3 – Suicide Nightmare
In the deep night of the capital, the cold felt like needles soaked in ice water, piercing every pore with an excruciating sting.
After putting on her clothes, Fu Yao stepped outside, but Jin Zhi was nowhere to be seen in the room. She turned to ask the director, “Where is Jin Zhi?”
The director replied nonchalantly, “That kid put on his clothes and went outside.”
The color above his head was green—a sign of guilt, indicating he was lying.
Fu Yao felt a surge of annoyance, her lips pressed tightly together. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Where is my room?”
The director pointed to a spot. “Over there, the door is open. You can go straight in.”
Without another word to the director, Fu Yao gently tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear and opened the door. A bitingly cold wind swept in, numbing her heart.
The little one was leaning against the doorway, trying to cling to the doorframe for a bit of warmth. His new clothes were already a bit dirty again, and his long hair was tousled by the wind. When he saw Fu Yao come out, he remained motionless, calming down.
Fu Yao smiled and took his hand. “It’s cold outside. Let’s go back to the room.”
His hand was icy cold. The fiery red above his head gradually shifted to orange, but his expression remained fierce, unwilling to let his guard down.
Fu Yao didn’t mind this self-protective facade.
Once the two of them were in the room, Fu Yao quickly closed the door and sat on the bed, covering her legs with the blanket.
The bed was small, likely prepared not long ago, and carried the faint, cheap scent of wood.
Fu Yao patted a spot beside her, making a soft “pat-pat” sound.
Her eyes held a faint hint of amusement as she said to Jin Zhi, “Come sit here.”
Jin Zhi didn’t move, standing woodenly in place.
Fu Yao knew he was shy and resistant.
After all, they had just met—how could a little wolf cub easily trust others?
She took Jin Zhi’s hand again and asked, “Are you cold?”
Jin Zhi didn’t respond, seemingly not understanding why Fu Yao was holding his hand.
Then, Fu Yao sandwiched both of his hands between hers and began rubbing them quickly, generating a warm heat that flowed from the blood in his hands to his entire body. Though it wasn’t much, it made Jin Zhi’s eyes light up.
Fu Yao smiled and said, “When my mother was still alive, she told me that if it’s too cold outside, you can rub your hands like this, and it won’t feel as cold.”
Jin Zhi looked at Fu Yao curiously.
When Fu Yao withdrew her hands, his eyes dimmed again.
But then, Fu Yao clasped her own hands together and began rubbing them. “If you’re alone outside, you can rub your hands like this too. With your left hand keeping your right hand company, it won’t feel so lonely.”
She smiled, her expression infectious, making Jin Zhi smile along. But as soon as the corners of his mouth lifted, he immediately grew wary.
Even as a cub, a lone wolf would never easily trust anyone. Baring his teeth was his protective shield—once he showed a smile, he would expose his weakness and risk being killed.
Fu Yao could sense his emotions, so she wasn’t disheartened. At least there was a living person willing to stay with her.
She tried rubbing her hands again. “Want to give it a try?”
Jin Zhi didn’t respond. Instead, he lay down on the floor and closed his eyes.
Fu Yao hadn’t expected this at all. She quickly got off the bed and pulled him up. “Don’t sleep on the floor—it’s dirty, and you just got cleaned up…”
But no matter how hard she pulled, the other person seemed determined.
Fu Yao had no choice but to drag the blanket off the bed and cover him with it.
Yet the other person grabbed the blanket and threw it back onto the bed, as if he didn’t care for such charity.
Fu Yao saw that the other person’s emotions were a peculiar shade of orange-green—clearly wanting it and happy about it, yet refusing to admit it.
Fu Yao sighed. “Fine, don’t take it then.”
She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.
“Goodnight.”
But the other person wouldn’t reply.
In the middle of the night.
Fu Yao had a nightmare.
She dreamed again of the day her mother died, crying and screaming, trying to drag her along to slit their wrists.
Her mother said:
“Yao Yao… Yao Yao, it’s all my fault. It’s because I brought you into this world that you have to suffer like this… No! It’s all his fault! He’s the one who drove us to this! He’s not human!”
“Yao Yao… Mom will take you away, okay? To a world without pain. Mom won’t lose you again, okay?”
Her mother made her slit her wrist, leaving several cuts on her arm, but none were deep enough or in the right place to kill her.
Yet she watched helplessly as her mother died right before her eyes.
She cried and pushed her mother, but her mother’s emaciated body just swayed back and forth, with no other response.
The blood on her hands flowed down the edge of the bathtub, staining the entire bathroom floor red, eventually mixing with water from the faucet that hadn’t been fully turned off and washing down the drain.
She cried for help, but no one answered.
She called, but that person didn’t pick up.
Because that person was too busy with work and hadn’t come home in a very, very long time.
She stayed with her mother’s corpse all night until the nanny came the next day, and only then was she saved.
Fu Yao woke up in terror, covered in cold sweat, her breathing rapid.
Everything around her was pitch black, and the silent winter night was so still that even the dogs slept soundly.
It was a dream.
And also reality.
Fu Yao’s head throbbed painfully. She pinched the bridge of her nose, only to hear the sound of chattering teeth beside her—a faint, unsettling “chatter, chatter.”
Looking over, she realized it was the little wolf cub, shivering from the cold.
Good thing she hadn’t let him sleep outside, or he might have frozen to death.
Fu Yao placed her own blanket over him again, tucking in the edges, and whispered softly, “Even if you’ve been abandoned, you have to live well. Only by living well will the person who abandoned you regret it.”
It was unclear who these words were meant for, but in any case, Jin Zhi didn’t wake up.
Fu Yao returned to bed, closed her eyes, and soon her breathing evened out.
But Jin Zhi slowly opened his eyes, his gaze drifting downward to rest on the blanket. A strange, indescribable feeling stirred in his heart.
His expression was puzzled, cold, yet he didn’t return the blanket. Instead, he gripped the edges tightly, unwilling to let even the slightest warmth slip away.
…
When he woke the next day, a ray of sunlight struck Jin Zhi’s eyes, startling him awake.
He opened his eyes groggily, realizing he hadn’t slept so comfortably in a long time.
His view wasn’t of the open sky with white clouds and a red sun but of a roof that could shelter him from wind and rain.
“You’re awake?”
If the girl beside him hadn’t spoken, he might have thought it was all a dream.
Fu Yao picked up a notebook and a pen, hurried over, and crouched in front of him. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth. I’ll teach you how to write.”
Write?
The word felt unfamiliar to Jin Zhi.
But he also yearned to join the children of his own age at that place called “school,” to sit in a warm classroom and listen to the teacher’s lessons.
As if guided by some unseen force, he actually did it.
For the first time, Mad Dog quietly obeyed someone’s words.
Not having to fight dogs for food to fill his stomach gave him a fleeting, elusive feeling.
So he would protect himself, never allowing anyone to easily tame the hard-won wildness within him.