“It’s you.”
The Bob-Cut Girl recognized Mu Ci at once. With her white hair and golden eyes, those features were far too distinctive. No one who had seen her even once could easily forget.
“Did you hear everything just now?” The Bob-Cut Girl didn’t seem overly panicked by this. Instead, her gaze grew even more resolute. “Everything I said is true, of course. Though she’ll never admit it.”
That resolute look in her eyes wasn’t masterful acting. It was more like the result of telling so many lies that she’d started to fool even herself into believing they were the truth.
Mu Ci didn’t argue with her. She simply stared in silence.
The Bob-Cut Girl, who had been composed until then, suddenly felt a surge of inexplicable fear when she met those eerie, emotionless golden eyes.
It was as if the woman in front of her could see straight through to every one of her thoughts—every dark corner of her soul.
That gaze carried a lofty disdain, thick with contempt.
Mu Ci advanced toward her slowly.
The sound of her shoes clicking against the tiled floor echoed with each step, and every click deepened the fear churning inside the Bob-Cut Girl.
The Bob-Cut Girl instinctively backed away, forcing down her terror. “What are you doing!”
Just when the Bob-Cut Girl thought Mu Ci would keep closing in—perhaps even attack her—Mu Ci stopped.
A cold snort escaped Mu Ci’s nose. “You know, spreading such foul lies will make your mouth rot.”
The Bob-Cut Girl clenched her fists and stuck out her chin defiantly. “I’m telling the truth! So what if Ji Yingran did those things? Can’t I talk about her behind her back?”
Mu Ci’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous glint flickering in their golden depths, too fleeting to catch. “Very well. Let’s put it to the test, then. I’m curious if you’re lying. We’ll make a bet—your mouth is the stake.”
The Bob-Cut Girl frowned, not fully grasping the meaning behind those words. Before she could puzzle it out, Mu Ci calmly looked away and turned to leave.
Mu Ci had arrived abruptly and now departed just as suddenly.
The Bob-Cut Girl stood there confused when her friend suddenly cried out in alarm. “Xiao Qi, your mouth…”
The Bob-Cut Girl blinked in confusion. “What?”
In the next instant, she felt something wrong with her lips. She touched them and pulled away a hand slick with blood.
Agonizing pain exploded outward.
“My mouth… Ah, it hurts so much!”
She collapsed to her knees, crying out in torment.
Rot spread from the corners of her mouth, inch by inch. Flesh peeled back, leaving a gruesome mess of blood and tissue amid a rising stench of decay.
That clear, icy voice drifted back from a distance.
“Looks like I won the bet.”
While Ji Yingran had stepped away to buy a milk tea, she turned around to find the wolf gone again.
She really was quick to wander off.
Ji Yingran anxiously scanned her surroundings when someone suddenly slammed into her shoulder from behind.
She clutched her milk tea tightly, barely keeping hold of it as it nearly flew from her grasp.
She didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“You bumped into me again.” Ji Yingran shot her a helpless glance.
“Who told you to stand there blocking the way?” Mu Ci lifted her chin, utterly unapologetic.
Ji Yingran gritted her teeth. She was half tempted not to share the milk tea anymore. This woman had dragged her out for fun, but Ji Yingran ended up waiting on her hand and foot without so much as a kind word.
Even back when she was a wolf, Ji Yingran had known her personality was prickly. She hadn’t realized it could grate this much once she turned human.
If she weren’t Ji Yingran’s life-saving benefactor wolf, Ji Yingran probably wouldn’t bother with her at all.
Ji Yingran took a deep breath and handed over the milk tea. “Where did you disappear to this time? I told you not to wander off.”
Mu Ci snatched it from her. “None of your business.”
She didn’t even bother with the straw. Instead, she bit straight through the plastic seal and chugged it down.
Ji Yingran quietly withdrew the straw she’d offered.
Mu Ci’s boorish way of downing the milk tea drew odd looks from passersby.
Mu Ci either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care about the stares.
When she’d drunk two-thirds of it, she shoved the remainder right in Ji Yingran’s face.
“Here.”
Ji Yingran’s mouth twitched as she took it. The moment Mu Ci looked away, she seized the chance and tossed it into a nearby trash can.
In a blink, the milk tea vanished from Ji Yingran’s hand. A flicker of puzzlement crossed Mu Ci’s eyes.
“It’s gone. You finished it.” Ji Yingran explained calmly.
Had this wretched two-legged beast thrown it away? Mu Ci remained suspicious but couldn’t find any proof for the moment.
Ding-a-ling-ling.
Ji Yingran’s phone rang from inside her bag.
She unzipped it, pulled out the phone, and glanced at the caller ID. It was her childhood friend.
“I’m taking this call,” Ji Yingran said, not forgetting to warn her. “Don’t wander off again. Just stay right here beside me.”
Bringing her out was more exhausting than minding a child.
Ji Yingran answered and held the phone to her ear. She didn’t notice when Mu Ci slipped away again, too absorbed in the conversation. Whatever was said on the other end wiped the smile from her face in an instant.
Her gentle features hardened, her brows knitting tightly together.
By the time she hung up, her head hung low. She suddenly felt drained of all energy—or perhaps it wasn’t her body that felt weak, but her spirit that had grown weary.
She made her way to a long stone bench by the roadside and sank onto it, gripping her phone tightly while her brows stayed furrowed.
Mu Ci returned from her jaunt, clutching the discarded milk tea she’d apparently fished from the trash.
“Damn two-legged beast! This Wolf shares food with you, and you dare throw it away? Believe it or not, I’ll bite you to death!”
Ji Yingran didn’t respond. She sat on the stone bench with her head bowed, looking utterly dejected.
She seemed a little sad.
Mu Ci approached and loomed over the seated woman. “What’s with the dying-on-the-vine act? It’s annoying.”
Ji Yingran didn’t lift her head. “I’m in a bad mood right now. I’m tired. Don’t bother me—go play by yourself for a bit.”
Mu Ci scoffed and started to walk away, but she soon doubled back and planted herself in front of Ji Yingran again, staring down at her.
She didn’t ask why Ji Yingran was tired or in a bad mood. She just watched her intently.
Ji Yingran let out a long sigh, mustering a bit of energy as she looked up.
“I don’t need comforting. You don’t have to worry about me. Just go have fun on your own.”
Mu Ci showed no sign of leaving. “Who bullied you?”
Ji Yingran shook her head. “No one. Do I look like someone who’s easy to bully?”
Mu Ci replied without hesitation. “You do. Anyone could push you around—you couldn’t fight back against any of them.”
Ji Yingran choked on that, then managed a helpless smile. “Fine, you’re right. Someone did bully me. But more than anger at being targeted, I’m just… confused.”
Confused by how people could change so drastically.
Lately, Ji Yingran had caught whispers of ugly rumors about herself. At first, she hadn’t known who was spreading them—until her childhood friend called to tell her.
The culprit was Xiao Qi.
The very Bob-Cut Girl they’d run into at the oceanarium entrance. Xiao Qi had been so warm and friendly, greeting them enthusiastically, inviting them to tour the exhibits together, even suggesting they hang out again sometime.
Someone that bubbly didn’t seem like the type to fabricate vicious lies behind someone’s back.
Ji Yingran had first met Xiao Qi not at the bakery, but when she’d witnessed her standing up for a friend.
That friend had been drowning in rumors, helpless to defend herself, sobbing openly on the street. Xiao Qi had charged out, shielding her and arguing fiercely on her behalf—punishing the rumormongers.
She’d held her own against a crowd.
Ji Yingran still remembered the fierce conviction with which Xiao Qi had defended the truth. “What I hate most are you sneaky gossips. I tear into every one I see! Spouting all that nonsense—you’re not afraid it’ll rot your mouth?”
Back then, she’d seemed to glow.
But now, she’d become one of those rumormongers herself.
Ji Yingran found it absurd, incomprehensible. Anyone might spread lies—but not her.
The Xiao Qi of before had been so kind and upright, the sort of girl who’d rush into battle for a defamed friend.
How could she have changed like this?
Ji Yingran couldn’t make sense of Xiao Qi’s transformation.
Nor could she understand Liu Siyuan’s.
“Wolf, you know, I put up with Liu Siyuan’s petty schemes at the bakery for so long not just because I’m spineless. It’s because I… don’t understand.”
She didn’t understand why people changed so much.
Xiao Qi was one example. Liu Siyuan was another.
Back in high school, Ji Yingran had been even softer than she was now—gentle-looking, soft-spoken. She was an easy mark.
School was a little society of its own, and her meek, non-confrontational nature made her a natural target.
The only one who ever stood up for her, who genuinely befriended her, had been Liu Siyuan.
Whenever Ji Yingran was bullied, Liu Siyuan stepped in front. She’d seen so much kindness and goodness in her: always helping others, returning lost items, praising virtue and punishing vice.
She’d seemed strong and perfect.
But that version of her existed only in high school.
It was as if she had suddenly been body-snatched. One moment, her saintly glow had been shining bright; the next, it had vanished entirely, and she had begun exploiting Ji Yingran’s kindness and soft-heartedness to line her own pockets with wealth.
“You know, why do people change so drastically?” Ji Yingran murmured. “Or is it actually my problem? You once said kindness needs a sharp edge, but I don’t have that edge. I always try my best to understand them, to empathize with them… and in the end, I just end up nurturing their malice.”
Too many people like that had drifted into Ji Yingran’s life, taking advantage of her easygoing ways and her boundless kindness. It made her question herself—was kindness itself a flaw?
Otherwise, why would her goodwill twist them into such unrecognizable versions of themselves?
Ji Yingran shared these thoughts with the wolf not because she expected any answers. She couldn’t even unravel the riddle herself, so how could this wildly erratic wolf possibly manage it?
Mu Ci settled onto the stone bench beside her, propping her hands behind her and leaning back with a picture of leisure.
“You know,” she said, “I actually despise humans. I can smell the stench of rot on you all.”
It was the odor of festering malice, thoughts of evil coiled and gathered thick.
Almost everyone carried that scent to some degree. Pure ones without a trace were exceedingly rare.
Ji Yingran was one of them.
“Your kindness and easygoing nature? At worst, it’s just a mirror. If the reflection shows a person or a demon, are you going to blame the mirror for it?”
“Evil festers because it was already lurking in their hearts to begin with. After all, not everyone’s like you.”
“Utterly free of malice.”
Ji Yingran blinked in surprise. “I’m completely free of it?”
Mu Ci leaned in abruptly, her face inches from Ji Yingran’s. “You should be grateful for that. If you reeked of it like the rest, you’d have died on Snow Mountain ages ago.”
Ji Yingran stared into those golden pupils so close at hand, her expression momentarily dazed.
Mu Ci arched a brow and pulled back to a more comfortable distance. “So don’t turn on your own kindness. It’s part of your personal journey. Sure, maybe it’s cost you dearly in the past—plenty of hardships because of it. But look at it another way: hasn’t that same kindness saved your life at least once?”
They had been deep in profound discussion one second; the next, Mu Ci shot to her feet and started madly slapping the dust from her pants.
“Filthy! Doesn’t anyone ever clean this bench? It’s covered in grime—disgusting, disgusting!”
The shift in mood was so abrupt that Ji Yingran barely kept up. Just moments ago, the wolf had been a poised sage dissecting the nature of kindness; now she was a hyperactive child.
“Stop patting at it,” Ji Yingran said with a laugh. “There’s hardly any dust. It’s not that dirty.”
“It is! So dirty!”
Unable to dissuade her, Ji Yingran could only watch as the wolf kept slapping away relentlessly.
Then, in a blink, the wolf’s demeanor shifted again. She stopped fussing with her pants and fixed her gaze on Ji Yingran.
“You can keep being kind. You don’t need that sharp edge. After all, no one will ever take advantage of it again.”
Ji Yingran froze, not quite grasping the words. But Mu Ci was already striding away.
Ji Yingran watched her retreating back, lost in thought. Seconds later, realization dawned.
She jogged to catch up.
“Wolfie, is that what you meant just now? That I can just be myself, no need to force that edge… because you’ll protect me?”
“Who’s Wolfie?” Mu Ci snapped. “And why the hell would I protect you? Are you nuts? Deranged?”
“Got it. But Wolfie, can’t we just talk normally? You clearly can—you were so eloquent enlightening me earlier, all wise and insightful. Why go back to this now?”
“Shut up! You’re so annoying!”
Ji Yingran wasn’t upset in the slightest. Instead, she playfully bumped Mu Ci’s shoulder. “Nope, not shutting up. I want to talk to you. I love talking to Wolfie.”
Mu Ci rolled her eyes, her face twisted in a scowl as if she couldn’t stand Ji Yingran.
Yet a pair of ears chose that moment to perk up joyfully from the top of her head.
