Chapter 24: Head Wolf Part 1

Head Wolf: Making Contact with the Outside World

The anxious restlessness eased the moment she saw what was inside the bag, a spark of light igniting in her eyes.

It was a black satellite phone, larger and thicker than a regular smartphone, sitting there completely intact.

Ji Yingran snatched it up impatiently, her hands trembling, her breaths coming heavier.

“Haha…” She let out a low laugh, overwhelmed by wild joy—pure, unbridled elation.

The joy was so intense that her nose stung and tears pricked at her eyes.

She drew in a deep breath of frigid air, swallowing back the tears. This wasn’t the time to cry; she needed to power it on and check if there was any signal in this place.

With shaking hands, Ji Yingran pressed the power button.

Those few seconds of boot-up felt like an eternity, a whole century dragging by. In that brief span, her mind raced through countless grim scenarios: the battery was dead, it was damaged from the fall and wouldn’t turn on…

Every worst-case possibility played out in her head.

Then came the “ding-dong” of the startup chime, the screen lighting up. Only then did her tense body relax a fraction.

Once it was fully booted, she immediately checked the signal indicator.

Nothing.

Not a single bar.

Her heart, pounding from excitement, went cold in an instant.

Ji Yingran hurriedly extended the antenna at the top of the satellite phone and held it high, twisting and turning as she searched for a connection.

Still nothing.

She dashed from the eastern side of the cave to the western, then back again, darting around like a headless fly in search of any sign of signal.

The weather wasn’t bad, and the spot was open enough—there was no reason for no reception. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the ground.

After a moment of dejected slump, she dragged herself back up and clambered onto a nearby boulder for higher ground.

Arms raised high, eyes glued to the screen.

The signal stubbornly refused to appear. Just as disappointment washed over her and she started to lower her arms, the empty bars flickered faintly, as if teasing her.

Her hand froze mid-motion.

In the upper right corner of the screen, where it had shown no signal at all, a single faint bar blinked to life.

Finally!

With even one bar, she could reach out to the world beyond!

Ji Yingran whooped with joy and bounced in place—but she lost her footing and tumbled right off the rock.

She hit the ground face-first, the impact solid.

Even so, she kept her arm raised the whole time, desperate not to damage her one lifeline to rescue.

Fortunately, the phone was unscathed, and she was too—the snow below was soft and powdery, cushioning the fall without a bruise.

She scrambled up in disarray, brushed the snow from her clothes, and immediately climbed back onto the boulder, hoisting the phone to recapture that precious signal.

She positioned it just right, and the bar reappeared. Joy flashed in her eyes, but this time she didn’t dare jump around. Instead, she held steady for the signal while punching in the emergency rescue number.

The line rang with a steady “beep… beep… beep…” from the earpiece.

One ring, two, three, four…

Ji Yingran held her breath, her hand shaking from the cold and the thrill alike.

On the fifth ring, the call connected with a click. A gentle female voice cut through the wind whistling into her ear.

“Hello, this is the XX Emergency Rescue Center. Are you facing an urgent danger?”

The voice was like music from heaven!

Tears threatened Ji Yingran again, but she fought them back, struggling to steady her voice and speak clearly. “Hello, I’m trapped on XX Snow Mountain. I don’t know the exact location, but… but there’s a mountain cave here…”

Her words trembled; she desperately wanted to sound calm and coherent, but she kept stumbling.

The woman on the line soothed her patiently. “It’s okay, ma’am. I understand you’re scared right now. I’m listening—take your time. No exact coordinates? That’s fine. Just keep the line open; we’re emergency-locating your position.”

Ji Yingran took a deep breath, composed herself, and calmly recounted her situation point by point.

No injuries. A cave to shelter from the storm. A fire for warmth. Plenty of food…

By the end of her explanation, she realized her predicament was actually quite comfortable. Aside from being unable to leave on her own, she wasn’t in any life-threatening straits.

Under the rescuer’s questions, Ji Yingran laid out the facts—but she withheld key details.

Like how a wolf had carried her to the cave. Or how that wolf was bizarre: enormous, able to understand human speech, capable of warming the entire cave, and hunting food that didn’t even exist on Snow Mountain.

Ji Yingran even suspected it was a wolf demon with magical powers.

She kept all those oddities to herself. For one, she didn’t want them thinking she was crazy or delirious. For another, it was personal.

She didn’t want to bring any harm to Snow Wolf, not in the slightest.

Even a fool could see Snow Wolf was extraordinary. But no matter how unusual—or supernaturally so—Snow Wolf might be, Ji Yingran harbored no ulterior motives.

She could only vouch for herself, though. Human hearts were complicated things, full of greed. If word got out about Snow Wolf, who knew how others might react?

To keep Snow Wolf safe, she had to stay silent.

Without mentioning Snow Wolf, her story didn’t quite add up. Stranded by an avalanche and blizzard, separated from her climbing team with only a backpack—yet she could confidently claim ample fire and food.

“I found a bunch of supplies in the cave—probably left by previous passersby,” Ji Yingran lied, patching the inconsistency.

“Got it. We’ve got a rough fix on your location, but…”

The pause in the woman’s voice stirred unease in Ji Yingran.

She glanced up. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, snow beginning to whip around her, nearly toppling her from the boulder where she stood clutching the phone.

Ji Yingran had a sinking feeling. In the three days she’d been trapped, the weather had been wildly unpredictable—blizzards one moment, sun the next, never settling.

That volatility meant no rescue.

Sure enough, the dreaded news came: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your area’s high altitude, and the weather service issued a warning three days ago. Intermittent heavy snow and high winds are forecast for the next fifteen days. Ground teams can’t reach you, and helicopters can’t fly in this.”

Fifteen days at minimum before a chopper could come.

Ji Yingran listened quietly, disappointment swelling in her chest, but she adjusted quickly.

With Snow Wolf’s protection, holding out for half a month was no big deal. Without Snow Wolf, she wouldn’t have lasted even a day.

“Please hang in there. Fifteen days is just an estimate—if the weather clears for takeoff, we’ll launch rescue immediately!”

Ji Yingran forced a smile. “I understand. Thank you—and sorry for the trouble. One more thing: could you call my parents and let them know I’m safe?”

“Of course, don’t worry…”

The snow intensified, the signal growing erratic. The voice on the line broke up amid static crackles—”zzzt, zzzt”—and the call dropped.

Following the operator’s advice, Ji Yingran didn’t redial. They should save the battery unless the weather improved.

She checked the remaining power: fifty-six percent. Plenty, nothing to panic over.

She powered down the phone, pocketed it, and hopped off the rock.

In the time it took to make that call, her face was red, nose runny from the cold, hands numb and senseless.

Tucking them under her arms, she jogged back to the cave mouth, grabbed her backpack, and slipped inside.

She’d made contact. No immediate rescue, but they knew her approximate location. All she had to do was wait for the weather to break.

Her task now: survive the next fifteen days safely.

Survival was the only thing Ji Yingran needed to focus on—and could control.

For her, it wasn’t hard. Truthfully, it wasn’t hard because of Snow Wolf.

Snow Wolf could easily sustain a human for a couple weeks. Ji Yingran, thick-skinned as ever, planned to let her keep providing. After all, she’d already done it for three days—what were a few more?

Shivering, she returned to the cave’s welcoming warmth, letting out a long sigh of relief.

The air carried the savory aroma of food.

Looking closer, she saw Snow Wolf with her head buried in the pot, chomping away with contented “smacks.”

Her tail was wagging visibly, excitement plain as day.

Ji Yingran smiled. This gluttonous wolf ate like no one was watching.

Her gaze swept over the eight disposable bowls that had been laid out on the ground earlier. She paused—each one was two-thirds empty, only a third left.

Seeing how eagerly the Snow Wolf had buried her head in the pot, it was clear she wasn’t dissatisfied with the food. Since she wasn’t unhappy and had left so much behind, the answer was obvious.

She had left it for the human.

A faint warmth bloomed in Ji Yingran’s heart. It wasn’t easy to coax food out of this greedy wolf’s mouth, especially since she had done it on her own initiative.

Sure, she usually acted aloof toward humans, snapping at them at the drop of a hat, but when it mattered, she took good care of them.

Ji Yingran had seen it from the start. This was a very considerate and kind wolf—she just loved putting on airs. The common term was tsundere.

Tsundere Wolf. So cute!

Ji Yingran walked over and gave her head a good rub.

Normally, she wouldn’t stand for that, but right now she was too focused on eating to put up a fight.

The human petted; the wolf ate. Total non-interference.

Ji Yingran rubbed her big head, stroked her back, and gave her tail a scratch. She even considered patting her butt but thought better of it and stopped.

Patting a wolf’s butt would make her bristle with anger. Better stick to safe spots and not tempt fate.

To Ji Yingran, the tail counted as safe. Right now, she was pinching it left and right, even swinging it around like a rope.

She twirled it like a propeller, swinging and swinging—until suddenly her hand went empty as the tail yanked free.

The next second, it whipped back and smacked her across the face.

Smack smack. Two good swats from the fluffy tail, but they didn’t hurt.

After smacking the human, the Snow Wolf licked her lips and glanced back with clear displeasure.

She was satisfied with the food, but not with the human.

“All done? Was it good?” Ji Yingran asked with a grin.

The Snow Wolf’s tail thumped the ground. This rude human had taken advantage of her while she was eating—totally out of line!

She had no interest in dealing with such an ill-mannered human. The wolf licked her lips again and prepared to return to her blanket for a nap.

The blanket… Huh? Where was the blanket?

She scanned the area and spotted it on the stone bench. Her eyes immediately locked onto the two-legged beast, tail smacking the ground furiously: Touching the wolf’s blanket again? I’ll bite you dead!

Ji Yingran wasn’t intimidated. Instead, she went over and rubbed her big head. “There, there. We’re good friends. Be a big wolf and share, Wolfie.”

The Snow Wolf shook her head to fling off the human’s hand, but that was it—no thunderous rage over the head-rub.

Habits were a wonderful thing. After so much petting, she was getting used to it…

She snatched the blanket from the bench in her teeth, carried it back to its proper spot, and adjusted the angle with her paws until she was satisfied. Only then did she flop lazily onto it.

Ji Yingran watched the whole time. The way the wolf fiddled with her blanket using her paws was adorable—she wanted to pet her!

But it was just a passing thought. Though the Snow Wolf wasn’t as resistant to petting anymore, if the human kept going nonstop, she would still bristle.

Better to quit while ahead.

Ji Yingran turned her gaze to the eight disposable bowls laid out on the ground.