Meeting the wolf’s aggrieved gaze, Ji Yingran’s stern words suddenly faltered.
Had she gone too far? The wolf might not have meant it; she probably had no concept of restraint. Ji Yingran should have patiently explained things to her instead of immediately trying to send her back to Snow Mountain…
Speaking such harsh words had been too heartless.
A pang of guilt rose in Ji Yingran’s heart, but that fleeting remorse quickly dissipated amid the chorus of agonized screams rising from outside the window.
Ji Yingran didn’t even dare look at the gruesome scene beyond the glass. Her nerves were too fragile for such sights.
It was just like that time on Snow Mountain, when the wolf had torn the Arctic Wolf to shreds in vengeance for a human—leaving its face unrecognizable, limbs scattered. Even now, the bloody image lingered vividly in Ji Yingran’s memory.
The mere sight of an animal being mauled had been too much for her to stomach; it filled her with fear. And now…
In Mu Ci’s eyes, humans probably weren’t all that different from any other creatures. After all, under her spells, people were just as fragile and helpless.
Today, Mu Ci might bloody someone’s head and snap their limbs simply because they annoyed her with their noise. Tomorrow, on a mere whim or displeased glance, she might take a life.
Utterly capricious and unrestrained, with no one to check her power—humans were mere ants in her presence.
Beings with such overwhelming abilities were terrifying, especially when left unchecked.
Ji Yingran could even imagine Mu Ci turning to wickedness: casting spells at random, slaughtering indiscriminately, becoming a target for all until guns and cannons were turned on her. Even with her magic, she couldn’t fight off an army forever. In the end, she’d be captured alive or killed.
If Mu Ci kept living here, acting on every impulse, it would harm both her and everyone else.
Others would die innocently at her hands, and she herself would draw the attention of those with ulterior motives through her excessive use of power.
Suddenly, Ji Yingran felt her earlier words hadn’t been stern enough. She needed to drive the point home more forcefully, make her realize the gravity of the situation.
If they couldn’t rein her in, she truly couldn’t stay here.
“Woo woo…”
A low growl rumbled from Mu Ci’s throat.
She had started out feeling wronged, but now that grievance had turned to fury.
Ji Yingran gazed at her slit pupils and the obvious aggressive posture, a flicker of fear stirring in her own heart despite herself.
All the while she had been mulling over how to control this wolf, but what gave her the confidence that she could?
Today, Mu Ci tolerated humans enough to deal with that pushy middle-aged man, the overbearing staff, and the rowdy child. But if she soured on them in the next instant…
Ji Yingran herself might end up like those two outside.
Strictly speaking, Mu Ci had a volatile temperament. She flew into rages easily, and in her anger, snapping at the insignificant Ji Yingran hardly seemed out of character.
In the end, she was a wild beast, untamable and fierce—not some harmless housecat or lapdog.
Fearfully, Ji Yingran’s body inched backward, putting some distance between them.
Mu Ci noticed the movement, and her low growling paused for a moment.
Sensing the human’s fear, a fleeting shadow of hurt passed through her eyes, too subtle to catch.
A nearby hospital meant the ambulance arrived swiftly, loading the still-screaming pair onto stretchers and whisking them away.
With the screams gone, quiet returned to the barbecue shop, and the murmurs from the next table carried clearly.
“Those two had it coming—karma’s a bitch. I say they didn’t get smashed hard enough; best if the creeps got smashed flat.”
“You have no idea. I was just in the bathroom and passed their table. The crap they were saying was disgusting.”
“Eating barbecue and acting like they’re picking concubines, rating every girl in the shop. Who the hell do they think they are? They should look in the mirror first…”
“That girl at Table 7 is gorgeous, and they were just leering and snickering. I can’t even repeat how gross it was—nearly made me puke up my barbecue.”
Table 7?
Ji Yingran glanced at the sign on her table. Wasn’t this Table 7?
She looked toward the two girls gossiping at the next table. Realizing their voices had carried, the girls gave an apologetic smile before lowering them.
Ji Yingran had no attention left for their chatter. She turned instead to the wolf across from her, whose breathing had grown heavy with rage.
So it wasn’t their noise that had bothered the wolf. It was their malicious behavior and vile words that she’d overheard.
The wolf had been teaching them a lesson on Ji Yingran’s behalf. Her methods might have been extreme, but undeniably, she’d been venting for the human.
Yet Ji Yingran hadn’t thanked her. Instead, she’d scolded her, tried to send her back to Snow Mountain, and now feared her.
“Wolfie, I…” Ji Yingran tried to explain, to make amends.
But before she could finish, the figure across from her shot to her feet.
Thud.
She kicked the table viciously, sending it wobbling as water sloshed over the edge.
After kicking the table, she bared her teeth at Ji Yingran in fury, then stormed off.
“Where are you going? Wait for me!” Ji Yingran jumped up to follow.
The barbecue shop owner eyed her warily. They’d eaten a ton of meat; if they dined and dashed, it’d be a loss.
Ji Yingran’s pursuit halted reluctantly. She couldn’t stiff him—she turned back, paid at the register, then rushed out.
By the time she’d settled the bill and dashed outside, the wolf was nowhere in sight.
Ji Yingran circled the area, then ran to the bakery nearby and searched around it too.
Still no sign of her.
She had no idea where she’d gone. Then, a white figure appeared under a tree not far off.
Ji Yingran’s eyes lit up. She jogged over and tapped the figure’s shoulder from behind.
The person turned. Though she had long white hair, her face was unfamiliar.
“What? Something you need?”
Ji Yingran hastily withdrew her hand, face flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”
She wandered the streets aimlessly, searching for half an hour with nothing to show for it.
Ji Yingran’s brow remained furrowed. The wolf had vanished in the few minutes it took to pay—just like that.
No contact info either; she couldn’t even try to reach her.
Standing at a crossroad, Ji Yingran felt anxious and lost. Where on earth had she gone?
A sudden thought struck her: maybe she’d gone home.
Without hesitation—and without even going back for her own car—Ji Yingran hailed a taxi on the spot.
Half an hour later, she arrived at the complex.
Mu Ci had moved recently, from Building 10 to Building 9. Ji Yingran had no idea how she’d convinced Yu Chujin to swap houses.
Standing outside Building 9’s courtyard, Ji Yingran peered in. The doors and windows were shut tight—no sign of life.
She rang the doorbell and waited anxiously.
Minutes ticked by. She pressed it several more times, but got no response.
Ji Yingran called out, “Mu Ci! Mu Ci! Wolf! Wolfie!”
Nothing. Instead, it roused Big Yellow from the neighbor’s yard.
Through the fence, Big Yellow’s tail spun like a propeller, brimming with excitement.
The next instant, clang—a stainless steel dog bowl smashed right onto Big Yellow’s head.
The culprit was the complex’s infamous “Green Hair,” better known as Qing Li.
Her voice rang out before she appeared.
“You restless little concubine—no, restless slave! What are you yowling about in the yard? Trying to seduce someone? Keep it up and I’ll eat you.”
Soon, another voice followed from inside.
“You’re throwing its dog bowl again. Can’t it even bark now? Don’t be so unreasonable.”
“You’re bullying me! Taking sides! You’ve hurt Snake’s feelings—boo hoo hoo.”
“Alright, alright, no more howling.”
…
Yu Chujin emerged to check on Big Yellow and spotted Ji Yingran standing outside Building 9.
So Big Yellow had been greeting Ji Yingran.
“Sister Yingran, are you here looking for someone?”
Ji Yingran nodded and pointed at Building 9. “Looking for her.”
Yu Chujin glanced over. “She doesn’t seem to be back. I didn’t hear the door next door, and it looks empty inside.”
As Ji Yingran opened her mouth to reply, another round of “boo hoo hoo” emanated from the house.
Yu Chujin rubbed her temple. “Uh, gotta go for now. Talk later.”
As she headed back in, she called out, “Why the crying again? Didn’t I just apologize?”
Yu Chujin’s home was lively these days.
It used to be deathly quiet—a huge villa with just her living alone, impossible to fill with energy.
Ever since Qing Li arrived, the silence had vanished. It was a nonstop circus now.
Ji Yingran peeked at Building 9 once more and let out a soft sigh. The wolf hadn’t come home.
Had those words about sending her back to Snow Mountain truly driven her all the way there?
The thought tightened Ji Yingran’s lips unconsciously.
She waited outside for a full hour, but the wolf never returned. Finally, dejected, she turned and headed home.
She wanted to find the wolf, but she had no way to contact her. Unless the wolf took the initiative to seek her out, Ji Yingran would never be able to track her down.
The thought of that possibility left Ji Yingran utterly dejected, her heart heavy.
When she got home, for the first time, Ji Yingran had no energy to greet the cats and dogs that came bounding up to welcome her. She slumped onto the sofa, lost in a daze.
Her gaze drifted to the Snow Mountain Wonderland Painting hanging in the living room. Her mood was somber, and she let out a sigh every now and then.
She regretted it deeply—regretted not getting the full story before lashing out at the wolf. She knew full well that the wolf only seemed fierce on the surface. Deep down, she was a good wolf who always kept a sense of proportion, even when her antics got wild.
But regrets wouldn’t change anything now. The wolf had vanished, with no idea where she’d gone, and there was no bringing her back.
“Fantuan,” Ji Yingran called to the dog.
The golden retriever came waddling over, tail wagging furiously.
Ji Yingran stroked its head, her voice soft and subdued. “Do you think she’s sulking? That she doesn’t want to deal with me anymore? This wolf has a real short temper. After I snapped at her like that, who knows—maybe she really headed back to Snow Mountain. Maybe she’ll never come to see me again.”
Ji Yingran lowered her eyes, her spirits sinking even further.
Thud thud.
Clear footsteps echoed from the road outside the courtyard.
The steps fell heavily, as if deliberately trying to catch someone’s attention.
Ji Yingran’s expression shifted in an instant. Forgetting everything else, she bolted for the door and dashed out into the courtyard.
