Chapter 4: Food

Footsteps drew closer and finally halted right beside her.

Ji Yingran’s teeth chattered as she tremblingly pried open her eyes. Through her blurry vision, she caught sight of a white figure.

A gentle warmth followed, spreading through her entire body.

In an instant, most of the chill vanished, and her muddled thoughts sharpened.

Ji Yingran marveled at the change in her body. She spread open her palm and clenched her fist—her numb, frozen hand had regained its flexibility.

What was going on?

Ji Yingran turned toward the white figure standing before her. It was the Snow Wolf, back again.

She had a massive fish clamped in her jaws, truly enormous—at least five feet long.

Hold on—this was Snow Mountain, ringed by peaks and blanketed in ice and snow. Where on earth had the wolf caught a fish?

Ji Yingran stared intently at the fish. Amid her bafflement and astonishment, her throat bobbed with a swallow.

In the silent mountain cave, the gulp rang out loud and clear. She was starving!

Her eyes gleamed as she fixed them on the fish, brimming with desperate longing.

The Snow Wolf dropped the fish to the ground. So large and heavy, it hit with a wet smack.

Why put the fish down? Did that mean… it was for her?

Ji Yingran’s face broke into a delighted grin. But her joy lasted only seconds before the weight lifted from her body—the white fur blanket wrapped around her was snatched away by the Snow Wolf in a single bite.

The wolf glowered fiercely, her jaws full of blanket, a low growl rumbling from her throat.

Ji Yingran blinked in surprise, then hurried to explain. “I was freezing, so I just borrowed it for a bit.”

The Snow Wolf growled again.

Ji Yingran scurried back a meter. This wolf was too fierce.

The Snow Wolf snatched up the fish and carried it off.

Ji Yingran: “…”

She had thought the fish was for her. What a fool she was.

The Snow Wolf dragged the fish aside, gave it a sniff, pinned it down with her front paws, and settled in for a leisurely meal.

She seemed aware that eating would soil the fur blanket, so she kept well clear of it. No wonder it stayed so pristine—this wolf was surprisingly fastidious, a real clean freak.

The cave filled with the sounds of chewing.

Ji Yingran stole several glances despite herself but never dared stare for long. She feared the Snow Wolf might think she was eyeing her food.

Of course, she absolutely was.

Her stomach let out a loud gurgle.

The Snow Wolf paused mid-chew and shot the human a glance.

Ji Yingran clutched her belly and flashed an awkward smile. “I’m starving too. That fish looks huge—mind sharing a bite? As your reserve grain, I’m way too scrawny right now. Fatten me up, and I’ll taste better. Sound good?”

In the dim cave, the Snow Wolf’s eyes shimmered with cold golden light, utterly devoid of warmth.

Terrified, Ji Yingran backpedaled at once. “Just kidding! I won’t eat. Not hungry at all. I won’t touch your food.”

The Snow Wolf snorted through her nostrils, as if to say: As if a frail human like you could steal from me anyway.

She ignored Ji Yingran and returned to her meal, taking dainty bites and chewing with refined slowness.

Ji Yingran looked away, trying to distract herself elsewhere. But her attention soon snagged on the shift in the cave’s temperature.

It was warm now, cozy as if someone had flicked on the heat.

Without thinking, her gaze drifted back to the feasting Snow Wolf.

Could it be her?

Did the mountain cave have some hidden heating system? Impossible—Ji Yingran had inspected it thoroughly before. No oddities at all; just a plain, ordinary cave.

If the cave was normal, then the Snow Wolf must be the anomaly.

Putting it together: the cave stayed warm with the Snow Wolf present and plunged cold the moment she left.

So this wolf was basically a walking space heater?

That didn’t add up.

Ji Yingran refused to believe any animal’s body heat could warm an entire cave that fast. Off-the-shelf heaters needed ten minutes or more to climb from subzero to comfy temps. Yet here, the moment the Snow Wolf stepped in, warmth bloomed in a single second.

Heating a space twenty or thirty square meters in one second? Ridiculous. Was this a wolf or some kind of monster?

Ji Yingran shook her head hard, shutting down the thought. She couldn’t let it shake her faith in science and materialism—no ghosts or monsters.

The wolf finished her meal and sprawled contentedly on the ground. She licked her lips, then her paws, before using a paw to groom her face.

Lick the paw, rub the face. Lick again, rub again.

Just like a cat washing up.

Ji Yingran couldn’t resist watching a bit longer.

The Snow Wolf froze mid-rub and whipped her head around, eyes narrowed in warning.

Ji Yingran smoothly glanced away, avoiding eye contact. Then her gaze landed on the leftover fish—and stuck there.

Half the fish remained. For her size, that little bit had filled her up?

Now that she was done, maybe Ji Yingran could claim the scraps. It only made sense for the head wolf’s reserve grain to clean up after.

The idea tempted her, but she hesitated to move.

Wild beasts guarded their food jealously, even leftovers.

She worried reaching for it might anger the Snow Wolf and earn a snap.

Hunger warred with fear for a solid ten minutes until starvation won out.

Summoning her courage, she inched slowly toward the fish.

The Snow Wolf, still grooming her face, flicked her gaze over.

Ji Yingran’s steps halted. She forced a sheepish grin. “So, uh, you’re full now? Mind if I take some of what’s left?”

The Snow Wolf showed no reaction, resuming her wash.

Ji Yingran wavered. Approval or warning—which was it?

Unable to decide, she steeled herself and crept forward.

With utmost care, she grasped the fish one-handed. It was heavy; her arm nearly buckled. Half a fish still weighed a ton.

She switched to dragging it with both hands, all while eyeing the Snow Wolf nearby.

The slightest hint of displeasure, and she’d drop it. She could tough out the hunger a while longer, but not a wolf’s jaws.

Thankfully, the Snow Wolf paid her no mind throughout, showing zero displeasure at the theft.

Ji Yingran exhaled quietly in relief. She hauled the fish to a corner and squatted to examine the mangled remnant—head gone, just the tail half left.

Too dark to tell much. She dragged it nearer the cave mouth, borrowing outside light.

Dark blue back, silvery white belly, sickle-shaped tail fin with razor edges.

Bluefin tuna?

Without the head, she couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it.

Strange—a sea fish up in the snowy mountains.

Then again, with a wolf who could heat a whole cave, was a fish really that shocking?

The sheer absurdity often made Ji Yingran wonder if she was even alive anymore.

No tools meant struggling forever to tear off a chunk of flesh.

She sniffed it—no strong fishiness. Tentatively, she nibbled a tiny bite.

Soft and springy with good chew, rich in fat, almost like biting into marbled meat.

The texture matched tuna she’d had before, but fresher, far more delicious. Fresh-killed made all the difference.

Starving as she was, once it passed muster, she tore in ravenously, cheeks bulging with each mouthful.

So absorbed, she never noticed the Snow Wolf staring right at her.

Those golden wolf eyes blinked curiously, locked on without wavering.

After scarfing several chunks and feeling her stomach settle a bit, Ji Yingran slowed down. Now she could actually savor it.

Nodding appreciatively between bites, she suddenly met the wolf’s unwavering stare.

Her chewing stopped dead.

The Snow Wolf looked away, rested her head on her paws, and resumed her aloof rest—as if she hadn’t just been watching.

Ji Yingran puzzled over it for a second, then shrugged and kept eating. Who knew when the next meal would come? Better gorge now and die full if it came to that. Some sauce would perfect it—plain was getting a tad bland.

Half an hour later, stuffed to the gills, she finally stopped and let out a long sigh.

She had been famished near madness, yet it took that long to polish off a mere corner of the massive tuna.

Meanwhile, the Snow Wolf rose from the fur blanket, gave her coat a shake.

She padded toward the exit, pausing to glance at Ji Yingran. Her eyes drifted down to the small nibbled section of the tuna.

Ji Yingran tensed. Belated food-guarding?

The Snow Wolf rolled her eyes and snorted in disdain, tail high as she sauntered off—as if thinking: All that commotion and time for just that puny bite? Pathetic human.

Watching her go, Ji Yingran’s mind raced ahead: If she abandoned the rest, rationed carefully, it could last her a week.

This meant that Ji Yingran wouldn’t go hungry for a whole week. She wouldn’t die of starvation anytime soon.

But compared to whether the rest of the tuna really belonged to her, there was something even more pressing right now.

The wolf had left, and the temperature inside the cave plummeted. No, no, the Snow Wolf couldn’t leave. Ji Yingran would freeze to death all by herself in here.

She scurried out after her, only to run smack into the wolf coming back. Ji Yingran slammed to a halt just in time to avoid crashing into her.

For some reason, the wolf had turned around and come back.

Ji Yingran strongly suspected that when the wolf had gotten up to leave earlier, she hadn’t really meant to go outside at all. She’d probably just wanted to pass by and sneak a peek at how much Ji Yingran had eaten…

Another ridiculous thought bubbled up, just like her earlier suspicion that this wolf was deliberately showing off her tail.

Ji Yingran stepped aside to let her pass.

The Snow Wolf strode inside with her eyes fixed straight ahead, her tail held high in the air.

Ji Yingran tried a tentative compliment. “Wow, what a beautiful tail.”

The Snow Wolf shot her a sidelong glance. Her antenna-like tail swished once, and she lifted her chin a notch higher.

Smug. The word was written all over her actions.

Ji Yingran laughed. The Snow Wolf swept a cold, stern gaze over her, and Ji Yingran quickly schooled her expression into one of utmost sincerity.

The Snow Wolf huffed and returned to her spot on the woolen blanket, settling down.

“Um, is all that fish really for me?” Ji Yingran asked timidly.

The Snow Wolf ignored her.

Ji Yingran pressed on. “If it’s all mine, I want to bury it out in the snow. It’s a bit too warm in here, and I’m afraid it’ll spoil.”

This was her food for the entire week. She couldn’t let it go bad. Fortunately, the world outside was a natural freezer. Preserving it for a week would be no problem at all.

The only downside might be that the frozen meat wouldn’t taste as good, but given her current situation, who was she to be picky about texture? Having something to eat was luxury enough.

The Snow Wolf didn’t so much as lift an eyelid at Ji Yingran’s question.

Taking her silence as approval, Ji Yingran dragged the other half of the tuna outside. It was heavy, and she stumbled along the way, her progress awkward and unsteady.

Behind her, the wolf cracked open an eye from her prone position. Gone was her earlier aloofness as she curiously craned her wolfish head to watch.

The human turned back.

The wolf froze for a split second, then quickly whipped her head away, resuming her air of haughty disdain.

————————!!————————

Wolfie:

I wasn’t peeking at you (high-cold persona can’t collapse x1)

I didn’t deliberately leave half the food for you (high-cold persona can’t collapse x2)

I don’t care at all how much you ate (high-cold persona can’t collapse x3)

I was just checking what this two-legged beast is up to. Is dragging a fish really that hard? So useless. Huh? Why’d she suddenly turn around? That was close! Almost blew my persona!!