Extremely Angry: Furious Wolf, Not Easy to Coax
Ji Yingran rushed out in a hurry, immediately scanning the road outside the courtyard for the source of those footsteps.
But when she got a clear look at the person on the road, the spark in Ji Yingran’s eyes instantly faded.
It wasn’t the wolf.
Just some passerby walking by.
Ji Yingran had thought the wolf had come back for her, but it wasn’t. After that flicker of hope, an overwhelming wave of disappointment crashed over her, leaving her utterly deflated.
The wolf lived on Snow Mountain and had specially come down into the human world to find her. With the world being so vast, even with her extraordinary abilities, it must have taken quite some effort.
She had gone to all that trouble to track her down, but Ji Yingran hadn’t recognized her at first. She’d even pegged her as a lunatic and tried to avoid her.
Later, doubts had crept in, but Ji Yingran had resisted admitting it because of all her annoying behavior.
And then, just today—finally—she’d confirmed it was the wolf.
Yet on the very first day after confirmation, barely even a full day into their reunion, Ji Yingran had wrongly accused her and driven her off in a huff.
If she really were in the wolf’s shoes, she’d be furious too—probably furious enough never to show her face again.
Humans really could be awful. She’d promised to go back and find her but hadn’t kept her word. She’d vowed to repay her life-saving benefactor wolf but hadn’t treated her properly at all.
Humans were rotten to the core. It was probably for the best that the wolf had left. Her temperament didn’t suit human society anyway. Returning to Snow Mountain was likely the ideal outcome.
What Ji Yingran regretted most was how botched their final farewell had turned out.
She grabbed her phone and headed out the door but didn’t go far. Instead, she wandered aimlessly back and forth along the roads in the neighborhood.
The wolf had probably left for good, nine times out of ten. Still, Ji Yingran clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe, like before, she’d be walking along and suddenly that wolf would dart out, deliberately bumping into her shoulder.
She’d lost count of how many times the wolf had crashed into her like that.
Before, it had annoyed her; now, she desperately hoped for it.
She paced up and down the road, trip after trip, unsure how many times, until her feet began to ache and dusk started to fall.
She never saw the one she was waiting for.
That last thread of hope in Ji Yingran’s heart faded into silence along with the dimming sky.
She returned once more to the entrance of Building 9’s courtyard and stood there for a long while, a touch of dejection settling over her features.
Finally, she turned and went home. The moment she pushed open the door, the aroma of cooking wafted from the kitchen—Lady Ou was busy at work in there.
Hearing the door, Lady Ou peered out from the kitchen, spatula in hand.
“Ranran’s back. You’re a bit late from work today. Was business booming at the bakery? Too much to handle?”
Ji Yingran mustered some energy and replied, “Not busy. We closed early.”
“Closed early? What happened?” Lady Ou turned off the stove, wiped her hands on her apron, and came out of the kitchen.
“It couldn’t be that classmate of yours stirring up trouble again, could it? I told you from the start—Liu Siyuan’s not reliable. She doesn’t look like the type to work properly. But you insisted on honoring your friendship with her. I say you should’ve fired her right away.”
Ji Yingran shook her head. “No, we let go of all the bakery staff. Closed up shop clean and simple.”
Lady Ou perked up at that. She’d never liked the look of those employees in Ji Yingran’s shop—lazy and scattered, none of them the diligent sort.
“Good on you! My Ranran finally showed some backbone and fired them all. Well done, well done.” Lady Ou patted her shoulder, beaming with pride.
Ji Yingran forced a smile but said nothing.
Once her excitement ebbed, Lady Ou noticed Ji Yingran’s low mood. Assuming it was from the bakery’s temporary shutdown, she soothed her.
“It’s just closed for a couple days—no big deal. Sure, it dragged on for half a year, but it’s sorted now. Next time you hire, set strict rules. Don’t be such a pushover or so easygoing. Learn from this, and it’ll be fine. Take it slow.”
Ji Yingran murmured an “mm-hmm.” “We’ll rest a few days and see. As for the future… I’m not even sure if I want to keep the bakery going.”
The staff troubles had worn down nearly all her passion for baking.
Lady Ou sat beside her, took her hand, and gave it a gentle pat. “Whether you keep the bakery or not, Mom supports you.”
Ji Yingran said, “Mom, you’re spoiling me rotten. Anything goes, anything’s fine.”
“What’s wrong with that? We’re not short on means. Whatever you do, it’s all about passion. You love baking, so I back your bakery.”
“If it’s not fun anymore, we shut it down. Worst case, we’ve got all those flowers in the courtyard—open a flower shop.”
“Look at all the cats and dogs you care for. If nothing else, a pet shop would work too.”
Ji Yingran shook her head with a smile. “Got it. Go finish dinner—I’ll help out.”
The mother and daughter headed to the kitchen together. Lady Ou handled the stir-frying while Ji Yingran washed and prepped the vegetables.
As they worked, they chatted idly, but Ji Yingran’s spirits remained low.
“What’s wrong? Still upset?”
“No, I’m not down about that.”
“Then what? Don’t tell me you fell in love and got your heart broken.”
Ji Yingran choked. “Mom, what are you talking about? Nothing like that.”
Lady Ou said, “I almost wish you would get heartbroken. You’re nearly thirty—have you ever even dated? You’ve never mentioned liking anyone since you were little. What, planning to stay single forever? Fine, but at least try dating once.”
Lady Ou launched into her usual nagging about romance. Ji Yingran didn’t mind; it went in one ear and out the other.
It was rare for someone her age to have never dated, so Lady Ou’s anxiety was understandable.
But Ji Yingran just wasn’t interested. She couldn’t wrap her head around falling in love, getting all worked up over someone, living or dying for them.
She didn’t get it, but she respected it.
After rattling on about romance for a bit, Lady Ou shifted topics. “Remember that white-hair next door?”
Ji Yingran’s hands paused over the vegetables. “Mm. What about her?”
Lady Ou added salt to the dish while casually saying, “I saw her when I got off work today, over in the park opposite the neighborhood. No idea what crazy fit she was throwing.”
“She was chucking rocks nonstop, cursing the whole time. I even edged closer to eavesdrop—she was yelling about some ‘damn two-legged beast,’ ‘lowly human,’ ‘failing at a negative score’ or whatever.”
“All that stuff, anyway. The way she was cursing, you’d think she wasn’t human herself…”
Before she could finish, Ji Yingran bolted.
Lady Ou called out in confusion, “Hey, where are you going? Dinner’s almost ready!”
As Ji Yingran dashed out, she yelled back, “Mom, something came up—I have to head out. Don’t wait for me for dinner!”
Lady Ou chased to the door with her spatula, catching only a fleeting glimpse of her daughter’s back. She shook her head. “This kid, always rushing around. Skipping dinner like that—I wasn’t even done talking.”
Lady Ou had meant to warn her again to steer clear of White Hair. When she’d gotten close earlier, just to listen in, White Hair had bared her teeth at her and started cursing—scary stuff.
Park opposite the neighborhood, man-made lake.
Ji Yingran raced straight there based on Lady Ou’s tip.
The artificial lake was huge, and with evening peak stroll time, people thronged the paths around it.
Ji Yingran anxiously swept her gaze over the crowds.
No sign. She circled the lake once—nothing. Her brows furrowed. Had she already left the park?
Unwilling to give up, Ji Yingran looped the park again, still turning up empty.
Just as she was about to call it quits, she overheard a passerby’s complaint.
“What the heck? Out of nowhere—she calls me a ‘lowly human’ like she’s not one herself.”
Ji Yingran perked up instantly and hurried over, blocking the passerby’s path.
The passerby startled at the sudden stop but relaxed upon seeing the gentle-faced, soft-mannered woman.
“Excuse me,” Ji Yingran said. “Mind telling me where you saw the person who just cursed you?”
The passerby pointed left. “Her? Right there, by the lake.”
Ji Yingran thanked them profusely and bolted toward the spot.
Along the way, more passersby grumbled.
“That white-haired woman—nuts or what? She latched onto me, calling me a ‘hateful two-legged beast.’ Psycho.”
“She didn’t just curse you—she got me too. Called me a ‘stupid human.’ Ridiculous.”
“She didn’t curse me, but she bared her teeth. Scared me half to death. If I’d walked any slower, she’d have bitten me.”
Ji Yingran fell silent listening to them. Just how many people had she cursed?
Ji Yingran followed the murmurs of discussion until she quickly located That Wolf.
Mu Ci stood at the lake’s edge, picking up stones and hurling them into the water. She would throw one, then immediately grab another to continue.
Her actions made it abundantly clear.
She was utterly furious.
