The bakery had been thoroughly ransacked by the wolf.
Ow.
A sharp sting pierced her fingertip, and Ji Yingran jerked her hand back, sucking in a gasp of cool air from the pain.
Her finger had been bitten open, thin threads of blood seeping out.
Hearing the sound, the white-haired woman paused mid-chew on her bread, glancing guiltily at Ji Yingran’s finger.
Ji Yingran frowned and made her way to the cash register, where she tore off a tissue and pressed it against her bleeding finger.
The white-haired woman followed close on her heels.
She was following too closely, so when Ji Yingran took a step back, she bumped right into her.
The white-haired woman’s eyes remained fixed on Ji Yingran’s finger.
Ji Yingran didn’t blame her. It hadn’t been intentional, after all. The wolf’s teeth were simply too sharp. Even in human form, they were far keener than any human’s.
Sure enough, her finger had only brushed against them lightly, and it had torn open a small gash.
“It’s fine. I don’t blame you,” Ji Yingran said with a smile.
The white-haired woman, who usually had a sharp retort ready, unusually held her tongue this time. She just kept staring at Ji Yingran’s finger, a flicker of guilt passing through her eyes now and then.
If they were wolf ears right now, they would probably have flattened against her head.
Ji Yingran knew she felt remorseful.
She peeled away the tissue and held up her finger for the white-haired woman to see. “Look, it’s just a little cut. The bleeding’s already stopped.”
The white-haired woman leaned in for a closer look. That wasn’t close enough, though—she grabbed Ji Yingran’s hand and examined it from every angle, up and down, left and right.
Ji Yingran didn’t stop her until the white-haired woman suddenly lowered her head and licked the wound on her finger with her tongue.
The slick, wet sensation of the tongue tip masked the pain in her fingertip.
Ji Yingran froze for a moment before quickly pulling her hand back. She glanced at the white-haired woman, feeling a bit awkward.
The snow wolf used to lick people from time to time in the past, but there was a world of difference between a wolf doing it and a person.
The former was no big deal. The latter…
“You don’t need to lick it. It’s just a small scratch.”
The white-haired woman’s eyes widened, and she stubbornly yanked Ji Yingran’s hand back, burying her face to continue licking.
Ji Yingran: “…”
She wasn’t sure if her finger still hurt, but she was keenly aware of the slick, nimble tongue gliding repeatedly over her fingertip.
It was itchy. And weird.
Ji Yingran withdrew her hand and cleared her throat lightly. “Alright, I’m fine now. No more licking.”
Afraid she would grab it again, Ji Yingran tucked her hand behind her back preemptively.
A dissatisfied expression crossed the white-haired woman’s face, but she didn’t press the issue. Perhaps she agreed the wound had healed enough that no more licking was necessary.
“Take whatever bread you want,” Ji Yingran said.
The white-haired woman didn’t move.
Ji Yingran picked up the half-eaten piece of bread from earlier and handed it to her. “Here, eat it. No need to pretend.”
The white-haired woman’s gaze sharpened. “Who’s pretending? I’m not interested in these little snacks. This stuff is for kids.”
Ji Yingran inwardly grumbled: You’re not much better than a kid yourself—you were just snatching food from children.
The white-haired woman stubbornly refused to eat.
Two minutes later, she had a loaf in her left hand and another in her right, cramming them into her mouth like mad.
Ji Yingran opened her mouth to speak but held back.
It was over. At this rate, there would be no business today…
“Um, a few should be enough. I’ll take you out for something else later,” Ji Yingran suggested tactfully.
But once a wolf started eating, she tuned out all human words, turning into a deaf whirlwind of consumption.
Ji Yingran tried several times to interrupt her, but each time she gave up. In the end, she could only shake her head helplessly. Fine, fine—if she wanted to eat, let her eat. It wasn’t like a few loaves of bread mattered that much. Worst case, they’d close for the day.
Ji Yingran leaned against the edge of the cash register, quietly watching her eat.
The white-haired woman swept from one side of the display case to the other, devouring everything in her path like a whirlwind. Her cheeks bulged out, making her look like a little hamster.
Ji Yingran watched her, a gentle smile curving her lips.
She had no idea how the wolf had managed to track her down. Had she been searching for long?
The white-haired woman’s chewing suddenly halted, as if struck by a thought. She spat out the half-eaten loaf and offered it to Ji Yingran.
Ji Yingran’s mouth twitched.
She had to leave a bite for her—and not just any bite, but one from the chewed part. Nothing untouched would do; Ji Yingran had to taste her saliva.
Ji Yingran refused politely. “You eat it. No need to save any for me. I run a bakery—I’m tired of bread anyway.”
“Eat it,” the white-haired woman insisted. “So much talk. Eat.”
This two-legged beast was challenging the head wolf’s authority again. Food from the head wolf had to be eaten!
Ji Yingran couldn’t fend her off forever, so she took the proffered bread.
She broke off a piece from a spot the wolf hadn’t bitten and chewed it.
Only once Ji Yingran had eaten it did the white-haired woman look satisfied. She turned back to continue gorging on bread.
At her pace, the entire bakery’s stock wouldn’t last long.
Ji Yingran watched her while nibbling on the bread in her hand, carefully avoiding the wolf-bitten section.
Even if she was used to eating scraps left by the wolf, she still felt a tiny bit repulsed…
She ate one piece, then two, and on the third…
Ji Yingran frowned and examined the bread in her hand. Something was off.
This texture…
Unsure at first, she took a big bite, chewed it thoroughly, then tore the loaf open to inspect the inside.
An ordinary person might not notice or taste the difference, but Ji Yingran dealt with bread and cakes year-round. She quickly spotted the anomaly.
The dough was lacking just a touch in texture.
It was a subtle shortfall, but Ji Yingran’s senses picked it up.
The white-haired woman, lost in her bread frenzy, noticed the shift in Ji Yingran’s expression. She stopped eating, tilted her head, and looked at her in confusion.
What was wrong with the two-legged beast? She suddenly looked unhappy.
Had two loaves from her made her pull a long face? So petty?
Guarding her food—from the head wolf, no less.
Strike against her!
The white-haired woman slammed her bread onto the counter, a low growl rumbling from her throat.
Ji Yingran snapped back to attention and looked at the clearly enraged white-haired woman. “What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly angry?”
Before the white-haired woman could respond, Ji Yingran cut in. “Don’t get mad yet—save it for later. I don’t have time to soothe you right now. I’ve got something to handle.”
With that, she ignored the white-haired woman and headed to the baking room at the back.
Two employees worked in the baking room: one handled the baking, while the other assisted with dough kneading and cleaning.
“Uncle Wu, come out here,” Ji Yingran called, her face grim.
Master Wu had white hairs at his temples and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He wore a black apron dusted with flour.
He was a veteran pastry chef, but his age was catching up— he’d turn sixty in another year.
Ji Yingran hadn’t initially wanted to hire anyone so old. Stamina was one issue, and health problems leading to accidents were another.
But considering Master Wu’s family hardships, and since his skills passed muster, she overlooked his age.
His work was merely average at best. He could be careless, with poor memory, leading to subpar loaves now and then. Still, they were minor issues, nothing serious.
Ji Yingran never said much about it and tried to be understanding. At his age, still working out in the world—she was willing to cut him some slack.
She could overlook everyday matters, but this time, the raw materials were the problem.
It crossed her bottom line.
“Uncle Wu, can you explain why the bread in the shop has an off texture?”
A flash of guilt crossed Master Wu’s face, but he quickly recovered, replying with great confidence:
“No issues here. I’ve been making bread for twenty or thirty years—no problems with texture control. Rest assured.”
Ji Yingran took a deep breath. “I’m easygoing, but I’m not an idiot. You’ve clearly swapped the raw materials without telling me. You changed the flour on your own.”
Master Wu tried to bluff at first, but seeing he was caught, he shifted the blame. “It was Xiao Yuan. She said it was what you wanted. I was just following orders.”
Ji Yingran shot back, “Am I the boss, or is she? Besides, as a veteran pastry chef, you know how crucial the flour is. Doing whatever she says and dumping the blame on her changes nothing. She may have put you up to it, but you still did it.”
An unnatural flicker crossed Master Wu’s face, but he wasn’t too panicked. He knew this young boss had a soft personality.
A few nice words, and it’d blow over.
He inwardly griped: That Liu Siyuan was something else—slapping her own face like a lunatic. She’d sworn up and down that Ji Yingran wouldn’t notice the flour swap. Shouldn’t have trusted her.
Now look at the mess.
That said, Ji Yingran had a real picky palate. Just a cheap flour swap, and she tasted it?
Making a mountain out of a molehill. Was cheap flour so bad? It saved costs.
These young folks knew nothing about business—wouldn’t cut corners where they should.
His mind full of complaints, he plastered on a pitiful smile.
“Little Ran, you know Uncle Wu’s family is in a tough spot. I was wrong, sure, but my old man’s still in the hospital, counting on my wages to survive. At my age, I don’t make much. Other places won’t take me—they say I’m too old…”
A long, pitiful sob story left Ji Yingran, who had still wanted to say something more, parting her lips uncertainly. For a long moment, she had no idea how to respond.
Master Wu even wiped at his tears as he spoke.
At the sight, Ji Yingran found herself even less able to speak up.
She had always been this way—soft-hearted and lacking any iron-fisted authority. Even managing the employees at her few bakeries had turned into a chaotic mess.
Yet with this incident, simply letting it go lightly would leave Ji Yingran feeling utterly stifled.
Just as Ji Yingran wavered in her dilemma, a voice suddenly sounded from behind her.
