Chapter 50: Serious

Serious: Wolfie felt so wronged, so very wronged.

“Wolf.” Ji Yingran called out to her.

The wolf was happily devouring her grilled meat, completely oblivious to human speech.

Ji Yingran’s lips parted, but she swallowed the questions on the tip of her tongue. There was no real need to ask, she realized. It didn’t matter whether the wolf planned to stay long-term or just for a short while.

If she intended to stay longer, Ji Yingran could teach her how to blend into human society properly—how not to stand out as something utterly alien.

But if it was only a brief visit… The thought that she might leave after a short time, never to return, stirred a faint sense of loss in Ji Yingran’s heart.

Long stay or short, it didn’t matter—as long as she was happy.

Ji Yingran quickly came to terms with it. Even if it was just temporary, that was fine. She could simply spoil her with the best food every day during that time, letting her sample all the delights human society had to offer.

The meat was ready. Ji Yingran pulled herself together.

She used the tongs to move a piece to the side, waiting for it to cool slightly before offering it to the wolf.

There was no helping it—this wolf was always too eager with her food, scalding her mouth every time. Getting her to wait patiently on her own was next to impossible.

Ji Yingran took a lettuce leaf, dipped the meat in barbecue sauce, and wrapped it up neatly.

She held it out. “Try eating it like this.”

Without a second thought, Mu Ci leaned in and bit down. Ji Yingran’s heart skipped a beat. She still remembered the time she’d fed her bread and ended up with a bitten finger.

This wolf couldn’t be fed by hand…

It was too late to pull back now. Judging by the force of her bite, Ji Yingran half-expected to lose her hand entirely.

But the anticipated pain never came. The wolf had clearly held back, gently taking the lettuce-wrapped meat from her hand with her teeth.

Ji Yingran glanced at her unscathed hand, then at the wolf buried in her food, and a tender smile curved her lips.

Wolfie always knew her limits. That bread incident had been a pure accident—and because of it, she was extra careful now when taking food from human hands.

It wasn’t even a bite anymore; it was more like a careful nip.

“How is it? Better with the lettuce?” Ji Yingran asked.

“Tasty,” Mu Ci nodded vigorously, then caught herself. “Not tasty. Not tasty at all.”

Ji Yingran laughed. She was eating with such relish, yet she still had to be stubborn about it.

By the end of the meal, Ji Yingran had barely touched her own food, too busy grilling for the wolf—but it made her happy all the same. Of course, except for the wolf’s habit of leaving one bite on the bone and offering it over.

Ji Yingran never refused the gesture. She just waited until the wolf wasn’t looking and tossed it aside.

She wrapped another piece in lettuce and held it to the wolf’s mouth. Naturally, she took it with a gentle nip, smacking her lips as she chewed.

After four or five times, the wolf got the idea. She wrapped a piece herself and held it to Ji Yingran’s lips.

Ji Yingran paused, then opened her mouth and ate it, nodding. “Thank you, Wolfie. It’s delicious.”

Mu Ci frowned. “Who’s Wolf?”

Ji Yingran shook her head with a smile. “My mistake. You’re not a wolf.”

Mu Ci huffed and wrapped another piece, holding it out again.

“You don’t have to keep feeding me. I can eat on my own.”

“Eat! Eat it quick!”

“Alright, alright, I’m eating.”

After several more rounds, Ji Yingran—who didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with, and even less for meat—felt full. But this wolf was hooked on feeding her now.

She stopped eating herself, focusing entirely on shoving piece after piece toward the human.

Ji Yingran pushed her hand away. “I really can’t eat any more.”

Mu Ci looked unsatisfied. She scoffed and popped the meat into her own mouth, crunching away.

Useless human. Full after just a few bites. No wonder she was so frail.

Not up to standard.

The barbecue joint was packed before long. Seats filled up quickly, including the ones behind Ji Yingran—a family of three, with a child plopping down right in her blind spot.

The kid couldn’t sit still. He rocked back and forth on his stool, bumping into Ji Yingran’s chair every so often.

Ji Yingran shifted her seat forward a few times to avoid him, but no matter how much she moved, the kid’s rocking always found her again.

Bump after bump.

Ji Yingran turned around, her tone gentle. “Little one, please stop rocking the chair like that.”

The kid pulled a face at her and ignored her, rocking even harder.

His parents acted like they hadn’t noticed, offering no intervention.

Ji Yingran sighed helplessly. She didn’t want to make a scene, so she scooted forward again, putting more distance between them.

The wolf, lost in her grilled meat, had paused at some point. She was staring intently at the human.

Ji Yingran felt her gaze and blinked in confusion. “What’s up? Full already?”

Suddenly, Mu Ci stood and moved to Ji Yingran’s side.

Ji Yingran looked up in bewilderment. Before she could figure it out, Mu Ci grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the chair.

Ji Yingran stumbled but caught her balance. When she turned, Mu Ci was seated in her spot.

And then she started rocking the chair—wildly, furiously backward.

The kid behind her nearly toppled off his stool from the motion.

The previously oblivious parents finally spoke up. “Hey, hey, what are you doing? You’re about to shake our kid right off!”

Mu Ci ignored them, rocking harder and harder.

The chair creaked and groaned.

Crack.

The kid hit the floor.

Mu Ci kept rocking, back and forth, without a pause.

The kid burst into wails.

Mu Ci stopped, frowning at him. “So noisy. You cry the ugliest on the whole planet!”

The kid’s sobs hitched for a second, then exploded louder.

Snot and tears everywhere.

Mu Ci waved him off in disgust. “Eww, a snot monster. Gross. Go away, you filthy thing.”

The parents snapped to attention. Chaos erupted.

Ji Yingran tried to intervene, but Mu Ci had already leaped onto the table.

She stood on the high tabletop, rocking and jumping.

Perfectly mimicking what the kid had done.

The kid had rocked on his stool; the wolf rocked on their table.

The sheer madness stunned everyone—the kid, the parents, all of them went silent.

Even Ji Yingran stared, dumbfounded.

As she rocked, the wolf muttered, “Big deal, anyone can rock. You rock, I rock. He’s just a kid? Well, I’m Baby! So what if I’m a thousand-year-old Baby? I’m rocking.”

The family scooped up their child and fled in a panic, not daring to argue.

That woman on the table was clearly unhinged. Nobody messed with crazy.

Every eye in the barbecue joint was on Mu Ci, but she didn’t care. She felt no shame, no embarrassment. Even after they left, she kept going.

Ji Yingran had always been thin-skinned in public, but seeing this, she just smiled. Far from embarrassed, she stepped forward and reached out a hand.

“Alright, come down now. I know you were standing up for me. They’ve scampered off scared—you don’t need to keep rocking.”

Mu Ci slapped away her hand. “Who said I was standing up for you? I just like rocking.”

She jumped down from the table.

Mu Ci returned to her seat and resumed eating her grilled meat.

Ji Yingran sat back down across from her. With no more rocking pest behind them, it felt spacious and comfortable.

“I’ve just realized—being a little crazy isn’t so bad,” Ji Yingran said with a laugh. “Maybe I should learn from you. When reason fails, I could go a bit nuts myself.”

Mu Ci bristled. “Who’re you calling crazy?”

Ji Yingran backpedaled at once. “No one, no one. I misspoke.”

Mu Ci snorted coldly.

“Want me to order more?” Ji Yingran asked. The meat on the table was nearly gone.

Mu Ci didn’t respond. Her gaze drifted to the left.

Ji Yingran waved a hand in front of her eyes. “What’re you looking at? More meat? Full yet?”

Mu Ci stayed silent, eyes fixed on the spot.

Puzzled, Ji Yingran followed her gaze. It landed on a two-top table with a bald man and a beer-bellied guy.

The pair were laughing uproariously about something.

Was the wolf annoyed by their noisy guffaws?

Before Ji Yingran could puzzle it out, the two finished up, paid, and left.

Arm in arm, they passed by Ji Yingran’s table, right outside the window.

And then, disaster struck out of nowhere.

The two men stumbled over nothing, crashing to the ground.

One bashed his head on the pavement, splitting it open. Blood soaked the concrete.

The other braced with his hands, but one twisted unnaturally out of shape.

Shrieks rose in waves.

Just the sound sent chills down the spine.

Ji Yingran, seated by the window, had a front-row view. She saw the whole fall—and the glint of gold that flashed in the wolf’s eyes.

It wasn’t an accident.

The gruesome sight turned Ji Yingran’s stomach. She quickly averted her gaze.

Ji Yingran looked at the person sitting across from her, her brows furrowed tightly.

Had the wolf really gone that far just because the others had laughed too loudly and disturbed her? Casting a spell to leave them in such a state?

One with their head split open and bleeding, the other with a twisted arm.

It was simply too brutal, too cruel…

The agonized screams from outside the window were enough to make anyone’s skin crawl, but Mu Ci carried on as if nothing had happened, burying her head in her roasted meat once more.

“You,” Ji Yingran finally managed after a long moment, drawing a deep breath before asking gravely, “Did you make them fall?”

Mu Ci didn’t seem to care. “Yeah.”

Her casual attitude left Ji Yingran stunned—stunned at the realization that those two wretches outside might be nothing more than ants to her.

A wolf like this… Ji Yingran simply couldn’t connect her to that fluffy, adorable creature from before.

Ji Yingran pressed her lips together, holding back over and over, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore it.

“They laughed a bit too loudly, sure. Maybe they really did disturb you and ruin your mood. But no matter what, you can’t… How could you injure people like that at the slightest disagreement?”

“If this is how you handle things—if you treat others so carelessly—then I suggest you head back to Snow Mountain. That’s a better fit for you. You’re simply not suited to life in human society!”

Ji Yingran had never spoken so sternly before. Even her gentle voice had turned stiff and hard.

Mu Ci blinked, caught off guard. She shrank back instinctively, gazing at her with wide, bewildered eyes full of grievance.