Black Wolf yawned lazily, its cavernous maw swallowing the last sliver of daylight from outside the cave. Liang Ye curled up in the depths of the den, keeping as much distance from Black Wolf as possible.
Prolonged mental strain had exhausted his fragile body—one still in its puppy stage—until his eyelids kept drooping only to snap back open. His dark, glistening eyes were wet with tears, and even his small black nose had gone dry from anxiety.
Thinking himself stealthy, he stole glances at Black Wolf, waiting for nightfall, for the great beast to fall asleep, and for his chance to escape. But the clever predator had long since noticed the cub's little movements, and paid them no mind at all—one eye open, one eye shut—waiting to see what the little one would do next.
"Rustle—"
The sound of wind stirring the leaves suddenly drilled into his ears. The little white milk-ball flailed all four paws in the air, eyes wide as saucers. The pitch-black surroundings felt like being submerged in the deep sea, the pressure crushing his chest until he could barely breathe.
His gaze drifted to the cave entrance. Black Wolf's massive body stood there like a door god—blocking the wind, intimidating any outside beasts, and also sealing off Liang Ye's only escape route.
Liang Ye thanked his lucky stars once again that he had become a dog. If he were still in a human body, he wouldn't be able to see his own hand in front of his face. His current night vision wasn't anything to brag about, but at least he could make out the path.
Licking his nose, Liang Ye carefully observed Black Wolf's condition, listening intently to the rhythm of its breathing. After a moment, the heart that had been suspended high in the air slowly began to descend.
Heaven is helping me—Black Wolf is asleep!
Soft paw pads pressed against the ground without making a sound. Liang Ye strained to control his claws, terrified that his nails might click against the stone floor and give him away.
Because he was so tense, Liang Ye completely failed to notice how bizarre his walking posture was—same-side limbs moving together, limping along, each of his four legs seemingly having a mind of its own.
This scene happened to be witnessed by Black Wolf, who was only pretending to sleep, and nearly blew its cover.
Beastmen born with defects weren't unheard of, but such cubs rarely survived more than a few days. The Mother Beast would eat them to replenish the strength drained by childbirth.
The little one was tiny, but its eyes were already open, the blue membrane gone, and its baby fur was beginning to shed. Its beast age was roughly three months.
A three-month-old cub had basically survived the most dangerous, fragile period of infancy. For a disabled cub, it was already giving everything it had just to stay alive.
And yet it had been abandoned by its own pack. For a Beastman without a clan, survival was difficult even for an adult—let alone a cub.
While Black Wolf's thoughts churned, Liang Ye was giving his all to escape. If he were still human, he'd probably be drenched in sweat by now. Thank goodness a dog's sweat glands were limited, or he'd have slipped ten times over.
The closer he got to the cave entrance, the closer he was to Black Wolf. Liang Ye could even feel the heat radiating off the beast's body, like a massive furnace.
Thick, dense fur gleamed like satin under the silver moonlight. Black Wolf's coat wasn't sleek and glossy like the show-dog canines Liang Ye had seen before—not expensive or refined. It was tousled yet orderly, as if Black Wolf occasionally groomed itself with its tongue in its spare time, but never meticulously.
That, in turn, gave it a wild, untamed quality that instantly captivated Liang Ye, making him freeze mid-step, unable to move.
Earlier, fear had kept him from daring to look closely at Black Wolf. Now, with a proper look, even with its eyes closed in rest, Black Wolf's presence was overwhelmingly powerful—majestic, awe-inspiring, radiating dominance like a born king.
Back when Liang Ye was human, even with the internet and advanced technology, people could always capture unexpected footage of the animal kingdom. But a beast as mighty, as commanding, as handsome as Black Wolf—he had never seen anything like it in his life.
And Black Wolf was truly enormous. One swipe of its paw could flatten him into a Ye-cake. Even the former Liang Ye, who stood over 1.8 meters tall, would look tiny next to Black Wolf.
Wait! By all logic, even a well-fed adult wolf only reached about 1.5 meters in length. The largest wolf species in the world was the Kenai Peninsula wolf, measuring two to 2.2 meters long—but the Kenai Peninsula wolf had gone extinct in the twentieth century.
Furthermore…
Liang Ye eyed the colossal creature before him with suspicion. This thing looked like it was well over 2.2 meters.
He jolted, shivering, quickly snapping himself out of his daze as rationality reclaimed the high ground.
Thankfully, Black Wolf was sleeping deeply, or his life would have been forfeit.
Liang Ye quickened his pace on tiptoe, his gaze locked dead on Black Wolf, terrified that the beast would peel open its eyelids at any second and meet his eyes.
"Huff—"
Without warning, Black Wolf let out a long breath through its nose. The scorching gust instantly transported Liang Ye to the height of summer.
Black Wolf, having grown tired of the cub's dawdling, opened its eyes just in time to watch a puff of white cotton candy drift and wobble its way out of the cave mouth, then go splat into the dirty mud.
In the darkness, two glowing lanterns slowly faded from view. Black Wolf lifted a forepaw to rest over its muzzle, a feeling called embarrassment spreading through its chest.
The cub was too weak. Tomorrow, it would need to feed it more.
The dazed Yeye lay sprawled in place, playing dead. What just happened?
One minute passed. Two minutes. Five minutes. The cave remained utterly silent.
Liang Ye finally dared to move his paws.
Black Wolf hadn't woken up. It was all just an accident.
Could this be what they meant by "a fair wind rises, carrying me to the clouds"?¹
¹ A line from the classic Chinese novel Dream of the Red Chamber, used here ironically to describe his accidental escape.
Liang Ye scrambled up joyfully—why wait when the time to run was now!
He barely made it two steps before freezing in place. All around him was pitch black, dead silent. The wild grass beside him grew taller than he was. Gazing up at the sky, a lone moon hung overhead, its fading light gradually swallowed by thick clouds.
A cold wind scraped across his damp nose like a blade, and he caught a faint scent of rust.
"Caw—caw—"
A sharp, piercing cry tore through the tranquil night. The sound was high-pitched and unrelenting, like fingernails scraping endlessly against glass, sending chills down his spine. He wondered if he'd stumbled into a murder scene, legs trembling, soul about to flee his body.
What the hell was that?
Liang Ye, panic-stricken, froze into a stone pillar. Even his warm, furry coat couldn't thaw the ice-cold dread in his heart.
This wasn't "carrying me to the clouds"—this was carrying me straight to the afterlife!
Dying now versus dying later—Liang Ye decisively chose the latter.
Life without slacking off loses half its joy.
Liang Ye slunk back into the cave, curled himself up into a ball, and wrapped himself into a chocolate dumpling before falling asleep.
Yes, at this point Liang Ye hadn't yet realized he'd become a dirty mess after that ordeal. Black Wolf, who had witnessed everything, showed a look of disgust on his face.
Cubs really were mischievous—and didn't even like staying clean.
.
Liang Ye slept until the sun was high in the sky. He stretched his whole body contentedly, toes splayed wide, and let out a big yawn. "Awooo!"
An adult dog needed at least twelve hours of sleep a day. For a cub like him, not sleeping twenty hours meant he had impressive willpower, keeping his escape mission firmly in mind.
Sunlight cast dappled shadows across the stone walls. Liang Ye squinted, then padded out of the cave with soft taps.
Ancient trees towered into the clouds, their lush branches and leaves layered into a massive canopy. Gnarled, twisted roots dug deep into the earth, showing they could not be moved. Emerald vines hung between the trees—looking out, they seemed like green serpents coiled around, sending a chill down one's spine.
Scorching sunlight draped over Liang Ye, yet a chill spread through him like wild grass running rampant.
Well, crap—he'd been turned into Robinson Crusoe!
Glancing at his little paws, Liang Ye shook his head like a rattle-drum.
No—he wasn't even qualified to be Friday.
Friday was at least a savage. He wasn't even human!
Brimming with gloom, Liang Ye ran.
Black Wolf wasn't in the cave—he must have gone out hunting. It was practically divine intervention, and Liang Ye naturally couldn't pass up such a perfect opportunity.
The outside world was fraught with danger, but he didn't share that pig's preferences.
No one wanted a knife permanently held to their throat. Even a dull blade cutting flesh would hurt, even if it didn't kill.
Even though his four legs seemed newly installed, each with a mind of its own, that didn't stop Liang Ye from churning his little stubby legs with all his might.
His soft paw pads were scraped raw by the rough ground, a burning sting spreading through every limb. But Liang Ye didn't stop running. He had to run as far as he possibly could. If he was unlucky enough to be caught by Black Wolf, even if he wasn't eaten on the spot, Black Wolf's guard would be raised, and finding another escape window would become nearly impossible.
So he had to run for his life—even if he fell and bruised himself all over, even if his paw pads turned to bloody pulp, it would be worth it.
Liang Ye didn't know how long he ran or how far he'd gone, until he was completely exhausted, his last shred of strength spent, and he collapsed clumsily into the grass. His head lolled to the side, tongue hanging out, panting heavily.
In all his years, he'd finally experienced what it meant to be "dog tired."
He didn't dare lie there too long. Once he'd caught his breath a little, he got up, his four legs like overcooked noodles, wobbling crookedly over to a stream.
After the prolonged desperate sprint, Liang Ye's throat was burning. He'd also bitten a mouthful of dirt when he fell, and the rough grit scraped against his mouth—he needed some water to rinse it out.
The situation was urgent. Twenty-six years of human civilization and discipline were all thrown to the wind. Parasites and bacteria meant nothing compared to dying of thirst.
Liang Ye plunged nearly half his head into the stream water, the post-exercise heat washed away by the cool, refreshing current.
The taste was actually a little sweet.
Could this be mountain spring water?
Liang Ye curiously peered upstream. He couldn't see the end at all—the stream wound and twisted, stretching far into the distance, hidden by lush foliage.
He'd been so focused on fleeing that he hadn't paid attention to which direction he was running. He'd wanted to use the sun's position to get his bearings, but the primeval forest's vegetation was too dense, the canopy blotting out the sky—he couldn't see the sun at all.
No wonder even ancient wars didn't dare drive people into deep mountain forests. Who knew which would kill you faster?
"Grrrgle—"
His empty little stomach let out a rumble. Liang Ye felt hunger belatedly. Worried about Black Wolf coming back, he'd bolted the moment he woke up without eating anything. Last night's meat had long been burned off by his frantic sprint.
And yesterday he'd actually complained that the piece of meat was too big. He really deserved to die.
Life was hard. Yeye sighed.
Compared to eating, escaping was more important. Liang Ye didn't want to run around like a headless fly—what if he circled back to the starting point and handed Black Wolf a free meal? That would be hilarious.
Without the sun to see, he'd have to find another way to determine direction.
Liang Ye scanned around for a tree stump. The method of reading growth rings he'd learned as a child was still fresh in his memory: the wider-spaced side was south, the narrower-spaced side was north.
Unfortunately, he found nothing. Liang Ye felt disheartened, and an even greater panic welled up inside him.
He walked along the stream, and along the way, there wasn't a single tree stump—not even the slightest trace of human logging.
Either the level of human civilization here was too low, with little development of tools.
Or… there were no humans here at all.
"Gulp!"
Liang Ye swallowed hard, his mouth and tongue turning bitter.
Dejectedly, he lowered his head to drink water, hoping the sweet stream might ease his burning anxiety.
The calm surface of the water silently rippled outward in tiny circles, and a fish larger than Liang Ye leaped up, shooting straight at him like a cannonball.
Liang Ye stood frozen, dumbfounded.
Huh? A fish delivering itself to his door?
Glistening under the sun, the fish—like a carp leaping over the dragon gate—suddenly opened its massive mouth, revealing two rows of icy, serrated teeth gleaming with menace.
Damn! The one delivering itself to the door was him!