The dark clouds finally parted, revealing a pair of eyes that gleamed like golden shooting stars.
“Wolf!”
Ji Yingran looked up in delight and excitement.
Snow Wolf tilted her big white head: What was this human up to, staying out here all alone instead of heading home?
As Snow Wolf sized her up, the human—who had seemed so thrilled—suddenly had her eyes redden. Tears began to spill down her cheeks.
“Wolfie, why’d it take you so long?” Ji Yingran wiped at her tears, her voice full of grievance and lingering fear. “I fell in here and couldn’t climb out. I called for you until my voice went hoarse, but you never answered. I almost died.”
Seeing the human cry and hearing her pitiful complaints, Snow Wolf flattened her ears against her head.
What was this? Crying over something so minor? This Two-Legged Beast was so fragile.
Snow Wolf turned around and lowered her tail, signaling for the human to grab hold and climb up.
Ji Yingran forgot her tears in an instant and eyed the tail dangling down.
The pit was deep, and Snow Wolf’s tail reached only about halfway. Ji Yingran went up on her tiptoes and just barely managed to grasp it.
But as she prepared to pull herself up, something seemed to occur to her. Worry creased her brow. “I’m over ninety jin, at least. If all my weight yanks on your tail like that, won’t it hurt? It has to hurt. Forget it—let’s not do it this way.”
“You could go back to the mountain cave and fetch the rope we used to bundle firewood before. I can climb up with that just fine.”
“If rope won’t work, bring the ice axe. There are plenty of options. No need to make you suffer.”
The human wouldn’t grab the tail and kept chattering on. Snow Wolf grew annoyed and smacked the pit wall with her tail—thwack, thwack.
Crack!
The sturdy ice layer split right open.
Ji Yingran stared in astonishment. That tail really packed a punch. She’d tried chiseling at the ice herself during her escape attempts and knew exactly how tough it was. Yet Snow Wolf had cracked it with just a couple swats…
She recalled all the times she’d stepped on that tail or grabbed it, only to get lightly smacked in the face as payback.
Each time, it had felt fluffy and soft—comfortable, even, with no pain.
Turns out, that tail was just like her paws. If she ever used her full strength, she could probably knock a human’s head clean off.
Good thing the wolf knew her limits and always held back around people. Otherwise, even nine lives wouldn’t save her from a few swats.
From the top of the pit came Snow Wolf’s impatient “woof-woof” whines. Her tail kept smacking restlessly.
Seeing this, Ji Yingran stopped babbling. She rose on her tiptoes and gripped the tail firmly with both hands.
With an effortless tug from above, Ji Yingran was hoisted into the air. In a blink, she was back on solid ground.
The sudden brightness stung her eyes, and her feet wobbled beneath her. She toppled over into the snow.
Her sprained ankle had gone numb from the cold, dulling most of the pain.
Snow Wolf circled her now, sniffing at her every so often.
When Snow Wolf’s big head came close to her face for a sniff, Ji Yingran threw her arms around the wolf’s neck in a tight hug.
She buried her face in the thick fur at Snow Wolf’s neck, her voice muffled.
“Good thing you came, Wolfie. You scared me half to death. I almost lost my life again.”
Ji Yingran was struck once more by the perils of Snow Mountain—the biting cold, prowling beasts, and now treacherous terrain hidden under the snowdrifts.
At a glance, the surroundings looked like flat, unbroken snowfields. But beneath those thick layers, who knew what lurked?
It could be solid ground… or, as she’d just learned, a gaping pit.
Falling into a pit was lucky, at least—it offered a chance at rescue. Tumble into a crevasse between peaks, though, and death was instantaneous.
Snow Mountain was a deadly place.
Even with Snow Wolf’s protection, Ji Yingran kept stumbling into danger. One misstep could cost her life.
This was the third time Snow Wolf had saved her: once when she’d been picked up half-dead, again with the Arctic Wolf business, and now this.
Not three times, really—infinite times. Without Snow Wolf’s food, she’d have starved long ago.
Her Life-Saving Benefactor Wolf.
“Wolf, do you know? When you appeared at the pit’s edge just now, my heart skipped a beat. I’ve never felt anything like it. I fell in love with you right then—honest, I did!”
Even a wolf with such clear, bright eyes could stir the heart.
Maybe this was the legendary Suspension Bridge Effect?
Good thing she was just a wolf. If she’d been human, Ji Yingran might have truly tumbled into love at that moment.
“I really like you. I love you.” Ji Yingran kept nuzzling her face against the fur on Snow Wolf’s neck.
Out of Ji Yingran’s sight, Snow Wolf’s eyes blinked furiously, her expressions shifting in a wild parade.
Until they settled at last on the predictable verdict.
Nope. Absolutely not.
Unqualified. Rejected.
This Wolf wouldn’t fall for a puny human like you.
Ji Yingran kept rubbing her face in the fur. Snow Wolf, displeased, shoved her away with one paw.
Had This Wolf agreed to that? Who said you could rub? You’re making This Wolf mad.
Snow Wolf’s unhappy tail perked up cheerfully behind her.
“Wolfie, why’d you push me? I was just thanking you.”
Snow Wolf slammed her paw on the ground: Is that your idea of thanks? More like taking advantage of This Wolf under the guise of gratitude.
Snow Wolf ignored her and turned toward the mountain cave. After a couple steps, she slowed deliberately, waiting for the human to catch up.
But even at that leisurely pace, no footsteps sounded behind her.
Snow Wolf glanced back irritably.
Ji Yingran was limping along through the snow.
Snow Wolf’s gaze drifted down to her foot.
“Wolfie, I sprained my ankle. Can’t walk.” Ji Yingran explained.
It wasn’t a bad sprain—she could hobble back if she had to—but Ji Yingran had no intention of walking. She dragged her steps on purpose.
Her intentions were plain as day.
Snow Wolf doubled back, swatted her once with a paw, then crouched low.
Ji Yingran’s eyes lit up. Without a second thought, she scrambled aboard, delighted.
With a wolf to ride, who’d bother walking?
Atop Snow Wolf’s back, Ji Yingran stroked the wolf’s fur, patted her head, even pinched her ears.
Snow Wolf twisted around, fixing her with an unhappy glare from her fluffy white face.
Ji Yingran pulled her hands back. “Okay, okay. No more petting.”
Back at the mountain cave, a warm breeze greeted them. Ji Yingran sighed in relief, relaxing at last.
Her hands and feet were still chilled, so she naturally slipped her hands into Snow Wolf’s thick fur.
Instant warmth.
Snow Wolf shot her a sideways glance, clearly unamused, but Ji Yingran’s shameless persistence won out as usual. She refused to pull her hands away, and Snow Wolf let her be.
Once her hands had thawed, Ji Yingran kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pant leg, and inspected the sprained ankle.
It was red and slightly swollen—a minor injury that might heal with some salve. But they didn’t have any bruise ointment now.
Self-healing would have to do.
Ji Yingran sighed softly, lowered her pant leg, and—ignoring the ache—shamelessly wedged her foot into Snow Wolf’s fluffy fur as well.
Snow Wolf let out a protesting “woof-woof.”
Ji Yingran pretended not to hear and kept her foot planted.
Victory, as always. Snow Wolf grumbled for a bit, then gave up.
Snow Wolf’s body heat was high yet gentle. Her foot warmed quickly in the fur; the numbness faded, and pain flared sharper at her ankle.
A thought struck Ji Yingran: Wasn’t this basically a hot compress?
For sprains—was it ice or heat? She’d forgotten. Whatever. Heat for now. After freezing so long, she couldn’t stomach anything cold. Warm up first.
She’d been out in the cold forever. Would her cold—barely kicked—flare up again? Her body was still weak.
No, she had to act fast. After warming her foot, boil hot water to drink, then take more medicine. Every bit helped.
As Ji Yingran plotted her next moves, a warm, slick sensation brushed her ankle.
She jerked in surprise and tried to pull away, staring in bewilderment. “Wolfie, what are you doing?”
The wolf was licking her foot—or rather, the sprained spot on her ankle.
Snow Wolf bared her teeth and pinned Ji Yingran’s leg with a massive paw, refusing to let her budge. She kept licking.
Ji Yingran instinctively wanted to withdraw but hesitated and held still.
Maybe the wolf was treating her injury.
She remembered her hand from before—it had healed overnight. Had Snow Wolf licked that too?
The slick tongue on her ankle felt odd, ticklish and uncomfortable.
She fought the urge to yank away several times.
After a dozen licks, Snow Wolf shoved the foot aside and stopped.
Ji Yingran tentatively wiggled her ankle. Her expression froze.
No pain!
She jumped to her feet and bounced in place. Perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened.
Ji Yingran beamed at the wolf. “Wolfie, you can heal sprains too!”
Snow Wolf rolled her eyes at her.
Ji Yingran suddenly cupped Snow Wolf’s face. “Wolfie, you’re so amazing—practically omnipotent. I love you!”
Snow Wolf shook her head, flinging the human’s hand away.
Every day with the endless professions of love—This Wolf would never fall for the Human. Rejected!
Snow Wolf lifted her head arrogantly, but the tail behind her swayed back and forth in uncontrollable delight.
