Bai Tu stared at him, bewildered: “What’s wrong with you?”
Ning Qi’an sniffled: “The fox ears on that, the rabbit ears on your head, and the ears on every hat in this shop—they were all made by cutting off the ears of so many little animals. I… I just realized, we are too cruel. Think about how much it must have hurt when their ears were cut off.”
Ning Qi’an was tearful as he spoke, but Bai Tu looked speechless, and Uncle Yang on the side was pursing his lips, trying to hold back laughter. Ning Qi’an felt even worse; it turned out he was surrounded by a group of cold-blooded, cruel people—no, monsters. It was he who had misjudged them.
He returned the fox hat to Uncle Yang and said in a low voice: “I don’t want it. Take it back.”
After saying this, he tried to pull Bai Tu away from this den of iniquity. His hand reached out halfway, but upon touching the conspicuous rabbit ears on the other’s head, he abruptly retracted it and shoved it into his pocket.
“We aren’t on the same path,” Ning Qi’an said, his tone dejected and tinged with a bit of pettiness. “From now on, you take your bridge, I’ll take my road. Let’s break off our friendship.”
Having dropped that harsh ultimatum, he turned to leave resolutely, only to be dragged back by Bai Tu, who grabbed him by the hood of his coat.
“Let go of me!” Ning Qi’an struggled. “We’ve broken up!”
“Break up your ass. Are you a primary schooler? Breaking off friendships.”
Bai Tu was furious. Uncle Yang, who was watching the show, clapped his hands in delight, not fearing that things wouldn’t get messy enough: “As expected, these little things that just came down from the mountain are the most fun. You scolded me just like this back then; it’s finally your turn to suffer.”
“You, zip it.”
Bai Tu locked his arm tightly around Ning Qi’an’s neck, pressing his head toward him. He gritted his teeth and said, “Are you a dumb dog? Those aren’t real animal ears! They’re fake, fake! Do you know nothing about human technology? They are artificially synthesized, just like the fur on your coat.”
As soon as he said this, Ning Qi’an stopped struggling. Seeing he had calmed down, Bai Tu finally released him.
“Fake?”
Bai Tu sneered: “Yeah. Or were you hoping they were real?”
Ning Qi’an instantly felt relieved, patted his chest, and said, “It’s good that they’re fake. I was almost about to call the police.”
Bai Tu: “Heh.”
“So, do you still want it?” Uncle Yang poked his index finger into the hat, spinning it around. “If you don’t want it, I’m putting it back.”
Knowing they were fake, Ning Qi’an no longer felt the burden of guilt. He quickly snatched the hat from Uncle Yang’s finger, put it on, and said: “Yes, yes! I want it, thank you, Uncle Yang.”
The fox hat was reddish-brown, the same color as his hair, though it wasn’t as glossy. Ning Qi’an loved it regardless and put it on excitedly, looking left and right at the full-length mirror in the shop.
Finally, he commented: “It really suits me.”
He turned his head to confirm again: “Are you really sure it doesn’t cost anything?”
Uncle Yang, having picked up his “human language,” replied while he was at it: “Free if you answer the question correctly.”
The subtext was: Free for monsters.
Everyone kept the last rule of the Monster Management Bureau firmly in mind.
Ning Qi’an asked curiously: “Is Uncle Yang the owner of the shop?”
Uncle Yang didn’t even lift his head: “What? Envious?”
Ning Qi’an: “Will you lose money if you give hats to monsters for free?”
If he would, he would dutifully pay.
Uncle Yang said: “Sponsored by the Monster Bureau. No loss.”
So, that question was actually a survey from the Monster Bureau?
Ning Qi’an realized this and accepted the hat with a clear conscience.
Just as he took a step to leave, Ning Qi’an stopped and leaned over toward Uncle Yang, his eyes falling on the rectangular object clearly visible in Uncle Yang’s pocket: “Uncle Yang, can I add you on WeChat?”
Uncle Yang lifted his eyelids, looked at him, and said, “Have Bai Tu send you my business card.”
Bai Tu’s hand speed was incredibly fast. Before Ning Qi’an could even ask, his phone vibrated, and he received Uncle Yang’s WeChat contact card.
Ning Qi’an opened the card, changed the nickname to “Uncle Yang,” and then stared longingly at him.
Uncle Yang was still reading his Human Language book, but under the heat of Ning Qi’an’s gaze, he looked up helplessly: “My phone is charging at the register. Add me in a bit.”
Ning Qi’an made an “OK” gesture—something Luo Haitang had taught him.
After saying goodbye, with his brand-new fox-ear hat on, Ning Qi’an was bursting with excitement before even entering the zoo.
Using the glass at the ticket booth, Ning Qi’an surrendered to his own reflection once again.
Looking at the fox ears—what a match! How imposing! How handsome!
As he waited in line to enter, he turned his head and locked eyes with a child being held by a parent in the next line. He pointed at the fox ears on his forehead and asked: “Do they look good?”
The child’s eyes lit up: “Yeah!”
Ning Qi’an said smugly: “You have a good eye. Foxes are the best-looking.”
Child: ?
The child was carried into the zoo in a daze.
“Where do we go first?”
Ning Qi’an frowned, carefully studying the map.
“Why can’t I understand this?”
Bai Tu helped him rotate the map 180 degrees.
Ning Qi’an still frowned. Even with the map right-side up, he couldn’t understand it. After a minute, he gave up and chose to rely on someone else.
Bai Tu, claiming to be a “human-shaped navigator,” took on the task of leading the way. He pointed at a spot on the map: “We are at the entrance. To go to the Rabbit Garden and the Fox Pavilion… it’s not exactly on the way.”
Ning Qi’an: “Oh, what do we do then?”
Bai Tu took a turn: “It’s not completely off-route. We can go see other things first, and then go our separate ways at the fork in the road.”
Although Ning Qi’an couldn’t read the map, he wasn’t completely directionally challenged; he was fine as long as the path was short.
Ning Qi’an said: “Alright, I’ll leave it to Brother Tu.”
They had agreed that morning that Ning Qi’an wanted to see how the zoo’s foxes differed from him, while Bai Tu didn’t like being near the carnivore sections. Compared to that, he preferred spending the afternoon at the Rabbit Garden.
Similar to how humans go to cat cafes or dog cafes, being around the scent of their own kind provided a sense of belonging and allowed them to relax mentally.
Closest to the entrance was the Bird Pavilion. Those birds, which belonged in the sky, were confined to massive cages.
Ning Qi’an saw peacocks. In a large open space, more than a dozen peacocks moved around. The leisurely strolling peacocks, separated by glass from the bustling humans outside, lived in two different worlds.
“Don’t they yearn for freedom?”
Ning Qi’an asked. If it were him, trapped in this small patch of land for life with nothing to do, he would go mad.
“They do,” Bai Tu, who had no interest in birds, said nonchalantly. “But the foundation of freedom is the ability to survive independently. And them—or rather, most of the animals in this entire zoo—don’t have the ability to survive in the wild.”
“However,” Bai Tu patted his shoulder and whispered, “The director is an antelope, so he naturally considers them carefully.”
Bai Tu motioned for Ning Qi’an to look at an inconspicuous gray iron door on the side of the enclosure: “You can think of it as them ‘working.’ Their salary is food and care, and when the park closes, they get off work. So you don’t need to worry about them; apart from freedom, they have everything.”
Ning Qi’an said “Oh” and stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly asked: “I wonder if the director is still hiring? If I can’t afford to eat one day, I’ll come here to work.”
Bai Tu: “…You really know how to live.”
Looking at the dozing peacocks inside, Ning Qi’an took out his phone, snapped a picture of a peacock eating, and sent it to Luo Haitang.
[Fox Doesn’t Eat Pears: Image.]
Almost as soon as the picture was sent, a message popped up a second later, showing that the other party was slacking off again.
[Such a Beautiful Begonia Flower: Are you at the zoo? I think I saw my cousin.]
[Fox Doesn’t Eat Pears: ?]
He suspected he had met a fellow monster who knew how to live as frugally as him.
He looked up and stared intently at the dozing peacock, but couldn’t see anything special.
Monsters recognize each other by scent, but if that scent is blocked by glass, it really is hard to tell a regular peacock from a monster peacock.
Ning Qi’an took a high-definition, zoomed-in photo of the suspected cousin of Luo Haitang, deciding to pay his respects to his predecessor later—after all, this might be where he works and retires in the future.
Luo Haitang stopped replying; he was likely caught slacking off.
After the Bird Pavilion was the Monkey Garden.
Not staying long, both of them quickened their pace and hurried past.
The reason was simple: the monkeys were split into two extremes. The quiet ones could stay in a corner like melancholy handsome monkeys, while the rowdy ones wanted to tear the iron cages down, their high-pitched roars almost making Bai Tu’s ears ache.
“Squeak squeak squeak—”
“Woo-woo—”
The roars of the monkeys were continuous. A tourist hurriedly turned off their flash, as the monkey they had just photographed was grabbing the cage and shaking it in anger.
There was no glass partition on the Monkey Garden side, so all kinds of smells permeated the air. Humans could already smell them, let alone a fox with a keen sense of smell? Ning Qi’an held his breath, racing Bai Tu—who was covering his ears—to get out of there.
“Phew—I’m back to life.”
After finishing that stretch of road, Ning Qi’an panted heavily. The vapor from his breath hit the cold air and turned white instantly; from afar, it looked like he was breathing out smoke.
Bai Tu rubbed his ears, which had turned red from being covered, and laughed: “A monster visiting a zoo—what a strange sight.”
Ning Qi’an recovered and asked: “What’s the next garden?”
“Let me check.” Bai Tu had been here twice and searched his memory. He paused subtly for a second before uttering one word: “Snake.”
Ning Qi’an went silent: “How about taking a detour?”
He was also afraid of snakes.
Bai Tu: “Elephant.”
Ning Qi’an said firmly: “I love watching elephants the most. Let’s go.”
Bai Tu squinted and smiled: “Are you sure?”
He pulled out a mask to wear and handed one to Ning Qi’an.
Ning Qi’an: “A mask? No, it’s uncomfortable with my ears on.”
Bai Tu: “I hope you can be this brave later.”
Ten minutes later, Bai Tu handed a tissue to Ning Qi’an, who was retching by a flower bed.
“Ugh—”
Bai Tu: “Actually, you didn’t have to force yourself for my sake.”
Ning Qi’an rambled incoherently: “Elephant poop—why is it so big! And it did it in front of so many people—it smelled so bad I could die.”
Bai Tu: “Understand the importance of a mask now? Put it on quickly.”
Ning Qi’an wiped his mouth, scooped up some water to rinse his throat, and obediently put on the mask.
After visiting two more sections, they arrived at the fork in the road.
Bai Tu: “Straight ahead is the Fox Pavilion. Let’s meet here at 4 o’clock.”
Ning Qi’an looked at the sign at the fork and promised confidently: “Okay.”
Splitting up from Bai Tu, Ning Qi’an walked down a cool, shaded path and found the Fox Pavilion shortly after.
The Fox Pavilion, if you could call it a pavilion, was just a plot of land enclosed for foxes to play in. Transparent glass separated the tourists from the foxes; both sides could only stare at each other.
Ning Qi’an leaned against the glass and squatted down, looking curiously at his kind inside.
What was the difference between zoo foxes and wild foxes?
One was in a fixed space, never worrying about food or drink; the other was in the vast mountains, struggling for survival.
Ning Qi’an couldn’t think of any sophisticated words. If he had to describe it, it was like children and their parents; the principle should be about the same.
The Fox Pavilion only had glass on the side facing the tourists; the top was wide open to the blue sky, as foxes couldn’t fly.
Just as Ning Qi’an was lost in thought, a woman’s voice came from behind him: “Do you want to go in and see?”
Ning Qi’an turned his head and saw a tall, elegant woman.
He smelled a monster’s scent—the scent of an antelope.
“Are you the director?”
Ning Qi’an stood up.
As soon as he stood up, he went silent. This “Antelope Sister” was so tall; she was almost at his eye level.
Ning Qi’an once again deeply doubted his own height.
However, his mind was soon drawn by what the Antelope Sister said.
“Yes. You’re new to the human world, aren’t you? It’s my first time seeing you.”
Ning Qi’an: “So you are the director. Nice to meet you, but how did you know I just came down from the mountain?”
Duan Li’s lips curled up. She wore no makeup, only a thin layer of light-colored lipstick, yet she was still stunningly beautiful.
“Didn’t I just say? It’s my first time seeing you,” Duan Li said. “There aren’t many monsters who choose to come to Mingjiu City, and I’ve met all of them. You’re a fresh face; I could tell you only arrived recently.”
Ning Qi’an’s curiosity was piqued, and he asked: “Have you been in the human world for a long time?”
Duan Li smiled and held up two fingers.
Ning Qi’an: “Two years?”
Duan Li: “Twenty years.”
Ning Qi’an was shocked: “That long? Did you grow up here since you were small?”
Duan Li was amused by his reaction and covered her mouth to laugh: “Are you trying to compliment me by saying I look young? Actually, I’m already 37.”
Ning Qi’an looked her up and down, bewildered, and said honestly: “You only look about 5 years older than me.”
Duan Li: “Maybe monsters don’t age visibly. Like you, you look like a high school student.”
Ning Qi’an had never been to school, but he knew roughly what age human high school students were.
“I’m 4 years older than a high school student.”
Ning Qi’an held up four fingers, expressing his firm determination.
Duan Li laughed: “High school students in Guangdong wouldn’t come to the zoo at this time of day.”