Chapter 46: It’s Mom
In the days that followed, the snow-mountain corpse-pit homicide case was completely solved. After an exhaustive, carpet-style search, the police finally found evidence of Jiang Chou’s crimes. Neither she nor Fan Rong would be able to escape the judgment of the law.
The four poachers were detained as they awaited the court’s final ruling.
As for the six “outdoor enthusiasts” who had rashly broken into Taibai Mountain’s restricted zone—after they tearfully paid their fines and rescue fees, they originally planned to stir up an online hate campaign against the police. But the moment they went online, they saw the video of that vicious young man at the mountain’s foot, summoning massive flocks of birds and herds of deer to help the police search for people.
In the comment section, they were greeted by a flood of abuse aimed at them. Thinking of just how “mystical” that young man was, they quietly shut their mouths.
On quiet days, life was peaceful. Aside from Shang Fuyan, Li Wei, and the others messaging him every single day like clockwork to ask when he was coming back, Lin Jiangye was living very comfortably here.
After going through one real “field operation,” the birds didn’t need Lin Jiangye to say much. They had learned that helping those humans in dark-green uniforms came with benefits.
Communication between the two sides wasn’t exactly convenient, but the birds could still understand what the police were saying. When the time came, they simply followed instructions and moved.
Because of that, the police station cafeteria even started keeping food stocked for the little ones year-round. Whether they came to help or came seeking aid, as long as they showed up, there would always be something to eat.
Lin Jiangye also handed over recipes for bird biscuits and freeze-dried meat snacks. These could be eaten as treats or as staple food; there were no seasonings added, so even if wild animals ate them long-term, it wouldn’t burden their bodies.
Except for making them lazier. Other than that, there weren’t really any side effects.
During the remainder of this time, Lin Jiangye didn’t wander around Taibai Mountain anymore.
No one knew who had filmed the scene of him summoning the birds and posted it online. At first, people thought it was AI-generated special effects—until it turned out to be real.
And once they looked closely and realized it was Lin Jiangye, a lot of netizens simply lost interest in doubting.
There was no helping it—this man’s “record” was just too long.
Back in Yue City, he could summon crows to help the police solve cases. Later, he had gulls and even a porpoise help him find a body bag. Then there was the offline adoption event—people had gone in person to verify the truth, and Lin Jiangye really could understand what animals were saying.
But… understanding animals and commanding them were two completely different things, weren’t they?
And on top of that, he could even get an Amur tiger—the mountain guardian miracle—to come down the mountain to find him, obediently letting him pet and hug it. That wasn’t something “understanding animal language” alone could explain!
They were sick of saying “jealous.” Truly sick of it.
But if you asked who was most jealous, it had to be the local Forestry Bureau and the scenic-area director.
After that video, plenty of people began squatting at the foot of Taibai Mountain, hoping to catch Lin Jiangye—either to see his “skills” for themselves or to ask him to interpret what their own pets were saying.
After getting blocked in once, Lin Jiangye never went again. So during this period, the mountain guardian simply stayed with him in the courtyard.
One man, one tiger, one crow—lounging by the fire indoors, enjoying the snowy scenery. From time to time, other little ones would come by to mooch a meal. Life was bliss.
The guardian’s injury healed quickly. Once it was fully recovered, Lin Jiangye half-coaxed and half-tricked it into visiting a wildlife animal hospital for a full-body checkup.
That just so happened to align perfectly with the Forestry Bureau’s hopes.
They were concerned about the guardian’s health as well. Counting from the year it arrived at Taibai Mountain, seven years had already passed.
Female Amur tigers usually go into heat around age three to four, when they’re nearing adulthood. Adding up the timeline, it meant the guardian should be around eleven years old now.
Eleven—by wild Amur tiger standards, that was already more than halfway through life.
They sincerely hoped the guardian would live longer. It was the miracle of China’s wild Amur tiger population. No one wanted to see that miracle fall.
The guardian didn’t want to go at first, but there was a fearless little brat plastered onto it—crying, fussing, and acting cute. So loud. So annoying.
“Roar!” [Fine, stop screaming. I’ll go, alright?!] The guardian flicked its tail irritably, as if it wanted to fling the brat off.
It never would’ve imagined that one day it would yield to a human’s clingy, cutesy antics.
No—not humans. Only this particular human brat.
Lin Jiangye instantly stopped crying and laughed. All that “emotional eye drops” he’d been forcing out earlier finally paid off—he’d gotten the guardian to agree.
He drove the guardian and the crow to the animal hospital, and while he was at it, he had the crow checked too.
The crow was a little dazed, but it obediently followed the vet’s instructions and completed the full-body exam.
That well-behaved little look instantly triggered a frenzy of kisses from a bunch of “weird uncles” and “weird aunties.” They kissed and kissed and kissed until Bixi’s feathers exploded in outrage.
During it all, Bixi received a small gift—a glittery, hand-crocheted neck warmer.
“This spot is perfect for setting that Paraíba stone of yours,” the person said. “Then it’s basically like wearing a necklace!”
The moment they said it, Lin Jiangye and Bixi’s eyes widened.
Right—this way, the gemstone wouldn’t fall off! And it was cold now; a neck warmer would keep the crow cozy without affecting flight.
Lin Jiangye popped the gemstone off, went to a jewelry shop to buy another stone, and had them weave both stones into the crocheted piece—along with a ring of tiny diamonds.
So when the tiger’s checkup was done and it looked over, what it saw was a crow wearing a platinum-white, glittering crocheted scarf—threaded with blue and red gemstones and a circle of sparkling diamond chips.
Lin Jiangye held Bixi up as it spread its wings and lifted its head proudly.
[Do I look good?] Bixi asked arrogantly.
The guardian looked confused—until Lin Jiangye pointed at the new thing around the crow’s neck. Then amusement flickered through the tiger’s amber eyes. It nodded and rumbled:
[Looks good.]
With the approval of two “elder figures,” the little crow lifted its chin so high it practically wanted to snap backward.
Lin Jiangye and the guardian exchanged a look—both amused and helpless.
After they got the crow and the tiger back into the car, Lin Jiangye finally took the exam report the vet handed over.
The vet pushed up his glasses, exhaled in relief, and said, “Overall, the guardian is still fairly healthy. It’s just getting older—some functions are slowly declining.”
After reading the full report, Lin Jiangye quietly let out a breath too.
“Given this condition… if it doesn’t run into accidents—how long could it still live, conservatively?” he asked.
The vet scratched his head. That was a hard question.
But after thinking seriously, he gave his estimate: “If there aren’t accidents and it doesn’t get sick, it should have at least six years.”
Six years. That would put it around seventeen. For a wild Amur tiger, that counted as longevity—if humans didn’t interfere.
But clearly, Lin Jiangye didn’t plan to let the guardian stop at seventeen.
“If you truly want to take care of it in retirement,” the vet lowered his voice, “it’s best to finish building your wildlife park within the next two years. When the time comes, we can arrange a back-channel process. Even if you’re not officially open yet, it can be sent over early and raised there.”
He was one of the Forestry Bureau’s management-level staff. He wasn’t really supposed to say something like that.
But anyone with eyes could see it—Lin Jiangye and the guardian hadn’t known each other long, yet their bond was anything but ordinary.
It made you feel a little sour, honestly.
But it wasn’t nonsense. They’d assessed Lin Jiangye’s finances—just looking at his vehicle, it was obvious he had money.
Someone with money, who was genuinely kind to animals, who could communicate with them, and who had real husbandry skills—if such a person built a wildlife park, they would absolutely support it.
Even if they didn’t support it, it wouldn’t matter much. The guardian wasn’t truly “theirs” anyway.
If they refused, Lin Jiangye could simply say something to the tiger, and it might choose to leave with him. Could they stop that?
Not only the tiger—they suspected even the stag king and the little white deer might not be “keepable” either…
So after discussion, they decided it was better to build a good relationship. If something happened later, negotiation would be easier.
After sensing their goodwill, Lin Jiangye indeed began cooperating with the Forestry Bureau more often—helping soothe injured wild animals, assisting with monitoring population data, and so on.
But this pleasant life was about to end.
After learning about the guardian’s health condition, Lin Jiangye planned to return to Yue City.
One morning, he brought it up to the guardian: “So… what was that request you wanted, back then?”
The guardian lay in the snow. Hearing the news, it showed no surprise at all—like it had already guessed he would leave within these two days.
Its gaze remained gentle and calm, like an elderly elder watching a junior who was about to travel far away.
Lin Jiangye sat beside it, about to speak—when the guardian suddenly stood up and gently hugged him.
It was the first time the guardian had ever hugged him of its own accord.
While Lin Jiangye was frozen in shock, a soft rumbling growl sounded by his ear:
[Come back and see me sometimes.]
Lin Jiangye’s eyes went round with surprise. He hadn’t expected the guardian to ask for something like this.
No—how was that a “request”? It was plainly reluctance to part.
In that instant, his nose stung. His eyes turned wet.
He didn’t know what this feeling was. In his whole life—until now—no living being had ever said something like that to him.
For the first time in twenty-plus years, he was being cared for, cherished, by an elder.
Lin Jiangye had grown up in an orphanage. He had never felt warmth.
The caregivers there were cold and exhausted. As a child, he didn’t understand. After he went to another world, he finally understood it was exhaustion from too much work and too little pay.
Even with government subsidies, there were too many children and too little money. To keep the kids from starving, the caregivers had to find side jobs too.
Those orphans weren’t their children. Coldness was normal. As long as they didn’t abuse the kids and ensured everyone ate and could attend school, that was already an act of great merit.
But right before Lin Jiangye’s college entrance exam, the orphanage shut down.
Maybe the staff were tired to the bone. They simply abandoned the remaining children and left—completely, cleanly.
In the end, the director took pity on them, gave each older child one month of living expenses, transferred the smaller ones to other orphanages, and then vanished too.
After that, Lin Jiangye didn’t know where he was supposed to go.
That one month of living expenses was only 1,000 yuan. Everyone else decided to drop out and work. Only Lin Jiangye stayed, gritting his teeth and deciding to endure until after the exam.
He finally made it through the exam. Just as he was carrying his luggage and preparing to find factory work to earn tuition—he was run over by a car.
In the moment he was dying, he even wondered what all that suffering had been for.
After that, the system took him to another world.
That world was far crueler than reality. Superpowers brought not only strength, but endless fighting—people against people, nations against nations, people against other species. It all exhausted him.
And his emotions, through battle after battle, slowly became numb.
The only things he still felt for were his animal companions—and the mentor who trained him for two years.
But before he went to the Abyss, the mentor disappeared.
Back in that world, Lin Jiangye had once asked the system if he could stay there.
To him, neither world truly felt like “home.” But in that world, he could communicate with animals. If he stayed, he could live happily with them.
But he couldn’t.
“No,” the system told him. “Your soul isn’t compatible with this world. You’re only here temporarily for the mission. The longer you remain, the more you’ll feel the world rejecting you. When that happens, you’ll suffer—and everything you have will be taken back.”
So Lin Jiangye had to return to reality.
No matter how much he disliked this world, his will to live had never been fake. He still wanted to survive.
But what he hadn’t expected was that the system left him a huge gift—and because of that gift, more and more color began to appear in his life.
Not the kind of color that brushed past and vanished. This time, companions like Zangao and the others chose to stay long-term, even binding themselves to him completely.
But they weren’t the same as the guardian.
Whether it was little ones like Zangao, Opal, and Bixi who saw him as “Dad,” or adults like Diamond and the German shepherd who treated him as an equal—what they gave him felt completely different from what the guardian gave.
The guardian was an elder. A gentle mother.
That look in her eyes, those words just now—those were things only a mother, only an elder, would say.
He was an orphan. No father, no mother. Even the orphanage caregivers had never given him the feeling of maternal love.
And yet now—he was feeling a mother’s care, an elder’s affection, from an Amur tiger.
It sounded a little ridiculous, but Lin Jiangye felt like the luckiest person in the world.
He stayed in the guardian’s embrace, stunned for a long time, until she finally let go. Even then, he couldn’t come back to himself.
Seeing the red at the corners of his eyes, the tiger wanted to lick this fragile-looking cub—then remembered how human skin couldn’t withstand that, and settled for a gentle nuzzle instead.
[What’s wrong?]
When the guardian had seen humans like this before, it usually came with heavy, dark emotions—an odor she disliked.
But right now, the cub smelled warm, with a hint of cheerfulness—like the creamy sweetness of human food she’d tasted before. Light and soft and sweet.
After being nuzzled again, Lin Jiangye finally snapped back.
He sniffed hard. His nose stung, his eyes were wet like he might burst into loud sobs at any second—yet he still smiled and nodded at the guardian.
“There’s something I haven’t told you. I was going to wait until it was ready…” He sniffed again, couldn’t hold it in anymore, and shoved his face into the tiger’s fluffy chest. With a choked, muffled voice, he said, “I’m planning to build a wildlife park so you can retire.”
He spilled out the whole plan, the vet’s results, the Forestry Bureau’s response—all in one breath. Then he lifted a face that looked like a crying little tabby, staring up pitifully at the guardian.
“You’ll come with me, right?”
The guardian even told him to come back sometimes. That meant she would come with him, right?
Lin Jiangye didn’t realize it, but when he asked, that stubborn expression looked like his whole sky would collapse if she so much as shook her head.
The guardian nuzzled him a third time.
This cub was the clingiest cub she had ever met. Completely unlike the cubs she had raised before.
But so what?
This cub was the most unique cub in the whole world. Worth protecting for a lifetime.
Even if he was human.
[I will. I’ll wait for you to take me home.]
Lin Jiangye instantly went from tears to laughter, burying his face in her chest again and refusing to let go.
That afternoon, the time for parting finally came.
Lin Jiangye made a special trip back up to Taibai Mountain to say goodbye to the little white deer, the snowy owl, and the others one by one.
“Remember that blue badge I told you about, okay? If something happens, go down the mountain and find the police. If it’s really serious—come to Yue City and find me.” Lin Jiangye rubbed and petted the little white deer. The deer had entered its late-juvenile stage now, stronger and sturdier.
The little deer was reluctant to see him go—but the stag king was right. Humans had their own work, and his home wasn’t here.
[Human! Next time you come, remember to see me!]
Lin Jiangye nodded. After hugging the little white deer, he hugged the stag king too.
“And you all—be extra careful.” That video had exposed the white deer. No one knew whether new poachers would show up in the mountains.
In ancient times, a white deer would’ve been called an auspicious sign. Even today, some people—despite understanding albinism—still clung to superstitious “good omen” beliefs.
The stag king nuzzled him and gave a long call:
[Have a safe journey.]
He’d learned that phrase by eavesdropping on humans. Supposedly it blessed travelers with safety.
Lin Jiangye let out a long sigh, took one last look at the little ones who had come to see him off, and finally turned away.
But trouble always seemed to arrive at the worst timing.
Just as he started the car and was about to get onto the highway, he received another frantic emergency call from the station chief.
Only this time, the one needing help wasn’t a human.
It was an injured late-juvenile Amur tiger.
“It got into a fight with something and was badly hurt—blood all over. We tried a tranquilizer dart, but it turns out it’s allergic to the anesthetic! Now it’s run into the street. All we can do is disperse the crowd and block the road to keep it from leaving.” The station chief sounded like he was about to cry.
He wasn’t unaware Lin Jiangye was leaving today. But he truly had no choice.
No one expected an Amur tiger to be allergic to tranquilizer darts.
Even the Forestry Bureau people were stunned—this was practically unheard of.
“Please…” The chief’s voice was so humble it hurt. He really was out of options.
Lin Jiangye sighed deeply. He could only turn around at the next point and said to the crow in the backseat, “Bixi, we have to go back.”
But Bixi was delighted, wagging its tail and asking:
[Then Crow gets to see the big tiger again!]
“Not only the guardian—we’ll see another big tiger too.” Lin Jiangye told it what the chief had said. Bixi didn’t understand what “anesthetic allergy” meant, but it understood one thing: it was urgent.
[Dad, are you going to help catch that big cat?]
Lin Jiangye laughed softly. “Helping is a given. But before we go, we’ll need the guardian’s help.”
Even if the injured tiger was only late-juvenile, it still wasn’t something a human could restrain alone.
So he had to go back up the mountain and beg the guardian for help.
When the female tiger heard the familiar whistle on the mountainside, she shot out of her den like a bolt of lightning.
A moment later, she spotted the young man whistling on the mountain road.
“Tiger Mama! Help me out, yeah~”
The words Tiger Mama slid out of his mouth so naturally, and the mountain guardian—addressed like that—showed not the slightest resistance.
[What trouble did you get into again?] The tone was helpless, with a faint hint of disdain, and it made Lin Jiangye laugh instinctively.
Whether it’s humans or other animals, moms really are all the same.
While asking, Tiger Mama climbed right into the back compartment and lay down. See? Her mouth sounded annoyed, but when her cub had a problem, she still helped.
Lin Jiangye let out a “hehe,” and as he drove, he relayed the station chief’s situation to her.
When she heard there was an injured late-juvenile Amur tiger—and that it was allergic to anesthesia—surprise flickered in Tiger Mama’s eyes.
“No choice now. We’ll have to rely on your skills, Tiger Mama—hehe!”
Lying in the back, Tiger Mama suddenly felt she should’ve tossed this brat out earlier—tossed him far, far away!
Crying and hugging wouldn’t help!
Catching her disdainful look in the rearview mirror, Lin Jiangye just “hehe” laughed again.
Even with his face covered and only his eyes visible, you could still feel his happy mood—an utterly satisfied smile.
When they were still a kilometer away, the three of them inside the car heard a series of irritated roars.
Hearing that, Tiger Mama’s eyes sharpened with wariness and hostility. A low growl rumbled in her throat.
[Its emotions are extremely agitated.]
Facing an agitated male Amur tiger—even a late-juvenile one—was still dangerous.
When they got closer, Lin Jiangye saw the road ahead was surrounded by a crowd. There was no way through.
He tapped the horn, but the people blocking the way not only refused to move—they even shot him an annoyed glare.
Then, in the next second, that person froze, and his legs began trembling violently.
“T-t-tiger… a tiger…”
The people in front of him nodded impatiently. “Yeah, there’s a tiger up ahead. You didn’t hear it roaring or what?”
But then a shriek tore through the air:
“There’s a tiger here too!!!”
Everyone jolted, turning around in unison—only to see an armored SUV behind them, with an Amur tiger sitting inside. Those bell-like eyes stared through the windshield at the humans packed in front, as if demanding why they still weren’t moving.
“Roar!” She gave a low growl.
The crowd instinctively backed up, instantly opening a path.
Lin Jiangye drove forward slowly. Seeing the doors and windows sealed shut, people went from panic to curiosity: what kind of person could casually drive around with a tiger?
There wasn’t even a cage. Wasn’t he afraid the tiger would suddenly lose it and hurt someone?
Lin Jiangye ignored them. He only sent the chief a message. Very soon, the road ahead widened as well.
Seeing the familiar vehicle, the chief and Forestry Bureau staff hurried over. But the moment the door opened, they halted mid-step—then sucked in a sharp breath and retreated at once.
Good lord. Lin Jiangye had actually brought their mountain guardian with him!
What was he planning to do?!
Lin Jiangye parked off to the side and told the chief to make everyone fall back farther, so they wouldn’t get caught up in what happened next.
The chief’s eyes were hollow. He numbly motioned the armed police to withdraw. Everyone else looked no better.
Thankfully, they were used to following orders. Before their brains caught up, their bodies had already moved.
By the time they snapped back to reality, they saw the young man who’d brought another Amur tiger was carrying a thick bundle of hemp rope.
Wait… rope was enough?
Lin Jiangye stepped out with Tiger Mama, and the injured tiger in the middle immediately grew more restless.
[Get lost! I hate humans! All of you—get the hell away from me!] Seeing a female of its kind, its first instinct was actually vigilance.
The late-juvenile tiger roared furiously, a sound that carried kilometers away.
By now, the news that an injured male late-juvenile Amur tiger had appeared on a street was already trending. In nearby high-rises, reporters hoisted cameras and filmed.
Watching the Forestry Bureau’s helplessness, they were anxious too.
At first, some had wanted to steer public opinion—get netizens to condemn the Forestry Bureau as incompetent. But after a quick check, they found that the Bureau had tried using tranquilizers as soon as the tiger broke out.
No one expected the tiger to be allergic. During its escape, it even injured someone. When the station sealed the street, the story had already hit the noon news, with anchors warning residents not to return home until police gave the all-clear.
With the full context clear, nobody could really blame the Forestry Bureau.
But at this critical moment—when they should be subduing the tiger—why had they called in some young man?
Were they insane?!
Every reporter’s eyes lit up. Instinct told them something dramatic was about to happen—and they absolutely couldn’t miss it.
A small outlet simply started a livestream with a clickbait “shocking” title. Within seconds it pulled in thousands of viewers, and the numbers kept climbing.
When viewers saw a young man arrive with another Amur tiger to face off against the injured male, the entire scene went dead silent.
Even in the livestream, the audience forgot to spam comments.
Meanwhile, Lin Jiangye took off his down jacket and discussed the plan with Tiger Mama.
“Tiger Mama, can you wear him down? I’ll slip the rope over his neck first.”
In the other world, he’d trained all kinds of animals—including tigers.
It was like breaking a wild horse in reality: first you get a loop over the neck, drain the animal’s strength, and only then can you slowly work its temper down.
Of course, they didn’t need to tame this one—just restrain it.
Lin Jiangye narrowed his eyes, assessing the injuries. It looked like the tiger had been attacked by a big cat—tiger or leopard. Deep claw marks cut along its side.
With that amount of blood loss, it probably wouldn’t last long—physically, mentally, everything. If it didn’t get treated, death wasn’t far.
No wonder the chief and the Forestry Bureau looked like they were about to cry.
China only had a few dozen wild Amur tigers. Losing even one hurt—let alone a late-juvenile.
Tiger Mama moved slowly to stand in front of Lin Jiangye, a warning growl rolling from her throat.
“I’m advising you to behave,” Lin Jiangye tried to reason with it. “If you don’t treat this wound, you’re going to die.”
All he got in response was furious cursing.
The cursing didn’t anger Lin Jiangye—but it set Tiger Mama off first.
[What did you just say, you little brat?!] A full-grown Amur tiger’s roar was far more intimidating than a juvenile’s.
Tiger Mama roared once, then lunged. One heavy paw slammed straight onto the juvenile’s head, making the Forestry Bureau staff’s brains buzz.
“B-be careful… please… don’t actually beat him to death!” they whimpered from a distance.
The juvenile was dazed from that blow, but it stubbornly fought back, trying to pounce onto the female.
Tiger Mama dodged with ease—and then pressed down hard on its head.
[Let the human stop your bleeding, understand?! If you keep going, you’ll die!] The guardian had never seen such a stubborn cub—stubborn even compared to her own.
While Tiger Mama pinned it, Lin Jiangye snapped his arm forward. The hemp rope flew like a lasso and dropped neatly around the juvenile’s neck.
Juvenile tiger: ???
In the next instant it felt the rope tighten. It followed the line upward—and when it realized it was the human who’d done it, it exploded with rage, flipping the female off its body and lunging straight for Lin Jiangye.
Everyone’s heart jumped into their throat.
But with Tiger Mama there, how could she ever let anything hurt Lin Jiangye?
The juvenile didn’t even make it halfway before she smashed it down again—then bam bam bam—a few brutal punches to the head.
[What are you doing, you brat?!] Tiger Mama was genuinely angry now, hitting harder, until the juvenile staggered, dizzy and unfocused.
Lin Jiangye never relaxed for a second. In pure weight, Tiger Mama actually couldn’t overpower this juvenile. She only had the advantage because it was badly wounded.
But to avoid lasting damage during treatment, they needed to end this fast.
The moment the juvenile collapsed, Lin Jiangye wrapped the rope around one front paw several times. Then he dodged a swipe from the other paw, flipped himself onto the tiger’s body, and straddled it.
Tiger Mama coordinated perfectly, pressing down again. As soon as the cub was pinned, Lin Jiangye looped the rope’s loose end up around the neck line again, anchoring that paw to the neck area.
The cub felt the restraint and completely lost it. With a twist of its body, it flung both Lin Jiangye and Tiger Mama off, then opened its jaws to bite the female.
But the moment it opened its mouth, a massive force yanked its neck—and the world flipped upside down.
Lin Jiangye pulled the rope and used an over-the-shoulder throw, slamming the 100+ kilogram juvenile tiger hard onto the ground.
Already dizzy from Tiger Mama’s hits, that heavy thud knocked the cub’s mind completely blank.
Lin Jiangye had used everything he had in that throw. Seeing the tiger stunned, he panted and rapidly tied up the remaining paws, then bound the muzzle.
Still not enough—he grabbed the muzzle guard the Forestry Bureau handed over and snapped it onto the tiger’s face.
Paws restrained. Mouth unable to open. Now it was finally much safer.
He rubbed his shoulder. That throw had been pushing his current limits.
Then he couldn’t resist—he punched the tiger’s head once.
“Serves you right for trying to bite Tiger Mama!”
The juvenile growled muffledly—only to be met with Tiger Mama’s roar and another paw slap.
[If you’re not convinced, we’ll beat you until you are!]
It couldn’t hold out anymore. Blood loss, then getting beaten and forced to expend strength—its body was hovering on the edge of blackout.
By the time the Forestry Bureau loaded it into a transport cage, it had fully lost consciousness. Thankfully, the vet had already stopped the bleeding; its life wasn’t in immediate danger.
Lin Jiangye was exhausted. He leaned on Tiger Mama, breathing hard, and only after a long while did he slowly stand upright.
No one dared approach him—even though they knew the tiger beside him was Taibai Mountain’s guardian, even though they knew she wasn’t aggressive toward humans, even though they knew the human beside her could control her.
Still—no one dared.
Just as Lin Jiangye was about to leave with the guardian, a young reporter gathered a suicidal amount of courage and rushed to the SUV, shaking all over as he shouted with the last of his strength:
“P-please… sir… do you… do you have anything to say to the… t-television… viewers?”
Tiger Mama shifted inside the vehicle. The reporter instantly screamed and lost his voice.
Lin Jiangye was still breathing a little fast. He tilted his head, thought for a few seconds, and finally said:
“Don’t imitate dangerous actions. If you imitate them, you bear the consequences. Don’t come crying to me.”
Reporter: “Huh???”
Imitate what? With what? Your life?
Author’s note:
P.S. I looked it up—adult female Amur tigers are usually around 170 kg. Late-juveniles can actually be heavier than adult females, about 200 kg. I toned it down a bit here, so with mother and son together it works out. [dog holding a rose]
Xiao Ye’s strength is already above average. Throwing a 100+ kg heavy object isn’t impossible—just exhausting. [dog holding a rose] (watch your back, you dummy)
