terms, they might stumble, hesitate, or even misread, causing awkward errors.

Before coming to the broadcast room, Ruan Cha had guessed that Lin Ling hoped to see her falter under pressure. Then, when she overheard Chu Shuwei mentioning that the script had been swapped the day before, everything clicked.

Lin Ling had only told her about the broadcast duty that morning, yet had gone to the trouble of replacing the script beforehand. If the outcome was going to be the same no matter what, why bother?

Unless the new script was specifically designed to cause problems.

After scanning the problematic section, Ruan Cha decisively slapped the script onto the table without a second glance. She then leaned into the microphone, adjusted her posture, and cleared her throat lightly. Her clear, cheerful voice rang out:

“I think hometown…”

The broadcast content was clear, but Ruan Cha decided to improvise, seamlessly transitioning from the planned script to introducing her hometown. Her description painted a vivid picture of a beautiful, serene, historically rich small town with a slow-paced lifestyle, captivating the imaginations of both students and teachers.

Chu Shuwei, who had been about to ask Ruan Cha why she had paused, froze in place as he watched her completely abandon the script and let her creativity take flight. In just a few sentences, she transformed an ordinary small town into a near-magical paradise.

Students with strong English skills, especially those accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city, couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of anticipation and curiosity. Some were already planning to ask for the name of this idyllic place. Even those who didn’t fully understand the broadcast found themselves drawn in by the natural flow and charm of Ruan Cha’s delivery.

What was most impressive was that although she deviated from the original script, her content aligned perfectly with the theme of “building interest and leading into the subject.” Furthermore, her descriptions of her hometown felt incredibly authentic, using expressions and phrasing that mirrored native British conversational habits—unlike the earlier part of the script, which bore the unmistakable mark of a non-native writer.

Gradually, the murmurs in the school quieted down. Many students closed their eyes as they listened, transported to an imaginary scene of misty London streets surrounded by gentlemen. Even those who couldn’t understand the English broadcast didn’t doubt her fluency—after all, they couldn’t comprehend the original script to begin with. The collective atmosphere of focus made others instinctively pay attention as well.

“Clap, clap, clap.”

Chu Shuwei’s eyes sparkled with admiration as he applauded enthusiastically. “Junior, your accent is incredibly authentic, and your delivery was so engaging. Have you spent a few years living abroad?”

Although there had been whispers about the identity of the true heiress to the Liang family, most students outside of Class 10 and certain social circles didn’t know who Ruan Cha was. Moreover, due to Liang Qianling’s disparaging remarks, many believed that the heiress came from a family of modest means. Seeing Ruan Cha now—with her striking looks, refined demeanor, and impressive abilities—it was hard for anyone to associate her with those rumors.

Ruan Cha chuckled lightly. “No, I’ve always lived in my hometown and just arrived in Nan City less than half a month ago.”

“But your English is so fluent and natural. Do you practice with tapes or watch BBC news often?” Chu Shuwei, being a member of the English club, couldn’t help but admire talented peers.

Ruan Cha smiled as she typed on her phone. “When I was younger, I loved reading Harry Potter. Also, there’s a British uncle who grows vegetables on the mountain near my home—I used to talk with him a lot.”

Her casual tone left Chu Shuwei speechless. A British vegetable farmer? With perfect English pronunciation? Was her uncle a news anchor in the UK before he started farming?

For a moment, he was tempted to ask, “Junior, what kind of international vegetables does your family grow?”

Meanwhile, outside the broadcasting room, Fu Chen arrived with food in hand. Just as he raised his fist to knock, his phone buzzed. Opening the message, his dark eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

[Ruan Cha: Was the broadcast good enough for the English club? 🌟👀]

As the president of the English club, Fu Chen’s lips curved further into a smile. With one hand, he knocked on the door, while the other typed a reply.

[Buzz—]

Ruan Cha glanced down at her phone and froze. Then, as realization dawned, she quickly raised her head to look at the tightly shut broadcasting room door.

[Fu Chen·Super Talented·Nice Guy: Please open the door, future club member.]

Lin Shuishi fell into the icy river, gulping down several mouthfuls of freezing water. His struggling arms fell limp as he quickly lost consciousness.

In the silent and vast, ink-blue world beneath the ice, a small figure sank slowly, descending deeper into the cold depths.

Suddenly! A sharp claw grasped him, pulling him out of the icy water.

His clothes, soaked through, clung to his skin, revealing the delicate and rounded form beneath. His pale and tender face, emerging slowly above the water’s surface, seemed to glow faintly in the dying light of the moon, as if waiting in peaceful slumber for someone to wake him…

Meanwhile, Old Man Zheng and his group had been waiting in the forest from morning until afternoon, but there was still no sign of Dongsheng. According to his description the previous night, he should have returned with Shui Ge’er by midday. But now, as the day turned into night, there was still no trace of them.

Growing anxious, the group could no longer sit idly by, so they decided to follow the trail left by the dog that Dongsheng had brought with him, venturing into the mountains to search.

Night had fallen when Lin Shuishi awoke from his faint. His entire body felt numb and tingly, yet strangely warm. He could faintly hear the murmuring of voices around him. When he sat up and looked around, he saw a bonfire in front of him, surrounded by a group of plainly dressed men. Dongsheng was among them, with his head wrapped in a cloth bandage, drinking water and patting the head of a dog.

Seeing Lin Shuishi sit up, a slightly stocky middle-aged man immediately turned his head, exclaiming in surprise, “Oh, Shui ge’er is awake!” The others quickly put down what they were doing and gathered around him.

They all seemed deeply moved, but none of them reached out to touch him. Despite being elders, they were still men, and Lin Shuishi was a marriageable ge’er, so they maintained a respectful distance.

“Shui Ge’er, you’re awake? Do you still remember your Uncle Zheng?” The old man, seated beside him, spoke with a mix of emotion and sorrow. “Ah, it’s okay if you don’t remember. Your father’s been gone for many years now, and it’s our fault we didn’t take better care of you.”

Lin Shuishi looked at the people around him, unable to recognize them all. His memories as Shui Ge’er were already vague, especially those from his early childhood. He could only vaguely recall a few faces. But he figured they were likely his father’s old friends.

Lin Shuishi felt a deep respect and gratitude for them. It was said that friendships fade when a person dies, but these men had braved the dangers and unknowns of Dongshan to search for the unlikely surviving son of their old friend. Their loyalty and deep bonds were clear.

As Lin Shuishi tried to stand, his body felt weak. At Old Man Zheng’s signal, Dongsheng knelt beside him and helped him up.

Lin Shuishi then spoke softly, “I vaguely remember you all, uncles. In my childhood, you all showed me much kindness, and now you’ve braved such dangers to come to Dongshan to rescue me. I am deeply grateful and will always remember this in my heart.”

Hearing this, the group felt a warm satisfaction. Their efforts hadn’t been in vain! They were reassured that Lin Shuishi not only remembered them but also seemed to be in sound mind, with no signs of mental distress from his time on the mountain.

Old Man Zheng was especially pleased. Though Lin Shuishi’s birthmark was faint, his character was what mattered most. With many sons of his own, he wasn’t worried about passing on the family line—he could always arrange for one of them to carry on the lineage!

Dongsheng gave Lin Shuishi some hot water to drink. Lin Shuishi was helped up but felt nothing unusual. If he were a person of the current era, he might have understood the subtlety, but he considered it perfectly normal and didn’t think much of it.

Once he was steady on his hands and knees, he suddenly recognized the familiar sensation beneath him. By the bright moonlight, he could see it was the thick sheepskin he had tanned initially!

His heart skipped a beat. He quickly turned to Dongsheng, asking, “Where did this sheepskin come from?”

Before Dongsheng could answer, Lin Shuishi saw a group of well-groomed little horses trotting out of the forest. He was surprised to see the cute black horse with braided mane.

“How did it get here?”

Dongsheng was puzzled, “Isn’t this the sheepskin you prepared yourself?”

Lin Shuishi paused, “Uh, I was in a daze. What happened?” Dongsheng then explained the situation.

Dongsheng had been knocked unconscious by an unidentified wild beast and lay unconscious under a tree for a while. It was Old Man Zheng and his hunting dog who found them.

The reason “them” was mentioned was because, at that time, Lin Shuishi had been lying quietly in a soft bed of hay, dressed in a set of high-quality fur, with a majestic little black horse standing nearby. The horse had a basket of items on its back.

The little horse was skittish around people and had kept its distance. After they carried Lin Shuishi away, the little horse followed them at a trot. The group assumed these were Lin Shuishi’s belongings and did not investigate further.

Lin Shuishi’s heart raced, but his expression remained calm, “I didn’t plan to bring it after I packed it up. I didn’t expect the little horse to follow me. I rescued it in the wild.”

Dongsheng, believing this, laughed and said, “Haha, it knows you’ve been kind to it.”

At this moment, Lin Shuishi was not in the mood to talk, and seeing him conversing with Dongsheng, the others took it upon themselves to gather around the fire.

Lin Shuishi then stood up with the support of the ground and called the little horse over. The black horse, upon hearing Lin Shuishi, came over without hesitation, wagging its tail gracefully and nuzzling him with its head.

Lin Shuishi hurriedly opened the two bamboo baskets he used most frequently. One contained a large quantity of well-tanned sheepskins from the day he worked at the wolf spring. They were dried and soft, stacked together. Among them were over thirty beautiful eggs he had always cherished.

The other basket held dried nuts, hazelnuts, and several large lingzhi mushrooms that he hadn’t finished eating, along with a thick pile of wolf fur at the bottom. His hand-knitted wolf fur sweater was crumpled up and stuffed inside.

Lin Shuishi’s eyes grew misty, and his nose felt sore. After a while, he silently cursed, “Fool! This is for you.”

But there was no turning back. Soon, they arrived at the boundary river, leaving the territory of the Dongshen Mountain wolf pack, took a shortcut over the hills, and reached Rehe Village.

From the ridge, Rehe Village appeared to be quite sizable, although the terrain was uneven. Each earthen house was built in a staggered manner, not very orderly. At this hour, everyone was busy preparing dinner, and smoke was rising from every chimney, mingling with the slightly rising steam from the river nearby, creating a lively atmosphere.

The village was situated in a well-thought-out location, with the winter wind blowing Rehe’s mist to the other side, keeping the village clean and warm. However, the forest on the opposite side of the river was covered with a thick layer of frost and ice from the mist, making it look beautiful from afar.

The temperature here was noticeably warmer than in the Western Mountains. Lin Shuishi removed the fox fur from his head and placed it in the basket on the little horse’s back. The men were also very pleased. Despite the hardships they faced, it was not in vain, and they considered themselves very fortunate.

Old Man Zheng whistled, quickly leading his brothers and Lin Shuishi down the mountain ridge towards the east slope of the village.

As they walked through the village, they passed many homes. Occasionally, a group of children with runny noses played with ice spinning tops, still excited despite the cold. Some adults would call them back for dinner, and upon seeing Old Man Zheng and his group, one of the older women, holding a bowl of boiled potatoes, asked, “Zheng Tou, it’s so cold! Did you go hunting in the mountains?”

Old Zheng smiled back, “Sister Qi, we’re here for dinner. We didn’t hunt; we went to pick up the child. Lin Dage’s son called us to bring him back.”

Sister Qi was surprised. The news of the commotion in the distant mountain village had long spread from her niece, but the villagers of Rehe, self-sufficient and united, were more grateful for Lin Shuishi’s father, who had helped many villagers in the past during harsh years. This family was among those who had benefited. In the household, only Sister Qi and her son were present.

After the sister-in-law and many villagers learned about the situation, they originally planned to go to Dongshan as well, but Old Man Zheng stopped them. Now, seeing that Shui Ge’er had returned in such good condition, her eyes became misty, and she hurried over.

“My poor Ge’er, do you still remember Seventh Aunt?” Without saying much, she was about to shed tears. After much persuasion from the crowd, she finally said she would first take Shui Ge’er and his family and then left.

Before parting, Seventh Aunt insisted on giving Lin Shuishi a bowl of hot potatoes, saying that even if he didn’t eat them, it would warm his hands.

Lin Shuishi, used to the concrete jungle of the city, where apart from his own room, he was accustomed to ordinary supermarkets and hospitals, had never experienced such heartfelt kindness. He felt a bit at a loss and shy but still thanked her with a polite demeanor. He even took a big bite of the potato in front of Seventh Aunt, making her smile.

As the group walked up the slope, a round-faced young woman, standing in a large courtyard, brightened up when she saw them. She immediately ran into the house, calling out, “Mother! Father and San’er are back, and it looks like they’ve brought Shui Ge’er!”

Inside the house, there was a clatter of bowls, and soon a bunch of people came rushing out to greet them.

At this, Lin Shuishi, leading the little black horse and holding the hot potatoes, was taken into the lively human world.

xxx

In the vast and desolate Dongshan, the full moon had passed, and a slightly waning silver disk hung high in the night sky.

Fuli, like a wolf, lay with his limbs on the ground, facing the wind on a mountain ridge, watching a group of people disappear into the mountains. His hair was blown about, revealing his deeply etched features. His golden beast eyes emitted a ghostly glow in the night.

He had his arms exposed, and the animal skins around him were stained with blood. Behind him, a group of white wolves quietly guarded him, but they kept a considerable distance. No wolf dared to approach Fuli at this moment.

Only an elderly female wolf, though walking somewhat slowly, showed the wisdom and compassion that time had imparted on her.

Fuli turned his head in caution, showing his beastly teeth, but seeing it was “Mother,” he forcefully restrained the raging beastly instincts still within him.

The mother wolf’s gaze was both pitying and loving. Ignoring Fuli’s fierceness, she approached and gently rubbed her head against his face, communicating with him in simple wolf language.

“Follow, you, same, human.”

Fuli’s breath became rapid, but as he looked up at the moon in the sky and then down at the dried blood on his body and his still sharp claws, he dove down the mountain ridge, disappearing into the vast and boundless forest.

The mother wolf watched the retreating figure with a sorrowful expression, and the words Fuli had calmly spoken echoed in her ears.

He said, “No, I am a beast.”

Lin Shuishi stared at the wolves with blood-stained mouths, and a sudden realization struck him. Wolves are only friendly within their pack; after all, they are wild animals, and they do eat people.

He had been lucky that the wolf leader, Fuli, had taken him to the treehouse. But the person lying on the ground was clearly not as fortunate. Lin Shuishi knew that he had no authority over these wolves.

But he couldn’t just walk away either. If the two hunting dogs were killed, the next target would be the person lying there, whose fate was uncertain. Lin Shuishi had witnessed how a pack of wolves could tear open the thick belly of a wild ox and devour its heart, liver, and muscles.

He couldn’t bear to imagine what might happen to this person, so he gritted his teeth and slowly approached. The white wolves behind him exchanged glances, seemingly understanding his intention. As Fuli’s mate, they were willing to help.

The white wolves positioned themselves behind Lin Shuishi, lowering their heads and baring their fangs, growling menacingly. The gray and green wolves, which had been fully engaged in the hunt and had become increasingly aggressive, finally noticed that the white wolves were not there to assist them but were ordering them to leave.

Reluctantly, the gray and green wolves licked their lips, instinctively obeying the white wolves. Submitting to the white wolves was ingrained in their blood. They tucked their tails between their legs, lowered their heads, and submissively lay down at the feet of the old white wolves and Lin Shuishi, licking their feet. To the other wolves, Lin Shuishi carried the scent of Fuli and the white wolf pack, marking him as part of their group. After showing their submission, the wolves slunk away into the forest.

Lin Shuishi suppressed the shivers that ran down his spine as the blood-stained gray wolf licked his shoe and then left. He sighed in relief, grateful to the white wolves behind him, but his priority was now the person lying on the ground!

The two hunting dogs were already exhausted, having fought with all their might to protect their master. When they saw Lin Shuishi approaching, they tensed as if to attack, but then they sniffed the air and recognized the scent. It was the same scent as the shirt their master had given them! They wagged their tails and turned to look at the white wolves. Realizing they were no match for these powerful creatures, the dogs lowered their heads, too scared to even make eye contact, and retreated to their master’s side, licking and nudging him before looking back at Lin Shuishi, pleading for help.

These were domesticated dogs, naturally inclined to trust humans. Gaining some courage from this, Lin Shuishi quickly approached to check on the young man lying on the ground. The old wolves remained at a distance, uninterested in the two wolf-like creatures, preferring to rest.

Lin Shuishi turned the young man over and saw that he was young, with a face flushed from the cold and a head injury. He quickly checked for breathing and, finding that the man was still alive, felt some relief. He then examined the man’s arms and legs, which were unbroken. Lin Shuishi called out to him a few times, but there was no response.

After some thought, he began dragging the man toward the hot spring. The white wolves, seeing that the situation was under control, left to rejoin the pack and inform them that the person had been taken care of.

Lin Shuishi used some leaves to give the man a few sips of hot water and then pinched his philtrum hard, finally waking him up.

When Dongsheng woke up, his head was pounding. He saw the misty surroundings, which looked like a fairyland, and in front of him was someone squatting with big, round eyes, fair skin, and a faint birthmark on the forehead, just like the one Shui Ge’er had when they played together as children.

He thought he was dead and was seeing Shui Ge’er’s spirit. With a hoarse voice, he said, “Poor Shui Ge’er, even after death, you can’t return to your homeland. Let me take your soul back, so you can see your parents!”

Lin Shuishi was bewildered. What on earth was he talking about? But hearing the man call him by his original name, he realized they must have known each other. He dug into his memories of the original owner. The one who called him “Brother Dong”—could it be that silly boy from the neighboring house in Rehe Village, the one who always had a runny nose?

With a sigh, Lin Shuishi said, “Hey, you’re not dead, and neither am I. This is Dongshen mountain. How did you end up unconscious her?”

“What?!” Dongsheng shot up, almost bumping into Lin Shuishi’s head.

“I’m not dead! I’m alive!” He pinched his own face. The two hunting dogs, seeing their master awake, wagged their tails and cuddled up to him. Dongsheng suddenly realized, “So… are you Shui Ge’er? Not a spirit? How have you survived all this time?”

Lin Shuishi thought for a moment and decided not to mention Fuli or the wolves. “I wandered around on my own and happened to find an abandoned treehouse. That’s how I’ve stayed alive.”

Dongsheng didn’t think too much of it. He assumed his timid and weak little brother wouldn’t lie, so he was amazed at Shui Ge’er’s luck. Then he explained why his father had led a group up the mountain to search for Shui Ge’er.

It turned out that their group had been carefully and cautiously climbing Dongshen when suddenly, the hunting dogs signaled danger. While they were looking around, a massive brown bear, about two meters tall, emerged from a tree hollow. The bear was grumpy from being disturbed during its hibernation. Fortunately, they were all experienced hunters and knew how to evade it.

They managed to escape to a forested ridge, finally shaking off the bear. But their commotion had attracted the wolves in the mountains. Seeing they were surrounded, Dongsheng gritted his teeth and led the hunting dogs to lure the wolves away, ignoring his father’s desperate calls. He thought he was doomed this time, yet somehow he survived and, by sheer luck, found Shui Ge’er alive! Truly, it was a blessing from the ancestors and the wolf god!

Dongsheng had rolled down the mountain and passed out, but as a hardy farmer, he wasn’t seriously hurt. Apart from a head wound, he was fine. After marveling at the hot spring’s fairyland-like environment, he buried the dog that had died in the confrontation, feeling deeply saddened.

After everything was settled, Dongsheng looked back at Shui Ge’er standing on the ridge. He felt that this little brother was nothing like he was when they were kids—braver and more decisive now. But Dongsheng just chalked it up to the fact that Shui Ge’er had grown up.

He wiped his runny nose, chilled by the cold. “Shui Ge’er, come home with me to my father’s place. They’re all waiting for you!”

Now it was Lin Shuishi’s turn to be stunned. “Huh?”

“Huh, what? Don’t worry, we won’t let you go back to your uncle’s hellhole. We’re going back to Rehe.”

Lin Shuishi had never really thought about leaving the treehouse or leaving this mountain. If that day were to come, he thought it would be years down the line. Since he had crossed over to this world, he hadn’t known much about how people lived, but he had adapted to surviving among wild animals.

Now they were talking about going down the mountain. Yes, he was human, so of course, he would have to leave the mountain eventually. But an inexplicable turmoil stirred within him. He knew that Fuli couldn’t leave the mountain; his strangeness, his wild nature, meant he didn’t belong in the human world.

But if he stayed, as thin and weak as he was, he might not survive long in the mountains. And he hadn’t seen Fuli in quite a while.

Maybe Fuli was tired of the burden that Lin Shuishi had become.

Seeing Shui Ge’er stay silent, Dongsheng thought he was reverting to his old indecisive self. So he said, “Shui Ge’er, let’s go. My father and the others don’t know I’m still alive. I need to get back and let them know!”

Lin Shuishi took a few deep breaths. “I… I still have things in the treehouse. I can’t just leave right away.”

Dongsheng responded readily, “That’s easy. I’ll help you get them!”

“No! My place isn’t safe for others. The wild animals are used to me, so they won’t attack. But if you go, it might be different.”

Hearing this, Dongsheng scratched his head. “Then go back and pack your things. I’ll go find my father and the others. Let’s meet here again at dawn tomorrow, and I’ll bring everyone to take you back!”

With that, Dongsheng didn’t wait for Shui Ge’er’s hesitation. He quickly set off with his dogs to reunite with Zheng Laohan and the others.

“Hey, wait, you—!” But before Lin Shuishi could finish speaking, Dongsheng had already run off. His mission for coming up the mountain was complete—Shui Ge’er was alive and well. Now, his only worry was for his lame father.

Unable to see the figure of anyone else, Lin Shuishi had no choice but to return to the wolf spring, carrying a basket of freshly tanned but still damp hides, his thoughts in turmoil as he headed back to the treehouse.

Over the past few days, the little horse had nearly fully recovered and sometimes wandered off, disappearing from sight. Once, he even saw the horse’s mother nearby, suggesting that the foal no longer needed his care.

Back in the treehouse, Lin Shuishi busied himself with packing, looking at the items he had accumulated over time. It felt as though everything should be taken with him, yet at the same time, as if nothing really belonged to him. Even the knitted sweater wasn’t his size.

The forest was eerily silent. He lit the fire pit and sat, staring at the bright full moon outside, spending the entire night in silence.

No one came to send him off, and no one came to ask him to stay.

The next day, before dawn, Dongsheng was already waiting for Lin Shuishi in the valley by the hot spring, but he was alone. The day before, when he returned to find old man Zheng and the others, he learned they had gone looking for him. Eventually, thanks to the tracking dogs, the group managed to reunite in the complex mountain terrain.

Dongsheng recounted his encounter with Lin Shuishi, and the older men were initially skeptical. But knowing that Dongsheng was not one to lie, they were convinced Lin Shuishi was indeed alive and, fortunately, had been found. They were immensely relieved, attributing it to the protection of Lin Shuishi’s father’s spirit in the afterlife.

They had planned to come and fetch Lin Shuishi together, but the older men had exhausted themselves trying to track down Dongsheng, with some even suffering frostbite. Going would only slow them down, given the unpredictable mountain conditions. So, old man Zheng decided that the most familiar and physically capable of his sons, Dongsheng, should go alone, taking only one dog, to minimize the noise and ensure a quick return.

Additionally, if something did happen, having a dog would help track him down again. Otherwise, they risked losing both Lin Shuishi and another son.

Thus, Dongsheng, with only one hunting dog, quietly made his way to the valley, waiting for Lin Shuishi to descend from the ridge. He could see him approaching and prepared to assist with carrying anything.

But after waiting for some time, he finally saw Lin Shuishi, who had brought nothing and was quietly coming down by himself.

He hurried to meet him. “Shui Ge’er, why didn’t you bring anything? Where did you leave it? I’ll go get it.”

Lin Shuishi shook his head. “There’s nothing worth taking. I went back and realized it’s not worth it.”

He had arrived alone and would leave the same way.

Dongsheng didn’t ask any more questions and simply led the way, guiding Lin Shuishi over the mountain.

Before the sun had risen, the two, along with the dog, quietly moved through the shadowy valley. “Are you tired, Shui Ge’er? There’s a river up ahead. After crossing it and walking through a forest, we should be able to see my father and the others.”

Lin Shuishi had dark circles under his eyes and looked tired, but he softly replied, “I’m not tired, it’s fine. Let’s not keep everyone waiting for me.”

Just as he finished speaking, the hunting dog at Dongsheng’s feet suddenly barked loudly, trembling with fear. Before the two could react, a massive beast leaped out of the forest, so large that it was difficult to see clearly in the dim light.

Dongsheng, relying on his instincts as a hunter, quickly turned to grab Lin Shuishi and run, but the beast’s target was clearly Lin Shuishi. When Dongsheng reached out, the beast let out a thunderous roar that shook their ears. The sound was neither wolf nor tiger, but something in between.

With a single swipe, the beast sent Dongsheng flying. Although agile, he was still human, and the blow knocked him unconscious. The hunting dog, too frightened to make a sound, cowered in the snow, abandoning any thought of helping its master.

Seeing the danger, Lin Shuishi tried to run, but after only a few steps, he slipped and rolled down a snow-covered slope onto a frozen river. As he fell, he caught a glimpse of a huge white shadow behind him. Before he could get up, the beast let out an angry roar and pinned him face down on the ice with a massive paw! Cracks immediately appeared on the ice.

The beast’s hot breath was now on the back of Lin Shuishi’s neck, and he could feel its sharp teeth and tongue.

This familiar feeling made his heart skip a beat, and he tried to struggle free, but the beast was too powerful, holding him down with ease.

Just as Lin Shuishi was about to speak, the ice, unable to support the beast’s weight, suddenly gave way beneath its paw.

Lin Shuishi plunged into the icy waters of the frozen river.

Walking in the snow-covered Eastern Mountains was challenging, and with one wrong step, you could find yourself waist-deep in a snow pit. Lin Shuishi didn’t venture far, instead staying close to the familiar forest and “visiting” his neighbor, the plump squirrel.

To his surprise, the plump squirrel now had little plump squirrels! The family stood in a row, big and small, munching on pine nuts while watching Lin Shuishi bustle about—an amusing scene.

Lately, Lin Shuishi had been busy not only gathering and storing his own food but also digging up fresh grass for the little horse to eat. After examining the small creature, he saw that it had only a sprained tendon, with no broken bones. A few days of care, and it would be back on its feet.

He went into the forest and gathered plenty of hazelnuts, water celery, and other plants. He also made a special trip to the old tree where the lingzhi mushrooms grew, picking several large, plump red lingzhi mushrooms to nourish himself and the little horse. Carrying a large basket back, the deep snow made the journey tough, but he managed without freezing, even working up a bit of sweat.

The weather had warmed up recently, especially around the treehouse. Even without a fire, Lin Shuishi could comfortably curl up in his pile of animal skins and continue spinning yarn.

As night fell, Lin Shuishi carried a brazier of fire into the treehouse, placing thick wooden planks between the fire and the wooden floor. He sat by the fire on a small wooden couch in the treehouse. Though not as warm as by the earth stove, the temperature was bearable. The jet-black, glossy little foal nestled quietly beside him, while Lin Shuishi busied himself with his spun yarn, using the knitting needles he had carefully crafted—four peeled, sharpened, and resin-coated green branches.

The sweat on his back slowly cooled, but the salt in it stung the wound on his neck, making him think of the fierce Fuli.

At that moment, a human-like beast was leaping through the mountain forest. With sharp teeth and claws bared, Fuli was chasing a stag even larger and stronger than the white wolf king. The stag’s antlers were extremely sharp and robust—enough to gut a lion. But now, the powerful antlers had become a burden, slowing the terrified stag. With a leap, the beast landed behind the stag, pressing it to the ground with strong arms and sinking his teeth into its artery.

In just a moment, the once-mighty ruler of the mountain forest ceased to breathe.

Fuli raised his head, his face splattered with the stag’s arterial blood, which was still warm and steaming in the cold forest. His pupils narrowed to slits, unable to control the primal hunting urge surging through him.

He was no longer hunting out of hunger.

As the bloodlust gradually subsided, Fuli began to feel uneasy. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, to regain control.

Finally, he bounded up to a mountain ridge, overlooking the ranges.

Tonight, the Eastern Mountain’s night sky was bright with moonlight, dimming the stars. Fuli crouched like a wolf on the mountain ridge, letting the nearly full moonlight shine into his now dark golden beast-like eyes. His breathing was heavy, his muscles slick with sweat. Alone on the silent peak, Fuli instinctively threw his head back and howled at the moon.

The sound was deep and resonant, spreading like waves and prompting all the wolves in the forest to join in. Soon, the Eastern Mountains were filled with howls, sending shivers through every creature.

An old white wolf emerged from a hollow tree, unlike the other wolves who raised their heads to join the chorus. Its expression was grave as it gazed at the almost full moon in the sky.

Lin Shuishi stepped out of the treehouse, listening to the howls that echoed through the mountains. He looked around but couldn’t find the figure he was hoping to see. He glanced down at the partially knitted sweater in his hands—its dimensions were quite large, far too big for his small frame.

The little foal, raised beside the horse king, wasn’t afraid of the wolf howls. It merely watched as Lin Shuishi stepped outside and stood on the platform. Its large, grape-like eyes blinked, its long lashes fluttering. Gathering its strength, it finally stood up, limping over to Lin Shuishi and gently nudging him as if to comfort him.

The chorus of wolf howls also startled another group of people. Old Man Zheng had already set up camp at the foot of the Dongshen mountain. After the snow stopped, they had gathered their gear, packed provisions, and brought hunting dogs, crossing over the Western Mountain to camp at the base of the Dongshen Mountain.

Dongshen Mountain held a deep legendary significance for the people of Rehe Village. It was said to be the domain of the wolf god, who once saved a villager lost in the mountains and made a pact with them never to set foot in Dongshen Mountain, promising mutual non-aggression. Since their ancestors’ time, the people of Rehe Village had never ventured into Dongshen Mountain.

Hearing the faint wolf howls echoing through the mountains only made the legend more believable.

The seven hunters and three hunting dogs gathered around the fire only knew the way through the Western Mountain. Now, they had reached the border river that separated Dongshen and Western Mountains. In winter, the river was frozen solid, unlike the warm river flowing from the Eastern Mountain to the village, which remained warm even in winter. Old Zheng decided that they would cross the river and begin their ascent of the Eastern Mountain early the next morning.

For this journey, in addition to his lifelong brothers, Old Zheng brought along his third son, Dongsheng. Old Zheng had four sons, but only Dongsheng had inherited his skills as a hunter. Dongsheng was a born hunter, even surpassing his father in skill, so Old Zheng felt more confident with him on this trip.

At twenty-four years old, Dongsheng was strong and good-natured, though his years of hunting in the Western Mountain had kept him from settling down with a good family. Old Zheng had already made up his mind: if they could bring Lin Shuishi back alive, he would keep him in their home and eventually make him Dongsheng’s husband. He was confident that Lin Shuishi wouldn’t be mistreated by the wives in the family.

Dongsheng arrived from the Western Mountain with a hunting dog carrying a wild pheasant in its mouth and five plump rabbits he had just caught. He expertly skinned the rabbits, skewered them on branches, and placed them over the fire to roast. The group ate a simple meal with dry rations.

“Old Zheng, are we really heading up Dongshen Mountain tomorrow?” Li Erlang asked nervously, still uneasy from the sound of wolves in the mountains.

In the flickering firelight, Old Zheng nodded solemnly. “When we reach Dongshen Mountain, we’re not to hunt anything. We mustn’t disturb the creatures there. We’ll quietly make our way to where they left Shuishi, and see if the hunting dogs can pick up a scent.”

“But it’s been so long,” someone else added. “The scent on the old clothes we took from his uncle’s house has probably faded. I don’t know if the dogs will still be able to track him.”

Dongsheng swallowed the last bite of his dry roasted meat and reassured them, “Uncle Li, don’t worry. Xitiao and the others have excellent noses. If there’s a trail, they’ll find it.”

With heavy hearts but holding on to a glimmer of hope, the group rose early the next day, crossed the river, and quietly began their search in the forbidden Dongshen Mountain.

Meanwhile, Lin Shuishi had been working on the sweater for several days but still hadn’t seen Fuli. It was as if he had vanished, leaving Lin Shuishi alone in the small, confined space of the treehouse, filled with anxiety and uncertainty.

He had knitted late into the night by the fire, and when he woke up, his eyes were sore. But he still had to prepare food for himself and the little horse, which could now stand but still couldn’t run or jump.

He cooked a pot of meat soup and then prepared a small pot of mashed chestnuts for the little horse. The horse wagged its tail as it ate, but its long mane kept falling into the pot, getting covered in chestnut mush.

Lin Shuishi carefully examined the jet-black foal. With his limited knowledge about horses, he thought it might be a Friesian horse. There could be other colors in the herd, but the horse king and this foal seemed to be purebred.

The mother horse looked magnificent when she ran, with long, powerful legs, a graceful posture, and over half a meter of flowing black mane that fluttered in the wind. She was as fast as lightning, able to outrun an avalanche!

He admired the little horse’s beauty for a while, then reached out and braided its long, black mane, neatly tying it to one side. Only then did the little horse contentedly eat its chestnut mush. Lin Shuishi grinned; with its mane braided, the foal looked even more precious, both sturdy and handsome.

This made him think of that person’s often disheveled hair, which would fall messily down the back of their neck, sometimes brushing against his own neck and cheek. He had memorized the feel of it. Now, his mind wandered even further, imagining that if that person’s hair were braided, it would probably look even better than the foal’s.

It would reveal that person’s smooth forehead, prominent nose, and those deep, piercing eyes—maybe then they would look more “human.”

A few days later, the sweater was finished, folded neatly and softly to the side.

Lin Shuishi decided to venture out. That person had brought a large portion of the dried hides from the wolf’s den to the treehouse. While they were warm, they were also stiff! He needed to tan these hides properly so that he wouldn’t have to worry about clothing or bedding for the entire winter.

Once he made up his mind, he set off, carrying a basket filled with hides, heading toward the hot spring area. He believed that, after the incident with the leopard, no other wild animals would dare come near this place.

Much of the snow in the forest had melted, revealing patches of earth with a hint of green. Lin Shuishi carefully followed the route that Fuli had shown him last time, arriving safely at his destination.

While tanning the hides, he took the opportunity to bathe in the upstream section of the wolf’s spring. The wolves merely sniffed him curiously, sometimes brushing up against him in a friendly manner.

After soaking the cleaned hides in the wolf’s spring, he got up to explore the area around the river where the hot springs converged, wondering if he could find any fish or shellfish to bring back.

Lin Shuishi followed the red rocks to the steamy riverbank, but the river was crystal clear, with no signs of life. He sighed in understanding and was about to return when he suddenly heard a commotion in the nearby valley.

It wasn’t the usual long howl used for communication but rather the aggressive barking and growling that indicated an encounter with an enemy! And why did he also hear a dog’s bark? He had been with the wolf pack for some time and knew that no wolf barked like a dog, which piqued his curiosity.

Lin Shuishi was well aware of his limitations—going there would only add to the chaos. But he remembered the day he saw the wolf king with its belly torn open, and he thought that maybe he could help save an injured wolf. Unable to resist, he cautiously made his way toward the valley.

Several elderly white wolves, who had been soaking in the hot springs, noticed Lin Shuishi heading toward the valley. They shook off the water and carefully followed him.

When Lin Shuishi turned around and saw the white wolves trailing behind him, he felt even more confident.

He quickened his pace, running down into the forest at the base of the valley. There, he saw a group of over ten gray and green wolves surrounding something, growling and snapping viciously. As he moved closer, he froze in shock.

The wolves were in a standoff with two hunting dogs—one lay dead in a pool of blood, its neck broken.

And the hunting dogs were protecting a person who was lying on the ground!

In the middle of a snowy night, inside the wolf’s den, Lin Shuishi leaned against the warm wall, drenched in cold sweat. It took him a while to recover, biting his lip as he sat there, feeling a mix of fear and frustration. He had never experienced such a helpless situation, completely overpowered.

The “beast” behind him seemed intent on devouring him, its rough and scorching breath brushing against the back of his neck, making him tremble uncontrollably.

Lin Shuishi took a deep breath, raised a hand to touch his neck, and felt a sharp pain. When he brought his hand in front of his face, he saw blood. However, instead of tending to the bite wound on his neck, he curled up in the pile of furs, hugging himself in a futile attempt to find some comfort.

As he shifted backward, something hard poked him. He reached out and discovered a few brightly colored, hard eggs—something Fuli had brought back, thinking Lin Shuishi would like them, venturing out into the storm to find them. They had originally been placed in a fox fur, but must have rolled out during his earlier struggle.

Staring at these items, Lin Shuishi found himself lost in thought. Eventually, he sighed and began tidying up the den. He decided not to ever go to the wolf king’s den again after picking up the pile of fur he’d collected and then hesitantly made his way back to Fuli’s den.

As the storm gradually subsided, Lin Shuishi lay awake, listening to the wind howling through the mountains. Unable to sleep, he got up in a huff and began spinning the wolf fur into yarn. The soft fur slowly formed into a small ball of yarn in his hands. He was careful not to bow his head too much, fearing it would aggravate the small wound on the back of his neck, which, though not large, was certainly painful.

He stayed up most of the night, and before he finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Fuli had not returned.

The next morning, the weather was beautiful. The sky outside the wolf den was a bright blue, and the sunlight felt warm on the skin. Wolves from various dens stretched and came out to the red rock area around the hot springs, finding comfortable spots to bask in the sun. A group of wolf pups, white or gray, bounced out, following their mothers around, competing for milk. Once they were full, they sprawled out on the rocks, soaking in the warmth.

Lin Shuishi’s previously troubled heart was soothed by this scene. As he stepped out of Fuli’s den, the wolves no longer viewed him with the same wariness as before. Instead, they approached him with curiosity and even affection.

The mottled wolf that had once carried him back to the treehouse and fought the leopard now, upon smelling Fuli’s strong scent on Lin Shuishi, folded its ears back and lay belly-up at his feet, a gesture of submission.

Unaware of the wolves’ intentions, Lin Shuishi simply found them adorable and happily rubbed their bellies. The wolf curled its legs, not daring to move, until Lin Shuishi, using a roughly carved wooden comb, began grooming them.

The wolves relaxed under his touch, even kicking their legs slightly in a reflexive scratch when he hit a particularly itchy spot.

Lin Shuishi seamlessly blended into the wolf pack, earning their affection with his unique methods. Eventually, the wolves would lie at his feet, lazily waiting for him to scratch their itches whenever they saw him.

Finally, after a short while, Lin Shuishi had gathered enough wolf fur, including the rough fur from adult wolves and the soft fur from the pups. He planned to sort them and make different types of yarn.

As he played with the wolves, he suddenly noticed that the adult wolves around him had all stopped what they were doing. Even the one lounging at his feet immediately sat up straight, ears perked, staring intently toward the west.

Before long, Lin Shuishi heard the howls of wolves echoing through the mountains, accompanied by a rolling, thunderous rumble. Startled, he feared another beast tide and quickly ran to the ridge to look out over the distance. After a while, he saw the wolf king and his mate racing down from the distant mountains.

They stood still for a moment, howling rhythmically toward the wolf den. Lin Shuishi then noticed the young and strong white wolves around him forming groups and rushing down the mountain.

The mottled wolf, familiar with Lin Shuishi’s gaze toward the west, instinctively nudged him onto its back. Before Shuishi could react, the wolf took off, dashing down the ridge to join the pack.

Lin Shuishi could only feel the incredible speed of the wolf beneath him as the snow sprayed up from its hooves, whipping into his face and making it hard to keep his eyes open. If he didn’t hold on tightly, he would surely tumble off the wolf and down the mountainside!

The wolf only stopped when it reached the wolf king, but by then, they were already far from the den. The snow-covered steep slope looked impossible for Shuishi to climb on his own. Weighing his options and driven by curiosity, he decided to follow the pack, crossing over the peak and speeding westward.

The wolves had a set path for crossing the mountains, with the wolf king leading the way. The pack, along with the human riding on one of the wolves’ backs, cautiously followed the narrow trail, crossing the mountains with barely a sound. Their steps were so light and well-practiced that they didn’t even disturb the small animals foraging in the woods.

As they emerged from the forest, Lin Shuishi heard the rumbling sound again. He brushed the frost and snow from his eyelashes and looked ahead.

“Boom!” A massive avalanche cascaded down the mountain, filling the sky with snow clouds. A tremendous amount of ice and snow tumbled down the ridge, burying several valleys beneath it and trapping animals that hadn’t managed to escape in time.

It was a breathtaking and terrifying display of nature’s unpredictable power.

The wolves’ path perfectly avoided the avalanche while giving them a full view of the unfolding disaster. Besides the animals buried beneath the snow, there were also survivors—swift runners desperately trying to outrun the avalanche.

The most striking of these were a group of sleek, black horses. Led by a mare, they stretched their legs and raced to escape the disaster. But even the speed of the horses was no match for the falling snow and ice, and several of the slower ones were swallowed by the avalanche.

The lead mare made a quick decision, changing direction to face the avalanche head-on. With a final, powerful leap, they managed to reach the other side of the ridge just before being buried.

It was a long time before the avalanche finally ceased. Only then did the wolf pack descend the mountain to investigate. The wolf king led a portion of the larger members to trace the origin of the avalanche, while the rest, including Lin Shuishi, began searching the buried valley, sniffing out any signs of life and digging.

Lin Shuishi couldn’t understand the white wolf pack’s behavior. They weren’t hunting or fleeing; instead, they seemed determined to understand the disaster and even find a way to deal with it. Each white wolf seemed intelligent, and when Lin Shuishi looked into the wolf king’s eyes, it felt like he was gazing into the eyes of a mute human.

They might even have their own language system, as Fuli was able to communicate with the pack using unique sounds.

Lin Shuishi dismounted from the wolf’s back and saw that the pack had already dug out many animals from the snow. Once these animals were freed and could breathe fresh air again, they bolted away as fast as they could.

He looked around and saw that the herd of black horses was still lingering on the ridge.

The lead mare had overlooked her youngest foal in her effort to protect the herd. The newborn colt had been struck by a chunk of ice and couldn’t stand on its injured hind leg. The herd hesitated, unsure whether to abandon the leader’s offspring.

In the end, under the harsh rule of natural selection, the herd left. Only the lead mare remained, anxiously pacing around her injured foal.

Lin Shuishi hesitated for a long while but finally decided to cautiously approach the pair, who were now trapped in a dire situation. The mountain was freezing cold, and even if they stayed still, the foal would likely freeze to death due to poor circulation by nightfall.

At first, the tall mare was wary of Lin Shuishi, but as he slowly touched the foal and cradled its drooping head in his arms, the mare hesitated. Finally, she locked eyes with Lin Shuishi, who appeared harmless and gentle.

Finally, the mare stomped her hoof and followed the herd, leaving the injured foal behind with Lin Shuishi.

The wolf king returned from its distant journey, and along with it came a familiar figure—the “beast” who had bitten Lin Shuishi before disappearing.

Lin Shuishi originally planned to have the mottled wolf carrying him take the foal back to the treehouse, but seeing that powerful figure hidden in the snow, he felt a wave of relief. Despite the events of the previous night, Lin Shuishi found himself instinctively relying on the person, even without realizing it.

Fuli, who had accompanied the wolf king to inspect the source of the avalanche, had been feeling increasingly unsettled since last night. The blood in his veins seemed to surge restlessly, his body temperature rising, and his fangs refusing to retract, protruding from his lips with a cold gleam.

The wolf king had noticed Fuli’s unusual state for a while, sniffing him carefully. The keen leader sensed something was wrong but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

When Fuli saw Lin Shuishi cradling the foal on the ridge, he hesitated. The wolf king turned back to look at him, signaling his brother to keep up with the pack.

But Fuli, recalling the taste of blood from the previous night, decided to turn away. He knew he was not in the right state and might harm the fragile “female.” Just then, his ears twitched as he heard that voice calling his human name again.

Lin Shuishi, seeing the distant, shadowy figure, put down the foal and stood up, calling out a few times, “Fuli, Fuli, come here.” His voice was low, cautious of triggering another avalanche, though there was no real danger.

When Fuli reached him, Lin Shuishi sensed that something was off but couldn’t quite figure out what. It was as if the wild aura around Fuli had intensified. Despite his unease, Lin Shuishi still voiced his concern, “This foal is injured. Can we take it back to the treehouse?”

Fuli exhaled, his breath steaming in the cold air. He looked at the foal, a black-haired, beautifully built young horse with excellent genetics, recognizing it as the horse king’s offspring. Without saying much, he effortlessly picked up the foal and began heading back along the path the wolves had come from.

The foal, startled by Fuli’s presence, struggled in fear but quickly froze at the sound of Fuli’s sharp, animalistic snarl.

The wolf king led the pack back to their territory, but the mottled wolf carrying Lin Shuishi seemed to receive some command, veering off alone to take him back to the treehouse.

When they arrived, the treehouse was unchanged after the heavy snow. Lin Shuishi, after mentally preparing himself, stepped inside. There, he saw the little black foal lying nervously on the ground and the pile of eggs wrapped in pelts and wolf fur on the wooden bed.

But the strong figure was nowhere to be seen.

Lin Shuishi had been taken by the villagers of Yuanshan Village to Dongshan to be sacrificed to the wolves for over a month before whispers of this event reached the ears of his late father’s brothers. They heard it from a young woman who had returned to Rehe Village after visiting her family.

The news caused an uproar among the men, all of whom were seasoned hunters with blood on their hands. They quickly rallied under the leadership of the eldest, Old Man Zheng, and after a brief discussion, a group of them set out on a ten-mile journey to demand an explanation for the death of their late friend’s only bloodline.

Old Man Zheng was especially incensed. Years ago, while hunting at the foot of Xishan, he and his brothers had been attacked by a grizzly bear. It was Lin Shuishi’s father who had saved them, though Zheng was left with a crippled leg. This injury had forced him to take up carpentry to provide for his family, but it also meant that he owed his life to Lin Shuishi’s father.

When he heard that his friend’s only child had been sacrificed to the wolves, he was filled with rage and regret. He couldn’t help but think that he should have taken the boy in and raised him as his own, even though he already had four sons of his own, and rumors might have spread. Marrying him off would have solved the issue. He shouldn’t have given in to Lin Shuishi’s uncle’s pleas, thinking it was for the best, only to have it lead to the boy’s demise.

Now, a group of men had gathered at Lin Shuishi’s uncle’s house, and tensions were high.

A younger hunter, Li, couldn’t contain his anger. He had already taken an ax to the wooden door, and now, seeing that the heartless aunt still refused to admit anything, he shouted in fury.

“You wretch! When Brother Lin and his wife passed away, we wanted to raise Lin Shuishi ourselves. But you and your husband came begging, crying about family ties and how important it was to keep the bloodline together. That’s the only reason we let go!”

Another man added, “Not only did you take away all of Lin Shuishi’s family’s belongings, but we each chipped in something. With what we gave you, you could have supported not just one, but three or five children! So where is Lin Shuishi now?”

The woman’s eyes darted around, thinking quickly. She forced a smile and said, “The boy grew up, so of course, he got married! He’s now a concubine to a wealthy family in town!”

Old Man Zheng, seeing that she still wouldn’t tell the truth, scolded her harshly, “Enough with your lies! Call out Sun Bighead! Hand over the boy to us, and we’ll let this go. If not, know that Rehe Village doesn’t take such things lightly!”

The aunt, however, seemed to have no fear. She leaned against the doorframe and sneered, “Hmph! My brother works at the county office. He’s a favorite of the county magistrate! You lot didn’t bother to find out who you’re dealing with before coming to threaten me? Ha! You’d better go home and take a good look in the mirror!”

The men were furious and stormed into the house, grabbing the cowardly uncle, who stammered and refused to speak. They gave him a good beating! The woman, enraged, lunged at them, and a chaotic brawl ensued, with her hairpins breaking and beads scattering across the floor.

She sat down on the ground, wailing and slapping her thighs, “The butchers from Rehe Village are killing people! They’re bullying us because we don’t have any sons!” But when she saw that no one paid her any mind and the men continued to beat her husband until he spat out a tooth, she steeled herself, thinking of her successful brother. She decided she had nothing left to lose.

“You filthy scum! You want to find Lin Shuishi? I’ll tell you where he is.”

The men stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the woman, who was still sitting on the ground, making a scene. “Looking for him? Go look in the belly of a wolf in Dongshan! Maybe you’ll find some bones left!”

“You!” hunter Li shouted, grabbing the woman and slapping her. He was about to swing his ax when the village chief and other villagers from Yuanshan arrived. Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, Old Man Zheng, realizing that things had gone too far, gritted his teeth and reluctantly ordered the men to let the couple go for now.

The men then searched the couple’s house, taking everything that had once belonged to Lin Shuishi’s father—good furs and fine bows. To leave such items in the hands of such people was to waste them! The village chief didn’t stop them; as long as there was no legal trouble, no one wanted to meddle.

The woman, her face swollen from the slaps, continued to curse, “You filthy swine, just you wait! You’ll all be thrown in jail and lose your heads!”

Amid her venomous words, the men trudged back to Rehe Village through the snow.

On the way, hunter Li muttered, “What do we do now? We might never find Shuishi. How are we going to face Brother Lin when we’re in the ground?”

Old Man Zheng remained silent for a long time before finally speaking.

“Wait for the snow to stop, then we go into Dongshan!”

The group paused momentarily upon hearing this, but soon after, they slowly resumed walking.

Meanwhile, deep in the Dongshan mountain, Lin Shuishi was completely unaware of the events unfolding. He was in the wolf king’s den, surrounded by a pile of fluffy wolf cubs, carefully grooming their fur. The little cubs, still in the process of shedding their baby fur, were enjoying the attention immensely, purring contentedly. Lin Shuishi looked at the growing pile of soft fur beside him, pleased that he was gathering enough for his project.

For the past few days, with the snow falling, Fuli had stayed in the wolf den. Although the den was warm, space was limited, and the unique, rugged scent of the man constantly filled Lin Shuishi’s nostrils. As they lay side by side on the animal skins, their bodies would occasionally brush against each other, causing Lin Shuishi to be extremely cautious even when coughing. Whenever they accidentally touched, his heart would race, and he’d be left flustered for quite some time.

Thankfully, his little savior appeared at the entrance of the den, sneaking in with a mix of caution and boldness. Observing Fu Li’s silence, the cub gathered its courage, acted cute, and successfully coaxed Lin Shuishi away to the wolf king’s den.

The wolf king’s den, which was more spacious to accommodate the young cubs, was cleaner and more organized than Fuli’s den, lacking the various animal skins and trophies scattered about. The ground was hard-packed from years of use, and the interior was meticulously clean.

Lin Shuishi hesitated at the entrance, wary of entering for fear of angering the adult wolves. In his mind, mother animals, especially those with young, were usually fiercely territorial.

Just as he was about to turn back to the nerve-wracking confines of Fuli’s den, the large queen mother wolf emerged. She sniffed him kindly and gently led him into the den.

Despite the snow, the wolf king and the mother wolf needed to patrol the area around the den to prevent any unforeseen dangers. Recently, as the wolf king’s injuries had healed, Fuli had returned these duties to the couple.

As they were heading out for their “work,” they happened upon Lin Shuishi hesitating at the entrance and felt at ease leaving their pups in the care of this “sister-in-law,” unconcerned about their solitary elder brother guarding the den.

This was Lin Shuishi’s second time encountering the wolf king, and he found it astonishing how the wolf had healed at an inexplicable speed. The wound on its belly was almost invisible, though the wolf appeared slightly thinner.

The wolf king approached Lin Shuishi, giving him a cursory sniff as if to greet him, before bounding off into the snow-covered hills with the mother wolf. Their white fur quickly blended into the snowy landscape, disappearing from view.

Lin Shuishi, surrounded by a dozen noisy, chubby little white balls, used his hands as a comb, collecting a handful of their baby fur. The little white wolf, satisfied with having brought Lin Shuishi to its den, curled up contentedly at his feet and fell asleep.

By midnight, Lin Shuishi was exhausted, but the cubs were still full of energy. Just as he was about to doze off, a dark figure appeared at the entrance of the den. The wolf cubs instinctively stopped playing and pouncing, immediately huddling together.

Lin Shuishi crawled forward a bit to get a better look. The dark figure suddenly entered the den. It was a frustrated Fuli, baring his teeth as he hoisted Lin Shuishi onto his broad shoulder and carried him back to his own den.

Outside, the snow had lessened, and a nearly full moon peeked through the clouds, casting a faint outline.

Inside the den, Fuli was restless, constantly rubbing his body against Lin Shuishi.

The scent of another male on the female made him agitated and furious. He pinned Lin Shuishi against the animal skins, his nose pressed against the delicate nape, sniffing carefully. Unable to control himself, he bared his sharp teeth and bit down.

Lin Shuishi struggled in fear, but the strong body behind him ruthlessly suppressed him.

He listened to Fuli’s fierce growls from behind, frozen in place, stubbornly lowering his head, refusing to look at or speak to Fuli.

Seeing the slight bleeding on Lin Shuishi’s neck, Fuli finally came to his senses, feeling as if his blood was boiling, surging within him. Afraid he might crush the delicate neck beneath him, he quickly pulled away. After a while, Lin Shuishi felt the pressure on his body suddenly lift. When he turned around, Fuli was gone.

The provincial governor and several Hanlin scholars were all present at the banquet, where toasts were exchanged, and singing and dancing enlivened the atmosphere. According to tradition, the newly appointed scholars came forward one by one to offer their toasts. Governor Deng Tianyou sat at the head of the table, with the prefect beside him, introducing each scholar by name as they approached to drink.

In the provincial examination, the Hanlin scholars were responsible for grading the papers, while the governor only reviewed the top-ranking papers to finalize the rankings.

Few names left a lasting impression on him.

Nevertheless, he showed no favoritism and maintained a kind demeanor toward every scholar who came to toast. When he heard of individuals who had persisted in their studies despite hardships and finally succeeded in the examination, he sincerely offered words of praise, encouraging them not to give up and to continue serving the country in the future.

Despite his youth, Governor Deng was known for his humility and decorum, earning the admiration of the new scholars. It was said that he, too, had risen from humble beginnings as a poor scholar and deeply understood the struggles of literary men. Some, overwhelmed by emotion, even shed tears on the spot.

Once the last scholar had offered their toast, Deng Tianyou turned to the prefect and asked, “Is this everyone?”

The prefect, understanding what he meant, replied, “To answer Your Excellency, there is one more—Top Graduate Qin Zhao—but he is bedridden and unable to attend.”

“Bedridden?” One of the Hanlin scholars frowned and remarked disapprovingly, “What illness could be so severe as to excuse him from attending the Banquet of the Deer Call? I suspect that, as the top graduate, he is simply arrogant and dismissive of Governor Deng.”

“Hanlin Li, please do not speak in anger,” Deng Tianyou said calmly. He then inquired, “What illness is he suffering from? Has a doctor been consulted?”

“I have already sent someone to his residence to check,” the prefect explained. “Your Excellency may not know, but this top graduate is notorious in the prefecture for being frail and frequently bedridden. It is said that after the provincial examination, he fell ill once again.”

“Such a constitution…” Deng Tianyou sighed with regret.

He had a strong impression of this top graduate.

The selection of the top graduate was usually a matter of deliberation among him and the Hanlin scholars, with several candidates vying for the position. However, this time, there had been no dispute.

Upon reviewing the examination papers, everyone had unanimously ranked his as the best.

Such unanimity was exceedingly rare in the civil service examinations, making it impossible for Deng Tianyou not to remember him.

He had intended to use the Banquet of the Deer Call as an opportunity to meet this exceptional scholar in person, but it was unfortunate that the latter was absent due to illness.

Although Deng Tianyou felt some regret, he did not dwell on it for long.

He admired the scholar’s talent based on the brilliance of his exam essay but felt no deeper connection to someone he had never met.

He said no more on the matter, and the Hanlin scholars only briefly commented about the scholar’s supposed lack of etiquette and missed opportunity to make a favorable impression on the governor before moving on.

As the banquet reached its midpoint and the attendees were well-fed and slightly intoxicated, the prefect spoke again. “Your Excellency, as a lover of poetry, you included a notice in the invitations for each scholar to bring their own compositions. Shall we have them present their works now?”

Deng Tianyou nodded. “Let them present their poems.”

Composing poetry at the Banquet of the Deer Call was a long-standing tradition, and as someone deeply passionate about poetry and verse, Deng Tianyou never let this aspect be omitted from any banquet, regardless of its scale.

The prefect waved his hand, signaling a guard to bring forward a tray. On it were neatly arranged slips of paper, each containing a poem.

Governor Deng Tianyou asked, “Prefect Yue, what is the meaning of this?”

The prefect smiled and replied, “To answer Your Excellency, these are poems composed by the newly appointed scholars. I thought of a new way to make things more interesting. Each of you esteemed gentlemen may select a favorite poem, and its author will then compose an impromptu poem on a topic you provide. The winner will receive a reward from me.”

“Intriguing,” Deng Tianyou remarked.

Appraising poetry was a routine part of such gatherings, though some often recycled their past works to pass as new. This method, where an old work was first evaluated and then a spontaneous composition determined the true talent, seemed more engaging than the usual tradition.

“In that case, I shall go first,” Deng Tianyou said, straightening his posture as he leaned forward to examine the slips of paper.

He scrutinized them for a while before nodding with a smile. “Prefect Yue, it seems Jiangling Prefecture has produced quite a few talented individuals this year—”

As he spoke, his eyes fell on one particular slip, and his words abruptly ceased.

The prefect, oblivious to the sudden change in mood, responded cheerfully, “It’s all thanks to the Emperor’s blessing.”

But Deng Tianyou did not reply. His gaze remained fixed on the paper, his brows furrowing as the warmth in his expression gave way to an uncharacteristically solemn demeanor.

“Your Excellency?” The prefect noticed the shift and asked, “Is something amiss?”

Deng Tianyou picked up the slip and asked coldly, “Who wrote this poem?”

The tone was far from one of admiration, and the prefect was taken aback. The attendant holding the tray hesitated before replying, “This… seems to have been written by Qin Zhao.”

Deng Tianyou’s eyes snapped up. “Who?”

“Qin—Qin Zhao, the top graduate,” the attendant stammered. “The one who is absent today due to illness…”

That morning, Qin Zhao had sent a servant to the prefectural office to request leave. However, as the invitation had clearly required a poem to be submitted, Qin Zhao had also sent one along, stating it was dedicated to Governor Deng.

The prefect had read the poem beforehand and found it unimpressive compared to Qin Zhao’s usual standards. Assuming it was due to his illness, the prefect had paid it little mind.

But seeing the governor’s reaction now… Was the poem truly so terrible?

Qin Zhao was famous for his poetic talent. Even if this work was considered average by his own standards, it was still likely superior to those of the other scholars. Was it really worth such a reaction?

Confused but unwilling to intrude further, the prefect refrained from looking closer. He hoped to hear the governor’s critique, but Deng Tianyou merely tossed the slip back onto the tray and casually picked another poem, handing it to the attendant. “This one.”

He then returned to his seat.

The other Hanlin scholars each selected their favorite poem. The chosen authors stood to compose impromptu poems on assigned topics. The atmosphere was lively, filled with poetic exchanges, yet Governor Deng Tianyou seemed weary, his mind elsewhere, his enthusiasm diminished.

When the Banquet of the Deer Call concluded and the prefect escorted his superior out, he finally remembered to revisit Qin Zhao’s poem.

However, no matter how many times he searched through the slips, he could not find the one containing Qin Zhao’s poem.

… Where had it gone?

Perplexed, the prefect had no choice but to give up.

…

As night fell, the glow of the kitchen fire flickered. Jing Li sat on a small stool by the stove, absentmindedly fanning the flames.

Ah Qi pushed the door open and walked in. Jing Li glanced back and asked, “Has the little fish finished eating?”

“Yes, he’s resting with the master now.” Ah Qi placed the empty dishes on the stove and came over to take over Jing Li’s task. “Madam, you should go eat something. I can handle brewing the medicine.”

“No need. Go rest.” Jing Li replied, “I’m not hungry.”

Ah Qi didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “You haven’t eaten much all day. If you go on like this, the master will be worried.”

Hugging his knees, Jing Li muttered awkwardly, “Why should I care whether he’s worried or not?”

The kitchen fell into an uneasy silence. Ah Qi stood there for a moment before stiffly changing the subject. “The master’s fever has gone down, and he looks much better now. Though he’s still sleeping, he should be able to get out of bed tomorrow.”

“He should rest for a few more days,” Jing Li said, his voice muffled. “The doctor said his overthinking has drained his energy. The more he sleeps, the better.”

As he spoke, he grumbled, “The provincial exam is over. What’s there left to worry about?”

Ah Qi remained silent for a while before offering reassurance. “Please don’t worry, Madam. The master will be fine.”

“You always say that.”

After spending so much time together, Jing Li had long considered Ah Qi a close friend, so he spoke without much reservation. “I asked you to help watch over him, but all you ever do is help him hide things from me. I don’t even know whose side you’re on.”

“I…” Ah Qi was not good with words and even worse at lying. He could only lower his head in silence.

Seeing Ah Qi’s wooden expression, Jing Li could only sigh in exasperation. Ah Qi was straightforward by nature, always bottling up his thoughts and rarely expressing them.

Remembering how Ah Qi had endured his temper earlier that day, Jing Li stood up and said earnestly, “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you this morning. I’m sorry.”

Ah Qi froze.

From a young age, he had been trained as a shadow guard. His role was to obey without question, and it was unheard of for a master to apologize to him.

He opened his mouth, unsure of how to respond.

“I really didn’t mean it. I was just too anxious and angry at the time.” Speaking of it now, Jing Li felt an inexplicable pang of grievance. Lowering his head, he fiddled with his sleeve. “He clearly promised me he’d take good care of himself. I only left him alone for one night, and yet he…”

Jing Li paused, taking a light breath before continuing, “Ah Qi, I honestly don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Madam…” Ah Qi began softly.

“Qin Zhao is always like this, as if he has so many secrets, so many important things to take care of. I really want to help him, but… it feels like there’s nothing I can do.”

From the very beginning, he had been nothing more than a foolish little fish that Qin Zhao had to take care of, relying on him for everything. Even after all this time, he hadn’t made any progress. All he could do was follow behind that person, protected by him.

He couldn’t even figure out a way to do something for him.

Jing Li stared at the crackling flames in the stove. The firelight reflected in his eyes, which were slightly red.

Ah Qi: “…”

Help.

If the master found out that he had upset Madam to the point of tears, he might very well be skinned alive and fed to the dogs.

“Ma-Madam,” Ah Qi stammered awkwardly, “Please don’t be upset. The master just caught a cold. He’ll get better soon. Being like this won’t help his recovery…”

Clearly, Ah Qi had never been in a relationship, nor had he ever comforted anyone. His words only poured fuel on the fire.

Jing Li’s grievance deepened, and he muttered softly, “So you also think I’m no help to him at all?”

Ah Qi: “…”

He didn’t mean that, not at all.

A professional shadow guard who had never flinched in the face of sword or spear suddenly found himself wanting to use light-footwork to escape through the nearest window. Ah Qi was utterly unprepared to handle such situations. Though his expression remained calm, inwardly he was praying desperately for someone to interrupt the awkward moment.

Perhaps his prayers worked, as light footsteps echoed from outside.

The sound instantly caught Ah Qi’s attention. His trained ears recognized it as belonging to one specific person, and his back stiffened slightly.

Moments later, the slightly ajar kitchen door was pushed open. Qin Zhao leaned against the frame, his voice still weak. “What… are you two doing?”

Jing Li whipped his head around, startled. The tears that had been welling up in his eyes finally spilled over, a single droplet tracing down his cheek.

With a faint plop, it fell to the floor.

Seeing the scene before him, Qin Zhao frowned slightly.

Jing Li didn’t have time to question Qin Zhao about why he had gotten out of bed again. He quickly turned away and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes.

Ah Qi was still standing in front of him, looking a bit flustered. “Mas-Master…”

“Leave us,” Qin Zhao said with a slight wave of his hand.

Ah Qi couldn’t have been more relieved and hurried out of the kitchen.

Qin Zhao, who had only just recovered from a fever, still seemed unsteady as he walked. Slowly, he approached Jing Li from behind and asked softly, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not… I’m not crying…” Jing Li’s emotions hadn’t entirely settled yet. He took a shaky breath and tried his best to steady his voice. “It’s just the smoke.”

Ah Qi wasn’t wrong—acting like this wouldn’t help Qin Zhao’s recovery. If anything, it would only make him worry more.

He already had so many things to worry about…

Jing Li cleared his throat and turned around. “You need to leave. The smoke here is too heavy. The doctor said you shouldn’t even be out of bed, so why are you here?”

Qin Zhao didn’t move. He simply looked down at him.

From this angle, Jing Li’s red-rimmed eyes were impossible to hide.

Jing Li rarely cried in front of him. The last time was out of guilt when his momentary impulsiveness had led to the imprisonment—and ultimately the death—of Boss Chang.

And before that?

Qin Zhao couldn’t quite remember.

His young husband had spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, and now his face was smudged with a bit of soot, making him look all the more pitiful.

Qin Zhao sighed softly and took out a handkerchief to wipe Jing Li’s face.

“My little fish has turned into a little cat…” His movements were gentle, but before he could wipe more than a couple of times, Jing Li dodged away.

“I can do it myself! You should go back and lie down,” Jing Li insisted.

“I’ve been lying down all day,” Qin Zhao replied with a faint smile. “I’m not that fragile.”

“You are that fragile!” Jing Li muttered. “You catch a cold just from a breeze. When will that useless body of yours finally get stronger?”

“Yes, yes, I’m useless,” Qin Zhao said. “But does that mean I made you cry?”

“I didn’t—”

“If you weren’t upset, then why won’t you eat?” Qin Zhao interrupted.

Jing Li was left speechless.

Fidgeting slightly, he turned his gaze away and muttered resentfully, “Ah Qi really is on your side. He tells you everything. All my kindness to him was wasted.”

Qin Zhao smiled faintly and said nothing. He walked to the stove and began ladling porridge into a bowl for Jing Li.

“Don’t move around recklessly!” Jing Li hurried over to take the bowl from him, but Qin Zhao easily sidestepped him. “Don’t fight me on this. Be good—I’m the patient right now.”

Jing Li was left with no retort, watching helplessly as Qin Zhao finished ladling the porridge and led him back inside.

When they returned to the bedroom, the little fish was nowhere to be seen—Ah Qi had clearly taken him away earlier, leaving the room empty. Qin Zhao guided Jing Li to sit at the table, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it to cool it, and brought it to Jing Li’s lips.

“I can feed myself…” Jing Li began to reach for the spoon, but Qin Zhao raised his brow slightly and interrupted, “Be good.”

“…”

Jing Li could only obediently drink the porridge.

Who was the real patient here, anyway?

Jing Li had been sulking all day, and it wasn’t until the warm porridge touched his lips that he realized just how hungry he was. His stomach even let out an audible grumble.

Qin Zhao chuckled softly but didn’t say anything. He patiently fed Jing Li the entire bowl of porridge, then took out a handkerchief to wipe the corner of his lips. Only then did he ask, “Do you want more?”

There was no way Jing Li could let him continue feeding him, so he quickly shook his head. “I’m full.”

Setting the bowl aside, Qin Zhao asked, “Then, are you still angry?”

Jing Li pressed his lips together.

Qin Zhao was coaxing him.

Even though he was still recovering from such a miserable illness, he had come over just to comfort him.

Why did he always make this person worry about him?

Jing Li’s nose tingled, and he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. He just shook his head quickly.

“If you’re not angry, then you must be upset,” Qin Zhao said, gently brushing a fingertip against the corner of Jing Li’s eye. Sure enough, he felt a trace of dampness. “Is it because I got sick again?”

Jing Li shook his head again.

His reddened eyes still shimmered slightly with unshed tears, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

Qin Zhao’s hand trailed from Jing Li’s shoulder down his arm, finally taking hold of his hand and pulling him closer.

Jing Li instinctively resisted, but Qin Zhao softly asked, “What’s this? Not even willing to let me hug you?”

“…”

Jing Li had no idea how to deal with this version of Qin Zhao.

Normally, he was so composed and self-reliant, but when it came to coaxing others, he always feigned innocence and vulnerability, making it impossible to stay mad at him.

Resigned, Jing Li stepped forward and was immediately enveloped in Qin Zhao’s arms.

The faint scent of medicinal herbs that always seemed to linger around Qin Zhao filled the air. Jing Li had always liked that smell. He buried his head in Qin Zhao’s shoulder, inhaling the calming fragrance, and subconsciously rubbed his face against him.

“Now I know where the little fish learned how to act spoiled,” Qin Zhao murmured as he stroked Jing Li’s hair gently. “Xiao Yu, seeing you like this makes my heart ache.”

Jing Li tightened his grip on Qin Zhao’s sleeve.

“If you’re angry or feel wronged, you might as well just scold me,” Qin Zhao said softly. “I don’t want to see you bottling everything up inside. That’s not like you.”

The Jing Li he used to know had never been like this.

He was straightforward and carefree, so much so that even when he acted impulsively or caused trouble, he never seemed to have any worries.

Qin Zhao had always wanted to protect that innocence, and that was why he worked so hard.

So why did it always end up making Jing Li so upset?

“…I’m not mad at you,” Jing Li whispered. “I’m just… just a little anxious.”

Qin Zhao’s health had shown no improvement, and Jing Li simply couldn’t stop worrying. In a time when medical conditions were far from ideal, so many lives were lost to illnesses that couldn’t be treated properly. How was Qin Zhao ever going to get better if this went on?

And yet, this man never stopped taking on so many burdens.

Jing Li was anxious and frustrated, but he couldn’t find a solution. All he could do was get angry with himself.

He didn’t even dare tell Qin Zhao about his worries, afraid that doing so would only burden him further.

“Qin Zhao, let’s not take the exams anymore, okay?” Jing Li said. “Things are fine as they are now. My fees for writing letters are almost as much as what you earn teaching. We can live a good life like this.”

Qin Zhao didn’t seem surprised by his words. He only asked gently, “Have you been holding this in for a long time?”

Jing Li was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I could tell,” Qin Zhao said. “You used to be so eager for me to achieve success. But now, every time the topic of going to the capital comes up, you seem unhappy. Our family doesn’t struggle financially anymore, yet you’re still working so hard to earn money. It’s not just about proving yourself—you want to prove something to me, don’t you?”

“I…” Jing Li hesitated.

He had once dreamed of Qin Zhao making a name for himself. He thought someone as talented as Qin Zhao shouldn’t remain buried in this small place. But there was no such thing as instant success in reality. Even someone as brilliant as Qin Zhao had to climb his way up step by step, struggling through the mire.

Over the years, he had witnessed Qin Zhao’s hard work and sacrifices for this goal, and he regretted it.

Jing Li sometimes wondered if, back then, he had stopped Qin Zhao from taking the county-level exams, they might have stayed in that small mountain village, living a life that, while perhaps poor, was peaceful and steady.

Now there was no turning back, so Jing Li tried to resolve things in his own way. He thought, if he were good enough, if he could show Qin Zhao that they could live well without chasing higher ambitions, then maybe all of this could finally stop.

“I know everything,” Qin Zhao sighed softly, holding Jing Li closer. “Everything you’ve done—I know it all.”

“But…”

It felt like it wasn’t enough.

Jing Li felt as though Qin Zhao was gradually drifting further away from him. Even though they were always together, there always seemed to be some invisible distance between them.

“Xiao Yu, I love you very much,” Qin Zhao murmured, his fingers gently brushing through Jing Li’s hair. “That’s the one thing you never have to doubt.”

“As for everything else, if you want to know, I can tell you right now. Don’t worry, and don’t be afraid.”

Jing Li froze.

He sat up straight, looking into Qin Zhao’s refined but gaunt face.

There was a softness and sincerity in Qin Zhao’s gaze as he spoke. Jing Li had to admit, Qin Zhao always knew exactly how to ease his worries. Even without saying much or doing anything grand, he always managed to calm him.

Jing Li’s hand was clasped in Qin Zhao’s, the warmth of his palm comforting. Jing Li spoke softly, “I understand.”

“I won’t overthink anymore, so you don’t have to worry about me,” Jing Li said. “Right now, the most important thing is your health. Everything else—we can talk about it slowly once you’re better.”

It might have been seeing Qin Zhao suddenly fall ill today that made Jing Li unusually sentimental.

Now that he had calmed down, he realized this wasn’t the time to sulk. Whatever needed to be said could wait until Qin Zhao recovered.

Qin Zhao began, “But you’re not—”

“Let’s make a deal, okay?” Jing Li interrupted. “I actually have a secret I’ve been hiding from you too. Once you’re better, we’ll exchange secrets. One for one, to make it fair.”

Qin Zhao didn’t seem particularly curious about what Jing Li’s secret might be, but hearing his proposal, he smiled faintly. “Alright, I’ll do as you say.”

Having spoken his mind, Jing Li finally felt a weight lifted off his chest. He stood up and pulled Qin Zhao toward the bed. “Hurry and lie down. The doctor said you shouldn’t be out of bed!”

“I know…” Qin Zhao allowed himself to be led, but just as they reached the bed, there was a soft knock at the door.

The two exchanged a glance before Jing Li turned to open it.

Ah Qi stood at the door holding the little fish fry and looked directly past Jing Li to Qin Zhao inside. “Master, there’s an important guest at the door asking to see you.”

“…He says his surname is Deng.”

At a time like this?

Jing Li frowned and was about to tell Ah Qi to send the guest away, but Qin Zhao said calmly, “I know. Have him wait for me in the study.”

Ah Qi nodded, handed the little fish fry to Jing Li, and left.

Inside, the sound of rustling clothing echoed as Qin Zhao retrieved an outer robe from the wardrobe.

“Who is it?” Jing Li asked.

Qin Zhao never entertained guests when he was sick—it was a household rule. Even if the prefect himself came, Qin Zhao wouldn’t necessarily rise to meet him. Yet this guest was important enough for Qin Zhao to change and head to the study.

…This person’s identity must be extraordinary.

Qin Zhao paused briefly before answering honestly, “Governor Deng Tianyou.”

Jing Li was startled.

Wasn’t he the one hosting the Banquet of the Deer Call today?

But Qin Zhao didn’t elaborate further. He quickly finished dressing, turned back, and kissed Jing Li lightly on the cheek. “I promised not to hide things from you, but there’s no time to explain now. Let me meet him first, and I’ll tell you everything when I return.”

Without waiting for Jing Li’s reply, he left the bedroom.

Jing Li stood in the room holding the little fish. The two of them, one big and one small, stared after Qin Zhao’s retreating figure before turning to look at each other.

“Don’t you think this is a bit strange?” Jing Li asked, a suspicion forming in his mind.

The little one furrowed his brow as well and let out a heavy huff.

Lin Shuishi was carried back to the wolf den by Fuli, curled up like a cub in a warm pile of furs, his teeth chattering from the cold, still trying to warm up.

Fuli went to the adjacent chamber and retrieved an even thicker bearskin, wrapping it over Lin Shuishi’s head, leaving only his little nose exposed for breathing. The snow on the ridge was sparse, mostly blown down to the plains below, leaving the red rock surfaces clean and bare.

The other wolves kept their distance from Fuli’s den, with only the wolf king’s family living across from him, just close enough to keep an eye on Fuli’s den.

The little white wolf was still squirming in its den, looking noticeably larger than its siblings. It was whining incessantly, gnawing at the mother wolf’s tail. Ever since it returned to the pack last night, the mother wolf king, following her animal instincts, predicted an extreme cold and snowstorm and forbade it from leaving.

But it was reluctant to play with its still-nursing siblings and fussed about going to find Lin Shuishi. In the end, it was only deterred when the mother wolf king gripped its neck and issued a stern warning.

Now, hearing movement from the den that none of the other wolves dared to approach, the little white wolf perked its ears, catching the scent of Lin Shuishi on the wind. It began to sneak towards the den entrance, but its plan was thwarted by its father, the wolf king, who blocked the entrance with his imposing body.

The wolf king was in good spirits, his abdominal wounds healing rapidly, allowing him to move freely. However, he still needed some time to fully recover before he could lead the pack on hunts again. During this period, Fuli had taken on all the duties of patrolling the territory and other responsibilities.

The white wolf king stood at the entrance, craning his neck to peer across at Fuli’s den. He listened quietly for a while, hesitating, but finally stepped out and made his way to the higher den where Fuli lived.

Standing cautiously at the entrance, the wolf king peered inside. His unusual brother, who had never taken a mate, had brought a beast into his den. After nearly twenty years of life, the wolf king felt that this pivotal moment in a male’s life might not be the best time for a visit.

But as the leader, despite Fuli’s longstanding authority, he resolved to check on the situation. He stood outside for a moment, waiting for his brother’s permission. Fuli let out a soft grunt, allowing the wolf king to enter.

Inside the spacious den, the floor was covered with animal pelts, and the trophies that were usually neatly arranged had been scattered about. His strong brother lay sprawled on the ground, with the familiar weak beast clinging tightly to his neck, pressed close against him.

The wolf king’s deep blue eyes searched and pondered. His brother had never been close to any other creature before, except for holding him, but that was over twenty years ago…

Now, it seemed that Fuli had finally found a lifelong companion.

The white wolf king stepped closer, its wet snout nudging forward to sniff the only part of Lin Shuishi exposed outside the bearskin—his bright red nose. The wolf king remembered this scent, the one who had treated his wounds and brought him medicine.

Fuli growled lowly, warning the wolf king, deterring the robust male leader from getting any closer to the creature in his embrace.

Undeterred, the white wolf king gently pulled the sheepskin that had been wrapped around Lin Shuishi and quickly retreated from the den before Fuli could get angry. He carried the sheepskin to the center of the white wolf pack’s territory, placed it on the ground, and then raised his head to let out a long howl.

The howl echoed through the falling snow, prompting responses from every wolf pack in the mountains. This unusual behavior of the wolf pack alerted the nearby herbivores, though they were unaware that the wolves were merely performing the necessary ritual to welcome a new member under the leader’s guidance.

The white wolves emerged from their dens and gathered at the leader’s feet. According to their rank, they took turns sniffing the scent on Lin Shuishi’s sheepskin, committing the scent of each new pack member to memory.

In just a short while, the white wolf den on the ridge returned to its usual calm. The wolf king, after some thought, picked up the sheepskin again and walked towards a hollow tree.

So, amidst the snowfall, the wolf king had hastily concluded that Fuli had transitioned within the pack from a “violent and solitary old bachelor” to a “fierce alpha needing space to enjoy his mate.”

As a result, no other wolves dared to disturb him, including the little wolf cub that had been eagerly waiting in the wolf king’s den. The young cub had yet to realize that it had already lost its only “territory and pack.” In the eyes of the entire wolf pack, Lin Shuishi had now become Fuli’s mate and was considered part of the wolf pack.

However, Lin Shuishi, who had just been “transformed” into this new role, remained in a daze, clinging to Fuli’s chest. Ever since Fuli had carried him out of the small tent, the tension of struggling between life and death had eased, and once he entered the warmth of the wolf den, he began to develop a high fever, his body alternating between hot and cold.

Feeling the uncomfortable hardness of the untanned animal skins beneath him, Lin Shuishi instinctively crawled closer to Fuli. His small frame and weight were negligible to Fuli; his large, strong body could easily accommodate Lin Shuishi even if he turned over in his sleep.

Fuli allowed everything to happen. He simply tightened his arms around the little beast clinging to him, breathing heavily and restrainedly grinding his teeth near the fragrant nape of Lin Shuishi’s neck.

Outside, the snow continued to fall heavily. Fuli wrapped the feverish Lin Shuishi tightly in furs. Even though their bodies, pressed closely together, began to sweat slightly from the heat, he didn’t let go of Lin Shuishi. Instead, he held the soft body even tighter, while Lin Shuishi unconsciously moved his arms from around Fuli’s neck to around his firm waist.

Fuli’s muscles tensed in response to the unconscious movements of the little one in his arms, and he took a few deep breaths. He chalked it up to being unfamiliar with the sensation of being close to a “human.”

Eventually, he moved Lin Shuishi’s arms back onto his chest and finally relaxed. But when he noticed what Lin Shuishi was clutching in his hand, Fuli was suddenly taken aback. He carefully observed the two round, red eggs the little beast was tightly holding.

By evening, Lin Shuishi’s fever had finally subsided, but the snowstorm outside continued. In such weather, hunting was extremely difficult for the wolves, so they dug out their stored food to survive the snow-bound days.

Lin Shuishi, still groggy, clutched the broad arm beside him and croaked out that he was thirsty. Fuli, understanding his words, got up and settled the little beast back in the furs. He picked up a hollow ox horn lying on the ground, a trophy from his conquest of the wild cattle—a massive, sharp horn from the lead bull.

He strode out of the den to fetch water from the hot springs and gave Lin Shuishi something to drink. Afterward, he pondered for a moment, then draped a piece of fur over himself and braved the howling wind and snow of the night to return to the treehouse, where he gathered all the dried fruits and vegetables Lin Shuishi had been storing and brought them back to the wolf den.

Finally, he went to the western side of the hot springs and nimbly scaled the steep cliffs. Reaching into the densely packed bird nests within the rocky crevices, he carefully extracted only one egg from each nest, causing the birds to tremble in fear, too terrified to fluff their feathers. When he could carry no more in his small pouch of animal skins, he leaped back down to the ground and rushed back to the wolf den.

Lin Shuishi eventually awoke from his foggy state, finding the outside world shrouded in gloom, with even the moonlight dimmed. He coughed a few times, his voice muffled, and looked around. The den was warm, but Fuli was not there. However, he saw the mushrooms and wood ear fungus he had hung to dry in the treehouse, along with a small basket of chestnuts.

Outside, the wolf pack was feeding. The wolf king carried a bull’s leg in its mouth and headed toward Fuli’s den. Lin Shuishi suddenly saw the massive wolf head appear at the entrance, clutching a bloody bull’s leg with its glowing, greenish eyes!

His newly healed legs nearly gave way. Although he knew the wolf wouldn’t harm him, the sight triggered a primal fear deep within him—an instinctive terror of fierce predators etched into the human genome.

In the end, Lin Shuishi accepted the wolf king’s goodwill, shakily taking the large bull leg and placing it near the entrance of the cave. The wolf king, satisfied, lifted its head proudly and walked away, leaving Lin Shuishi standing there, conflicted.

At that moment, Lin Shuishi was still weak from the fever and lacked energy due to hunger. He was pondering how to start a fire to cook the meat when he saw Fuli returning, covered in snow.

He only vaguely remembered how attentive Fuli had been to him, and the warmth of that man’s chest. Although he felt a bit embarrassed, he was still genuinely happy to see him return.

Just as Lin Shuishi was about to go forward to greet him, he noticed that Fuli had a large bundle strapped to his back. When Fuli placed the bundle in front of him and unwrapped the dry animal skins, they revealed a pile of eggs—eggs of various sizes and colors.

Lin Shuishi was speechless for a moment. Was stealing eggs a tradition in the wolf pack? And did the number of eggs one stole correspond to their strength and status?

Looking up, he noticed Fuli casting a subtle glance at the two large, red-spotted eggs that Lin Shuishi had carefully placed in the warm animal skins.

Their gazes met over the eggs, and Lin Shuishi suddenly understood. He chuckled awkwardly, “Uh, thank you, thank you very much, but these will be more than enough. There’s no need for more next time!”

And so, that night, Lin Shuishi finally enjoyed a hot meal—two perfectly cooked hot spring eggs from the wolves’ sacred spring.

They were delicious…

In Yuanshan Village, the atmosphere was starkly different from the tranquility of Dongshan. A group of strong men, armed with bows and shovels, angrily kicked open the door of a rather spacious farmhouse. The leader was an older man, once known as the famous Zheng the Hunter in the surrounding villages. However, after losing a leg, he had turned to carpentry.

At this moment, Old Man Zheng was far from his usual calm self; he was furious, shaking off the snow as he pounded on the door.

“Bighead Sun! Get out here!” he shouted, giving a nod to his brothers beside him. They all grimly nodded back and picked up axes, hacking away at the wooden door of the courtyard.

Bighead Sun cowered inside his mud-brick house, too scared to show his face. But his wife was a fierce woman, and she stormed out, wielding a shoulder pole and flanked by their two sons.

“Who are these thugs?! Daring to smash down my door! Do you even know who you’re dealing with? You should ask around about how tough I am!”

Mrs. Sun, with her sharp, upturned eyes, quickly assessed the situation as she saw the group of men outside the door. Suddenly, she changed her tone and smiled, “Oh, it’s Old Master Zheng! I was wondering who it was. Come on in, have some hot water; it’s cold out, and Rehe Village is far away.”

But Old Man Zheng didn’t entertain her words. His face was ashen with anger, and he was breathing heavily.

“Don’t try to fool me. We’ve got a dozen brothers from Rehe Village standing here in the snow, and we’re only asking you one question.”

His gaze was deep and intense. “Where is Shui Ge’er?”

(T/N: ge’er = ger)

Lin Shuishi lay beside the earthen stove, staring at the two eggs he had placed on the animal skin, still covered in the green wolf’s saliva.

Holding them up to the sunlight, he could faintly see that these two were “fertile eggs,” capable of hatching. The eggs were indeed quite beautiful! If they were in the modern world, they might even be considered works of art.

Lin Shuishi finally made up his mind. He wasn’t lacking food, so there was no need to eat them. Besides, he had never seen such brilliantly patterned red eggs and was curious about what kind of bird might hatch from them. So he wrapped the two eggs in sheepskin and placed them near the warm stove earth, waiting patiently for them to hatch.

As he looked at the two green wolves panting with their tongues out, he handed them a few pieces of mutton. “It’s a fair trade! But don’t steal next time, especially since you don’t even like eating them.” The green wolves tilted their heads, not understanding, and ran off with the meat.

The day was rather gloomy, lacking the warmth of sunlight, making the winter even colder.

Lin Shuishi’s collected firewood was nearly used up. Although the forest was full of dead branches and leaves, dry wood that burned well was scarce. The wood was too damp, causing the stove to smoke and choke him. So, he had to venture deeper into the forest.

As he gathered firewood, large snowflakes began to fall from the sky, like goose feathers, quickly covering the trees and ground in a thick layer of snow.

It grew increasingly cold, and Lin Shuishi shivered as he carried a small bundle of dry wood back to maintain the stove’s heat. He also boiled some broth to keep warm.

After he returned, the green wolves and the little white wolf were nowhere to be seen. Presumably, in such harsh cold, they had followed their natural instincts and returned to the wolf pack. The surroundings were eerily quiet, and the tent was already covered in snow. Lin Shuishi huddled by the fire, but it was no match for the overwhelming white snow that filled the world. The fire’s slow flames seemed like they were about to freeze.

The heavy snow fell relentlessly throughout the day. Lin Shuishi’s firewood was almost completely burned out. He wrapped himself in the sheepskin, shivering and sleepy, but he still decided to tuck the two red-patterned eggs into his arms. Live or die, they would share the same fate.

As Lin Shuishi drifted in and out of consciousness from the cold, he vaguely sensed something moving outside the tent!

After patrolling his territory, Fuli quickly made his way back through the snow, only to find the treehouse empty. Sniffing the air, he leaped down to the base of the tree and began frantically digging into a small snowdrift.

Standing knee-deep in the snow, Fuli exhaled large clouds of hot breath, using his powerful arms to dig into the mound that had formed beneath the ancient tree. The snow melted on contact with his warm skin, trickling down his arms. In just a few breaths, he had unearthed the small tent where the “female beast” was buried.

Fuli ripped open the frozen entrance of the deerskin tent, his beastly eyes locking onto the shivering creature buried in the snow. He let out a growl from his throat. Inside the tent, Lin Shuishi jolted awake, suddenly more alert.

He sniffled and, trembling, croaked out, “F-Fuli!”

The tent Lin Shuishi had set up was small to retain warmth. Fuli, being tall and broad, couldn’t fit inside. Lin Shuishi, with his legs numb from the cold and his feet asleep, couldn’t climb out.

Without hesitation, Fuli extended his long arm, grabbed Lin Shuishi’s numb leg, and pulled him out.

The moment the cold wind hit, Lin Shuishi shivered even more violently. Seeing this, Fuli scooped him up against his chest, wrapping the two icy legs around his waist inside the animal skin. Then, using the sheepskin that Lin Shuishi had been wearing, he securely bundled him against his warm chest.

He lowered his head and sniffed Lin Shuishi’s cold nose. It was icy, but at least his breathing was steady.

Suddenly wrapped in a scorching chest, Lin Shuishi was a bit startled, but the warmth was irresistible, and he found himself leaning into it. It was so warm! The man’s hard chest even felt a bit too hot against his face. Before he could fully adjust, he saw the sharp, angular face close up, with those golden eyes nearly touching his own, their breaths mingling!

At that moment, Lin Shuishi felt not only his body but also his mind go numb.

He clung tightly to Fuli, his arms and legs wrapped around him as Fuli enveloped him securely in a thick sheepskin.

Then, through the deep snow, Fuli traversed mountains and valleys, step by step, bringing Lin Shuishi back to the wolf den on the ridge, where he safely tucked him into Fuli’s warm, dry lair.