Chapter 6: Solitude – Both Childish and Strangely Adorable

A pair of dangerous wolf eyes filled her vision.

Ji Yingran’s heart skipped a beat, and this time she was truly awake.

The wolf’s eyes narrowed slightly, coldly fixing on the human as a low, threatening growl rumbled from her throat.

Terror mingled with bewilderment in Ji Yingran’s mind. She couldn’t understand why the Snow Wolf had suddenly swatted her face with a paw, nor why she was growling now.

She looked furious.

“Grrr… grrr… grrr…”

The low growls continued.

Ji Yingran glanced down, realization dawning too late. Her legs were wrapped around the Snow Wolf’s big tail…

She hurriedly let go.

With a sharp swish, the tail yanked back.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to grab your tail,” Ji Yingran said, full of regret. She had a habit of hugging something while she slept—whatever was nearby became her teddy bear.

It was a harmless little quirk, but right now, it had spelled disaster.

Thwap!

Thwap-thwap!

It was the sound of the Snow Wolf’s tail slapping the ground, paired with her narrowed eyes and ongoing growls. It was clear she was angry.

Very angry!

Ji Yingran swallowed nervously, scooting backward bit by bit. In a soft voice, she tried to explain and soothe her: “It wasn’t on purpose. Please don’t be mad. It’s just… your tail is so beautiful. The most gorgeous tail ever.”

Her explanation somehow morphed into compliments about the tail.

Ji Yingran remembered that this wolf loved being praised for her tail. Every time, she got especially smug about it.

She wasn’t sure if flattery would work in this tense moment, but it was worth a shot. Ji Yingran pulled out every glowing adjective she could think of.

No more bland words like “pretty” or “nice”—now it was “shimmering with iridescent light,” “fluffy and lively,” “downy and adorable.”

She rattled them all off.

The wolf, who had been thwapping her tail against the ground, gradually cleared her gaze. She shook out her fur, and her tail shot straight up.

Rigid and erect, like a radio antenna.

Ji Yingran raised an eyebrow. It actually worked. She really did love tail compliments—the more elaborate, the better.

The Snow Wolf lifted her chin high, her tail held even higher. She paraded back and forth in front of the human, showing off her magnificent tail from every angle.

Ji Yingran shifted from trepidation to barely suppressed laughter.

What a childish wolf, getting so thrilled over tail praise. Her smug strut was both immature and… strangely adorable.

After preening with her tail erect for a while, the Snow Wolf suddenly huffed for no reason, rolling her eyes at the human.

Then she sauntered off with a catwalk sway, leaving the cave.

Ji Yingran instinctively followed. The Snow Wolf was a walking furnace; being away from her even briefly left Ji Yingran freezing. People always gravitated toward warmth on instinct.

The Snow Wolf didn’t seem to mind the human trailing behind.

The blizzard outside the cave had stopped at some point, and the sun peeked out from behind the thick clouds.

The Snow Wolf stopped a few meters from the entrance, picking the sunniest spot to sprawl out and bask lazily.

Ji Yingran stood at the cave mouth, tilting her head up at the sun overhead. Her thoughts began to stir.

During the storm, all her plans had been impossible—humans were insignificant specks against nature’s fury. But now the snow had cleared, and the sun was shining.

She needed to find a way to leave. She couldn’t stay here forever.

Even with better weather, escaping wouldn’t be easy. Leaving without mountaineering gear, trekking empty-handed, was next to impossible. Not even professional climbers could pull it off, let alone a novice like her.

She had to recover her backpack. It held all the essentials: compass, trekking poles, ice axe, and most crucially, the satellite phone.

With unpredictable weather and no guide, she couldn’t risk descending alone or trust her own skills to make it out. Rescue was her only option.

But how to find the backpack?

Ji Yingran’s gaze settled on the Snow Wolf sunning herself nearby. Under the sunlight, her fluffy coat truly lived up to one of those phrases Ji Yingran had used: shimmering with iridescent light.

Ji Yingran pressed her lips together, her mind racing. When she’d been hungry before, the Snow Wolf had promptly fetched fish. She’d understood the tail compliments too—and preened with pride.

That led to a conclusion: this wolf was remarkably attuned to humans. She probably understood speech.

If she could understand, maybe Ji Yingran could ask her to help find the backpack?

After all, the Snow Wolf had carried her back to the cave—she must know where the pack was.

The more she thought about it, the more feasible it seemed!

She stepped into the snow, sinking deep with the first footfall.

Trudging through deep snow was exhausting, so Ji Yingran took a shortcut, stepping into the Snow Wolf’s paw prints. It made the going much easier.

One foot in a print, then the next—she quickly reached the wolf’s side.

The Snow Wolf tilted her head slightly, glancing sideways at the approaching two-legged beast.

“I want to sunbathe too,” Ji Yingran explained with a smile.

“Grrr!” The Snow Wolf snapped without hesitation.

Ji Yingran flinched instinctively, retreating several steps. Her plea for help with the backpack never even made it past her lips.

Her lips parted and closed several times. She wanted to speak, but remembered how the Snow Wolf growled at any sound.

True, the Snow Wolf hadn’t harmed her, had even brought food and let her shelter in the cave. But she was fickle, her moods unpredictable.

She was a wild beast brimming with savagery, and Ji Yingran feared her on a primal level.

Especially those growls—they peaked her terror.

To enlist her help, understanding wasn’t enough; agreement was key. They needed rapport first, some emotional bond.

Ji Yingran frowned in frustration. How did one bond with a wolf? She knew tail compliments worked, but she couldn’t praise it nonstop.

Or could she?

Just as Ji Yingran opened her mouth to try, the Snow Wolf shot her a chilling glare.

Ji Yingran clamped her mouth shut. Forget it. Her mood seemed sour now. Better wait until she perked up, or she might end up bitten instead of befriended.

This wasn’t a housecat or lapdog—a bite from her could snap a neck like a twig.

Ji Yingran slunk back to the cave mouth, thoroughly cowed.

The Snow Wolf loved sunbathing. When she was feeling good, she’d even roll in the snow, occasionally shaking out her iridescent fur. She was gorgeous beyond belief.

Ji Yingran watched, entranced for a moment.

The surroundings were bright, yet the Snow Wolf shone brightest amid the glare, as if drawing all the light to herself. She sparkled, utterly dazzling.

Ji Yingran’s thoughts drifted to the Snow Mountain Wonderland Painting hanging in her living room. The wolf before her matched it perfectly.

The painting was beautiful, and so was the wolf.

Fluffy… she must feel amazing to pet… The urge surfaced again.

She adored furry creatures—that’s why her home was full of cats and dogs. Who could resist something so soft and cuddly?

The temptation to pet her had arisen many times, but Ji Yingran never dared act on it.

She was still afraid.

The sun dipped westward, bathing the vast white expanse in a dim yellow glow.

Perhaps bored, the Snow Wolf suddenly started stomping on her own shadow in the snow—left paw, right paw.

Playing with herself, hopping about.

Ji Yingran watched the scene and couldn’t help but smile.

After pawing at her shadow for a bit, the Snow Wolf seemed to think of something and whipped her head around.

Ji Yingran pretended not to notice.

The Snow Wolf stared at the human for a moment, satisfied she wasn’t peeking, then resumed batting at her shadow.

Ji Yingran turned her gaze back, a faint smile on her lips.

Once she tired of it, the Snow Wolf flopped down, gazing into the distance.

The dusky sunset bathed her form, evoking an unexpected sense of… solitude.

Solitude? Ji Yingran wondered why that word popped into her head. The wolf was free, powerful, unbound.

Solitude had nothing to do with her—she was freer than anyone.

Yet weren’t wolves pack animals? They hunted and guarded together in groups. Why was she all alone?

Crunch.

The sound of boots on snow.

Ji Yingran approached her side once more.

As expected, the Snow Wolf growled at her: “Grrr!”

For the first time, Ji Yingran didn’t flinch or retreat from the sound.

The Snow Wolf noticed, cocking her head in puzzlement. But she quickly righted it, growling more fiercely.

To no avail—Ji Yingran stood her ground, unfazed.

Perplexed, or perhaps competitive, the Snow Wolf rose, arched her back, thwapped her tail on the snow, and bared her fangs.

Ji Yingran’s fingers curled in fear, but she quickly tamped it down.

“Quit scaring me all the time,” she said with a gentle smile.

The Snow Wolf’s fierce expression froze, faltered awkwardly for a second, then she huffed, rolled her eyes, and turned away—presenting her fluffy wolf rear to the human.

That butt was covered in so much fur. It had to feel great to pet!

Ji Yingran shook her head. Now was not the time to come off as a “pervert.” She’d just mustered her courage to test the waters, and the result was plain to see.

The wolf was only bluffing. She wouldn’t actually attack—at least not yet.

With that confirmed, it was time to put the “build rapport” plan into action.

Ji Yingran had plenty of experience getting along with animals. After all, she’d raised quite a few over the years.

Cats, dogs, wolfies—weren’t they all more or less the same?

Confidence surged through her. Playing with a little animal? This was right up her alley.

She remembered the times she’d raced with the cats and dogs at home, the fun, playful kind of chases that always left them thrilled.

Perhaps the same trick would work on the snow wolf.

Ji Yingran cleared her throat. “This is so boring. How about a race?”

It was a stiff, out-of-left-field suggestion.

The snow wolf ignored her entirely, and the moment turned awkward.

Ji Yingran rubbed her nose, feeling a touch embarrassed. Wolves really weren’t like house cats and dogs after all. She wasn’t interested.

But how could she not be interested?

No, she’d try again. This wolf was a pro at playing it cool. She might just be pretending.

Ji Yingran pointed toward a protruding rock ahead, only partially buried in snow. “That’s the finish line. First one to stand on the rock wins.”

Without waiting for the snow wolf’s reaction, she took off running.

Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder.

Perfect—the wolf hadn’t followed. Of course not. What wolf would be bored enough to race? That would be underestimating her maturity.

Even so, the wolf hadn’t budged, but Ji Yingran kept going, sprinting toward the rock.

It was chilly out; a good run would warm her up.

Ji Yingran was certain the snow wolf wouldn’t follow. But just as she neared the finish line…

Whoosh!

A gust of wind streaked past her side, kicking up a flurry of snow that smacked her right in the face.

Ji Yingran batted the snow away frantically and looked ahead. There stood the snow wolf on the agreed-upon finish rock, her tail held high like an antenna, chin lifted proudly.

————————!!————————

Wolfie thought disdainfully: What a snail-paced two-legged beast—even with a full minute’s head start, you couldn’t catch me. Useless human!