“Help… help…”
Su Muzhi had just dragged her suitcase to a rusted iron gate when, even though it was broad daylight, the faint voice startled her.
Above the entrance hung the faded words “Zoo,” which looked nothing like the recruitment notice’s description of a “newly established wildlife rescue station.” This was clearly an abandoned zoo that had been deserted for years.
The online onboarding training suddenly made sense. But looking at the pitiful balance in her bank account, she didn’t even have the courage to turn back.
The voice continued—thin and wavering, but urgent beyond doubt.
She looked around, trying to locate the source.
Finally, her gaze landed on a cardboard box near the gate. Something inside was leaking blood.
Gathering her courage, Su Muzhi stepped forward and opened it.
Inside was an eagle owl. Its face was mangled and unrecognizable, one eye sunken in, and even maggots were writhing inside the wound.
At that moment, the voice came again—clearer this time:
“Help…”
There was nothing alive around her except the weakly breathing owl.
Which meant—the voice was coming from it.
Realizing this, Su Muzhi stared at the owl in disbelief, her voice trembling:
“You… you can talk?!”
“Nonsense!”
“Hurry up and save me. I’m young—I don’t want to die yet!”
Su Muzhi’s mind went blank. Instinctively, she dialed a veterinarian.
“Hang on, I’m calling a vet right now!”
She briefly explained the situation over the phone. The owl urged her anxiously:
“It’s too late. I can’t wait that long!”
Its voice was getting weaker. Blood had already soaked through the box and spread onto the ground. Its breathing was becoming increasingly shallow.
If an animal died on her first day of work, she knew without thinking that her job would be gone instantly.
Gritting her teeth, Su Muzhi pulled several pieces of clothing from her suitcase and laid them on the ground. She carefully moved the owl out of the box.
As pale fabric slowly turned red with blood, her heart ached painfully.
With no time to hesitate, she pressed another piece of clothing against the wound to stop the bleeding. The blood quickly saturated it, so she replaced it again.
Her hands were shaking. The training video steps were a chaotic mess in her mind.
While applying pressure, she suddenly remembered something: on her way up the mountain, she had seen Cirsium (thistle), a medicinal herb that could stop bleeding. There should definitely be some near the halfway-point rescue station.
Soon, she found a large patch nearby. Seeing that the owl was no longer bleeding heavily, she released pressure briefly, ran over, and tore up a large amount.
Not caring whether it was clean or not, she crushed the herbs with stones and crudely applied them to the wound.
Only then did she finally sit down on the ground, watching the owl’s breathing gradually stabilize. The tension in her chest finally eased.
The roar of a car engine sounded behind her. A vehicle stopped in front of her, and a veterinarian jogged over, followed by a tall man.
“You did all this?” the vet asked in disbelief. He hadn’t expected a girl who had only attended a few online training sessions to handle it this well.
“Yes. It was urgent, and I couldn’t find disinfectant, so I had no choice,” she replied.
“It’s fine. Saving its life comes first.”
The owl was taken away by the vet and driven down the mountain to the clinic, leaving Su Muzhi alone with the tall man.
He spoke first:
“You’re the new hire Old Huang brought in, right? I’m the person in charge here. Chen Zhiye.”
“Su Muzhi. You can call me Su Su.”
Chen Zhiye glanced at her blood-covered hands and helped pack her scattered luggage:
“Let’s go. I’ll take you inside to wash your hands first.”
Along the way, Su Muzhi passed various enclosures. She heard countless chirping and chattering voices—coming from all kinds of animals.
Some were crying in pain, some were complaining, and some were even cursing.
Only then did she recall a detail she had completely ignored in her rush to save the animal:
She could understand what animals were saying.
Cold water ran over her fingers, washing away diluted traces of blood. The metallic scent lingered, forcing her brain to replay everything that had happened, searching for any logical break.
But there was none.
It was all real.
“Damn! Damn!”
Two sharp curses interrupted her thoughts. Unlike the earlier animal voices, this one was clearer and more piercing.
She looked up.
A black bird with a white collar-like ring around its neck was circling above them.
Chen Zhiye’s face instantly turned red upon hearing it:
“Blackie, shut up!”
The bird ignored him, landing on his shoulder and tilting its head innocently.
“This is Blackie, a white-necked crow. It was illegally raised since young and taught vulgar speech. After rescue, it started swearing at people. Its rehabilitation scores are very low—it’s too human-friendly, so it can only stay here for retirement.”
The crow tilted its head at Su Muzhi:
“Hey newbie, just call me Teacher Black like the others. I can even teach you how to swear!”
Su Muzhi’s mouth twitched.
So all the swear words she heard on the way here… were from this bird.
Blackie casually flew onto her hand, still acting cute.
If she hadn’t understood what it was saying, she might’ve been fooled.
“Another idiot. Not as interesting as Old Chen.”
This bird was more infuriating than a human.
A phone suddenly vibrated. Chen Zhiye answered it, and his expression immediately turned serious.
After hanging up, he turned to her:
“Old Huang said villagers collecting herbs on the mountain found an injured steppe eagle. It’s serious.
And the owl you just treated is still unconscious and not in good condition. They’re short-staffed and asked us to help.”
Su Muzhi froze.
That owl was her first rescued animal—it meant something different to her.
She quickly dropped her luggage in the dorm and looked at Chen Zhiye’s rickety electric scooter with deep suspicion.
Was this thing going to fall apart halfway there?