Chapter 52
When the soft, faltering sound of the bamboo flute echoed through the room, it wasn’t just Number Seven who was stunned. Even Number Two froze in place, and Number Six, who had been entirely engrossed in his toy racecar, couldn’t help but glance over.
Though Number Eight’s playing was choppy and off-key, it was undeniably a huge improvement for a beginner.
More importantly, Number Seven had tried the flute many times himself, but no matter how hard he had blown, he’d never managed to produce a single sound. So, when he heard Number Eight’s flute playing, it was no exaggeration to say that he was completely shaken.
The wolf-eared, wolf-tailed boy held the flute horizontally, his fingers moving slightly as he played. His posture, combined with his exuberant expression, made his performance especially captivating.
Particularly for the little white deer standing before him.
Number Seven stared at Number Eight in a daze. As he watched the boy playing the flute, all the surrounding sounds seemed to fade away, and a deeply buried memory resurfaced in his mind.
The memory itself was vague and fragmented.
It seemed to be from a time when he was very, very young. He remembered lying in a small crib adorned with hanging toys, its edges lined with railings. A figure sat beside him, playing a flute.
He couldn’t recall whether the person was male or female or what their relationship to him might have been. He only remembered they had long, silver-white hair, and the melody they played was beautiful.
And as he lay in that crib, he had felt incredibly happy.
Whenever this memory surfaced, it filled him with a profound sense of joy and an inexplicable feeling of closeness to that person.
This was why, every time he entered the activity room, he would always choose this particular toy. And today, for the first time, he had learned its name: a flute.
And now, he finally understood…
It was indeed possible for someone to play the flute and make it sound. Even though the melody wasn’t particularly beautiful, still… still…
Number Eight, basking in the pride of his flute-playing and anticipating Number Seven’s shocked and begrudgingly impressed expression, could only watch in stunned silence as the silver-haired boy’s eyes gradually reddened, and his lips began to quiver.
Finally, large teardrops rolled down from his blue-black doe-like eyes.
The boy who had always stayed silent no matter how badly injured he got during fights, the one who mocked and sneered at him every day—
He was crying!
The wolf cub was utterly dumbfounded. Watching the tears stream down Number Seven’s face like broken beads, he found himself completely at a loss.
“Hey! Y-you… what are you doing?” Number Eight stammered, his voice flustered.
Number Seven bit his lip, trying desperately to hold it in, but waves of indescribable emotion surged through him. Sourness and grief he couldn’t quite understand overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to stop his tears.
“Y-you… you play so well… Waaaah!”
Unable to hold back any longer, Number Seven squatted on the ground and buried his face in his arms, silently sobbing.
Though he tried his best to suppress it, his trembling shoulders betrayed the fact that he was crying.
Number Eight stared at the boy’s small, hunched figure, completely flustered.
Only now did he realize just how small Number Seven was. This boy, who fought him every day and mocked him endlessly, was even skinnier and smaller than Number Three, the tiniest of the group.
And then he remembered—Number Seven was the second youngest among all the cubs, just barely older than Number Five.
The wolf cub scratched his head, utterly at a loss.
He was terrible at dealing with this kind of situation. Number Five cried a lot too. Every time he made her cry, Number Four would beat him up, although the tiger cub never hit him hard.
The worst beating he’d ever gotten was when he tore up one of Number Five’s drawings. Even though she had been heartbroken, she had eventually sniffled her way through pleading with Number Four to let him off.
After that incident, he hadn’t dared touch Number Five’s drawings again—not just because he didn’t want to be beaten up by Number Four, but also because he couldn’t bear to see Number Five cry so sorrowfully.
And now, he’d made someone cry again.
But he hadn’t even done anything! All he’d done was show Number Seven how to play the flute—he hadn’t even touched him!
The wolf cub felt deeply wronged, as if the universe itself was conspiring against him.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to ease the tension, but then remembered how, every time he spoke to Number Five while she was crying, it only made her wail louder. So, he swallowed his words again.
What should I do?!
If Number Seven had pounced on him, biting and kicking, trying to start a fight, the wolf cub would have known how to handle it. But this… crying… it hit him right in his weak spot.
Number Eight was so flustered that he scratched his head and ears in desperation. Turning around, he found himself looking into a pair of reddish-brown tiger eyes. Number Two was watching the scene unfold from the corner. Desperately, Number Eight shot him a pleading look.
Number Two is close to Number Seven; he should know how to make him stop crying, right?
But Number Two seemed confused by the wolf cub’s expression, as if unable to comprehend what Number Eight wanted.
What was this wolf cub doing? Why was he looking at him like that?
When Number Eight received no response, it finally hit him—this was Number Two, not the caretaker!
Oh, right, the caretaker!
The wolf cub suddenly remembered what the caretaker had done the last time Number Five was crying. Back then, he’d thought it was a terrible idea, but it had worked. Not only did Number Five stop crying, but she had even given the caretaker her precious hair clip!
Guess I’ll have to treat this like a lost cause and give it a try!
Number Eight squatted down in front of the little white deer.
Even with both of them crouched, his size clearly overshadowed Number Seven’s, completely blocking him from view.
Wow, Number Seven really is tiny… How did I even end up fighting with someone this small?
The wolf cub scratched his head, struggling to remember what had led to their past fights. He vaguely recalled being really angry and wanting revenge each time, but the exact reasons felt distant and hazy now.
Still…
Number Seven had just said his flute-playing was good! Thinking about that made Number Eight’s big tail wag involuntarily behind him.
Number Seven remained crouched on the floor, his face buried in his arms. He didn’t want anyone to see him weak and crying. When the sudden wave of sour emotions finally began to subside, he realized the room around him had grown quiet.
All he could hear was Number Six’s rowdy laughter as he continued playing with his race car. Besides that distinctive, sharp laugh, there was no other noise.
The little white deer’s leaf-like ears twitched slightly, and his silver curls shook with the movement.
Number Two aside, there’s no way that dumb wolf, Number Eight, would stay quiet after seeing me cry…
Sniffling softly, Number Seven peeked up cautiously from his arms.
The first thing he noticed was a shadow on the ground, followed by a pair of cub-sized shoes—at least two sizes larger than his own.
The owner of those shoes was obvious.
What’s that dumb wolf doing squatting in front of me?
Number Seven lifted his head further and saw Number Eight right in front of him. The wolf cub’s green eyes were crinkled in a cheerful grin, his tail wagging gently behind him. He looked like he was in a very good mood.
Is Number Eight mocking me?
Tears blurred Number Seven’s vision once more as he bit down on his lip. Thinking about how he had just admitted Number Eight’s flute-playing was good—how he had sincerely praised him—filled him with unbearable humiliation.
To make matters worse, he had broken down crying because of the dumb wolf’s flute-playing. And now, both Number Two and Number Six had seen it…
Number Seven didn’t even dare to glance at Number Two or Number Six. He feared seeing their disdainful expressions, and even more so, feared their indifference.
Number Seven had always prided himself on keeping his composure, on doing everything right. But now, everything felt ruined. The more he thought about it, the stronger that overwhelming wave of sour emotions became, threatening to drag him back into tears.
No, I can’t cry anymore.
He had to find a way to salvage his image. He couldn’t let the other cubs think he was some weakling they could push around. He needed to be strong, to protect himself…
Rip—
Suddenly, the sound of fabric tearing broke through his spiraling thoughts.
The little deer blinked, looking up at Number Eight in confusion. To his shock, the wolf cub had grabbed the sleeve of his own cub uniform and ripped it clean off.
Then, without explanation, Number Eight held out the torn sleeve toward him.
Still baffled, Number Seven stared at him in disbelief. His tears, which had been welling up again, finally spilled over, rolling down his cheeks in sparkling droplets.
Seeing that the little deer didn’t take the fabric and was instead crying harder, Number Eight paused to think. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he leaned forward and awkwardly began wiping Number Seven’s face with the torn sleeve.
Having never wiped anyone’s tears before, Number Eight’s movements were inevitably a little rough. Fortunately, the cub uniform’s soft fabric made the process more tolerable and didn’t hurt.
Even so, Number Seven was startled by the sudden gesture. After a brief moment of stunned silence, he released his grip on the flute, snatched the torn sleeve from Number Eight’s hand, and stammered, “W-what are you doing?”
His voice was thick with the congestion of recent crying. Being so young, his words were clear and sharp, but his tone was soft and milky, almost unbearably cute. It lacked the usual sharpness and sarcasm he wielded, making him sound vulnerable and endearing.
To the wolf cub, it was like discovering a whole new side to the little white deer. So the haughty, never-yielding Number Seven who’s always ready for a fight could sound like this?
“I’m wiping your tears,” Number Eight said plainly.
He vividly remembered how, the last time Number Five had cried, the caretaker had waited until her sobs quieted down before handing her a handkerchief to dry her face.
Since Number Eight didn’t have a handkerchief on hand, he’d improvised by ripping off his sleeve. It’s just fabric—it’s all the same, right?
Number Seven clutched the torn sleeve in his hands, unsure how to react. Usually, their fights ended only when one or both of them were bruised and battered. Number Eight had never shown this kind of… kindness before.
Of course, I’ve never cried in front of him before, either. Today… today is just an exception!
The little deer’s face twisted into a conflicted expression. He knew he couldn’t let himself cry anymore. He had to pull himself together—and fast. Letting Number Two and Number Six see him like this was bad enough. If even the caretaker saw him in this state, he might lose his last remaining ally…
With this in mind, Number Seven quickly shuffled to the side, turning his face away from Number Eight. Using the torn sleeve, he began vigorously wiping his face clean.
Once his tears and snot were finally wiped away, he froze.
Wait a minute. I have a handkerchief in my pocket… Why am I using this dumb wolf’s ripped sleeve?!
Number Seven glanced at the dirty, crumpled piece of fabric in his hand. Thinking about how Number Eight had just used it to wipe his tears, he ultimately decided not to toss it back at the wolf cub.
The dumb wolf is being surprisingly kind today, Number Seven mused. Could the caretaker’s advice really have been right? Was praising Number Eight actually useful?
As the little white deer mulled over this, the wolf cub beside him was curiously watching him.
He had only tried the caretaker’s method on a whim and was genuinely amazed that it worked. Number Seven wasn’t crying anymore!
The caretaker is amazing!
The wolf cub squatted next to Number Seven, his hands braced on the floor. With his larger frame, he looked like a big, fluffy dog sitting obediently beside the smaller boy. Even while crouched, Number Eight couldn’t stay still—his ears twitched, and his tail wagged non-stop.
After waiting for a while and seeing that Number Seven still wasn’t saying anything, Number Eight couldn’t resist scooting closer and striking up a conversation.
The two cubs squatted side by side.
The bigger one, with his thick, fluffy tail swishing as he talked, radiated energy and restlessness. The smaller one, with his silver-white short hair and matching soft ears, had a calmer, quieter presence.
Regardless of what they were talking about, the scene of them together looked surprisingly harmonious.
*
In a nearby corner, Number Two, who had been observing the entire interaction, flicked his long tiger tail back and forth. Finally, he used the tip of his tail to scratch his head, his confusion evident.
Am I still not thinking straight? Is that why I can’t make sense of this?
First, Number Seven had suddenly started crying. Then, inexplicably, Number Eight—the one who was always at odds with him—had turned to him for help. And now, Number Seven had stopped crying, and the two of them were crouched together, apparently getting along?
Since when were Number Seven and Number Eight on such good terms?
While the tiger cub struggled to piece it together, a small figure quietly slipped through the activity room door. Moving slowly and deliberately, the newcomer edged into a shadowy corner, trying to go unnoticed.
The child turned his head slightly in Number Eight’s direction as if looking, though his cloudy, unfocused eyes revealed otherwise. Hugging his metal ball tightly, he tucked himself deeper into the shadows, doing his best to minimize his presence.
Once he was certain no one was paying attention to him—even though Number Two had briefly glanced his way before losing interest—the black-haired boy let out a small, relieved breath.
Good.
Relaxing his body, the little boy resumed playing with his metal ball, content to immerse himself in his own world.
Number Eight, for his part, had no idea there was now another cub in the room. He was too focused on squeezing closer to the white deer, grinning as he said, “I heard you just now! You said my flute-playing was good!”
Although Number Seven had said it while on the verge of tears, Number Eight had heard it loud and clear. In his mind, he had already figured out why Number Seven had cried earlier.
“Hahaha! I mean, I am better at it than you, but there’s no need to cry about it!”
Number Eight patted the little white deer’s shoulder, offering words of comfort.
However, what he thought was comfort sounded completely different to the little deer.
The young boy seemed to radiate a sense of triumph, as if he had finally had his moment. His big fluffy tail behind him perked up high, just like Number Seven had described to Su Ci earlier: a wolf cub who became unbearably smug after being praised.
His tone brimmed with pride, and his loud, unrestrained laughter grated painfully on Number Seven’s ears.
The child bit down on his lip tightly, feeling a profound sense of humiliation and despair.
He hadn’t expected it. Even with just a slight misstep, he had landed in the very situation he feared most.
From now on, that big dumb wolf would forever use this incident of him crying to mock him. Number Two and Number Six, having seen his weakness, would never ally with him again. Worse, they might even join Number Eight in teasing and bullying him…
He was all alone. There was no way he could fight back against all of them. Even with the caretakers, he’d still be outmatched…
The little boy pursed his lips tightly.
As fear and unease about the future overwhelmed him, a surge of intense negative emotions began to stir. The perfectly round pupils of his deer-like eyes, originally human in appearance, slowly began to elongate.
The deep black of his wet, deer-like eyes started to fade, turning into a mysterious and eerie blue.
Meanwhile, the soft, rounded tips of the little antlers on his forehead, covered in fine velvet, seemed to be growing longer and sharper.
The once harmless and fragile fawn now exuded a dangerous aura.
The surrounding temperature began to plummet.
Number Eight, squatting by his side all the while, remained oblivious to the white deer’s transformation. Although he felt a chill, he attributed it to his torn sleeve.
Still grinning from ear to ear because of Number Seven’s praise, he was entirely unaware that an ice spike was slowly forming in the little deer’s hand.
Cold…
So cold…
Number Seven realized he had once again fallen into that freezing world—a world so cold it could freeze blood and willpower alike.
He knew it was dangerous, but he also heard a voice whispering persistently in his ear: Don’t be afraid. Don’t resist. Fully embrace the frost and merge with it. Only then will no one be able to hurt you anymore…
Yes, he had to erase the humiliation he just suffered. He had to prove to Number Two and Number Six that he was not some useless, crybaby loser!
As the power of his bloodline surged, the cold aura began to rise around Number Seven, and his thoughts grew increasingly detached and emotionless.
“Number Seven, don’t you feel a little cold?”
Just then, that familiar, hateful voice spoke up next to him.
And then, a warm, furnace-like body leaned against him.
Number Seven squinted slightly. From this distance, it would be effortless to drive the ice spike in his palm into the wolf boy’s body and freeze his blood solid…
“Wow, it really is freezing!”
The wolf cub finally noticed something was wrong. “Is the weather acting up again?”
Ever since he came to the nursery, he had discovered that some places could cycle through all four seasons within a single week!
The little white deer raised his hand, the ice spike aimed squarely at the boy’s abdomen. All it would take was one thrust, and this big dumb wolf who mocked him would pay the price he deserved.
But the wolf cub moved faster.
The boy opened his arms and hugged the deer tightly.
The little white deer furrowed his brows in confusion, but in the next moment, his ice-cold body was pulled into the boy’s arms. The searing warmth of the wolf cub’s body surrounded him completely.
What truly left the little white deer stunned, however, wasn’t just the warmth of the boy’s embrace—
It was also… his large, fluffy, and furry tail.
Because of their posture and size difference, with the little white deer being much smaller than the wolf cub, he ended up entirely enveloped in the boy’s embrace. When that big, furry tail wrapped around him as well, it resulted in—
His whole little face being buried into the soft, fluffy, and incredibly warm fur!
So… so comfortable.
The little white deer, who had been radiating cold indifference and hostility just moments before, suddenly halted his transformation. He even instinctively buried his face deeper into the silky fur, rubbing against it lightly without realizing it.
The wolf cub, completely unaware of these subtle actions, shivered from the cold.
This shouldn’t be happening!
Whenever the temperature dropped before, the nursery would turn on the heating immediately. He’d never experienced such intense cold before. Could it be that the heater was broken?
The colder he felt, the tighter he hugged the little white deer.
To the wolf cub, even though he used to really hate Number Seven and fought with him every day, after Number Seven praised him earlier, he realized he didn’t dislike him anymore.
And besides…
Number Seven was so tiny!
How could he have hit him so hard in the past? The wolf cub found he couldn’t recall what had driven him to do so.
Then again…
He did remember their last fight, when he’d choked Number Seven unconscious and almost bit through his throat.
Thinking about that, the wolf cub’s expression became conflicted.
A vivid image came to his mind—
Number Seven, soft and limp, cradled in the arms of the nursery’s robotic caretaker. His face was deathly pale, like a sheet of paper, and around his slender, delicate neck—one that seemed like it would snap with the slightest pressure—were pronounced red marks.
He’d looked so frail and lifeless, as if he could stop breathing at any moment.
They had fought many times before, but never once had it ended like that. Or rather, he’d never been so conscious and clear-headed at the end of a fight.
The wolf cub’s arms, which held Number Seven, began to tremble slightly. He suddenly realized… he had almost killed Number Seven.
Although he had really hated Number Seven at the time, he had never actually intended to kill him.
Lowering his head, he was about to say something, but his eyes caught the lingering red marks around the child’s neck. The words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat.
Was it his imagination, or had the boy’s complexion turned even paler? The fading bruises around his neck seemed even more stark and alarming now, and for the first time, the wolf cub felt a pang of guilt.
He suddenly didn’t know what to say.
Scratching his head awkwardly, the wolf cub instinctively looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something.
Turning his head, he noticed Number Three—the tiny little one—had appeared in the corner of the activity room at some point, quietly playing with his metallic ball.
The young wolf instinctively waved at his new friend. “Number Three, aren’t you cold? Come over here! It’s warm over here!”
His cheerful shout didn’t elicit a reaction from Number Three. However, it startled the little white deer, whose face was still buried in the fluffy tail.
The white deer snapped out of his daze. His fingers curled slightly, gripping the sharp, solid ice spike in his hand. Yet his eerie blue eyes, cold as they were, now showed a hint of confusion.
Just then, Su Ci walked into the activity room from outside.
