Chapter 138

Early the next morning, Qibai woke to the sound of stone being struck outside.

Still half-asleep, he stretched lazily under the furs, staring blankly at the ceiling. The fire in the stove had died overnight, and the air beyond his quilt was icy. Tugging the thick pelt higher around his neck, he grumbled inwardly.

Getting up in winter was truly the hardest thing. But he knew if he didn’t rise soon, the room would only grow colder. After fumbling beneath the covers for a while, he dragged up the fur coat lying at his feet. The garment still carried the warmth of the bed, and Qibai quickly pulled it on before stepping outside.

At the door, he found Wolfze sitting with a stone hammer, chipping away at a massive boulder nearly his height.

Rubbing his eyes, Qibai asked, “When did you even find a stone that big?”

Just last night Wolfze had mentioned making a stone vat, and by morning the stone was already here. His efficiency never failed to amaze.

“I spotted it on patrol this morning and carried it back,” Wolfze replied, setting the hammer down. “I also fetched today’s water.”

Qibai noticed the large bamboo tube nearby and chuckled. “Have you had breakfast yet?” Then, not waiting for his answer, he added with a grin, “Well, even if you have, you can eat again. I’ll make extra so we can share.”

At that moment, their neighbors—Rabbit Ruo and Dog Liu—stepped out, each wearing new fur coats Rabbit Ruo had made. They carried their sandboards, clearly on their way to class at the schoolhouse.

Qibai greeted them warmly. Though they were neighbors, mornings rarely overlapped; most beastmen rose at dawn, and patrol horns often left before first light. Someone like Qibai—who slept in unless he was teaching—was an unusual sight.

As the two passed Wolfze, Dog Liu glanced back curiously at the man hammering stone. “Doesn’t Wolfze need to attend lessons too?”

Qibai waved them on. “Don’t worry about him. Off you go.”

Of course, Wolfze didn’t need to join the general classes. Qibai had already been tutoring him privately. Since Wolfze’s return to the tribe, Qibai had spent spare hours teaching him characters and arithmetic. By now, his progress far outpaced the others.

In fact, Wolfze was the only one in the entire tribe capable of performing multiplication. The earliest students could recite some tables by rote, but applying them in daily life remained beyond them.

Watching the two youths disappear down the snowy path, Qibai hauled the water indoors. On the shelf he retrieved a straw-lined bamboo basket, lifting its lid to reveal seven or eight bluish duck eggs, fresh from the flock. He selected two.

He filled the clay pot with water, added the eggs, then placed a steamer tray on top. Thinly slicing preserved meat, he spread it neatly across the tray.

Yesterday’s batch of buns and smoked pork with sour bamboo had already been eaten. Fortunately, some of Wolfze’s ground sweet potato flour remained. Kneading dough from it, Qibai tore off small lumps, pressed them flat, and slapped the cakes against the clay pot’s hot inner wall. Soon, sweet potato cakes, duck eggs, and cured meat would all be steaming together.

From another jar, he pulled out a large preserved vegetable leaf, chopping it into small pieces for a side dish. This plant—unique to the beastmen’s lands—was thick and juicy with a faintly sweet taste. Qibai had harvested plenty in autumn, salted and sealed them for winter use.

Cooking with clay pots was far quicker than with stone. By the time Qibai had washed and tidied the house, the food was ready.

Though their homes were now brick, the walls were smeared with mortar mixed heavily with yellow clay to save lime. Dust was unavoidable, and Qibai, with all his daily work, often dirtied his fur coat. Still, he was fastidious: he had fashioned two brooms from thin bamboo twigs—one for sweeping the floor, another for the kang bed. It took only a few minutes each day to keep things neat.

Once the house was in order, he propped the broom behind the door, lifted the pelt curtain, and called, “Breakfast’s ready!”

Mornings were kept light—just staple food and small dishes. Warm food on a warm kang was more than enough.

After a few bites, Qibai leaned closer to Wolfze and asked, “Are you busy this morning?”

Wolfze bit into half a cake. “Chipping the vat.”

Qibai shook his head. “That can wait. Anything else?”

Wolfze noticed the sparkle in Qibai’s eyes. He lowered his voice. “What are you plotting?”

Qibai whispered back, “Let’s go pick pine nuts.”

Wolfze blinked. “Pine nuts?”

Qibai mimed a cone shape with his hands. “The cones on pine trees. Sometimes they’ve got edible seeds inside.”

North of Sweet Potato Hill lay a vast pine forest that Qibai had been eyeing for weeks. Of course, not every cone held nuts—they’d have to check.

Wolfze had seen the cones before but had never thought of eating them; they smelled strange. Still, if Qibai wanted to try, he wouldn’t refuse.

After finishing breakfast and feeding the ducks and Chuan Chuan, Wolfze fetched his saddle. The pine forest was farther than Sweet Potato Hill, too far for them to walk in human form.

Transforming into his beast form, he secured the saddle and flicked his tail with excitement.

Qibai was about to shift as well when a massive tail coiled suddenly around him.

Laughing, he dodged. “What are you doing?”

The white wolf crouched in the snow, tail sweeping Qibai up toward his broad back—not into the usual bamboo basket, but onto his fur-covered spine itself.

From a nearby window, two elderly horned beastmen chuckled, watching the scene. One raised a hand in encouragement, as if urging Qibai to climb on.

Then it struck him: a beastman’s back was a seat reserved for one’s mate. Heat rushed to his ears.

While he was distracted, Wolfze seized the chance, lifting Qibai with his tail and depositing him onto his back.

In an instant, Qibai was sprawled against the white wolf’s broad body. Wolfze had grown again—at this rate, Qibai thought, he could practically roll around on him.

Awkwardly, he gripped two tufts of fur for balance.

The wolf paced a few steps, ensuring Qibai was steady, then leapt high—soaring clean over the tribe’s wall.

Qibai let out a startled yelp as they landed smoothly in the snow beyond, before Wolfze bounded swiftly into the forest.

Pressed against the thick white fur, Qibai felt the warmth of skin beneath, his palms sinking into the softness. For a moment, it was as though he and Wolfze were one, sharing in the sheer joy of the run.

Wolfze howled into the cold air, voice echoing off the hills.

Half an hour later, his pace slowed. They had reached the towering pines.

Sliding down, Qibai tilted his head back. The trees stretched skyward, at least fifty meters tall.

On Blue Star, harvesting pine cones was dangerous work. Trees were too tall and too branched for most tools, and accidents were common.

So Qibai had come prepared with a long rope. His plan: shift into snow leopard form, climb up, secure the rope, and then the two of them could harvest safely. Leopards were born climbers, but even as a snow leopard, his specialty wasn’t climbing—it was surviving falls. “What’s a drop of a few dozen meters?” he thought. “I can take it.”

Wolfze only chuckled. “Why do you always want to tie me up with rope?” Clearly he remembered their first fishing trip at Cannibal River.

Still in his fur coat but barefoot, Wolfze suddenly transformed his hands and feet. Sharp claws sprouted, driving into the bark like steel nails. Effortlessly, he began scaling the tree.

Qibai clapped in admiration. This partial transformation—so practical—was as if made for pine nut gathering.

But before Wolfze climbed too high, Qibai called out, “Wait!” He found a fallen branch in the snow and held it up. “Use this to knock the cones down.”

Taking it, Wolfze resumed climbing, soon disappearing into the canopy. Snow began to shower from above, shaken loose by his movements. Qibai ducked aside just in time as cones rained down along with the snow.

Picking one up, he struggled to pry it open, finally revealing dark brown seeds nestled deep inside. Pine nuts.

He popped one into his mouth. The taste was faintly bitter, closer to raw walnut than the roasted nuts he remembered from before, but edible all the same.

Excited, he shouted upward, “Wolfze! There really are pine nuts in here. Let’s gather as many as we can and roast them later!”