Chapter 30: Sick Part 1

The call ended.

Ji Yingran lowered her raised hand, her head drooping as she hopped down from the rock.

She trudged slowly back into the mountain cave and sat alone on the stone bench inside, staring off into space.

She hadn’t held out much hope when dialing that number—the unstable weather was a fact of life. Still, hearing once more that rescue operations couldn’t proceed made her heart sink a little heavier anyway.

That heaviness stemmed partly from the stalled rescue and partly from her mother, Lady Ou.

Lady Ou was no doubt keeping vigil day and night at the rescue center, waiting every moment for Ji Yingran to call again.

That was why Lady Ou’s voice had come through almost immediately after the connection.

“Ranran…”

That simple call from her mother made Ji Yingran’s nose sting. Tears nearly spilled from her eyes.

Lady Ou, who usually crumbled into tears at the slightest provocation, had stayed remarkably steady throughout the call. Yet Ji Yingran had clearly heard the tremor in her voice.

“Ranran, Mom’s waiting for you to come home.”

There was no reproach, just those words waiting for you to come home—full of a mother’s worry for her child and her own powerlessness over the situation.

“Mom…” A thousand words welled up in Ji Yingran’s throat, but she didn’t know what to say.

“You’ll definitely make it home,” Lady Ou said with utter conviction.

Mindful of the battery life, they couldn’t talk for long. After a few hurried exchanges, they had no choice but to end the call.

Ji Yingran stared at the satellite phone in her hand, now powered off to conserve energy, and let out a long sigh.

Lady Ou hadn’t cried on the phone, but knowing her mother as she did, Ji Yingran figured her eyes must be nearly cried blind in private. She had no idea how long the tears had lasted or how long it had been since her mother last slept.

Ji Yingran sighed again. She had been such a trouble-free daughter all her life, but when trouble came, it was a catastrophe.

Twenty-eight years of steady, uneventful living—at an age when her personality was fully formed—and now this ill-advised adventure on Snow Mountain.

Ji Yingran’s sighing soon drew the Snow Wolf’s attention.

The wolf poked her head out first and watched the human for a while, her ears perked up, listening.

When the human sighed for the third time, the wolf couldn’t resist approaching. She didn’t get too close, just paced restlessly around the human, back and forth.

Ji Yingran, with her head bowed and spirits low, didn’t notice her right away. All that time, the wolf kept circling nearby.

She paced so insistently that Ji Yingran lost her appetite for sadness.

“What are you doing, pacing back and forth in front of me? Is something the matter?”

The Snow Wolf paused mid-step and tilted her head, eyeing the human appraisingly.

Ji Yingran managed a smile. “It’s nothing. Humans aren’t like you wolves—we have all sorts of moods. Happy one minute, down the next. Sighing’s perfectly normal. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The Snow Wolf tilted her head sharply to the side, as if to say, Who’s worrying about you? How presumptuous.

Her head might have turned away, but she kept the human in her peripheral vision. Seeing her perk up a little, the wolf relaxed at once.

What a troublesome human, always giving the Head Wolf something to fret over. The burden on her shoulders was heavy indeed.

This human wasn’t up to snuff.

Ji Yingran gathered her thoughts, unwilling to dwell in gloom any longer, and struck up a conversation with the wolf.

“Wolf, why didn’t you take me hunting with you today?”

The Snow Wolf curled her muzzle and rolled her eyes at the human. Why not take you? As if you don’t know—you’re slow as molasses and soft as a kitten. This Wolf was out hunting food, a serious business, not some game. Why lug along a deadweight like you? Utterly exasperating.

“You’re going too far. We agreed last night that you’d bring me along every time, but you never do.”

The Snow Wolf let out an impatient growl.

“Now you’re growling at me.”

“Whine whine!”

“You’re still growling, you faithless bad wolf.”

The Snow Wolf slammed her paw on the ground with a thud, her face twisted in fury. Calling me a bad wolf? Outrageous! I’m the Head Wolf—show some respect! Or I’ll bite you!

Ji Yingran felt no fear. Instead, she chuckled lightly. “I feel like such an ingrate. Eating your food, drinking your water, sleeping in your cave, and now insulting you as a bad wolf.”

Ji Yingran reflected for a moment, then pushed her luck further by flopping onto the wolf’s blanket and claiming the whole thing for herself. She even tried to negotiate.

“You have to take me hunting tomorrow, or I’ll hog this blanket. No room for you.”

The Snow Wolf narrowed her eyes. Threatening me?

She was no pushover. With purposeful strides, she marched over and collapsed her full weight onto the human.

“Hey, mmph…” Ji Yingran’s face was smothered in a pile of wolf fur.

Pinned flat, she struggled to breathe.

Ji Yingran patted frantically. “Get up, get up! I can’t breathe!”

The Snow Wolf hadn’t intended to budge, but as the human’s struggles grew more desperate, she belatedly realized her weight might be too much.

She scrambled up at once.

“Cough cough cough.” Ji Yingran clutched her chest and hacked violently.

She coughed from the pressure and choked on the fur, her face flushing red and her neck straining.

The Snow Wolf stood nearby, realizing she’d hurt the human. Her ears drooped flat.

After catching her breath, Ji Yingran looked at her with helpless exasperation. She wanted to scold the wolf, but those flattened ears and the clear guilt in her eyes made the words stick in her throat.

It wasn’t intentional…

“It’s fine,” Ji Yingran said with a laugh. “Getting squished now and then builds character anyway.”

But she reconsidered—saying it lightly might not drive the point home. What if the wolf did it again without grasping the danger?

She had truly felt her last moments under there… This wolf weighed over five hundred pounds; Ji Yingran’s slight frame couldn’t possibly withstand it.

“But all the same,” she said, trying for a sterner tone, “don’t squash me like that next time. If you’d gotten up even a second later, I would’ve…”

She meant to say something dire to underscore the gravity, but the words faltered.

The wolf’s ears were plastered completely flat against her skull, pulling off a flawless ear-vanishing act.

That pitiful droop tugged at the heartstrings.

Ji Yingran was at a loss with herself—she’d nearly been crushed to death, and here she was pitying the wolf.

She walked over and rubbed the wolf’s face. “All right, all right. Water under the bridge. I don’t blame you.”

The wolf’s ears stayed flat, so Ji Yingran reached out and pinched them gently, propping them upright by hand.

They sprang up, only to flop down again.

Ji Yingran laughed.

The Snow Wolf eyed her intently with those drooped ears, scrutinizing the smile to judge its meaning.

“Right, the human’s laughing. Not broken, not mad at you.”

At those words, the ears that had refused to rise shot straight up with a snap.

She had kept them flat thinking she’d injured the human. Now assured otherwise, up they went, brimming with righteous indignation once more.

The Snow Wolf lifted her chin haughtily, guilt evaporated. She barged the human aside with brute force and claimed the blanket for herself.

Ji Yingran shook her head with an amused smile. Talk about quick mood swings.

“Budge over a bit,” she said, nudging in beside the wolf. “I want to sit on the blanket too.”

The wolf bristled, instinctively lifting a paw to swat. But remembering the earlier mishap, a sliver of guilt held her back.

The paw hovered, then lowered.

“My feet are freezing,” Ji Yingran said.

Ten days of coexistence had taught the Snow Wolf exactly what that meant—but understanding didn’t compel cooperation.

The Snow Wolf bared her teeth: Fat chance. This Wolf won’t warm your feet.

Two minutes later, Ji Yingran’s feet nestled under the Snow Wolf’s belly, wrapped in toasty fur that banished the chill instantly.

“So warm. Thanks, Wolfie.”

The Snow Wolf glowered, tempted several times to snap at those feet but reining herself in each time.

Bored, Ji Yingran began humming a tune. Her voice matched her gentle features—soft and soothing, wrapping the song in warmth.

The Snow Wolf appeared oblivious, head turned firmly the other way, but her upright ears gave her away.

“Wolfie, do I sing nicely?”

The Snow Wolf thought: Awful.

Ji Yingran leaned close to her ear. “I think my singing’s pretty good too.”

The Snow Wolf twitched her ear away and scooted back, glaring in displeasure. Crazy human, whispering that close for? Trying to kiss the wolf again? This Wolf says no!

Her dodge set Ji Yingran laughing heartily, her spirits soaring.

Human moods really were mercurial—utterly wretched after the call, now perked up inexplicably just from bantering with the wolf.

Her feet, buried beneath the Snow Wolf, wriggled in delight.

The Snow Wolf bared her fangs. “Grrr.”

She was warning the human: Keep those feet still.

“Got it, holding still, you grouch.”

Even as she called her a grouch, Ji Yingran reached out to pinch those fangs.

The Snow Wolf was ready for it, all too aware of this human’s itchy fingers. The instant the hand darted forward, she clamped her jaws shut tight.

“Look at you, so suspicious. I’m not the sort to mess with wolf teeth. Zero trust.” Ji Yingran pulled her hand back with a pout.

They chatted idly back and forth until Ji Yingran asked out of the blue, “Wolfie, if I left someday, would you miss me?”

The Snow Wolf, who had originally closed her eyes and ignored her, heard those words and snapped her eyes open with a whoosh, staring fixedly at the human.

Ji Yingran’s chats with the wolf were always random, jumping from one topic to another. That question had just been casual, and she hadn’t expected an answer anyway.

Ji Yingran quickly moved on to the next topic.

“You have to take me hunting with you tomorrow,”

“Never mind, never mind. I’ve figured it out—you just don’t want to bring me along because you think I’m a burden, right?”

“Fine, if being a burden means you won’t take me, then at least don’t bring back any more Fragrant Pigs tomorrow.”

For days now, the Snow Wolf had been bringing back Fragrant Pigs as her prey. Honestly, the wolf hadn’t gotten tired of them, but the human certainly had.

“Besides, you keep sneaking into other people’s farms to steal their pigs. That’s not right. They raise all those pigs, and you’re taking one a day without paying. It just isn’t proper.”

The Snow Wolf had been intently watching the human, still dwelling on that talk of “leaving,” when she heard the human accusing her of stealing pigs.

Who was stealing pigs??

With one paw, the Snow Wolf smacked the human’s face: I’ll smack you dead! This Wolf didn’t steal any pigs. How could a proud, upright wolf like me stoop to stealing pigs!

Ji Yingran casually grabbed the paw and pinched its pink paw pads.

The Snow Wolf pulled her paw back.

Ji Yingran didn’t mind and kept nagging. “I’ve really had enough of pork. Bring something else back tomorrow. I want some carbs.”

She wasn’t actually hungry all the time from eating only meat, but she was seriously craving rice, steamed buns, noodles—anything like that.

“Or maybe use this paw to go cut some rice from the paddies?”

At that, Ji Yingran burst out laughing with a puff.

The conversation had veered into absurdity—imagining the Snow Wolf heading to the fields to harvest rice.

“Forget it, cutting rice isn’t realistic anyway, especially since it’s not even harvest season. How about sneaking into a supermarket and grabbing some rice instead?”

Smack smack.

Two paws this time.