Chapter 55

Lately, the tribe had been bustling with activity.

The orc hunting party was split into two rotating teams. Ever since they discovered salt, the hunters had been going on longer trips, each taking about four days for a round trip. While one team was out hunting, the other had at least four days of free time back at the tribe.

But even during their off days, the orcs didn’t really rest. Some took turns patrolling either in the morning or the afternoon, but with the remaining half of the day to themselves, they were far from idle. Most of them spent that time chopping wood…

Everyone in the tribe was busy making doors.

Zhuo Yan’s uncle, Ah Sen, along with Lin Rong, came to visit after seeing the wooden door Zhuo Yan had built for his own home. Inspired, Ah Sen and his orc companions ventured into the forest to select a large tree to use for materials. Meanwhile, Lin Rong teamed up with Xiao Feng to craft wooden hinges. Of course, he brought along his two cubs—little leopards just shy of three months old. Their blue eyes had already cleared, revealing round, adorable faces and oversized paws. Soon enough, those paws would be big enough to smack down prey with a single blow.

In short, they were irresistibly cute with their round heads, ears, and eyes.

Zhuo Yan adored them, and truthfully, he hoped Lin Rong would visit every day to work on the hinges. Lin Rong noticed this and couldn’t help but smile at how openly Zhuo Yan enjoyed their company.

“He really loves Xiao Xian and Xiao Pan,” Xiao Feng whispered.

Lin Rong nodded. It was obvious. Every time he visited, Zhuo Yan would immediately stop whatever he was doing to chat for a bit, and soon enough, his attention would drift to the cubs. He’d even ask if he could hold them.

Of course, Lin Rong always said yes.

Zhuo Yan would pick up each cub in turn, rubbing their ears and heads. The cubs adored him just as much, rolling onto their backs to expose their bellies, purring loudly. It was clear: they loved being around Zhuo Yan. Despite not having any cubs of his own, he was better at handling them than even Lin Rong himself.

Zhuo Yan relished the moment, cuddling the soft, furry cubs. Their little voices let out playful mews, and when one was being petted, the other would flop over with limp limbs, snuggling closer to his arm, tail curling around him. “Pet me too!” they seemed to say.

It was pure joy.

Two fluffy cubs, vying for his attention. Who could resist?

Luckily, A-Yin wasn’t around today, so Zhuo Yan could indulge in his “cub cuddles” without distraction. When he finally lifted his head, he realized Lin Rong and Xiao Feng had been watching him the whole time. He was sure there was still a goofy grin on his face, so he coughed to cover his embarrassment, putting on a serious face. “Uh… do you need help with something?”

“No, not really,” Xiao Feng chuckled. “I’m just curious how you’re so good with cubs, especially since you don’t have any of your own.”

Zhuo Yan felt a bit proud, and maybe just a tad smug. “It’s all about technique. I practice a lot with A-Yin.”

Lin Rong and Xiao Feng exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of realization and amusement.

“…” Zhuo Yan quickly realized they were misunderstanding something. He clarified, “No, no! I mean, when I found A-Yin, he was still very young, like a cub. He was weak and often sick, so I comforted him by stroking him to ease his pain.”

“Ah, I see,” Lin Rong nodded in understanding.

Xiao Feng, looking a bit sheepish, realized where his mind had wandered and shifted uncomfortably.

Seeing their expressions, Zhuo Yan knew they had been thinking something entirely different. He was just glad he caught on fast enough to save face.

Not wanting the conversation to linger on “techniques,” Zhuo Yan changed the subject, mentioning he was preparing materials for smoked meat that afternoon and had invited Aman Qiao and a few others to join. He asked if Lin Rong and Xiao Feng wanted to help.

“Smoked meat? You mean curing it with salt?” Xiao Feng asked, curious.

Zhuo Yan explained the process briefly. Besides salting the meat, he planned to use cypress leaves for smoking it. The first wave of hunters had already been out for two days, and they would likely return with a large haul of meat in another two. He wanted to have everything ready to preserve it properly for the winter.

Lin Rong admitted he had never tried smoked meat, and Xiao Feng was curious if it would last longer than simply salting it.

“Definitely. It will preserve better and taste even better than just salting,” Zhuo Yan assured them, explaining the steps. He planned to build a smoking rack that day. Yesterday, A-Yin and a few others had brought back some thin branches that would work perfectly for the structure. A-Yin had also gone out to fetch cypress branches with his friends.

Although Ah Hui wasn’t officially part of A-Yin’s group, he had been following A-Yin around ever since losing a sparring match to him. Now, with the discovery of salt, Ah Hui was more than eager to assist in any way possible, especially if it meant working alongside A-Yin.

Zhuo Yan figured it was only fair to invite Ah Hui’s family to join in preparing the smoked meat as a gesture of goodwill, especially since this would help with food storage for the winter.

The tribe’s kiln area was perfect for this—where they did all their crafting. Charcoal making, pottery, salt boiling, and now smoking meat. The open space near the water source had shade from trees, a large work area, and even a shelter built nearby.

Lin Rong and Xiao Feng were quick to agree to help.

Although they didn’t fully understand the process of smoking meat, they trusted Zhuo Yan’s judgment. By noon, the group was ready, carrying baskets and tools to the meeting spot. Lin Rong brought along his half-finished wooden hinge, and, of course, his two cubs, who clung to him excitedly. One cub, full of energy, perched on his shoulder while the other eagerly tried to jump into Zhuo Yan’s arms.

Zhuo Yan reached out to catch the cub, but then spotted A-Yin approaching from a distance. Immediately, he pulled back his hands, laughing awkwardly. “Xiao Xian, be good. Let your Uncle Xiao Feng carry you, okay?” Zhuo Yan smiled, though internally he was well aware that A-Yin was always a little… possessive.

Every time Zhuo Yan finished cuddling the little leopard cubs, A-Yin would demand extra attention, even flipping over to let Zhuo Yan pet his belly. However, there had been one particular time when, while rubbing A-Yin’s belly, Zhuo Yan had accidentally glimpsed something he wasn’t expecting to see.

It wasn’t his fault—A-Yin had just… exposed himself.

Being part feline, A-Yin’s anatomy wasn’t exactly a mystery, but it was small, subtle—like when his own pet silver cat used to show tiny glimpses during certain moods. Zhuo Yan had once read that larger male felines, like big cats, had barbs on their members, though small, they were critical for ensuring mating success.

But back to the point: that day, Zhuo Yan had been caught off guard. What started as playful, innocent belly rubs had quickly turned into something far more awkward. He’d immediately felt like a total creep.

That simple, playful interaction suddenly felt loaded with a different energy, and Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but reflect on it afterward. Sure, A-Yin was an orc, but he was also capable of human thought and emotions. Zhuo Yan couldn’t just treat him like a pet or a big cat forever.

They were equals, no doubt about it, and that meant respecting Silver’s privacy, even in his thoughts. And besides—Silver wasn’t so small anymore.

Probably because he wasn’t just a big cat.

From then on, Zhuo Yan made sure to set boundaries during their playful moments and avoid making Silver jealous. Sure, the little cubs were adorable with their fluffy fur, but they belonged to others. Silver was his brother. He didn’t want Silver feeling hurt, thinking he was no longer cute just because he’d grown bigger and his brother now liked the cubs more. And if he tried to soothe Silver by petting him again, what if that just made Silver more upset?

That would only create a weird, endless cycle.

So, when Silver wasn’t around, Zhuo Yan allowed himself to play with the cubs. But in front of Silver, he remained the serious and dependable older brother.

Truly, it was a selfless sacrifice. Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but feel proud of his own restraint.

It was no small feat to resist the urge to pet those adorable leopard cubs.

Lin Rong and Xiao Feng exchanged knowing smiles as they watched Xiao Pan, the lively cub, bounce around. They could both see just how much Zhuo Yan doted on Silver. And it was equally clear how possessive Silver had become.

In their tribe, it was common for beastfolk to be possessive of their mates, but not usually towards cubs—especially the ones who hadn’t yet shifted into human form.

Silver, carrying branches of cypress, dropped them by the pile and bounded over to his brother, tail wagging. Zhuo Yan crouched down just in time to avoid being tackled, giving Silver’s fluffy ears a ruffle. He had no idea how guilty he looked.

Silver, happily ignoring the faint scent of other cubs on his brother, frolicked beside him, carefree as ever.

The two played for a while.

To the others, they looked like a pair of brothers, close and affectionate as ever.

Zhuo Yan finally stood up, clearing his throat. “Alright, let’s get to it,” he said. A few others, including Aman, had already gathered, watching him with curiosity. Silver was becoming more and more clingy lately. He had worked all morning, and Zhuo Yan felt it was only right to reward him with a bit of affection.

A small mountain of fresh cypress branches was stacked beside them, no need to dry them out—they were meant for smoking, not drying the meat.

Several sub-beastfolk had arrived, including Ah Hui’s mother. It hadn’t always been this way. When Zhuo Yan first started talking about smoking meat, many were skeptical, reluctant to trust a new method for preserving meat during the harsh winter. But now, after his success with pottery and salt-making, the tribe trusted him. Even those who had never heard of smoking meat were eager to learn and give it a try.

That meant fewer racks for drying meat.

Some of the beastfolk went off to cut more trees.

Meanwhile, the sub-beastfolk began building triangular frames. It was a simple task: strip the branches of their leaves and trim the trunks. The thicker branches were used for the supports, two poles dug into the ground and crossed at the top to form an X. Another horizontal beam was placed across the top, creating a sturdy frame about a meter tall. With a single tree, they could make one complete rack.

By the end of the afternoon, they had set up eight long meat racks, spaced a meter apart, next to the kiln. The cypress branches were piled neatly nearby. The following day, they made a few more racks, but once the space was filled, they stopped.

Any leftover wood was put to good use—either taken home for cooking or left behind to fuel the charcoal fires after the meat was smoked.

On the third day, Zhuo Yan and the others began to prepare the salt for seasoning. Ideally, they’d use spices like cinnamon, star anise, and dried orange peels to give the meat a rich flavor. But for now, Zhuo Yan settled on the leaves of a local berry bush that had a faint fruity aroma. They gathered the leaves, cleaned them, and dried them. Along with fresh garlic shoots, they added these to the salt.

That evening, the hunting party returned. The clan leader led the group, knocking loudly to announce their arrival. The whole tribe gathered for the distribution of meat. This time, they had caught four long-necked deer.

Zhuo Yan and Silver went to take a look. The creatures resembled giraffes but were bulkier, with shorter necks and sturdy limbs. They also had short antlers, unlike the ones he’d seen in the zoo back home.

The tribe named animals based on their physical traits. If a creature had prominent horns, it was often called a horned ram, horned deer, or even a one-horned ox. Those with large tusks were dubbed tusk pigs or tusk elephants. Zhuo Yan had only heard stories of these last ones—massive creatures with sharp tusks that made them even harder to hunt than the gray elephants. The tribe had only ever managed to catch a tusk elephant calf, and even then, it had taken their combined efforts.

But back to the present—three swift moves and the beastfolk had skinned and butchered the deer. The elders carefully portioned out the meat, ensuring everyone got their share.

Zhuo Yan and Silver received over 200 pounds of meat.

“We’re getting our meat early this year. Must be all that extra salt we’ve got,” Joe commented confidently.

Shitou nodded in agreement. Aman added, “Last year, it took until the weather got cold before we had enough big game. Any earlier, and the meat would spoil.”

“Exactly,” the others chimed in.

The clan leader understood the importance of sustainability. In the spring, the tribe didn’t hunt too aggressively, ensuring that the local wildlife populations remained stable. They only ate until they were about seventy percent full most days, allowing the animals to repopulate.

Zhuo Yan had often thought that it was similar to large-scale farming back home. His own tusk pig farm was now self-sufficient. If he ever decided to start raising animals for meat, he’d have to keep this balance in mind—no modern-style confinement farming here. He’d need to adapt to the land.

And it would be best to have the beastfolk patrol the area, acting as a deterrent to predators, like with his rabbits and tusk pigs.

After receiving more meat than they could handle, Zhuo Yan and his friends agreed to meet at the smokehouse at dawn to begin smoking the meat. It was a busy season, with no time to waste. Everyone needed to prepare for winter, and that meant a lot of hard work in the autumn.

After distributing the meat that day, the chief called out to Zhuo Yan and mentioned that he had arranged for some orcs to deliver salt to the wolf and tiger tribes. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t have time to send any to the lion tribe this year as it was too far.

The messengers, traveling in pairs with half baskets of salt wrapped in hides, set off in different directions. It would take them a little over two weeks to reach the wolf tribe, and nearly three weeks to reach the tiger tribe. The chief was confident they’d return before the winter snows.

Zhuo Yan was moved by the chief’s thoughtfulness and sense of justice. Their tribe no longer had to worry about salt, and the food for the winter was steadily being prepared.

“If it weren’t for you, Zhuo Yan, I wouldn’t have dared to send people out just before winter,” the chief said warmly. “Our tribe has plenty of food this year, especially with those tubers you had us plant after the rainy season—what did you call them again, potatoes? A good name.”

“And I trust your smoked meat will last well into the winter.”

The leopard tribe’s abundance made the chief feel confident enough to help the other two tribes. Zhuo Yan admired his leadership; the four tribes of the plains should look out for one another.

The next morning, the entire tribe was up before dawn. Today, the orcs joined the work instead of hunting—they all wanted to help with preserving the meat. The sub-orcs carried the meat, or had their partners help them, down to the riverbank.

They began applying the pre-prepared salt mix to the meat. The process wasn’t unfamiliar to the sub-orcs, as they had stored meat similarly before, though this time the salt had been roasted with fragrant berry leaves, giving it a special touch.

Once the meat was salted, it was wrapped in hides and left aside. As moving the large quantities back and forth was cumbersome, they decided to shorten the salting process to five days instead of the ideal ten, as there was simply too much meat to handle.

While the meat was salting, some orcs even slept at the smokehouse to guard it. On the second day, they reapplied another layer of salt, and by the fifth day, it was finally time to begin smoking.

Before smoking, the meat was rinsed in cold water to remove any excess salt. Four large stone cauldrons of boiling water were prepared, and Shitou, with the stronger sub-orcs, threaded the meat strips onto thick vines. Xiao Xian, copying Zhuo Yan’s earlier actions, briefly dipped each piece of meat into the boiling water.

“No need to cook it, just a quick dip, count to five,” Zhuo Yan instructed. This helped the meat absorb the flavors better and made it less salty.

The meat was then hung on racks to air-dry. Under Zhuo Yan’s direction, the sub-orcs worked like a well-oiled machine, each with a clear task. The earlier racks weren’t enough for the massive quantity of meat, so in the days leading up to smoking, the orcs had built even more.

By evening, the racks were fully laden, and the meat had air-dried sufficiently. The group placed fresh cypress branches beneath the racks and started the fires. The wet, green branches didn’t catch fire easily but instead produced thick smoke, which quickly filled the air around the riverbank and smokehouse.

For many of the sub-orcs, this was their first time seeing this method of preserving meat, and they watched in awe and excitement.

“Will this really work?”

“I think so! We’ve salted it well, and now it’s just smoking.”

“What does smoked meat taste like?”

“No idea, it’s my first time too!”

One sub-orc commented, “Hey, don’t waste that water we washed the meat in—it’s still salty. We could use it to make soup.”

Another agreed, “Yeah, let’s save some.”

Aman overheard the conversation and added, “You could let it settle for a while, then boil off the water, and you’d get salt.”

“What does ‘settle’ mean?”

“It just means letting it sit.”

Some of the sub-orcs started trying this out, but Zhuo Yan soon intervened. “You can’t just settle meat water like that—the sediment is full of impurities. It’s a waste!”

Aman, a little bewildered, asked if he was wrong. Zhuo Yan explained, “Saltwater doesn’t work like that. You need to filter out the impurities, not just let it sit. The salt is dissolved in the water, not sitting at the bottom.”

But it was too late—the water had already been discarded, leaving behind nothing but the impurities. Zhuo Yan sighed, though it wasn’t a big loss. Besides, using the wash water for salt wasn’t exactly hygienic.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, the air was filled with a strange, enticing aroma—a mix of meat, smoke, and cypress wood. More orcs began to gather around, curious about the process.

Some of the sub-orcs had found their partners and stood together, talking quietly.

“We worked all day. Zhuo Yan says the smoked meat will last longer and won’t spoil.”

The orcs nodded, trusting him. “If Zhuo Yan’s behind it, I believe it. I can smell it too—this is different from the usual preserved meat.”

“I smell it too. It’s… a new scent, but it’s good.”

In the past, preserved meat was never anything special. It was merely salty, often spoiling after long storage. Eating it was purely for survival, not for enjoyment. But this—this was different.

“Smells amazing,” someone muttered.

As night fell, torches were lit around the smokehouse. Under the flickering light, the meat hanging from the racks took on a golden-orange sheen, the outer layers slightly hardened from the smoke.

“When will it be ready?” someone asked.

“You can eat it with soup or roast it with potatoes—just don’t add more salt, there’s plenty in the meat already,” Zhuo Yan explained. “It’ll be ready after smoking until midnight. Tomorrow morning, you can take it home and let it air-dry in your caves for another ten days. Then, it can be stored in baskets or on mats for the winter.”

With the moisture drawn out, the meat became easier to preserve. It was a far cry from the old days when the tribe simply piled their cured meat in a corner without proper drying, hoping that it wouldn’t spoil. Of course, some clever beastmen would spread the meat out, but that was the exception, not the rule.

“I get it now,” one beastman said.

“I’ll go back and make a rack in my cave,” another suggested.

“But there’s no room in your cave!”

“I can hang it outside on the trees using vines, and then bring it in once it’s dried.”

“Smart!” Zhuo Yan nodded in approval, impressed by the initiative.

The beastman beamed at Zhuo Yan’s praise, feeling accomplished.

That night, a few beastmen stayed behind to keep watch, while the others returned to their caves, figuring out how to hang vines from the trees. By dawn the next day, everyone was eager to collect their meat. Thanks to the smoking process, the meat was firm and appeared smaller and lighter, so no one would suspect Zhuo Yan or anyone else had taken any.

After all, it was a group effort; everyone had pitched in to help smoke the meat.

Just as the first batch of smoked meat was being transported back to their caves, the hunting party returned with a new haul—mountains of fresh meat!

Zhuo Yan was taken aback!

Lately, his dreams were filled with thoughts of smoked meat and endless work. He even felt like he smelled of smoked meat, and he hadn’t even begun weaving the rush mats for his cave, let alone planting bamboo rice.

For the next month, the entire tribe would find themselves in a rhythm; Zhuo Yan’s smoked meat production had become a well-oiled machine. He didn’t have to think about it anymore—his body moved on instinct, executing commands automatically.

Everyone else was equally busy—except for the pups, of course.

The beastmen hunted, chopped wood for doors, and carried back cypress branches, all physical labor. The beastwomen divided the meat, threaded strings, rubbed in salt, dried, and smoked it.

Amidst all this chaos, they still managed to build railings and ropes for their caves.

Zhuo Yan opted to hang ropes at the entrance of his cave, using a crooked tree that stood strong. A month later, when he glanced up, he saw that it was completely covered in meat.

His crooked tree seemed to lean even more.

“Wow, we’ve stored so much meat in our caves this year.”

“Same here! Smoked meat is truly delicious. I couldn’t help but sneak some; it made a great soup!”

“Me too! It smells so good, but I’m afraid to eat too much—I want to save it for the snow season.”

“I never imagined we’d have this much meat stored already, so far from the snow season. Soon, we can enjoy fresh meat, and then when the snow comes, we’ll have smoked meat.”

Everyone shared this optimistic mindset. Zhuo Yan estimated that with each cave holding at least 300 pounds of meat, considering a snow season lasting 90 days and an average consumption of three pounds per day—plus potatoes and taro—they would be well set. For the beastmen, who were more sedentary during the cold, this was more than enough.

Larger families had even more.

Zhuo Yan guessed the chieftain had calculated all of this, as the temperature continued to drop, and the hunting teams weren’t as successful as before. Now that everyone was enjoying fresh meat, the smoking process had finally come to an end. The racks were dismantled, and the beastmen carried them to the main cave for use next year.

In short, nothing was wasted.

Zhuo Yan thought he could finally take a breather when Qiao asked him to help weave mats the next day. The grass by the river had grown waist-high, and with the weather perfect for drying, he would need to get started.

“…Oh, I’m so tired.” With tears in his eyes, Zhuo Yan sighed, “A-Yin, can you give me a back rub?”

He lay on the stone bed. A-Yin had perfected this ‘massage’ over the past month, feeling sorry for her brother, who worked so hard every day. Lifting her paws, she delicately used her pads to rub his back, and Zhuo Yan would sigh in delight.

When she heard the command, A-Yin’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. Her naturally blue gaze shone brighter, her ears perked up, resembling a little puppy.

Sometimes, it was easy to see why Zhuo Yan thought of her as his little dog—she acted like one in the most literal sense.

Little puppy A-Yin now squatted on the stone bed, carefully placing her front paw on her brother’s shoulder. Zhuo Yan let out a blissful sigh. “Right there! Press a little harder!”

“Move a bit higher.”

A-Yin’s pads were slightly rough, but they felt wonderful against his skin.

“Don’t forget my lower back, too!”

A-Yin obediently worked her way down from his shoulders to his lower back, her gaze darting to his backside, but she knew he wouldn’t let her touch there. So, she focused hard on massaging his back.

Zhuo Yan felt the day’s fatigue melting away, sinking into a drowsy state. He could even feel A-Yin’s tongue wetting his back, but he was too tired to push her away, mumbling “no” softly in his sleep.

A-Yin enjoyed giving her brother massages. Once Zhuo Yan was asleep, she gave his back a gentle lick, her gaze once more landing on his backside. Her blue eyes darkened slightly, but recalling that Zhuo Yan didn’t want her to touch there, she redirected her focus and continued massaging his shoulders—time for round two!

She worked diligently to make her brother feel good.

The next day, Zhuo Yan woke up late, feeling completely rejuvenated. His back didn’t hurt anymore, and his shoulders felt great. He stretched, his eyes meeting A-Yin’s, and he cupped her face in his hands.

“Thank you, A-Yin. You must have massaged me for quite a while last night.” He felt relaxed, all his muscles limber.

A-Yin yipped happily, insisting it wasn’t hard work; she loved massaging her brother and looked forward to doing it again that night.

That day, Zhuo Yan planned to weave mats by the river, while A-Yin and her friends went on a short hunting trip—a safer option for young beastmen.

After three days of weaving mats with his friends by the river, everyone shared stories while working. The tribe had leftover wood from making doors, and when they heard Zhuo Yan mention making racks and tables, they all came to ask him about it.

Zhuo Yan realized he had forgotten to make furniture for his cave!

Ahhhhh! When will winter come? The days leading up to the snowy season are dragging on, and I can hardly bear it! Right now, I can’t wait for winter so I can curl up on my stone bed like a lazy fish, eat, sleep, eat some more, and when I get bored, go outside to watch the snow or catch fish in the river.

“Shelves? Are they like the ones for hanging meat? Do we need to hang meat?” asked a newcomer among the sub-beastmen.

Zhuo Yan shook his head. “No, no,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “These are shelves for storing things. We can make them three levels high and a bit lower, or we can nail them to the cave wall. Just make small holes in the wall to fit some wooden sticks, leaving a bit sticking out. On top of those, we can put cups, pots, and bowls. If we don’t use wooden boards, they can also serve as hooks for hanging skins…”

This really didn’t take much effort—compared to the month-long ordeal of smoking meat, improving the cave’s comfort was a breeze.

The sub-beastmen who understood nodded in realization. “Zhuo Yan, you’re so clever!”

But those who didn’t get it looked utterly baffled. Zhuo Yan took a small stone and sketched a draft diagram on the ground, explaining as he went along, and soon everyone understood—it was indeed quite simple.

“Zhuo Yan, you’re amazing! How do you come up with these ideas?”

“I just lay on the stone bed and think,” he replied. “As we accumulate more stuff in the cave, we need space for meat and firewood. The skins and mats can go on the stone bed, and some old skins I don’t need will be used to cover the door from the winter winds.”

“I need to tear down the hay shed by my cave before winter and build a small stove inside. We need a table to eat at, so we don’t get too tired sitting down.”

Listening to Zhuo Yan, Shi Tou’s eyes sparkled with envy. His family also built a wooden door this year because all the other beastmen in the tribe were doing it, but unlike Zhuo Yan, who had made his cave clean and tidy, Shi Tou’s parents were too busy to manage that.

After finishing their wooden door, they had a little extra time these days to enjoy what Zhuo Yan called their “private nighttime activities.”

Da Yun had been brought out to play.

Shi Tou rested his chin on his hand, dreaming of how he would decorate his cave one day. Zhuo Yan would help him, and he’d learn how to do it himself—even if he didn’t know how yet.

“Zhuo Yan, if you make a wooden table or some boards, I’ll come help you! I want to learn,” Shi Tou declared.

“That’s great! Thank you, Shi Tou.” Zhuo Yan felt a swell of gratitude for his strong partner.

Aman and Qiao exchanged knowing glances and laughed. One wanted to learn, while the other assumed Shi Tou was helping out for the sake of their friendship—it was all good. Xiao Xian asked, “What are Qiao and Aman laughing about? I want to laugh too!”

Zhuo Yan turned to see Xiao Xian grinning widely, showing off his pearly whites.

He smiled back.

In the days that followed, the busy atmosphere eased a bit. But as the temperature dropped again and the morning and evening chill became significant, Zhuo Yan pulled out his fur blanket. The potato plants along the riverbank were lush, and the leaves of some trees in the mountains had begun to yellow.

His chestnut tree! His walnut tree! He discovered them during spring outings!

Zhuo Yan and his friends took A-Yin up the mountain to collect chestnuts. It was easy enough; A-Yin climbed to the top and shook the branches while Zhuo Yan shouted from below, “Stay back a bit!” as the spiny, furry chestnuts tumbled down.

“Zhuo Yan, these hurt! How do you eat them?” Xiao Xian had forgotten the previous instructions.

“Just gather them and let them dry out a bit. When winter arrives, we can roast them over a fire. Just crack them open with a rock, toss them into the flames, and once they’re roasted, peel off the shells to eat,” Zhuo Yan explained.

They arrived at the walnut trees a little late, finding the ground covered in fallen green husks, some already pecked by birds. Though they looked dirty and pockmarked, Qiao remembered Zhuo Yan saying that the green husks needed to be removed before cracking open the hard shell, so they should still be good, right?

“Perfect! That makes it easier for us to gather,” Qiao said.

The group loaded their baskets with chestnuts and walnuts, returning home to spread them out to dry at the cave entrance. Zhuo Yan seized the chance to expand his animal cave, staying busy all the while. Then one day, Shi Tou told him, “The potatoes and taro are ripe; we can go pick or dig them up!”

Zhuo Yan: !!!!!!

Help! Help! He longed for winter—during this short autumn, he had no idea how many times he had howled in nostalgia for the snowy season. Back when winter came, he would wish for spring to arrive, and now, he could barely wait for winter to begin.

But it wasn’t possible to slow down; everyone in the leopard-man tribe, like little squirrels, worked tirelessly this autumn, frantically hoarding food to prepare for the winter.

The entire riverbank area was wide and lengthy, filled with potato fields. Zhuo Yan’s naming had caught on, and now the tribe’s sub-beastmen called them the same. They even learned to distinguish between potatoes and taro, given that they had only planted potatoes.

In the jungle outside the river—closest to the tribe—there were wild ones. Previously, wild potatoes from more distant areas could barely sustain half the winter for the tribe’s sub-beastmen when mixed with meat.

But after planting this year, everyone discovered: Wow, there’s so much!

When they dug out the potatoes, they piled them into small mountains, each sub-beastman carrying basket after basket back to their caves. Standing inside, they gazed at the corner filled with food, their stashes of smoked meat still intact. Every face was lit with disbelief, and some sub-beastmen’s eyes even brimmed with tears.

They had never imagined that there would be a winter with such an abundance of food—like they wouldn’t go hungry…

“Zhuo Yan, there are so many potatoes!”

“I think we’ll have enough to eat this winter.”

“In the past, I always ate a little less, just enough to stave off hunger, so I wouldn’t starve.”

“This year, we have so much food in the cave.”

“Thank you, Zhuo Yan!”

Everyone gathered around Zhuo Yan to express their gratitude. He felt a bit embarrassed; originally, he just wanted to improve his cave, but everyone in the tribe was sincere and open, making it easy to build trust—even during the smoking meat process in spring, they had come to apologize and thank him.

Zhuo Yan didn’t have much of an opinion about Chun. He simply felt neutral; he neither disliked nor liked him. There was no way they could become friends, so he shared his thoughts.

“Zhuo Yan was very scared at that time; your intimidation might have killed him. I won’t dislike you, but I can’t be your partner.”

Maintaining a distant relationship as strangers in the tribe was enough.

Chun left shortly after arriving. Besides some group work, she didn’t seek out Zhuo Yan or Qiao. In time, she found new friends among the others, and they enjoyed playing, chatting, and working together.

Everyone in the tribe was straightforward and genuine, making their interactions refreshing and free of drama. There were no backstabbing or jealousy because Zhuo Yan was teaching them skills and gaining recognition. He had experienced that kind of targeting back in the company, especially when he was up for a promotion.

So, the smoothness of Zhuo Yan’s efforts was thanks to everyone’s cooperation.

“No need to thank us! I hope our leopard tribe continues to thrive and safely gets through the snowy season,” one of them said.

“Absolutely!” another chimed in.

“As long as we’re ready for the beast tide, we’ll be fine. I heard from my partner that there’ll be patrols during winter, arranged by the tribe leader. They’ll patrol every two or three days.”

“Zhuo Yan, your cave entrance is too exposed. It’d be better to find a big rock to block it. When the snow gets thick, it could block the entrance. If A-Yin struggles, my partner can help.”

“And we’ll all pitch in to move a big rock together!” they added.

Zhuo Yan smiled, accepting their kind suggestions. He realized that reinforcing their defenses was indeed a good idea. Hearing his agreement made the sub-beastmen even happier, as if he were helping them in return.

…Everyone was so lovable.

Amidst all this busyness, on a clear morning while they were out picking the last of the dudu fruit, Shi Tou remarked, “The grass is covered in frost.”

He seemed to have said something similar last year, and just a couple of days later, the first snow had fallen.

Zhuo Yan welcomed his second winter in the leopard tribe. Last year, he had been all alone, appearing strong as he tackled everything, but only he knew how he truly felt inside. He had thought about giving up and was afraid of pain, fearing that if he couldn’t make it through winter, it would be fate taking his life back, not wanting him to survive.

Then he found A-Yin, which had anchored him.

And now—

“A-Yin, this is our second winter! It’s going to be so much better than last year!!!”

Finally, he wouldn’t have to work endlessly anymore. Zhuo Yan couldn’t wait to lie back and relax like a lazy fish.