Chapter 23: Teasing – The Human Who Cries At the Drop of a Hat Part 3

She’d toyed with the idea before but dismissed it as lunacy. Now, staring at the pig by her feet, it didn’t seem quite so insane.

“Wolf, what if you just flew me down the mountain?”

The Snow Wolf fixed her with a pitying, idiot-staring gaze.

Ji Yingran: “…”

Okay, third plan shelved for now.

Ji Yingran glanced behind the Snow Wolf. “Weren’t you supposed to help me get my backpack back? Where is it?”

The Snow Wolf’s muzzle drooped in a pout: As if This Wolf ever agreed to that.

Ji Yingran refused to give up. She even dashed outside to check, figuring maybe the wolf had left the pack at the entrance without bringing it in.

But after scouring the area, she found no sign of it anywhere.

Dejected, she trudged back into the cave and shot the wolf a deeply resentful look.

The Snow Wolf pretended not to notice and nosed the pig right up to her feet, prodding insistently for her to get cooking.

Ji Yingran had lost all interest, though. She plopped down on the ground and started sulking.

The Snow Wolf pushed the pig closer with her muzzle, right to Ji Yingran’s feet, but she didn’t budge. She sat there motionless and silent.

The Snow Wolf circled her for a moment, silently urging her on.

Ji Yingran hugged her knees tight, chin propped on them, staring blankly at the ground.

The Snow Wolf let out a low growl, flashing her teeth menacingly. No reaction.

She raised a paw in warning. Still nothing.

After a brief standoff, the Snow Wolf grew bored. She padded back to her blanket, flopped down, and feigned indifference—though she kept sneaking glances at Ji Yingran from the corner of her eye.

The Snow Wolf licked her paw and peeked at the human.

She licked her fur and peeked again.

No matter whether she stared openly or stole furtive glances, the human remained perfectly still, like she was deep in meditation. Legs hugged, head bowed, gazing at the floor.

This two-legged beast wouldn’t fetch her pack and now threw a tantrum, moping around like she was half-dead. Utterly unreasonable!

The Snow Wolf huffed. She wouldn’t stoop to caring. Let the two-legged beast sulk if she wanted, grieve if she must. There was no chance she’d go chasing some stupid backpack.

Ten minutes later, the Snow Wolf rose sluggishly from her blanket and approached Ji Yingran.

She swatted the top of her head with a paw. Damn two-legged beast—making trouble for the wolf like this. What a worthless slave!

Annoyed, she batted her twice more, but got zero response. Her tail thumped the ground in frustration. She rolled her eyes at Ji Yingran and stalked toward the cave mouth.

The formerly despondent Ji Yingran sneaked a glance upward.

Ha, playing pitiful worked! That look said she was off to find the backpack!

Ji Yingran scrambled to her feet, crept lightly to the entrance, and poked her head out to peer around.

The instant her head emerged—

Smack!

A paw connected squarely with her forehead.

Ji Yingran blinked up in confusion. Perched above the cave mouth was a white wolf head.

“Wolf, you didn’t go get the backpack?” Not only had she not, she’d climbed up top for an ambush!

The Snow Wolf leaped down effortlessly, tail cocked high, eyeing her with scorn. She’d known this two-legged beast couldn’t resist sneaking out for a peek. And just like that, her pitiful act had been exposed as a ruse.

Deceitful, sly human!

Ji Yingran sighed. “Wolf, I really, really need that backpack. Could you please help me? I’m begging you. You’re the best wolf in the whole world—you’ll do it, right?”

The Snow Wolf met her pleading, hopeful gaze and pursed her muzzle. She didn’t give a verbal yes, but her paws turned toward the outside.

Ji Yingran’s eyes sparkled. She called after her, “Wolfie, take your time out there. Be sure to find it! I’ll whip up something amazing for you when you get back—a full spread that’ll stuff you silly!”

The Snow Wolf glanced back over her shoulder.

Ji Yingran stood at the cave mouth, waving cheerfully. Her smile beamed bright as the sunlight slanted across her profile, bathing that grin in a golden glow.

The Snow Wolf’s gaze lingered for a moment.

Two seconds later, she snorted derisively through her nostrils, face twisted in disdain. What was this two-legged beast grinning about? Seducing the wolf? So brazen and cheap.

Unacceptable. Rejected.

The wolf strode off into the distance. Ji Yingran watched her go for a moment before ducking back inside to prep the ingredients.

The Snow Wolf had gone out to hunt down her backpack—she couldn’t slack off now. She had to have a feast ready by the time she returned!

This fragrant pig wasn’t huge, but every inch of it, from prime cuts to organs, lent itself to different dishes. With her stock of spices, pulling off a full pig banquet would be a breeze.

Pork belly for pan-fried pork belly, loin for quick stir-fried pork, trotters for braised pig feet, ribs for hearty rib soup, offal for spicy stir-fries—stomach, heart, kidneys…

She kept the methods simple, though; the gas canister wouldn’t hold up to marathon cooking. Short steps to conserve fuel.

Ji Yingran wasn’t overly concerned about running out of gas. The vegetation near the hot spring—she’d have the Snow Wolf haul some back later. It could double as fuel.

She doubted the wolf would balk. Anything involving food, and that wolf was all in.

Dragging the pig to the cave mouth, she grabbed her folding knife and set to work butchering it.

Ji Yingran was still clumsy when it came to handling freshly killed prey, but she was far more familiar with the process than she had been with the rabbit. At least she wasn’t completely at a loss anymore.

After half an hour of work, her hands were covered in blood, and several drops had splattered onto her clothes. In comparison, the rabbit had been much easier to deal with.

Ji Yingran truly disliked this kind of messy work. She winced throughout the entire process.

Even so, she powered through with a furrowed brow, burying the uneatable portions in the snow a good distance away. She rinsed her hands in the snow and scrubbed at the bloodstains on her clothes, but they wouldn’t come clean. There was nothing she could do about that.

Once the pork was portioned out, the rest of the steps were simple—familiar territory for her.

She started by frying some of the fatty meat to render the lard. Dishes cooked with lard were always far more fragrant than those made with vegetable oil.

The only pity was that the fragrant pig the Snow Wolf had brought back was mostly lean meat, with only a small amount of fat. She figured she’d get just a small half-bowl of lard out of it.

Cooking inside the mountain cave meant poor ventilation, so the air inevitably filled with greasy smoke.

But there was no helping it. Outside, the wind was fierce—the flames would scatter wildly, getting blown out every few moments. It was impossible to cook there.

She bustled about, setting the rendered lard aside to cool. She didn’t waste the crispy bits either, putting them in a separate bowl, sprinkling salt on top, and stirring. Just like that, she had a dish of salted cracklings.

Ji Yingran popped a piece into her mouth. It crunched satisfyingly, the rich fat carrying a burst of salty savoriness. She nodded repeatedly. This was delicious—the wolf would surely like it. She’d save some for her.

Using the remaining lard in the pan, she fried up some pork belly next. No sooner had that finished than she hurried on to a quick stir-fry of tenderloin…

She lost track of how long she toiled, but eventually, eight bowls of dishes lined the ground, and she finally paused to catch her breath.

Sinking onto her stone stool, Ji Yingran wiped the thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and let out a long sigh. This should be enough to feed the wolf.

She was exhausted. She loved cooking, but she’d never worked at such an intense pace as a chef before.

Ji Yingran glanced toward the cave mouth. She hoped the Snow Wolf could really find her backpack. Otherwise… she’d have to figure out some way to make the wolf fly them out of here.

She was still hung up on whether the wolf could fly…

If worse came to worst, she’d find a way to coax it. Sooner or later, she’d wheedle all those abilities out of her. Who knew? What if the wolf really could fly? It made perfect sense.

Frowning, however, Ji Yingran realized she’d spent at least two or three hours preparing all this food, and the wolf still wasn’t back.

Had the backpack been too hard to find? Or had she run into danger?

Ji Yingran started letting her imagination run wild again.

She hurried to the cave mouth and gazed into the distance. If the wolf didn’t return soon, the food would get cold—and cold food just wasn’t as tasty.

At the same time, the sun overhead was gradually obscured by clouds, the sky growing overcast, mirroring Ji Yingran’s mood. The slightest change left her jittery, like a bird startled by a drawn bow, fearing it was an ill omen.

Just as her anxiety peaked, a familiar figure appeared in the distance.

Ji Yingran jogged out to meet her. Wiser this time, she didn’t trip in the snow. “Wolfie, you’re finally back!”

The Snow Wolf cast a sidelong glance at the human, spat the backpack from her mouth onto the ground, and held her tail rigidly upright.

Ji Yingran’s eyes lit up. She scooped up the bag from the snow. No mistake this time—this was definitely hers.

She immediately checked the pocket where she’d stashed the satellite phone.

But before she could even unzip it, the Snow Wolf swatted the bag to the ground with one paw.

Her previously perked tail now dragged along the ground, slapping against it with sharp “thwacks.”

Ji Yingran realized her mistake. In her excitement, she’d forgotten to thank her right away. No immediate gratitude—the wolf was unhappy.

“Wolfie, you’re amazing—so reliable! You’re the most beautiful, powerful, and dependable wolf there is. I just mentioned the bag offhand, and you brought it right back. There’s no wolf in the world more incredible than you—you’re the absolute best!”

Ji Yingran rattled off the praise in one breath, throwing in a thumbs-up for good measure.

The flattery was over-the-top, but the Snow Wolf ate it up. She lifted her chin arrogantly, her tail shooting back up high as the whole wolf brimmed with smugness.

Ji Yingran lowered her thumb and smiled at her—not exaggerated this time, but sincere. “Thank you.”

The shift in tone drew a proper look from the wolf, whose tail was still held high.

Ji Yingran smiled at her, her expression gentle. Or perhaps it wasn’t the smile itself, but her inherently soft temperament that made even a simple smile seem warm and kind.

The Snow Wolf’s gaze lingered on that smile for a few seconds before she suddenly bared her teeth at the human.

Ji Yingran’s smile froze. What was this? They’d been getting along fine—why had she turned fierce again?

The Snow Wolf glared viciously at her: Shameless two-legged beast, who are you smiling at like that? Seducing a wolf? As if I’d fall for it.

Unacceptable. Rejected!

Ji Yingran said, “Okay, okay, don’t be mad. Whatever the reason, I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.”

The Snow Wolf huffed arrogantly.

“Wolfie, I made you a ton of dishes—eight in all, spread out everywhere…”

She didn’t even finish before the wolf in front of her vanished.

In the blink of an eye, the Snow Wolf had darted into the mountain cave, fast as lightning.

Ji Yingran shook her head with a laugh. Sure enough, nothing drew her in like food. Gluttonous wolf indeed.

Oh, right—the satellite phone. She’d almost forgotten about it in the commotion.

Crouching down, she went straight for the innermost pocket. She remembered putting the phone there.

But when she fully opened the deepest pocket, Ji Yingran froze, her expression blanking.

It was empty…

She yanked the zipper all the way open, visibly panicking.

This couldn’t be. It had to be there—she distinctly remembered placing the satellite phone in this spot, choosing the safest, most secure pocket. How could it be gone?

Impossible.

Then it hit her. The first time she’d gotten separated from her teammates during the blizzard, she’d pulled out the phone to call for help. But the storm had been too fierce, the signal blocked by the weather, and the call hadn’t gone through.

Back then, she’d casually tucked it into an outer pocket.

Yes—that was it! Not this pocket!

Frantic, she fumbled with the other pocket from her memory, her hands trembling with nerves.

With a “zzzip,” the zipper slid open. Ji Yingran held her breath and peered inside.