Chapter 75: Fleeing in Panic

Fleeing in Panic: The Difference Between Friendship and Love

Ji Yingran’s mind was still in a fog. She hadn’t fully sorted through what had just happened when the wolf across from her started kicking up a fuss first.

The massive wolf padded around her in circles, her paws tapping against the porcelain tile floor with a relentless tap-tap-tap.

Thank goodness this was a standalone villa with no neighbors downstairs. Otherwise, they’d have complaints pouring in within seconds from all the racket.

“I’m asking you this not because I want to date you, so don’t get the wrong idea. You absolutely cannot misunderstand.”

“I would never like you. You’re just a lowly human, a stupid two-legged beast.”

“There’s no way I’d ever take a weak little human as a mate, so don’t even entertain the thought.”

“I don’t like you, and I won’t date you.”

“Not qualified. Rejected.”

As she circled Ji Yingran, the wolf chattered on with her rejections, her tail held high and her chin lifted proudly.

Her words were all about dislike, rejection, disqualification, and impossibility. But Ji Yingran had long since grown accustomed to this wolf’s unique way of speaking.

What she was really saying could be translated as:

I really like you, you two-legged beast. Come be my mate. I want to date you. You’d better start dating me right now!

“Ahem.”

Ji Yingran suddenly choked on thin air.

The wolf halted her circling. “Why are you coughing? You useless human, are you sick again?”

Ji Yingran shook her head, her words coming out a bit stuttered. “N-No, I’m not sick.”

But this was worse than being sick…

The wolf snorted coldly. “If you’re not sick, then why cough? Trying to play pitiful again? Let me tell you, it’s not going to work. Even if you play pitiful, it’s pointless. This Wolf wouldn’t look at a human like you anyway.”

Ji Yingran reflexively translated her words once more: Playing pitiful does work. This Wolf thinks very highly of you…

At first, realizing the wolf’s true intentions left Ji Yingran stunned and incredulous. But once the shock wore off, what followed was mostly confusion.

Why on earth did this wolf feel that way?

They weren’t even the same species. The wolf utterly despised humans, so how could she possibly want one as her mate?

It didn’t make sense. It was completely illogical.

Ji Yingran looked toward the wolf. She had her chin tilted up slightly, the picture of aloof arrogance—though it was all an act.

Ji Yingran couldn’t help but wonder if this silly wolf even knew what “like” meant. She could barely write; her diary was full of nothing but black scribbles. Did she really understand the concept?

Ji Yingran doubted it deeply. She suspected the wolf might be mistaking this feeling for something else—confusing friendship with love, perhaps.

After all, the wolf didn’t seem to have any friends. It stood to reason she might not grasp the distinction.

Ji Yingran’s lips parted as she tried to explain the difference between the two kinds of “like,” to tell the wolf they weren’t interchangeable.

But the words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t say them. She was just afraid—afraid of messing it up and sending this hot-tempered wolf running off from home again…

Her mind raced for a good while before she finally pieced together her thoughts. She took a deep breath and ventured forth, as tactfully and probing as she could manage:

“Wolfie, do you even know what ‘like’ means? There are all kinds of ‘like.’ I bet you don’t really get it.”

The moment the words left her mouth, the wolf slammed a paw down on the floor with a sharp crack. Another tile shattered.

Ji Yingran clicked her tongue inwardly. This wolf was seriously strong—no, she probably hadn’t even tried. With all that weight, the floor simply couldn’t hold up.

A light tap, and it broke.

“Of course This Wolf knows what ‘like’ means. Why bring it up? Are you trying to fool This Wolf? Let me tell you, don’t even try. It’s impossible. This Wolf won’t like you.”

As she spoke, she stomped her paw down again.

Another tile met its end.

“Um, could you stop stomping? The whole floor’s breaking.”

“What are you talking about? Changing the subject won’t help. It doesn’t matter—this Wolf would never like a lowly human like you.”

Every denial was like a confession.

This wolf was essentially shouting: I like you!

Ji Yingran was breaking out in a cold sweat just listening. Could the wolf really like her that way? Like, romantically?

No, no, no. Impossible. Ji Yingran instinctively shot down the thought, even though it wasn’t the first time it had crossed her mind.

The wolf’s excessive possessiveness had sparked the suspicion before.

But even after suspecting it multiple times, Ji Yingran reflexively—and subconsciously—denied it.

Because she simply… couldn’t accept it.

From start to finish, she’d only ever seen the wolf as a fluffy animal. Her lifesaving benefactor wolf. Of course she liked her—who wouldn’t like something so adorable and fuzzy?

But it was just like. Ji Yingran couldn’t possibly date her!

She wiped at the nonexistent sweat on her forehead. She had to clear this up now, make it crystal clear. God forbid the wolf took her own misunderstandings too seriously.

“Wolfie, calm down first. Hear me out properly.”

“I’m not listening.”

“…”

Ji Yingran pushed on regardless. “Wolfie, is it possible that ‘like’ comes in many forms?”

The wolf’s eyes narrowed, glinting with a dangerous golden light.

Ignoring the warning in her gaze, Ji Yingran steeled herself and continued. “Feelings are complicated things, you know. There’s familial love, friendship, and romantic love. Isn’t it possible that what you feel for me is just friendship? Right, friendship. Do you get what friendship means?”

The wolf said nothing, just fixed her with a piercing stare from those narrowed eyes.

Ji Yingran licked her lips, sweating bullets. This wolf was no pushover. Say one wrong thing, make her unhappy, and she’d bolt from home again.

“Here’s the thing. You’ve always lived up on Snow Mountain. You’ve never really interacted with your own kind, let alone humans. Then I show up out of nowhere, and you think it’s novel, interesting…”

Before she could finish, the wolf cut her off.

“Who told you I’ve never met humans? I’ve seen more humans than you can count. Why would you be novel to me?”

“Because,” Ji Yingran’s mind whirred as she scrambled for an answer, “you said yourself I don’t have that stench of malice you hate. You’ve probably never met someone like that before, so it felt new and exciting. But actually, lots of people don’t have that malice. I’m nothing special.”

“You stupid human, what are you trying to say?” The wolf crept closer. “There are lots of people without malice. So what? What does that have to do with me?”

Faced with the wolf right in her face, Ji Yingran felt an intangible pressure bearing down. She was struck speechless.

What was she trying to say? Just that the wolf’s “like” had nothing to do with romantic love.

But on what authority could Ji Yingran make that call for her?

Truth be told, it wasn’t about judging the wolf’s feelings. Ji Yingran was terrified of what those feelings might mean—afraid they’d surpass what she could handle.

She didn’t want it to be love.

She didn’t—not that the wolf didn’t.

This topic was going nowhere.

“Anyway, are you hungry? You’ve been out all day. Bet you haven’t eaten a thing. You must be starving by now.”

Ji Yingran awkwardly changed the subject. “I’ve got a pot of soup at home. It’s pretty good—you’ll like it. I’ll go get it for you.”

With that, heedless of the wolf’s reaction, she bolted away without so much as a backward glance.

The wolf didn’t stop her. She just watched her fleeing figure with an inscrutable expression.