Chapter 125
Lang Ze stared at the candy Lu Li handed him, his eyes wide with confusion, unsure of what to say.
Lu Li remained silent, simply holding out the candy and quietly watching him.
After a while, Lang Ze finally found his voice. He pursed his lips and asked, “How many candies do you have left?”
Weiwei had given them each five pieces, so Lu Li’s candies must be limited.
Lu Li answered honestly, “This is the last one.”
Hearing this, Lang Ze’s eyes widened further. “So if you give it to me, you won’t have any left?”
“Yeah,” Lu Li nodded, looking completely indifferent. “It’s too sweet, and I don’t really like it.”
“You’re so weird,” Lang Ze muttered. “How can you not like sweet things?”
He couldn’t fathom how anyone wouldn’t like sweets. He and Xing Xing both loved the candies! And yet this stupid monkey was dismissing them as too sweet!
Lang Ze felt he and Lu Li just didn’t get along. Still… he eyed the candy in Lu Li’s hand and swallowed.
“You really don’t want it?” he pressed.
“Nope.” Lu Li shook his head calmly.
Reluctantly, Lang Ze took the candy and slipped it into his pocket. After a moment, he said, “What if I told you two candies still aren’t enough?”
He didn’t have any candy left himself!
But Lu Li wasn’t deterred. “I also have honey. That’s sweet too.”
Lang Ze’s eyes widened again. “Why do you have so many good things?”
Lu Li hesitated but didn’t reveal the source of the magical honey. It was a secret between him and Su Su, and he wasn’t sure if Su Su would want the other cubs to know.
Lang Ze didn’t push for an answer, but he puffed out his cheeks in frustration. He loved sweet things yet rarely got to have them, while this stupid monkey didn’t even like them and still had so much.
It was so unfair!
Seeing Lang Ze sulk, Lu Li tilted his head and asked, “So do you want the honey or not?”
“Of course I do!” Lang Ze said without hesitation.
“Then let’s go. It’s in my room,” Lu Li said, turning and heading toward the elevator.
Lang Ze turned to Xing Xing on his back. “Xing Xing, let’s go have some honey together, okay?”
Zheng Xing, perched on his shoulder, hesitated slightly.
Ahead of them, Lu Li turned back and softly said, “Zheng Xing can join us too.”
“Yay! Did you hear that, Xing Xing? He said you can come!” Lang Ze said cheerfully. “We’ll eat honey together, and then I’ll take you back to your room!”
Although it was past six o’clock, the rules didn’t specify that they had to return to their rooms exactly by six. Lang Ze felt no guilt about staying out a little longer.
Carrying Zheng Xing, Lang Ze quickly caught up to Lu Li.
“Hey…” Lang Ze hesitated, glancing at the candy in his pocket and thinking about the honey they were about to have. Finally, he relented. “Number Six, did Su Su give you a name too?”
“Yes,” Lu Li said. “My name is Lu Li. Su Su said it means radiant and colorful.”
“Oh, Lu Li. That’s a nice name!” Lang Ze said earnestly, nodding. “Su Su is really good at naming people!”
“Yeah,” Lu Li said with a smile. “Su Su is amazing!”
At that moment, Zheng Xing, lying on Lang Ze’s back, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and murmured softly, “Mm.”
Lu Li heard him and turned back to smile gently.
For once, all three cubs shared the same opinion. Their relationship was starting to warm up.
“You guys can call me Liu Liu,” Lu Li offered. “It’s my nickname.”
“Alright!” Lang Ze agreed readily. After a moment, he glanced at Lu Li and added, “But Liu Liu, you’ve really changed a lot.”
Even someone like Lang Ze, who’d had conflicts with Lu Li in the past, couldn’t deny that the new Lu Li was far less irritating.
“Yeah,” Lu Li said with a nod. “It was because of the fierce beast bloodline before. Now Su Su has healed me.”
When the bloodline talent activates again in the future and he faces soul division once more, it’s hard to say whether his personality might change again.
“So that’s what happened!” Lang Ze suddenly realized. “So you were sick before?”
Lu Li thought for a moment and said, “I guess you could put it that way.”
Then, he saw the wolf-eared boy looking at him with sympathetic eyes. “You mustn’t give up on treatment! You’re great just the way you are now.”
Lu Li: “…Alright.”
And so, the three cubs went to Lu Li’s room together. Lu Li took out the jar of magical flower honey that Su Su had given him and opened the lid.
A sweet, fragrant aroma instantly filled the room.
Lang Ze sniffed and suddenly exclaimed, “Isn’t this the smell from the yam dessert soup?”
The yam dessert soup prepared by A-Yan had been sweetened with magical flower honey. Little did they expect Lang Ze’s nose to be so sharp that he identified it with just one sniff.
Lu Li paused before admitting honestly, “Yes, Su Su gave this to me. He told me to eat a spoonful every day—it’s kind of like… my medicine.”
“That’s the best-tasting medicine ever!” Lang Ze said enviously.
“It’s too sweet,” Lu Li remarked. “I prefer mixing it with water. Do you want to try?”
Lang Ze shook his head. He loved sweets as they were and thought anyone like Lu Li, who didn’t, was just plain odd.
However, after tasting the magical flower honey, Lang Ze made a decision—he was going to be friends with Liu Liu for sure!
“This is so delicious!”
Lang Ze squinted his eyes, a look of pure delight on his face. After getting Lu Li’s permission, he scooped another small spoonful to feed Zheng Xing.
Zheng Xing also displayed the same blissful expression, clearly savoring the taste.
Lang Ze grinned, gave Lu Li a firm pat on the shoulder, and said, “Liu Liu, let’s forget the past! From now on, we’re friends!”
“Okay.”
Lu Li felt relieved. With this, Xue Wei should be satisfied, right?
The other cubs didn’t know Xue Wei’s limits, but Lu Li had seen her effortlessly lift a jar containing eight giant spider legs with his own eyes!
Her strength was at least that high, if not more…
Lu Li swallowed nervously before turning to Lang Ze. “Let’s get along well from now on, no more fighting.”
“Deal!” Lang Ze nodded firmly.
Meanwhile, Zheng Xing, perched on his shoulder, listened to their conversation and thought of how Lang Ze had once sworn he’d never be friends with Liu Liu, even if it meant jumping off the Nursery Facility building.
After a moment’s thought, Zheng Xing decided it was better not to remind him.
But even if Zheng Xing stayed silent, that didn’t mean Lang Ze would forget. Back in the corridor, the boy who’d been all smiles in Liu Liu’s room suddenly looked troubled.
Perched on his shoulder, Zheng Xing heard him muttering, “Xing Xing, what do you think the chances are of me dying if I jumped off the cub care building?”
Zheng Xing’s little hands tightened instinctively, and he anxiously shook his head. “Lang Ze, no die!”
“Relax, I’m just saying it. Don’t panic.” Lang Ze reassured him. “Anyway, I never said when I’d jump off the Nursery Facility building.”
“When the star-chain vines grow larger and cover the whole building, I’ll just climb down along the vines!”
The more Lang Ze thought about it, the more feasible it seemed, and he couldn’t help but start daydreaming about it.
He had long wanted to jump off the rooftop and see what it would feel like—would it be like flying? Just thinking about it made him feel exhilarated!
However, he also knew his physical skills weren’t at a level where he could jump from such a height and remain unharmed. But with the right tools, it would be a different story!
Zheng Xing listened to Lang Ze’s fantasies, his brow furrowed, and even when Lang Ze dropped him off at his room, he said nothing to dissuade him.
He understood that Lang Ze was different from him. Lang Ze was like the wind, loving adventure and thrill. And if the wind were confined, it wouldn’t be happy.
He wanted Lang Ze to stay joyful.
But… he also didn’t want Lang Ze to get hurt or, worse, die.
Curled up in his favorite corner, Zheng Xing began pondering ways to ensure Lang Ze’s happiness while also keeping him safe.
Eventually, from the knowledge he had accessed from the base’s AI, he found an answer that met his requirements.
He recalled that knowledge, then summoned the base’s AI: “Xiao Zhi.”
“Good evening, Number Three, Zheng Xing. Are you ready to write today’s growth journal?” came the AI’s emotionless, synthesized voice.
Zheng Xing shook his head. In his soft voice, he said, “I’d like more knowledge about mechanics.”
“Understood.”
A holographic display appeared before him, scrolling through information rapidly until it settled on a list. The AI’s voice sounded again: “I have compiled all beginner courses on mechanics for you.”
Zheng Xing nodded and placed his small hand on the display.
A faint light glowed from his palm, merging with the screen. When he withdrew his hand, his energy seemed to drain; his whole demeanor turned lethargic.
The base AI, accustomed to his quick knowledge absorption method, said, “Number Three, Zheng Xing, regarding today’s growth journal…”
Zheng Xing frowned and said, “You write it.”
With that, he placed his little hand back on the display.
The AI, halfway through a refusal, abruptly pivoted: “Understood.”
“Thank you,” the boy murmured softly, yawning. He curled up in his corner and closed his eyes to sleep.
The base AI: “…”
Lang Ze had no idea what was happening in Room 403. He happily hopped toward the stairwell, heading to his room.
But halfway there, the familiar voice of the youth echoed in his ears: “Lang Ze, come to Room 303 on the third floor.”
It was Su Su!
Lang Ze looked around but didn’t see the caretaker. Not that it mattered—he cheerfully bounded down the stairs to the third floor.
What could Su Su want him for? Could it be more magical flower honey? He wasn’t sick, but he wouldn’t mind taking this “medicine” every day!
With eager anticipation, Lang Ze arrived at Room 303. The metal door opened automatically, and he trotted inside, tail wagging.
“Su Su, I’m here!”
It was his first time in the caretaker’s room, and he showed no shyness, immediately looking around. That’s when he noticed Ran Lie.
The red-haired boy was seated cross-legged in a corner of the living room, his hands resting loosely at his sides, his eyes closed. His whole demeanor radiated calm and serenity, a stark contrast to his usual fiery temper.
Lang Ze scratched his head, surprised to find Ran Lie here. No wonder Ran Lie hadn’t been at dinner earlier—he’d thought Ran Lie was eating in his room.
“Lie Lie…”
Just as Lang Ze was about to greet him, a clear and calm voice came from beside him. “Lang Ze.”
Immediately, Ran Lie was forgotten. Lang Ze turned toward the voice with delight, exclaiming, “Brother A-Yan!”
If Lang Ze had a favorite person, Su Su would undoubtedly rank first. But A-Yan, with his excellent cooking skills and willingness to share food daily, was definitely tied for first—or perhaps even slightly ahead in moments like these!
Facing A-Yan, the wolf-eared boy couldn’t help but sweeten his tone, his grin stretching wide in a burst of radiant cheerfulness.
A-Yan nodded and reminded him, “Ran Lie is in a special state right now. Don’t disturb him.”
In fact, when A-Yan returned to cook earlier, Ran Lie had already been there. It seemed Su Su had given Ran Lie some guidance, leading him into a meditative state. He’d been sitting there for quite a while.
A-Yan suspected that when Ran Lie woke, his control over his bloodline abilities might reach new heights. Thinking back to the fierce fire Ran Lie had unleashed on the giant spiders earlier, A-Yan had to admit Su Su’s training methods were surprisingly effective.
“Oh, okay, I won’t bother him,” Lang Ze whispered, covering his mouth with his hands. Then he noticed Su Su emerging from the bathroom.
The caretaker had just showered, his messy hair soft and fluffy, his entire demeanor exuding a lazy, languid air, as though he might fall asleep at any moment.
“Su Su!” Lang Ze called eagerly.
He couldn’t let Su Su doze off; otherwise, he’d have to return to his room and miss out on the chance to play a little longer.
Seeing Lang Ze, Su Su nodded, casually patting the boy’s head and rubbing his soft wolf ears.
Though slightly reluctant, Lang Ze didn’t dodge.
In the past, letting his ears and tail be touched meant getting a treat, like chips. Since discovering the caretaker’s true power, he didn’t dare make demands anymore.
But even without chips, he now had roasted meat, delicious taro dishes, and soon-to-be-ripe sweet starlink fruit. Thinking about all the good things Su Su had brought into his life, any trace of discontent in Lang Ze’s heart dissipated.
His fluffy tail, which had been drooping on the floor, perked up and wagged enthusiastically.
Su Su gave it a quick pat before heading to the living room sofa.
He cast a soundproof barrier over Ran Lie and gestured to Lang Ze. “Come here.”
Lang Ze obediently walked over, only to see a plate appear on the coffee table out of nowhere. On it were freshly made, crispy taro chips—courtesy of A-Yan.
Lang Ze’s eyes lit up immediately. Was this the legendary golden taro snack, as good as chips? His mouth nearly started watering.
Crunch, crunch.
Su Su picked up a chip and popped it into his mouth. The crispy, flavorful taro combined with the aromatic seasoning created an irresistible taste that made one want more.
After eating two more chips, Su Su looked at Lang Ze, ready to begin his lesson. But when he saw the boy’s longing gaze fixed on the taro chips, he paused slightly and pushed the plate toward him.
Lang Ze’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Glancing at Ran Lie in the corner, he asked in a small voice, “Su Su, can I have some?”
“Mm,” Su Su nodded.
Nearly bouncing with joy, Lang Ze restrained himself and carefully picked up the largest chip on the plate. He sat down on the sofa, savoring it piece by piece.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
It was just one small taro chip, but the boy seemed as if he’d just been handed the world, eating with immense satisfaction.
Watching Lang Ze eat was an appetite stimulant for anyone. Even Su Su felt his mood lift, while A-Yan, unable to resist, grabbed a chip for himself and sat on the opposite sofa to join in.
For a moment, the living room was filled only with the crisp crunch of taro chips.
Although Lang Ze loved food, he was mindful of moderation. After two chips, he licked his fingers clean of the lingering flavor and stopped.
“Su Su, why did you call me here?” he asked softly.
Seeing that the boy had stopped eating, Su Su set the now nearly empty plate aside and asked, “Did you bring your flute?”
“Mm-hmm, I did!”
The bamboo flute was Lang Ze’s treasure, always carried with him—even to bed.
Su Su took the flute, inspected it briefly, and then produced a hollow metal rod, which, with a quick twist, transformed into an identical bamboo flute.
Lang Ze’s flute was originally made of paper, magically altered by Su Su into a bamboo flute. However, its paper nature hadn’t changed, and after extended use, it had begun to wear out. Rather than let it disintegrate into scraps, Su Su decided to create a new one for him.
In the collection of perennial plant seeds Ceng Liang had given him, there were bamboo seeds currently soaking in the spiritual water jar. Once the bamboo matured, Su Ci thought he might craft a genuine bamboo flute for the wolf cub—provided Lang Ze still showed passion for the flute and didn’t abandon it halfway.
Lang Ze, meanwhile, stared at the new bamboo flute in disbelief. Slowly, he realized something astonishing—the flute Su Su had given him wasn’t something brought from the stars. It had genuinely been created by Su Su.
As he ran his fingers over the flawless flute, identical in feel and sound to the original, Lang Ze felt an inexplicable sense of awe.
You couldn’t tell at all that it had been made from a metal rod!
This couldn’t just be a natural talent, right? Was there really any innate ability in the world as miraculous as this?
While Lang Ze was lost in thought, Su Ci snapped his fingers, bringing him back to reality. He asked, “You’ve learned to play a full song on the flute. Do you want to go deeper and learn more advanced techniques?”
“What? Su Su, are you going to teach me how to play the zither?” Lang Ze asked excitedly.
Su Ci recalled that the boy had mentioned wanting to learn the zither after mastering the flute. Shaking his head, he said, “You’ve only barely touched the basics of the flute; you’re not even close to being proficient. If you try to learn too much at once, you’ll dilute your efforts. Before you truly master the flute, learning other instruments will be counterproductive.”
Scratching his head, Lang Ze asked, “Then what’s the advanced stuff you’re talking about?”
“Using music as a pathway,” Su Ci explained. “For example, when I play the flute, I can guide others into an illusory world I create. You’ve already experienced this, haven’t you?”
But Lang Ze looked utterly confused. “What illusory world?”
Su Ci frowned. “You know, the shepherd riding the ox, the flowing stream under the little bridge…”
Hearing this, Lang Ze’s eyes widened in amazement. “What? The big yellow ox wasn’t my imagination?”
He suddenly understood. “No wonder the big yellow ox never shows up when I play the flute myself!”
Su Ci: …
Looking at the boy’s expression of sudden realization, Su Ci couldn’t help but doubt if he’d chosen the right successor for the art of musical cultivation.
Would the old master of the Sound Sect jump out of his grave and scold him for this?
But soon, Su Ci dismissed the thought, a trace of self-deprecation curling at his lips. The master wouldn’t be jumping out of any grave. After all, countless millennia had passed, and Su Ci couldn’t even remember when that old man had died. His grave had long since vanished into the sands of time, leaving no trace.
He was already doing enough by finding someone to inherit the practice. What right did the old man have to nitpick?
Sitting diagonally across, A-Yan suddenly turned his head, sensing something.
Although Su Ci’s face remained calm, A-Yan could feel an undercurrent of loneliness and melancholy beneath that tranquility—a profound solitude beyond words.
A-Yan felt a pang in his chest.
Thinking for a moment, he moved to Su Ci’s side. His now even fluffier tail curled gently around Su Ci from behind, the tip brushing against Su Ci’s lap like an offering of comfort.
Startled, Su Ci looked down and met A-Yan’s slightly worried gaze. For a fleeting moment, he seemed to see a teenage boy, 18 or 19 years old, sitting beside him. The boy’s clear, sincere eyes silently conveyed:
Look at me. I’m here. I’ve always been here with you.
Su Ci’s heart stirred. Blinking, the vision faded, leaving only A-Yan—small, furry, and steadfast—hugging him with his tail as if offering a warm embrace.
Was this his way of sensing Su Ci’s emotions?
As Su Ci stroked the soft fur, the tight line of his lips relaxed, and he returned to his usual languid demeanor.
He reached out to ruffle A-Yan’s hair, though a thought lingered in his mind:
The real A-Yan—or Zhou Yan—suddenly, I’d really like to meet him. At the very least, let him know the bond we once shared.
“Su Su…” Lang Ze’s voice broke through his reverie.
The boy had finally accepted that the scenes he saw while listening to the flute weren’t the product of his imagination but were entirely created by Su Su.
With eyes brimming with hope, Lang Ze asked, “So, are you going to teach me how to ride the big yellow ox?”
Su Ci: ???
Haha when it comes to Lang Ze there’s never a dull moment or serious moment:)