“Looks like your mouth’s fine. Did you burn your tongue?” Without another word, Ji Yingran pried open the wolf’s jaws.
She didn’t see anything wrong with the gesture. Back home, she’d handled her cats and dogs the same way whenever they scarfed down something questionable. It was just habit—she reached without thinking.
The Snow Wolf’s eyes widened in shock, and she clamped her mouth shut on instinct.
Ji Yingran wouldn’t let up. She pried harder and coaxed, “Let me see if your tongue got scorched. Open up—ahh~”
Ahh? Ahh my tail!
The Snow Wolf shot her a fierce glare, clamped down on the intruding hand, and let out a threatening rumble from deep in her throat.
Ji Yingran: “…”
This wasn’t the first time she’d been nipped, and she knew the wolf wouldn’t really chomp down. So she stayed calm and gently pulled her hand free.
“Why’d you bite me?” A thought struck her, and she pivoted. “You don’t think I poisoned the food just because it was hot, do you?”
The Snow Wolf was clever enough to understand human speech, but she didn’t always connect the dots right. She might actually suspect foul play.
“I didn’t poison anything—don’t get the wrong idea. Heating food makes it scalding hot. You saved my life; there’s no way I’d hurt you. Got it?”
The Snow Wolf sneaked a glance at the hand that had invaded her mouth, then let out an awkward huff. Ji Yingran couldn’t tell if she’d gotten through or not.
Unconcerned now, the Snow Wolf trotted back to the pot, eager to dig into the fish again.
Ji Yingran was quicker. She snatched the pot away first.
The Snow Wolf froze, then stamped her paw in frustration.
“Wait just a sec—it’s still too hot. Give it a bit to cool down,” Ji Yingran explained hurriedly.
The Snow Wolf fixed her with an intense stare, unwilling to wait even a moment, but she had enough sense not to snatch it back. If she really wanted it, Ji Yingran wouldn’t stand a chance.
About five minutes later, just as the Snow Wolf’s patience was fraying, Ji Yingran set the pot and fish right by her paws.
“All good now. Dig in,” she said.
Moments ago, the Snow Wolf had been pacing with impatience. Now she played it cool.
Ji Yingran knew the game. She turned away, giving the wolf space to preserve her dignified image.
From behind came the sound of eager chomping—smack, smack—clearly relishing every bite. Then came the slurping as she licked the pot clean.
Only when the noises died down did Ji Yingran turn back around. Playing along with the wolf’s aloof act wasn’t easy.
The Snow Wolf’s pink tongue darted out to lick her chops, savoring the last traces. But as soon as Ji Yingran looked her way, she stopped, schooled her face into stern aloofness.
Ji Yingran opened her mouth to speak, but the Snow Wolf darted outside again. She returned dragging another fish she’d buried in the snow, dropping it at Ji Yingran’s feet.
Ji Yingran’s head throbbed a little. “You’ve eaten so much already. Still hungry? Maybe save it for the next meal?”
The Snow Wolf’s tail thwacked the ground—thwap, thwap—in clear displeasure.
“It’s not that I don’t want to cook for you.” Ji Yingran pointed at the gas canister. “It’s this. I have to ration it. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”
The Snow Wolf eyed the canister but dismissed it. Her tail kept thwacking.
No doubt about it—if Ji Yingran didn’t cave soon, that tail would be thwacking her instead of the floor.
Though… getting smacked by a fluffy tail didn’t sound half bad.
Ji Yingran cleared her throat, reining in her wandering thoughts. “Stop thwacking your tail. Fine, I’ll make you one more. But that’s it—we really need to save the gas. Without it, I can’t cook or boil water. Cut me some slack here, okay?”
The Snow Wolf nodded solemnly, as if she understood perfectly.
Ji Yingran blinked in surprise. This wolf could nod?
Twenty minutes later, the Snow Wolf polished off the fresh fish—and promptly dragged in yet another one, despite her “promise.”
“You agreed that was the last one! Why’d you bring another?”
The Snow Wolf raised a paw and batted Ji Yingran lightly, tilting her head with a fierce glare and a low, warning growl.
Without thinking, Ji Yingran reached out and grabbed the wolf’s muzzle, muffling the growl.
Caught off guard, the Snow Wolf froze for a second, then shook her head to dislodge the hand.
One shake didn’t work. Her mouth restricted, she shook harder and pawed at the grip.
Ji Yingran bit back a laugh but knew when to quit. She let go.
The Snow Wolf’s round eyes glared daggers. Her front paws planted firmly, she crouched into an attack pose.
It was intimidating, sure—but to Ji Yingran, half the menace dissolved into pure cuteness.
“You can smack me with your paw, but I can’t give you a taste of your own medicine by covering your mouth?” Ji Yingran wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
The Snow Wolf bared her teeth.
“Bare them again, and no more fried fish.”
The Snow Wolf went still at once—no more teeth, no more growls. She’d turned into a model of obedience, a rare sight.
Ji Yingran’s eyebrow arched. A gluttonous wolf through and through. Just threatening to withhold food had tamed her? That was unexpected.
Eyeing the newly docile wolf, Ji Yingran’s mind raced with possibilities.
If she plied her with more tasty treats, really indulging her tastes, maybe the wolf would agree to fetch the backpack next time she asked?
“I’ll cook fish for you—eat as much as you want. But there’s one condition.” She paused deliberately, gauging the reaction.
The Snow Wolf sat prettily, waiting.
Ji Yingran grinned. “Once you’ve eaten your fill and you’re happy, you have to help me find my backpack.”
The Snow Wolf nodded without hesitation.
Ji Yingran stared. That easy? She’d agreed, just like that? Something felt off…
“Alright, a nod’s a promise. I’ll go all out and whip up a full fish feast to make you happy. But remember, once you’re stuffed, it’s your turn to work.”
The Snow Wolf nodded again.
Convinced now, Ji Yingran threw herself into the role of chef with renewed vigor. If recovering the backpack meant cooking her a hundred fish, so be it!
The pot was too small for big batches, so Ji Yingran cooked one portion at a time. The Snow Wolf devoured each one right beside her.
Two hours later, the canister ran dry, and the half-fish stashed outside was gone.
The Snow Wolf licked her chops, belly full, and flopped contentedly onto the blanket, every inch the lazy head wolf.
“Stuffed now?” Ji Yingran sidled over and crouched beside her. “Remember what you promised?”
The Snow Wolf’s eyes snapped shut. Sleep mode activated. Human? Ignored.
Ji Yingran: “?”
“Hey! You can’t do this—you promised! Don’t welch on me!”
Not only did the Snow Wolf welch, her tail thwacked the ground in irritation. She was mad now, too.
Ji Yingran hadn’t even gotten angry yet, and here she was throwing a fit—this shameless, promise-breaking mutt!
Done with her, Ji Yingran turned away in a huff, stewing.
The Snow Wolf didn’t care if she sulked. Fed and happy, she conked out.
Hands on hips, Ji Yingran ground her teeth at the instantly snoring wolf. No way—she couldn’t just let her get away with it. Unacceptable!
No fetching the backpack, fine. But Ji Yingran had poured hours into cooking. She’d recoup her investment somehow—no free lunch.
Her eyes narrowed, a mischievous plan forming.
She marched over and plopped down beside the wolf. Time to pet!
She’d been dying to all along. Now she’d make up for lost time.
She grabbed the tail and gave it a good scratch, stroked the head, pinched the ears, and rubbed the belly.
The fur on her belly was the softest, an absolute delight to the touch. Ji Yingran lost herself in it, kneading away.
So engrossed, she didn’t notice the wolf stirring awake.
Sleepy-eyed, the Snow Wolf glanced at the human, then down at where her hands roamed.
She went rigid for two seconds.
Then—whoosh—she bolted upright and backed away several paces.
Her face was pure disbelief as she stared at Ji Yingran.
