Chapter 72: Searching for the Wolf

Searching for the Wolf: When people get angry, the consequences are serious.

Ji Yingran wasn’t too panicked about not being able to find the wolf. She figured it was just ordinary sulking and that she would come back soon.

But when she couldn’t find the blanket, Ji Yingran truly started to feel a bit anxious.

She sat on the steps in front of Building 9, holding the old phone she had originally given to Mu Ci. Her head was lowered, and her mood was thoroughly depressed.

She truly couldn’t figure it out—what had upset that wolf? Could it have been the call with her childhood friend?

The conflict had indeed started there. After Ji Yingran ended that call, Mu Ci had begun pressing her about whether she had anyone she liked.

It was a ridiculous question, and Ji Yingran had answered honestly: no.

And that was the truth. She really didn’t have anyone she liked.

So, did it matter that much to that wolf whether she had someone she liked?

Had the wolf gotten angry because she didn’t? So what exactly was she mad about?

It was all so confusing.

After that, the wolf had started rambling about “children” and “status”—complete nonsense that Ji Yingran had no clue about.

Was this the gap between humans and wolves?

No, it wasn’t even a generation gap. It was wolves speaking wolf and humans speaking human. They seemed to be using the same language, but in reality, neither could understand the other.

They weren’t on the same wavelength at all.

This wolf got angry plenty of times, but even when angry, she had never run away from home before. This was the first time something like this had happened.

Ji Yingran had no idea when the wolf would come back—or even if she would come back at all. After all, she had taken her most beloved blanket with her.

Ji Yingran sat on the steps, a trace of bewilderment showing on her face. She had no idea what to do.

She couldn’t find her, and she didn’t know where to look.

It had only been a few days since they had acknowledged each other as human and wolf, but in that short time, she had already searched for her countless times. The wolf always vanished suddenly, and once she did, there was no way to contact her.

This wolf was deliberately tormenting her.

Ji Yingran sat on the steps by the door for nearly an hour, but the wolf never appeared. With no other choice, she headed home first. Sitting there waiting forever wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

As soon as she stepped into the living room, she spotted it on the floor: a crumpled notebook with a yellow cover labeled “Head Wolf Revenge Plan.” It was Mu Ci’s diary.

Earlier, Mu Ci had been frantically flipping through the diary, then she had shifted into her wolf form, fluffed up in rage, and stormed out the window.

In her haste, she had accidentally left the diary behind.

Ji Yingran walked over, bent down, and picked up the crumpled diary.

She pursed her lips, hesitating over whether to open it and take a look.

She couldn’t deny that she was curious about Mu Ci’s diary, but she wouldn’t invade someone’s privacy just to satisfy her curiosity—especially not a diary, even if its owner was a wolf.

But this wasn’t about privacy or curiosity anymore. She really wanted to understand why the wolf was angry.

If she could figure that out, maybe she could get the wolf to come back.

Ji Yingran clutched the notebook and paced back and forth in the living room.

Two voices battled fiercely in her mind. One told her that Wolfie really didn’t want anyone reading her diary, so she shouldn’t sneak a peek while she was away.

The other insisted that taking a look wouldn’t hurt anything. The wolf had already stormed off, and with no other options, she had to search the diary for the root of the problem.

She paced the living room for ten minutes before finally making up her mind. Gritting her teeth, she flipped open the diary.

But when she opened it and saw the content on the first page, Ji Yingran froze in place.

In disbelief, she quickly flipped through the pages. After four or five pages, she was utterly stunned.

What was all this?

Was this even a diary? More accurately, was this even writing?

The first page, first line: a total of thirteen characters, nine of which were just black smudges.

Fill-in-the-blanks?

Even fill-in-the-blanks wouldn’t give thirteen characters with only four legible and the remaining nine left to guess.

No matter how clever Ji Yingran was, she couldn’t piece together the full content. Across the entire page, she could only make out maybe seven or eight characters.

Everything else was black smudges.

And those seven or eight legible ones were “Two-Legged Beast” and “not qualified,” along with a few scattered simple words.

Ji Yingran flipped through the entire diary. In the end, she had read it without really reading anything. She couldn’t assemble any useful information from it.

She closed the notebook with a wry smile. She had wasted those ten minutes agonizing over nothing. This diary was harder to decipher than Morse code. Was there even any point in worrying about it? She couldn’t understand it anyway.

This diary could probably only be read by that wolf herself.

Ji Yingran had hoped that reading it would help her figure out why Mu Ci was angry. Instead, the only conclusion she reached was this:

This head wolf was practically illiterate…

Ji Yingran set the diary down on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa. She wearily rubbed her brow.

The Golden Retriever trotted over, its tail wagging furiously.

Ji Yingran patted its head. “You’re both canines. If she were even half as well-behaved as you, I’d be thrilled. Heck, a tenth of your good behavior would satisfy me.”

The Calico Cat came over to join the fun and leaped onto her lap.

Even the usually aloof Sphynx Cat and Maine Coon rubbed against her feet.

Ji Yingran gazed at the pile of cats and the dog, her heart softening even as she let out another sigh.

“I said before that she was like a cat, but don’t let that slander you all. You’re so well-behaved, while that wolf is nothing but a little devil.”

After venting to the cats and dog for a bit, she realized she still needed to go look for her.

But where to search? The question circled back around.

Ji Yingran stepped out into the yard and glanced next door. It was empty; there was no sign of the figure she hoped to see.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through her mind.

Last time, she had found her by the lake in the park across from the neighborhood. Could she be there again this time?

Maybe every time she got mad, she liked running off to the lakeside to throw rocks. Once was a coincidence; twice made a habit.

With that possibility in mind, Ji Yingran headed out right away. She didn’t even have time to change out of her pajamas and just dashed off in her slippers.

In her urgency, she walked too quickly and lost one of her slippers. She had to turn back, pick it up, and slip it on.

She couldn’t afford to waste another moment and broke into a jog.

She left the neighborhood and beelined for the park across the street, heading straight to the lakeside where she had found Mu Ci last time.

The lakeshore was covered in small pebbles, except for this one cleared spot—all the stones there had been thrown clean away by Mu Ci.

Ji Yingran looked around. Not only was there no sign of Mu Ci, but at this hour, there wasn’t a single person in sight.

“Wolfie.”

“Mu Ci!”

Her calls echoed across the lake surface, stirring ripples but drawing no response.

She shouted several more times, but still nothing.

When she didn’t find her there, Ji Yingran combed through the entire park, checking every secluded corner meticulously.

She called out her name the whole time, drawing odd looks from passersby.

Ji Yingran was thin-skinned, and all those curious stares left her mentally exhausted as she searched.

She spent a full two hours scouring the park. She didn’t find Mu Ci—instead, she ended up working herself into a fury.

She had a mild temper and rarely got angry. Even when others directed clear malice at her, she seldom felt rage over it.

But now, for the first time, a fire smoldered in her chest.

It was that frustrating, simmering anger that wouldn’t go away!

Mu Ci’s daily antics and sharp tongue were flaws Ji Yingran could accept. But these inexplicable disappearances? She absolutely could not tolerate them.

Inexplicably blowing up, inexplicably running away from home, inexplicably vanishing without a trace.

Ji Yingran had spent two full hours anxiously searching the park, and it had worn away every last shred of her patience.

“Fine. Great. You want to leave? I won’t care about you anymore. I won’t look for you. That’s it.”

She stormed away from the park in a huff.

For all her words about not caring, when she passed Building 9, she couldn’t help peeking inside.

She hoped the wolf might have come home on her own.

Unfortunately, Building 9 was still just as empty. The wolf hadn’t returned.

That fresh wave of disappointment only fueled Ji Yingran’s anger further.

No more searching. No more waiting. Let the wolf sulk if she wanted to. Let her go wherever she pleased. She absolutely wouldn’t interfere.

Anyone who bothered with this baffling wolf was a dog!

Back home, Ji Yingran went straight to the TV and turned it on. She was going to finish that drama she hadn’t completed. Without the wolf there to bother her, she could watch it more happily and thoroughly.

She even sliced some fruit for herself and settled in leisurely, fully committing to ignoring that wolf.

The TV was the same as always, and the fruit on the table was plenty sweet. But Ji Yingran simply couldn’t relax.

She couldn’t eat the fruit. She couldn’t focus on the TV.

She kept wandering to the window, peeking into the neighboring yard.

When the TV failed to distract her, she headed out to the yard to tend her flowers—trimming excess branches and leaves, watering them, fertilizing.

She was trying to keep herself busy.

But no matter what she was doing with her hands—whether it was watching TV before or gardening now—her gaze kept drifting uncontrollably to the yard next door.

It was so worrisome.

Why hadn’t that wolf come home yet? What on earth was she doing? Surely running away from home wouldn’t take this long. Was she even planning to come back?

No matter how anxious or distraught she became, Ji Yingran couldn’t change the present situation in the slightest. Fury and helplessness warred within her.

By evening, Lady Ou finished work and came home.

“Why have you been pacing around the courtyard like this?” Lady Ou asked, puzzled.

“I…” For a moment, Ji Yingran didn’t know how to reply.

Concern etched itself across Lady Ou’s face. That morning when she had left the house, she had already sensed that Ji Yingran’s mental state wasn’t quite right. Now, returning from work, it seemed even worse.

In the morning, she had merely been talking nonsense, claiming White Hair was a wolf. But now she had stopped spouting such delusions and had instead grown visibly restless and uneasy.

The anxiety was plain for anyone to see.

The bakery’s failure had struck her a heavy blow—her mental state was clearly off-kilter.

Lady Ou worried endlessly. How could this child’s mind be so fragile? It was just a failed shop opening—how had it reduced her to this state?

No, that wouldn’t do. She needed to quickly arrange for a psychologist, intervene with treatment right away. Otherwise, if things progressed further and she ended up as unhinged as the neighboring White Hair and Green Hair, it would be disastrous.

Without Ji Yingran realizing it, Lady Ou had already pegged her as someone teetering on the brink of a mental breakdown.

And in a certain sense, her psyche really was starting to crumble.

She could feel her own rage boiling over, teetering on the edge of explosion, to the point where she wanted to ignore That Wolf forever. Yet even as the anger surged, a contradictory, uncontrollable anxiety gnawed at her, leaving her waiting in desperate anticipation.

She didn’t want to have anything to do with her anymore—yet she yearned for her return.