Chapter 32
When Wen Xin saw it was the little green cat, he paused, then called out, “Ah Lü?”
“Meow.”
Responding with a soft meow, the little green cat rubbed against his arm, even more affectionate than usual.
Instinctively, Wen Xin reached out to pet its head.
But just then, a sharp ache pulsed from his temples, prompting him to press hard against them.
Gunshots, roars, screams…
Scenes from the fierce battle with zombies last night flashed through his mind.
As he endured the headache, his brows knit together.
Why were there so many zombies here? And what was that giant zombie about?
They almost… Wait!
He looked up and quickly asked, “How is everyone?”
Before he could finish, the canary walked over with a basin of warm water.
The blood scab on his neck had fallen off, leaving only a faint mark.
“Everyone’s fine,” he said, placing the basin down. “Number One… Xiao Hei is outside on lookout, Lanlan (the blue seal) is resting in the sink, and A-Zi (the purple squirrel) is making a fire by the door to cook breakfast.”
“As for everyone else, they’re all here.”
The canary gestured to the ground, and Wen Xin followed his gaze.
The little ones had been mindful of Wen Xin’s sleep, adjusting his blankets and ensuring his wounds could breathe. Occasionally, they’d lift the covers slightly for better airflow.
But there wasn’t any concern for Xu Qiang and the others though.
They were exactly where they were dropped off last night.
They were sprawled about in every direction; some face-planted against the ground, others twisted like pretzels, and one even had his foot in another’s face.
The shoe print was strikingly clear.
Wen Xin’s mouth twitched.
He wasn’t sure what happened last night, but being the only one in bed while everyone else lay on the floor didn’t feel right.
Quickly, he rolled out of bed and checked on the men.
Noticing no zombie bites or scratches on them and hearing their even breathing, he finally sighed in relief, lifting them onto the bed.
Fortunately, the bed was large enough to hold everyone comfortably when placed sideways.
While helping one of them up, a thought stirred in Wen Xin’s still-foggy mind, bringing him to full alert.
He realized the canary hadn’t mentioned one of the creatures, and his voice had been strangely flat, carrying a subtle sadness.
A glance back confirmed it wasn’t just the canary acting off; the usually talkative little green cat was oddly silent too.
Except for the few meows when Wen Xin first woke up, the little green cat had sat quietly by the bed, watching his every move with an unusual, pained fixation.
A pang of unease flickered through Wen Xin’s mind.
When he pulled his hand back, he felt both the softness of pink fur and the hardness of a green scale.
A grim realization surfaced in his mind.
Wen Xin took a deep breath.
Calmly, he finished moving everyone to the bed and accepted a damp towel from the canary, wiping his face thoroughly.
After these tasks, his mind finally calmed down, and he was able to relax a bit.
Maintaining a steady demeanor, Wen Xin suddenly reached over and scooped up the little green cat (Ah Lü).
Then, with a playful grin, he lightly pinched its fluffy cheek.
The little green cat growled in surprise and looked up to see Wen Xin’s amused face, immediately bristling with anger. “Meow!”
What are you doing?!
“Nothing,” Wen Xin replied with a chuckle, his eyes bright and innocent. “It’s just rare to see you looking so serious, Ah Lü. I couldn’t resist.”
“…”
The little green cat grew even more upset. “Meow, meow!”
You big idiot, Wen Xin!
The irritation banished any trace of sadness from its face.
After it vented with a few more meows, Wen Xin chuckled and soothed it in a soft tone.
“My fault. Can you forgive me, Ah Lü?”
As he spoke, he stroked the little green cat’s head and scratched its cheek.
His whole palm cradled the little one’s scruff, gently petting down its spine.
The little green cat quickly forgot its displeasure under Wen Xin’s touch, sinking down to rest its chin on his thigh, purring with half-closed eyes.
Its rapid healing meant the bullet marks from last night had already faded, letting Wen Xin stroke it without worry.
Seeing the cub so content, Wen Xin’s gaze softened as he continued to pet it from its head down to the tip of its tail, even giving its retracted paw pads a gentle squeeze.
Once the little green cat was fully at ease, Wen Xin turned to look at the canary nearby.
Meeting Wen Xin’s gentle gaze, the canary pressed its lips together, trying to figure out how to tell him about the little fox’s departure.
But before it could speak, Wen Xin quietly asked, “Xiao Qi left, right?”
The canary couldn’t contain his surprise. “How did you know?”
Seeing the canary’s reaction, Wen Xin’s suspicions were confirmed.
In an instant, his mind whirled with emotions.
Thoughts of worry for the little fox traveling alone clashed with questions about why it had left.
But Wen Xin quickly gathered himself, exhaling slowly before asking, “Did Xiao Qi leave because it suddenly attacked everyone last night?”
The canary was so shocked he momentarily forgot to respond, his face giving away his astonishment.
With his suspicions confirmed, Wen Xin closed his eyes briefly.
Suppressing his anxiety, he sifted through moments he’d overlooked or hadn’t paid close attention to.
Xiao Qi’s transition into adolescence, the discomfort that made it lethargic, its sudden, unprovoked aggression, and its leaving without even a goodbye…
Wen Xin pieced these fragments together, arriving at a harsh, painful truth.
—Xiao Qi’s growing pains had caused it to lose control, a loss of control so severe it endangered everyone. So it had no choice but to leave.
Understanding the situation was one thing; accepting it was another.
Wen Xin tried to keep a calm outlook, though peace of mind felt far from reach.
“Did Xiao Qi say where it was headed?”
The canary hesitated before shaking his head. “Xiao Qi only said it would find a place without people, so no one would get hurt.”
A wave of emotion surged in Wen Xin’s chest.
That foolish fox.
Out there alone, without anyone to look after itself—what if something happened?
No young fox should bear such a burden.
With these thoughts, Wen Xin instinctively started walking toward the door.
But he stopped after only a few steps.
A whole night had passed. Xiao Qi could be long gone by now.
He had no idea where to begin searching for the little fox.
Pressing his hand against his brow, he rubbed it until his skin reddened, barely managing to contain his frustration.
Xiao Qi knew illusions and could fend for himself. Ordinary people couldn’t hurt him. And before he’d come here, he’d roamed with Jiujiu (the Canary); he wasn’t likely to trust strangers easily.
Consumed with worry, Wen Xin didn’t notice the little green cat watching him intently.
Initially, the little green cat had felt uneasy about leaving.
But seeing the depth of Wen Xin’s concern, it found a sense of relief.
The viper thought.
A human who could worry this much truly cared about them.
Even if they never returned, the Wen Xin would remember them.
Of course, the viper knew humans didn’t have as good a memory as mutants.
If Wen Xin could remember them for twenty years, ten years, five years…
Even just a single year would be enough.
After all, this was the human it wanted to protect—it wouldn’t demand more.
“Meow~”
Feeling the little green cat nuzzle his chin, Wen Xin snapped out of his thoughts.
At that moment, he recalled the items in his hand, slowly opening his palm.
If the tuft of pink fur was Xiao Qi’s keepsake, what did this single green scale mean?
Wen Xin’s throat tightened as the little green cat suddenly felt impossibly heavy in his arms.
The little green cat didn’t move; it didn’t want to say goodbye.
But seeing Wen Xin’s gaze linger on the scale, it turned to the canary and meowed softly.
The canary looked conflicted but eventually said, “Ah Lü found this scale on a hillside this morning. He thought it was beautiful and brought it back as a keepsake for you.”
Even as he said it, the canary felt the story was absurd.
He’d heard of snakes shedding their skin, but never dropping scales.
And where would a complete scale be found in such a barren area?
To his surprise, Wen Xin just blinked, then laughed softly, “I see.”
The canary thought: …Did he actually believe it?
The explanation was full of holes; why would Wen Xin believe it?
He only said it to satisfy the little green cat’s hopeful gaze.
After speaking, he noticed that the little green cat’s face seemed disgruntled rather than satisfied.
Wen Xin blinked, pushing aside his worries, and carefully thought over the canary’s words.
It didn’t take long for him to catch the key point.
—Ah Lü thought it was beautiful.
Wen Xin lowered his head, examining the scale more closely.
He didn’t want to compliment the shard just to make the little green cat satisfied, knowing it wouldn’t appreciate empty compliments.
But at first glance, he saw that the scale truly was extraordinary.
Every curve seemed polished to perfection, smooth yet sharp, neither too thick nor too thin.
And its color…
Wen Xin, who’d petted the little green cat countless times, was familiar with its body.
Only the patch near its heart held the same blend of the three colors on the shard.
With this realization, Wen Xin held the scale by the window.
Under the sunlight, the scale gleamed with a magnificent luster.
Aside from its natural flaws, most mutants had normal human color vision, including the viper.
Seeing the vibrant light, it paused, almost in awe.
Back when it was on the run, it couldn’t risk exposing itself in the sunlight.
Later, at Wen Xin’s house, sunbathing only made it sleepy. It had never looked at its own scales in this way.
The little green cat stared, lost in thought.
Then, it heard Wen Xin murmur admiringly, “This scale is truly beautiful.”
Instantly, the little green cat shuddered in elated!
What Wen Xin didn’t know was that Ah Lü had spent all morning searching for this perfect scale on its body.
Thinking it was a keepsake from Ah Lü’s departure filled Wen Xin with a bittersweet ache.
Then, in a burst of excitement, the little green cat leaped up, accidentally bumping Wen Xin’s chin.
“Ouch!”
Wen Xin stumbled back, rubbing his chin and wincing in pain.
He suspected this might have been Ah Lü’s revenge for pinching its face.
Until he heard the little one’s joyful meows.
“Meow meow, meow meow!”
I knew it! My scales are beautiful. You couldn’t not like them!
The little green cat nudged against Wen Xin’s cheek and chin, its tail lifted high, excitement raising its voice by several decibels. “Meow meow meow!”
Wen Xin, Wen Xin, you’re the most perceptive human I’ve ever met!
Wen Xin didn’t know why the little green cat was so thrilled, but he was glad it was in good spirits.
Letting it leave several paw prints on his chest, he held the creature close, kissing its forehead.
“When will you be back?”
The little green cat froze.
Wen Xin held its head, preventing any evasive maneuvers, and spoke softly, “I already missed my goodbye with Xiao Qi, Ah Lü.”
“If you’re leaving, don’t deny me this last wish.”
“If it’s hard to come back, I’ll come find you.”
With a faint smile, he added, “Even if I find only a lifeless shell.”
His voice was calm as he said it.
But his pupils trembled visibly.
Seeing the pain in Wen Xin’s eyes, the little green cat suddenly realized that sometimes, being too smart wasn’t a good thing.
After a long moment, it lowered its head.
The viper wasn’t concerned about surviving the evolution’s trials.
But facing this human who cared, even the prideful snake felt itself hesitate.
It licked Wen Xin’s forehead softly, a silent promise.
“Meow.”
You won’t have to find me; I’ll return to you.
“Meow meow.”
I swear, when that time comes, no creature, no force, no danger will ever harm you.
“Meow.”
You will be the safest human in this world.
*
By noon, Ah Lü had vanished.
Before leaving, it imitated Xiao Qi, tearing off a piece of Wen Xin’s clothing.
This time, Wen Xin knew exactly why his sleeve was missing.
He smiled wryly and, feeling a bittersweet ache, decided to pack away the clothes the little green cat hadn’t taken.
“These clothes are right here, you know?”
A look of sudden realization crossed the little green cat’s face—oh, of course!
So it took the extra clothes too, but refused to part with the scrap it had torn off.
After it left, Wen Xin stared silently at the spot where it had last stood.
He turned to the other creatures, his face calm as he said with a smile, “Let’s eat.”
Xu Qiang and the others had woken up two hours ago.
They’d tried recalling what happened the previous night, but before the little fox left, it had cast a memory spell on them to avoid revealing their identities.
So Xu Qiang and his group remembered nothing about the viper.
They could only deduce from hints at the scene—like the markings left on the giant zombie—that a massive mutant python, or maybe a mutated earthworm, had passed through and rescued them.
Xu Qiang and his team: “…”
Unbelievable didn’t even cover it.
It was so implausible they didn’t dare share their theory with Wen Xin.
Thinking back on the events so far…
Delayed rescue, exposed location, an ambush, and their car was broken.
Xu Qiang and his team felt like their careers were spiraling downwards.
If they didn’t do something to turn things around, they’d be facing a quick dismissal back in City A.
They pulled out the map again. “We’re still quite far from City A, and walking isn’t an option.”
“We’ll have to take the risk and head to the nearby City Z, and see if we can find a vehicle that’s still running or maybe connect with a rescue team that can give us a ride.”
