Chapter 140

Before they could smelt iron, Qibai first needed to build a bellows.

He crossed two thin wooden boards in the middle, forming four blades like a fan. A stick was fixed through the center as a shaft, and a rope was wound around the top. Just like pulling a hand drill, the shaft could spin, turning the blades and forcing air out.

But this time, instead of using the drill to ignite tinder, the goal was simply to create wind.

“All right,” Qibai said, “next we’ll bury the fan in a mound of clay.”

Deerfruit tilted her head. “Couldn’t we use broken pottery instead?”

Qibai asked, “Do we have anything the right size?”

“There are a few large pots with holes in the bottom. I’ll fetch them.” Deerfruit hurried off to the storeroom and soon returned with a heavy clay pot, inside which were two smaller jars.

As she’d said, the pots were intact in shape but useless—their bases were cracked. They couldn’t hold food or water, so she’d planned to smash them up and recycle the shards into clay for new pottery. But now, they had a new purpose.

Qibai’s eyes lit up. He pointed to the biggest pot. “Perfect.”

Since their bellows would be powered by hand, this pot—its base hole just the right size—was ideal.

They dug a shallow pit to fit it, placed the fan inside, and sealed the pot over it with packed clay. The shaft stuck out neatly through the top, while a small hole was cut in the side for the air outlet.

Now, when the fan spun, the trapped air could only rush out of that hole—making the airflow much stronger.

Qibai fitted one of the smaller jars over the outlet, turning it into a makeshift duct leading toward the furnace.

Crouching by the hole, Niu Xi held his palm out. His eyes widened. “There’s really wind coming out—amazing! What do we do now?”

Qibai pointed to the basket of rocks. “Smash those into smaller pieces first.”

Just then, a voice piped up at the doorway. “Oh! You’re all here.” Dog Nan stepped inside, clutching a small fur bag.

“Want to help us smash rocks?” Niu Xi asked cheerfully.

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to spin yarn.” Dog Nan opened her bag to reveal a ball of wool.

Spinning thread was easy enough, but knitting required delicate control. With their great strength, most beastmen struggled—too tight, too loose, or even snapping the yarn outright.

Dog Nan pouted. “I’m hopeless. My stitches are always uneven.”

Niu Xi winked at Qibai, then teased, “So, did the horned beastmen finish training early today?”

Dog Nan stiffened, clutching her knitting needles. “How do you know? You can’t see the square from here.”

Niu Xi grinned. “Easy guess. As soon as Wolf Ji and Fox Qiao went indoors, you bolted.”

Dog Nan’s chin lifted, but her shoulders soon drooped. “I don’t want to see him. Wolf Ji didn’t choose me as his mate—he’d only laugh at me.”

Qibai’s ears twitched. Him? That phrasing was interesting. Was she really hiding from Wolf Ji… or from Fox Qiao?

Logically, shouldn’t her attention still be on Wolf Ji? He’d rejected her, yes, but he hadn’t taken another partner this season. There was still plenty of winter left. Possibilities remained.

Qibai flicked Niu Xi a look that screamed gossip. Why hadn’t he mentioned this twist sooner?

But Niu Xi slapped his thigh and declared indignantly, “Exactly! Don’t let Fox Qiao mock you. I saw him sneaking glances at you yesterday.”

“That’s why I ran out,” Dog Nan said seriously. “Didn’t even give him a chance to speak.”

“Good for you!” Niu Xi praised.

Qibai almost choked. He’d thought Niu Xi was the voice of reason—but no, this was the second-to-last student trying to teach the last-place student. One blindly leading the other. No wonder Niu Xi was still single.

Deerfruit couldn’t help laughing aloud.

Unfazed, Niu Xi asked her, “What about you? Don’t you want another mate?”

She shook her head, smiling. “With Deerxia still so young, one child is plenty. You don’t even have a partner yourself—why worry about me?”

Scratching his head, Niu Xi muttered, “I eat too much. If I had a child now, I’d be afraid I couldn’t feed them. Better to wait until I’ve saved more food first.”

Qibai chuckled. For once, someone thinking about responsibility before children. A rare bit of foresight.

While they chatted, the rocks were crushed. Qibai built a small round furnace of bricks beside the bellows outlet, stacked wood beneath, and lit it. As he pulled the rope, the flames leapt tall, startling everyone.

Dog Nan shielded her yarn. “The fire—it’s alive!”

“Beast God above!” someone gasped.

“Don’t panic,” Qibai soothed quickly. “It’s not alive. I’m just feeding it air to burn hotter.”

Cautiously, Niu Xi peeked between his fingers. Sure enough, the flames rose and fell in rhythm with Qibai’s pulling. Relieved, he lowered his hands.

To beastmen, fire was sacred—a gift from the Beast God, mysterious and precious. Even though Qibai had taught them to drill sparks, sudden changes like this still rattled their instincts.

Deerfruit ran a hand along the clay pot. “So this is its purpose.”

Qibai nodded. “With stronger fire, we can finally heat stone hot enough to yield iron.”

Niu Xi’s eyes went wide. “So that’s why our cooking pots don’t crack—the fire’s never this hot!”

That wasn’t the full truth, but Qibai didn’t correct him. Curiosity and observation were enough; exact chemistry could come later.

They layered crushed ore over the flames, fanning steadily. Hours passed. By dusk, the fire died down, and Qibai poked aside the ash.

Niu Xi tapped a stone with a stick. “Looks the same to me.”

Deerfruit struck another with her hammer. It fractured instantly with fine cracks. She nodded. “No, he’s right. The rock’s definitely changed.”

“But where’s the iron?” Niu Xi frowned.

Qibai examined a cooled piece, mind racing. Natural iron never came pure—it rusted into oxides. Most likely, what they had was hematite, iron oxide. The key was reduction—removing oxygen at high heat.

That meant charcoal, not raw wood, and a hotter furnace. This setup still wasn’t enough.

Deerfruit and Niu Xi exchanged blank looks. They hadn’t understood his muttering about reduction and furnaces. But they saw the determination in his eyes and trusted he’d figure it out.

Dog Nan, meanwhile, had stopped following the whole process. But she was pleased—today she’d managed to knit an actual length of cloth. Progress was progress.

By nightfall, everyone was starving. Qibai hadn’t expected success in a single afternoon anyway. They left the stones buried in ash to revisit tomorrow.

When Qibai returned home, smoke was already rising from his chimney. Wolfze was back.

He had come early, finished the stone vat, hauled water from the waterfall, fed Chuan Chuan and the ducks, lit the stove, and warmed the kang—all before Qibai set foot inside.

Stepping through the curtain, Qibai was hit with warmth and the smell of food. For a moment, he felt as if he’d stumbled upon a mysterious spirit tending his home.

Only his “spirit” was a very tall, very solid man.

Wolfze reached out, ruffling his soot-stained face. “How’d you get this filthy?”

Qibai just laughed. Pulling at his fur coat, he leaned up and planted a kiss on Wolfze’s cheek—then mischievously rubbed his own sooty face against him until Wolfze wore the same gray streaks.

Qibai admired his handiwork. Even smudged with ash, Wolfze was beautiful. Maybe even more so.

Wolfze caught him back into his arms. Their lips met again, deeper this time. Neither meant for it to last so long, but soon their breath quickened, and bodies pressed too close.

Wolfze finally pulled back a step. He knew Qibai’s limits; he wouldn’t push further.

Eyes misty, Qibai cleared his throat. “Let me wash up. My hands are filthy.”

“Mm.” Wolfze fetched hot water, tempered with cool, and set it before him.

Only after rinsing off did Qibai settle to dinner—simple roasted meat and steamed sweet potatoes. Clearly Wolfze had been trying to copy his smoked meat rolls. The result was clumsy but tasty enough.

As they ate, Qibai chuckled. “You know, I don’t think Dog Nan dislikes Fox Qiao at all. Has he ever been clear with her?”

Wolfze shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t he be? Otherwise he’ll just keep missing his chance.”

Wolfze squeezed Qibai’s calf. “Let him stew.”

Qibai lay back on the kang, thoughtful. Wolfze washed the dishes, set them neatly aside, then prepared to leave. A warm hand caught his wrist.

Rubbing Qibai’s hair, he asked, “What is it?”

Neck flushed, Qibai muttered, “Stay tonight.”

Though officially mates, they hadn’t often slept together. For young beastmen, self-control was… difficult.

Wolfze hesitated. “Didn’t we agree—no mating?”

Qibai nearly combusted. “There are… other ways. I can teach you.”

Before he could regret saying it, Wolfze swept him up and carried him to the bedroom.

The curtain swayed, then fell still. Quiet, broken only by muffled breaths.

…

Later, a soft nudge to his forehead woke Qibai. He opened his eyes to Wolfze’s clear gaze—brown-black irises with a glint of deep blue. Beautiful, but carrying a dangerous edge.

Flustered, Qibai remembered every detail of last night. He yanked the furs over his head.

But hiding there felt no safer. He was secretly glad he hadn’t let things go too far; Wolfze’s strength was more than human—more than Qibai could handle.

Peeking out, he murmured, “It’s daytime…”

Wolfze didn’t see the difference. But if Qibai preferred the dark, well… he simply pulled the pelt higher, shutting out the light.

By the time Qibai scrambled free again, he suddenly remembered—he had class!

Throwing on his cloak, he bolted out the door, still flushed, leaving Wolfze lounging bare-chested in bed. Yesterday’s tireless housekeeper had turned into pure temptation overnight.

Racing to the schoolhouse, Qibai cursed inwardly. Beauty was a dangerous trap.

He steadied his breath at the wall, then walked in. The students were already murmuring over problems Rabbit Bud had written on the board in his absence.

“Thanks for covering,” Qibai said sheepishly.

She smiled. “They’d just arrived. But another few minutes and I’d have sent someone to fetch you.”

The thought mortified him. He promised himself never again.

Once the math problems were done, he began the day’s lesson: writing. He chalked the character 月 on the board, then drew a crescent moon beside it.

“Moon!” Leopard Star shouted immediately.

That was the magic of Chinese characters. Born of pictographs, many still resembled what they represented. Students could grasp them at a glance.

Next, he introduced the character 熊—bear—using Bearwind as the example.

At once, the big man seemed to shrink, slumping in embarrassment. Beside him, Mouse Lin groaned. He’d only just mastered writing “mouse,” and now his partner’s name required something as hard as “bear.”

Qibai laughed gently. “It’s not so bad. See? This is the head, the body, the four legs. Add a fire beneath—and you’ve got a bear.”

Sheep Ling frowned. “Why is Bearwind on fire?”

Caught off guard, Qibai faltered. He couldn’t very well explain metaphors like “raging flames.”

Tiger Meng raised his hand. “I know! When we first arrived, the biggest prey we caught was a black bear. We roasted it over fire—so of course the bear must be on flames, so we’ll always have food!”

“Right!” “Makes sense!” the others chorused.

Qibai blinked, then grinned. Well, if that explanation helped them remember, so be it.

By the end of class, Wolfze appeared quietly at the back, circling around to stand by the wall. From his cloak, he pulled out a bundle of meat and flashed it toward Qibai.

His stomach growled instantly. He’d skipped breakfast entirely, but he endured until the lesson ended before sneaking a bite.

When Deerfruit and Niu Xi joined them, they couldn’t help smiling at the couple’s closeness. Qibai blushed under their knowing looks and quickly tucked the rest of the food away.

“We’ve got to get back to the kilns,” he announced.

Wolfze immediately said, “I’ll come.”

Qibai shook his head. “No—you’ve training to oversee. Don’t forget, Tunquan and the others are still freezing out by the thorn pen. Focus on Chuan Chuan.”

Wolfze lingered, reluctant, until finally he left. Niu Xi sighed in admiration. “Didn’t think Wolfze could be like that with you.”

Qibai’s lips curved. To others, Wolfze was cold, taciturn. Only he knew the truth: underneath, he was as clingy as a giant wolf-dog.

Back at the kiln, they returned to work. Deerfruit and Niu Xi managed the pottery, while Qibai ground down yesterday’s roasted stones. Brittle now, they crumbled quickly into reddish powder.

“Stack the furnace higher with bricks,” Qibai instructed. “And today—no wood. We’ll use charcoal.”

Since moving into brick houses with chimneys, raw wood had sufficed for daily fires. But Deerfruit still knew the value of charcoal and kept stores ready. She fetched a basketful, explaining, “This is from zelkova branches. Burns long, clean, and without smoke.”

Qibai layered charcoal and red ore powder into the furnace, fanning the flames harder than before.

For days, they labored. Finally, on the third day, tiny flecks of metallic iron glimmered among the ashes.

Just then, voices rose outside.

Niu Xi peeked out. “It’s Chuan Chuan!”

Qibai saw their big four-eared ram being led to the stone sheep pen. Wolfze followed soon after, sleeves rolled, forearms corded with muscle, every inch the wild warrior.

Before long, he stepped into their workshop.

Pulling the fan rope, Qibai asked, “Shouldn’t you be training with the others?”

Wolfze sat down beside him and took over the rope. “Not necessary.”

“…?”

“I’ve divided the hunting party into squads. Each has a captain. The horned beastmen train the teams; the sub-beastmen practice fighting and evasion. Our squad’s job right now is just to keep an eye on Chuan Chuan. Xizhou and the others can handle it.”

Qibai glanced toward his sheep, suddenly suspecting it had been turned into an excuse—Wolfze’s perfect tool for skipping duty.