Ji Yingran buried the remaining half of the tuna deep in the thick snow, creating a natural freezer. At this temperature, it wouldn’t spoil even after a year, let alone a week.
She rubbed her hands together and blew warm breath onto her palms. In the short time it took to dig the snow and bury the fish, her hands had already gone numb from the cold.
The wind and snow still raged outside, with no sign of letting up anytime soon.
A cold gust slipped through her collar, making her shiver all over.
Ji Yingran hugged herself, hunched over, and jogged back to the mountain cave. Before leaving, she glanced once more at the spot where she’d buried the fish.
She’d put it right at the cave entrance. Was that safe? What if some other animal dug it up?
This was her only food supply. She had to protect it with utmost care.
It was rare for the snow wolf to bring back food and share half of it with her. There might not be another easy chance like this next time.
Ji Yingran looked around. The unrelenting blizzard turned everything into a foggy blur of snowflakes.
In this wretched weather, no animal would venture out. Even if they needed to hunt, they’d wait until the storm passed.
With that thought, she felt a little more at ease. But soon, another realization struck her.
Wait a minute. In weather like this, no animal would go out hunting. So why had the snow wolf just done exactly that?
Was she starving and ignoring the storm? Clearly not—she’d eaten slowly and methodically, only finishing half the fish. She wasn’t desperate with hunger.
If she wasn’t hungry, then why brave the blizzard to hunt, especially with reserve grain already in her den?
Ji Yingran had no qualms about slotting herself into the role of reserve grain.
She tilted her head in thought as she walked deeper into the mountain cave. The temperature difference between inside and out was stark; she could feel the warmth envelop her the moment she stepped in.
The cave was visibly cozy.
Out of habit, Ji Yingran found a corner to squat in, keeping as much distance as possible from the snow wolf.
She stole a glance in the snow wolf’s direction. If she remembered right, her stomach had rumbled just before she went out to hunt.
After bringing back the fish, the snow wolf had only eaten half, leaving the other half… clearly meant for a human.
Suddenly, it all clicked. The snow wolf was feeding her!
“Thank you,” Ji Yingran said into the silent cave. “The fish you caught was delicious. Thank you.”
She was thanking her, even if the snow wolf’s intentions might not be pure—maybe she was just fattening her up for later. Regardless, Ji Yingran was the real beneficiary here.
Without the snow wolf, she’d have frozen to death by now. Instead, she had a warm shelter and plenty of food to fill her belly.
“Thank you,” she said again.
The snow wolf didn’t stir. It was unclear if she was even listening.
“But I’m a little curious—where did you catch that fish? This is a snow mountain. Did you hike all the way down and dive into the icy sea? I just can’t figure it out.”
The snow wolf ignored her.
“No matter how I think about it, something doesn’t add up. You caught a saltwater fish. I could maybe buy freshwater from a mountain stream, but this is clearly from the sea.”
“And you can even warm up a whole cave… that doesn’t make any sense either.”
Finally, the snow wolf acknowledged her—with a sharp “Wu!”
Ji Yingran shut her mouth instantly.
Alright, no more questions. No more talking. No more curiosity. Stay quiet.
This wolf had a short temper, getting mad after just a couple of sentences.
Ji Yingran fell silent, and the snow wolf stopped growling, closing her eyes to rest.
Ji Yingran wanted to rest too, but though the cave was warm, it wasn’t quite cozy enough for a comfortable sleep.
She was too far from the snow wolf. Maybe getting closer would make it warmer.
After a brief internal debate, she mustered her courage and took two steps toward the snow wolf.
No reaction. Two more steps—no reaction. Two more.
She was getting bolder by the inch.
Throughout it all, the snow wolf showed no response. Clearly, she didn’t mind the human getting closer.
Makes sense, Ji Yingran thought. She was just reserve grain. Coming a little nearer posed no threat at all.
Ji Yingran adapted quickly. Being reserve grain wasn’t so bad. The wolf provided a warm environment and filling meals. Even if the end goal was to eat her, she was a remarkably considerate predator.
Step by step, she inched her way to the snow wolf’s side.
Sure enough, being next to her was much warmer. Ji Yingran reached out, hovering her hand above the snow wolf’s body to bask in the “wolf warmth.”
It was toasty—really toasty. With a contented sigh, she warmed her hands more vigorously.
As she did, the hand dangling in midair started to itch with the temptation to drop down, to pet that fluffy fur.
The snow wolf’s white coat was so plush, long, and silky smooth. It had to feel incredible.
Super pettable, for sure!
But temptation or not, Ji Yingran wouldn’t dare touch her. Being allowed to warm up like this was already a luxury. Petting was out of the question.
She was afraid one stroke would cost her a hand. This wolf had a bad temper—Ji Yingran wasn’t about to tempt fate.
She’d started out squatting, but her legs grew tired, so she sat cross-legged instead, hands outstretched. Others roasted by a fire; she was roasting by a wolf.
A wolf was way better than fire. Fire dried you out after a while; the wolf’s heat was just right—not too hot, not too cool—perfectly comfortable.
Her comfort finally caught the wolf’s attention.
The snow wolf glanced at the human, then at the human’s paws hovering over her body.
Ji Yingran gave her a friendly smile.
The snow wolf: “Wu!”
Ji Yingran startled and pulled her hands back.
The snow wolf bared her fangs, and Ji Yingran scurried to the side.
Watching the human retreat, the snow wolf lifted her chin and snorted through her nose.
Ji Yingran peeked out, observed the wolf, and once she was sure she wasn’t truly angry, crept back closer.
She sat a bit nearer to the snow wolf but didn’t dare extend her hands again.
Ji Yingran sat cross-legged; the wolf lay curled up with her eyes closed. The cave fell into a peaceful quiet, and for the moment, human and wolf coexisted harmoniously.
The warmth always bred sleepiness. Freshly full and now cozy all over, it wasn’t long before Ji Yingran was yawning nonstop.
Her head drooped onto her knees. Curling into a ball, she slowly toppled over onto the ground and fell asleep.
The snow wolf heard the thud and opened her eyes.
In the dim cave, her golden eyes glowed faintly, staring fixedly at the sleeping human.
The snow wolf rose and circled the human once.
Drawing close, she sniffed—first the head, then the hands—before stepping back and tilting her head slightly.
Her massive wolf head cocked as she pondered something.
The snow wolf circled the human, sniffed her here and there, and tilted her head to inspect her, studying this two-legged beast with curiosity and novelty.
There was no trace of her earlier aloof arrogance.
As the snow wolf leaned in for another sniff, the sleeping human suddenly flung out a hand and grabbed her tail, hugging it straight to her chest.
The wolf’s body went rigid. Her eyes went wide as saucers.
The snow wolf growled low in her throat, baring her fangs. Her pupils narrowed to slits, and her fur bristled all over.
She was in full rage mode, poised to attack.
Anyone would be terrified by such a sight—anyone except the soundly sleeping human.
The snow wolf growled and whined, but Ji Yingran clutched the tail without letting go.
One side furious, the other blissfully asleep.
The snow wolf whined for ages until her throat grew hoarse and she coughed, “Cough cough.”
No matter how she growled, though, she never attacked.
All thunder, no lightning.
Tired of whining, she gave up.
She tried to tug her tail free, but Ji Yingran unconsciously gripped it tighter, letting out a dissatisfied grunt from her throat.
The snow wolf paused, her eyes widening again. She seemed utterly fascinated by this human’s little grumbly noises.
Another tug at the tail, another grunt from Ji Yingran.
The snow wolf: “?”
Tug again, grunt again.
The snow wolf: “??”
Ji Yingran’s long legs shot out. With a roll, she pinned the tail firmly and mumbled something indistinct. Whatever it was, the snow wolf only knew the tail was even more stuck now.
The snow wolf whined again, her expression fierce, trying to scare the human off.
But a sleeping person wouldn’t react.
After her prolonged performance yielded nothing, the snow wolf gave up. With a grumpy huff, she plopped her haunches down, reluctantly letting the human hug her tail.
Time ticked by. Outside, the wind and snow finally ceased; even the howling winds fell silent. All that remained was the human’s soft, even breathing and the occasional rustle as the snow wolf shifted.
Ji Yingran slept deeply, as if back home, snuggled in her warm room with her plush bedside toy—utterly content.
When she woke, still groggy, she mumbled without thinking, “Jelly.”
Jelly was her cat. She had three cats and a dog in total, and Jelly was the clingiest little one.
Her call was answered by a soft paw pad smacking her face.
Ji Yingran blinked in confusion, then chuckled. “Jelly, why’d you smack me?”
Jelly’s paw had no claws, so it didn’t hurt. If anything, it was delightfully squishy.
Ji Yingran instinctively grabbed the paw slapping across her face, but she quickly realized something was wrong. When had Jelly’s paw grown so large? A single paw covered more than half her face.
All sleepiness vanished in an instant as she snapped her eyes open.
