Chapter 57

Zhuo Yan simmered a pot of chicken soup, rich and fragrant, seasoned only with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of chopped green onions. The soup gleamed with a soft golden hue, having used half of a particularly large rooster—at least thirty to forty pounds.

He had left the other half on the makeshift stove outside, planning to save it for tomorrow.

All the chicken bits were carefully gathered in a large bowl, destined for a sizzling stir-fry later, generously laced with garlic to mask any lingering odors.

“A-Yin,” Zhuo Yan called out, not bothering to ask if A-Yin’s leg still hurt. He reached over to pat him, keenly observing his expression. A-Yin managed a smile; he looked like he was still in pain, but it seemed to have lessened.

Zhuo Yan felt a wave of relief wash over him. Any reduction in pain was a good sign.

“Let’s eat first. After dinner, I’ll heat some water and help you with your leg again.”

With that, the human and the leopard settled down for their meal. Zhuo Yan stoked the small stove, adding a couple of sticks of firewood, and placed the pot to the side. They sat at a nearby table, enjoying the warmth and light.

The chicken soup was savory, the meat tender enough to fall off the bone.

“Eat plenty of meat and drink your fill of soup. You need to be well-fed; we have enough food this year,” Zhuo Yan encouraged as he placed a chicken leg in front of A-Yin.

A-Yin whined softly, refusing to eat. “Brother, you have it. I’m fine!”

Zhuo Yan chuckled, “You’re sick and not feeling well; you should eat a little more. Once you’re better, we’ll share one each—there’s still plenty of chicken at home!”

A-Yin whined again, his resolve faltering. Zhuo Yan’s gentle teasing hit just the right note; he reached out to stroke A-Yin’s head. “Will you listen to your brother?”

“Woof~” A-Yin replied, looking down and finally starting to eat.

Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but smile, feeling triumphant.

Truthfully, he wasn’t all that hungry himself. Things had changed from before when he worked all day and quickly worked up an appetite. Now, he mostly cooked one big pot of food daily, reheating leftovers for dinner.

Afterward, he’d rest, sometimes grinding the teeth of the earth dragon beast, but often growing bored of that quickly.

In short, he consumed less these days and was not too hungry. After finishing his meal, Zhuo Yan used a small ceramic pot to melt snow and wash the dishes, then boiled another pot of snow water to help A-Yin with his legs. Once everything was taken care of, they climbed onto the stone bed to sleep, with Zhuo Yan wrapping A-Yin snugly like a rice dumpling.

“I’m tired; let’s take a nap.” The winter afternoon was perfect for sleeping.

A-Yin let out a soft whine. Once Zhuo Yan had drifted off, he carefully scooted closer, stretching out his tongue to give his brother a gentle lick. He just wanted to sleep next to him.

That night, the meal consisted of stir-fried chicken bits served with potatoes as the main course. Zhuo Yan set aside some mashed potatoes, figuring it would be too cruel to feed the chicken scraps to the chickens.

“A-Yin, stay put. I’m going to check on the chickens in the other cave,” he instructed.

Zhuo Yan grabbed the food and headed next door. The entrance that used to be a “haystack door” had been blocked by the snowstorm. As he cleared it, he heard rustling noises inside. When he finally opened it, he found the chickens and rabbits huddled in the far corner, shivering, especially the chickens.

After all, he had been wielding a knife there at noon to kill the rooster.

“…Well, what can I say? I’ve been butchering fish at Da Run Fa for ten years,” Zhuo Yan muttered, trying to remind himself to be cold and ruthless; his first priority was A-Yin. He hadn’t wanted to kill the chicken, especially since they had raised it for nearly a year.

Yet, he had been quick and merciless at noon.

“Eat up, eat up. I won’t take your lives today; we’ll deal with that later,” he said, pouring the mashed potatoes into a wooden trough and preparing hay for the rabbits while also setting aside grass for the pig nearby.

After finishing up, he closed the cave door and covered it with a haystack.

Looking at the animals in the cave, Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but ponder whether they would survive the winter. He reflected on his farming ambitions. Would he have to raise animals every spring and eat them during the snow season? It wasn’t impossible, but what if he wanted to expand his operations? The very thought made Zhuo Yan chuckle at the absurdity of his own grand ideas.

He was genuinely considering starting a farm in the primitive tribe.

To be honest, he had thought about it—just like the vast grasslands where herds of cattle and sheep grazed. But now was too early for such aspirations, and the tribal beastmen wouldn’t listen to him. They’d never allow him to manage their herding, let alone ensure they didn’t sneak bites of the sheep. Perhaps one day, if there were so many cattle and sheep that they couldn’t finish them all, it might actually turn into a farm.

After feeding the animals, Zhuo Yan decided to bring back the leftover half of the chicken from lunch, now frozen solid like a popsicle. The moment A-Yin saw him, his eyes sparkled with excitement. Zhuo Yan placed the chicken beside the stove and then climbed into bed to snuggle with A-Yin. “Lie down; I’ll give you a massage.”

A-Yin wagged his tail like a happy puppy, eagerly settling down.

Zhuo Yan began to demonstrate his skills, running his fingers through A-Yin’s fluffy fur. A-Yin instinctively let out soft purrs, feeling a bit shy. Zhuo Yan teased, “No need to be shy; there’s nothing wrong with it. You make noises too when you give me a massage.”

A-Yin howled playfully; Zhuo Yan was adorable when he made those sounds.

After their playful antics, they hopped off the stone bed to eat. The main dish was boiled potatoes, served with the chicken bits. The temperature was just right to eat, and Zhuo Yan roasted some chicken for A-Yin, who devoured it along with the bones, crunching them like crispy rice.

Once they finished eating and tidied up, Zhuo Yan heated water for washing and went to clear the snow accumulating at the cave entrance. He felt a twinge of worry about the bubble-leaf tree near the crooked tree back home, hoping it would still be there next year.

As night fell, Zhuo Yan and A-Yin each curled up in their respective nests. He gave A-Yin the thick bear hide, but later that night, a heavy snowstorm struck. The fire in the cave had long extinguished, leaving Zhuo Yan feeling cold, wrapped in the hide but still shivering involuntarily. He didn’t want to get up; there was no warmth in the bedding, and his feet were freezing.

A-Yin opened his blue eyes to look at his brother. His leg still hurt, but now it was not just his leg—his front paws ached too, and his whole body felt sore. A-Yin gritted his teeth against the pain, not wanting to wake Zhuo Yan, who had been busy all day.

He stretched out his paws to cover Zhuo Yan with his hide. After a moment, he crawled into Zhuo Yan’s bed, knowing that his brother wouldn’t mind; he could stay warm that way.

So…

Zhuo Yan dreamed he was ice fishing on a frozen river, shivering from the cold. The ice was cracking, and fish were about to break through the surface. He didn’t want his efforts to go to waste, so he waited patiently by the hole—just a little longer.

But instead of catching fish, he found himself at a hot pot, the spicy broth making him sweat profusely. Across the table sat A-Yin, and Zhuo Yan was accustomed to directing him to turn on the air conditioner. But to his surprise, A-Yin howled, saying he wasn’t hot and wouldn’t turn it on.

Zhuo Yan: …

This little one was being disobedient! His brother was almost melting into a puddle!

“If you won’t turn it on, I’ll do it myself.” Just as he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a fluffy face. A-Yin was grinding his teeth softly, sweat making his silver fur damp. Zhuo Yan reached out to touch him, instantly alarmed.

“A-Yin, are you running a fever?”

Wait, could a leopard even get a fever?

Zhuo Yan jumped out of bed and began checking A-Yin from head to toe. If it had been before, A-Yin would have opened his eyes the moment he woke up. But now, A-Yin kept his eyes shut, lightly grinding his teeth as if enduring excruciating pain.

“A-Yin? A-Yin?” Zhuo Yan called, his heart sinking with worry.

He quickly grabbed a small leather skirt to wrap around A-Yin and rushed to light a fire for boiling water. He wasn’t sure whether it was about cooling him down physically or if he was sweating—most likely cooling, since A-Yin’s fur was wet with sweat.

Zhuo Yan removed the hide from the stone bed, leaving only the grass mat. The cave temperature dropped, and he used the hide to soak up snow, placing it on A-Yin’s forehead. A-Yin let out a soft moan of discomfort. After a while, he opened his eyes, but they were red.

Zhuo Yan jumped back in shock, fearing A-Yin might end up a fool from the fever or go blind.

That night, Zhuo Yan didn’t sleep, constantly replacing the cool hide on A-Yin’s forehead. By morning, the snow had stopped outside, reflecting light into the cave. Zhuo Yan, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, looked at A-Yin and noticed his face appeared much calmer, less pained than before.

“A-Yin?” Zhuo Yan gently called.

A-Yin let out a weak whine, opening his eyes slowly to reveal a pair of blue irises.

Zhuo Yan sighed with relief, reaching to touch A-Yin’s forehead; it was no longer burning. “Thank goodness you’re okay.” With that, he decided to forgo sleep and grabbed his knife to kill a chicken—after all, they had only eaten a bit of the chicken yesterday.

A-Yin loved the chicken, leaving no bones behind.

The neighboring cave echoed with the sounds of clucking chickens, which soon quieted down. Zhuo Yan felt a pang of guilt.

After a flurry of activity, he heated water, plucked feathers, and removed the insides. He cut the whole chicken in half as usual—one half for boiling, the other for roasting, saving the bits for tomorrow’s stir-fry.

As the chicken soup bubbled with tantalizing aromas,

“Awoo~” A-Yin called out.

After a busy morning, Zhuo Yan felt a rush of happiness at the sound—it was strong and lively, a far cry from the pain and restraint of the night before.

“A-Yin, you’re awake? Let me check you out.”

A-Yin sprawled out, allowing Zhuo Yan to touch him freely. Zhuo Yan found it amusing as he checked, noting that A-Yin wasn’t as hot as the previous night. “Perfect timing; come eat. Let’s warm you up by the stove. You sweated so much last night; you need to fluff up your fur to avoid getting sick.”

Raising a child truly was an endless source of worry.

A-Yin whined affectionately, nudging his head against Zhuo Yan’s hand while stretching out his tongue to lick him. “Thank you for all your hard work, brother.”

Once again, the human and the leopard enjoyed chicken soup together. But today, A-Yin didn’t want chicken legs; instead, he chose other parts, proudly showing Zhuo Yan the chicken breast he was eating, signaling that he would take the breast while his brother could have the legs.

Zhuo Yan was so touched he nearly cried.

In the end, he devoured two chicken legs, enjoying the tender, slippery meat.

After their meal, he took a short nap. By evening, he roasted the leftover chicken, and throughout the day, A-Yin remained well, no fever, no pain in his bones. Zhuo Yan felt a sense of relief, but as night fell, A-Yin began to hurt and feel warm again.

Zhuo Yan: !!!

He nearly shouted at the cave entrance, directing his frustration toward the heavens: “If you’re going to take someone, take me instead! Don’t take my A-Yin!” (Just kidding).

“Maybe it’s best if no one takes either of them away. The two brothers have just begun to enjoy their good life, so why is it all so difficult? Although Zhuo Yan grumbled a bit, he was genuinely worried, having spent the entire night tending to things. By morning, A-Yin was feeling much better, and Zhuo Yan was back to his usual routine of killing chickens.

In this endless cycle, it was no wonder that the chickens in the neighboring cave now quaked at the sight of Zhuo Yan, while the rabbits and wild boars screamed and scurried away at the mere thought of him.

Zhuo Yan: The merciless killer.

That night, Zhuo Yan didn’t dare to sleep; he kept a watchful eye on A-Yin. Fortunately, A-Yin wasn’t burning with fever anymore and was in good spirits, constantly nuzzling against him and even trying to cover him with the fur blanket. Zhuo Yan, having endured several sleepless nights, was indeed exhausted, but seeing A-Yin doing well today made him a little less anxious. With cautious optimism, he spread out the bedding again and settled in.

“If you feel any discomfort, call me, A-Yin.”

“Do you hear me?”

“Don’t hold back; listen to your brother.”

“Be good now.”

After giving A-Yin a playful scare, he gently cupped the cub’s face and planted a kiss on his furry cheek. A-Yin responded with his usual playful howls, as if assuring Zhuo Yan everything was fine. Eventually, Zhuo Yan dozed off, half-asleep, and felt A-Yin shuffling beside him, weighing down the blanket as he burrowed in.

He wanted to remind A-Yin not to catch a cold, but all that came out was a sleepy murmur.

Understanding his brother’s meaning, A-Yin snuggled even closer, enveloping them both in warmth. Zhuo Yan had often told him that snuggling together was the coziest way to stay warm in winter. Tonight, his bones didn’t ache, and he didn’t need to wake his brother.

And so, they drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Zhuo Yan fell into a deep sleep, feeling completely relaxed after days of sleepless worry—he didn’t even dream, just basked in sweet rest.

Meanwhile, A-Yin found himself in a familiar dreamscape filled with rivers and towering trees, where leopards played freely, all eyes turned towards him. It was a place he had visited last winter when he collapsed in the grass.

But this time, he didn’t want to stay. He had his brother now, and that was all that mattered.

“Isn’t it nice here?”

“Not at all! It’s not nice here without my brother!”

“Your brother? You look almost grown up now, but still cling to him?”

A-Yin couldn’t understand the leopard’s words; no matter how grown he looked, his love for his brother remained unwavering. He wanted to be by Zhuo Yan’s side, to lick him and stay together forever.

“I want to go back! I want my brother!”

“Are you thirsty? Go drink from the river.”

“I’m not thirsty.” A-Yin said, drawn toward the glimmering water that sparkled like stars fallen from the sky. His brother would say it was beautiful.**

As he leaned in to lap at the water, he caught a glimpse of something startling in the reflection.

There’s someone in there—

Panicking, A-Yin plunged into the water, the cold enveloping him. He struggled to claw his way back to the surface, calling for the other leopards, but they ignored him, absorbed in their play. The water rose, submerging him completely.

“Cough cough—” A-Yin spluttered awake, still feeling the discomfort from the dream. He touched his throat, recalling how much water he had gulped down.

“Huh?”

In the darkness, A-Yin’s blue eyes fluttered open. A hand—smooth and hairless—was in front of him. His hands… had lost their fur! He was astonished to find himself entirely bare.

He quickly touched his head—there was still fur! A-Yin sighed in relief but grew anxious as he realized his ears were gone. No, he was becoming human!

He stretched out his arms, examining his hands, then cautiously extended his legs from beneath the fur blanket. They were indeed human legs. “Brother—”

The sound startled him. He had called out to his brother countless times in his mind, but this time he was speaking aloud.

A-Yin quickly covered his mouth; his brother was sleeping and shouldn’t be disturbed.

He observed for a while, feeling a little cold. His brother had told him to keep warm under the blanket.

So, A-Yin burrowed back under the covers, cuddling up close to Zhuo Yan. Their legs tangled together; without fur, his skin felt slippery against Zhuo Yan’s. Unable to resist, he rubbed against him and gazed at his brother with sparkling blue eyes.

He wanted to wait until Zhuo Yan woke up to tell him he had become human.

Embracing his brother, he couldn’t help but sneak in a gentle lick.

Zhuo Yan was so fragrant!

Zhuo Yan, meanwhile, drifted into a rather colorful dream—though the details were fuzzy, he felt wrapped in silk, the softness gliding over him, leading to some rather… stimulating sensations.

Before long, his cheeks felt damp, and his lips soft—

It was A-Yin licking him again. Zhuo Yan had grown accustomed to this and thought to himself that A-Yin licking him meant he had recovered from his illness. So, still half-asleep, he reached out to ruffle A-Yin’s head.

“Brother, touch me! I’ll wake up in a bit.”

But A-Yin’s fur felt a bit prickly today. Blinking sleepily, Zhuo Yan was startled to see a strange face staring back at him. Alarmed, he squeezed his eyes shut—was he still dreaming?

“Awooo! Awooo! Awooo!” A-Yin rolled over instinctively.

The sensation in the blanket sent shivers down Zhuo Yan’s spine—there was Aman pressing against him, rubbing against him.

Known conditions: fur blanket, no pajamas.

In other words, they were—

Zhuo Yan’s eyes shot open, and he leaned back in shock. The handsome stranger followed suit, closing the distance. Zhuo Yan shouted, “Don’t come near me!”

A-Yin paused, confused. “Awooo? Brother, it’s A-Yin!”

Zhuo Yan propped himself up, the blanket slipping away, revealing the glistening, hairless figure of the man before him. He remembered: were-beasts could see in the dark, and their vision was exceptional.

This man had silver hair, and his cries echoed eerily like A-Yin’s…

A-Yin instinctively crouched at the edge of the bed.

Zhuo Yan’s heart raced as he took in the sight before him—this couldn’t be happening! He must still be asleep and dreaming! When would this bizarre dream end?!”

The words sounded a bit familiar. Zhuo Yan felt a shiver run down his spine, and he pinched himself hard. Ouch, that hurt—this wasn’t a dream.

Early in the morning, the two men stared at each other in silence on the stone bed.

After a while, Zhuo Yan’s mind was still foggy as he studied the handsome figure before him. The man had silver hair and blue eyes, with cold, pale skin. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, with deep-set eyes and a sculpted nose—he was the epitome of a charming, mixed-race young man.

“Awwo, big brother!”

The blue eyes sparkled with urgency and warmth.

It seemed like… it really was A-Yin.

The entrance of the cave was locked tight; last night, Zhuo Yan had wedged a stick against the door to keep it shut, and no one had come in.

So it was just him and A-Yin in the cave… and this figure before him was indeed A-Yin!

Zhuo Yan struggled to process this reality. He quickly draped some fur over A-Yin’s body, noticing that A-Yin was lean and muscular—a typical youthful physique.

Seeing his brother cover him with the fur made A-Yin giddy with joy. He used to wag his tail, but now he lunged at Zhuo Yan, who was caught off guard and found himself pinned to the stone bed.

Zhuo Yan: Ah! What is happening?!

He felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his scalp.

“Wait, wait, A-Yin, not so close!” This feeling was too strange and terrifying, sending tingling sensations all over him. Zhuo Yan’s toes curled involuntarily.

A-Yin obediently paused but still clung to his brother, yearning to lick him.

Zhuo Yan: Ugh.

“Not allowed to lick yet.”

A-Yin rubbed his head against Zhuo Yan’s neck, gazing at him with pure, joyful eyes. Zhuo Yan wanted to say he shouldn’t rub against him either, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew A-Yin must be confused after his transformation, and he didn’t want to overwhelm him with restrictions.

“When did you change?” Zhuo Yan asked softly.

A-Yin’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he barked, “Awwo!”

Zhuo Yan realized that A-Yin, now in human form, was just as bewildered as he had been when he first transformed. He remembered when Da Yun first changed; he couldn’t walk and would crawl all over the place, only able to babble “awwo” instead of speaking normally.

“Did it happen last night?”

A-Yin nodded vigorously, trying to form the words “big brother” as if he had practiced countless times.

Zhuo Yan felt a surge of affection for his transformed brother. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Brother, sleep, awwo—”

“Sleep,” Zhuo Yan repeated, teaching him the pronunciation.

A-Yin got flustered and howled, but he pronounced “brother” perfectly. Zhuo Yan felt warmth in his heart. “Does anything still hurt?”

“Ugh~” A-Yin suddenly sprawled out, inviting Zhuo Yan to check.

Zhuo Yan’s eyes darted around in confusion, feeling an overwhelming need to hide his surprise.

“I’ll take a look; just stay covered.” He pulled the fur around A-Yin and cleared his throat, then gently squeezed his arm. “Does this hurt?”

A-Yin shook his head. “No, brother.”

“Good. You just transformed; you should rest in bed for a few days and drink plenty of soup to recover. You’ve been through a lot.” Zhuo Yan babbled as he got up from the stone bed, prompting A-Yin to follow.

“Be a good boy and listen.”

A-Yin shrank back under the covers, nodding. “Brother, Ah Awoo talk.”

“Such a good boy.” Zhuo Yan ruffled A-Yin’s hair, which was indeed silver. It felt a bit coarse but was adorably fluffy and shoulder-length—if it were on someone else, it might seem disheveled.

But on A-Yin, it was anything but messy, mainly due to his stunning face.

To be honest, Zhuo Yan had also been called a little handsome guy while growing up in modern times, praised for being cheerful, sporty, and a good youth—positive and vibrant.

But there was a significant difference between being a little handsome and being extraordinarily beautiful.

A-Yin’s face—Zhuo Yan caught another secretive glance while adjusting his fur skirt and was met with those blue eyes staring right at him. Clearing his throat, he said, “Alright, A-Yin, you should sleep a bit. I’ll make us some food.”

“Awwo~” A-Yin settled back down but kept his gaze on Zhuo Yan.

Zhuo Yan thought about how A-Yin’s face was the kind that would have been revered worldwide before beauty standards dropped—he looked like a male celebrity with youthful charm.

In their tribe, they had seen beastmen in human form, but none had been as strikingly beautiful as A-Yin, who stood out with his silver hair and blue eyes. Most others had brown hair and hazel eyes, their faces shorter with thick eyebrows and deep-set eyes—handsome but conventional.

As for the younger ones, like Aman’s younger brother, even without their mischievous personalities, they still looked cute and childlike, reminiscent of their beast forms with their round ears, round faces, and big, adorable eyes.

Zhuo Yan wrapped himself in the fur skirt, still feeling dazed—it was too much to process so early in the day. He kept flipping through thoughts about A-Yin’s looks and how he had suddenly transformed into a human, his mind a chaotic jumble.

He needed some fresh air to clear his head.

As he opened the door, snowflakes fluttered down outside. Zhuo Yan sneezed, and he heard A-Yin howl from the stone bed, making him rush back in and say, “It’s fine! I’m just throwing on my fur, and I’ll start boiling some water for a wash.”

“Aw~”

Zhuo Yan gathered some snow to melt for hot water, and as he worked, A-Yin lay obediently on the bed, watching him. In the past, he would see A-Yin as a cute puppy, but now, at a glance, he saw a strikingly handsome young man with blue eyes focused on him.

It was a bit overwhelming.

Zhuo Yan muttered to himself, getting used to the fact that this was A-Yin, and not someone else.

On the bed, A-Yin perked up, excitedly raising his head when he heard Zhuo Yan call his name repeatedly.

Zhuo Yan glanced over…

He averted his gaze silently, realizing that A-Yin needed a fur skirt.

Once Zhuo Yan melted the snow and prepared hot water, the two of them washed up. Zhuo Yan said, “I’ll cut you a piece of fur to wrap around yourself while I fix your hair.”

“Awwo~” A-Yin nudged his head against Zhuo Yan’s.

With his fluffy head, A-Yin looked almost like a big dog. By now, Zhuo Yan had grown accustomed to the sight, his movements becoming more natural than they had been that morning when everything felt so stiff and awkward.

Inside the cave, there was enough hide to create a little skirt for A-Yin. It was important to ensure it wasn’t too long, as he needed to be able to move freely. Since beastmen took long strides and often ran, it had to be loose enough to accommodate those movements. A few swift cuts and adjustments later, Zhuo Yan had the skirt ready for A-Yin.

A-Yin held the hide, looking at his brother with wide eyes. Zhuo Yan chuckled, “Let me help you with that.”

“Stand up first,” he instructed.

As A-Yin hopped off the stone bed, Zhuo Yan glanced up—and his jaw nearly dropped. Was A-Yin always this tall? He must be at least a head taller than Zhuo Yan, who was over six feet himself. In the tribe, beastmen were known for their impressive height, but this was something else.

Zhuo Yan guided A-Yin through how to wear the skirt and tie it. A-Yin paid close attention, though Zhuo Yan found it hard to focus; his gaze kept drifting to A-Yin’s abdomen, where perfectly defined abs were on display—eight well-defined muscles that seemed to glisten under the cave’s dim light. It was hard not to feel a pang of envy. He’d worked hard for his own physique, but A-Yin had awakened from his slumber looking like a sculpted work of art.

Just as their eyes met, Zhuo Yan cleared his throat, “So, did you manage to figure it out?”

A-Yin shook his head, his voice brimming with excitement, “Brother, let me touch!”

“Touch what?” Zhuo Yan replied, a mix of confusion and curiosity.

With a playful grin, A-Yin took Zhuo Yan’s hand and placed it on his stomach, puffing it out slightly as if to say, “Feel this!”

Zhuo Yan’s heart raced. No, no, no—this wasn’t happening! Yet, looking into A-Yin’s earnest eyes, he felt a compelling urge to indulge his curiosity. Did he really want to? He hadn’t voiced those thoughts, but A-Yin seemed to read his mind, eyes sparkling with an innocent plea.

“Come on, brother, just a little touch!” A-Yin urged, belly sticking out eagerly.

Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but chuckle as he gave in, his fingers brushing against A-Yin’s firm abs. A-Yin beamed, and soon Zhuo Yan was laughing too, “Don’t move too much! You’ll lose those abs!”

“What’s abs?” A-Yin tilted his head in confusion.

Zhuo Yan found himself wanting to compete, “Look at me! I’ve got abs too! Right here—feel them!” He straightened up, showing off his own toned stomach.

“Wow! Brother!” A-Yin cheered, now eager to poke at Zhuo Yan’s belly, his face lit up with admiration.

A playful scuffle ensued, breaking the earlier tension. Zhuo Yan was still a bit shy, but A-Yin was as affectionate as ever, maybe even more so. He picked up the technique of tying the belt quickly, proving that beastmen weren’t foolish; they just needed time to adjust to their human forms.

Transforming from beast to human wasn’t just about physical changes; it involved shifting their entire mindset, a process that took years. Zhuo Yan thought back to his studies about the transformations and suddenly paused.

“A-Yin, can you change back into your beast form?” he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“Huh?” A-Yin looked puzzled. He was human now; could he still become a leopard? “No! I want to be a beastman! I can hunt for brother, make sure he eats well!”

Zhuo Yan saw the urgency in A-Yin’s eyes and quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry. It usually takes other beastmen at least three years to shift back. You just transformed into human form. Let’s take it slow.”

“Really?” A-Yin looked a bit calmer.

“Of course, it’s all good. We have plenty of time.” Zhuo Yan gently ruffled A-Yin’s hair.

A-Yin leaned down, welcoming the gesture.

As the day unfolded, Zhuo Yan found himself busier than he could’ve imagined. He forgot all about the awkwardness from earlier that morning. He had meals to prepare, and he was teaching A-Yin how to hold a spoon, pour water, and eat without making a mess.

Later, Zhuo Yan didn’t end up killing any chickens that day. He had been too rushed in the morning, so instead, he made a delicious yam and bone soup. The chickens quaked in fear, unsure whether they were next on the chopping block, but Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he tossed them some hay instead.

The storm outside was getting fierce, and as night fell, Zhuo Yan made sure to secure the cave door. He hung a tattered hide behind it for extra protection against the howling winds. Dinner was late, and the two didn’t feel particularly hungry, but they roasted potatoes, sharing one each.

A-Yin sat on a stool, his long legs awkwardly positioned. Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but chuckle. “A-Yin, close your legs a bit.”

A-Yin glanced at Zhuo Yan’s legs and noticed that his were also a bit splayed, especially considering he was used to moving freely as a leopard. At home, he felt no need to maintain a semblance of decorum.

“Forget it, just do what feels comfortable,” Zhuo Yan said with a laugh, but he could see A-Yin’s gaze had dropped slightly. What on earth was he looking at? Zhuo Yan subtly adjusted his own posture.

Imitating his brother, A-Yin closed his legs a little, his innocent expression never fading.

After washing up and brushing their teeth, it was time for bed. Zhuo Yan sighed, feeling a bit stuck at this moment. Why is there no sleepwear in this world?

It wasn’t just the absence of pajamas; he wondered why A-Yin didn’t transform into his beast form during spring, summer, or even autumn. Why did it have to be now, at this very moment? There was no time to prepare the stone bed, especially with the raging snowstorm outside.

Did they really have to share a bed, two grown men?

Zhuo Yan pretended to be calm as he arranged the bedding, spreading the covers to create two separate spaces. A-Yin, with his handsome face slightly pouting, looked adorably innocent, almost pitiful as he gazed up at him. Zhuo Yan couldn’t hold his gaze for too long; he feared his heart would soften. He quickly looked down, mumbling, “You’re getting older now. It’s not great for you to always sleep with your brother.”

“Aw-woof! Aw-woof! Aw-woof!” A-Yin whined in a desperate string of sounds.

But A-Yin wasn’t really that big—he was still small and just wanted to sleep with his brother. Sleeping together was the best! He could warm Zhuo Yan’s side of the bed and even give him a massage, all while snuggling close.

Zhuo Yan felt his resolve weakening.

“A-Yin, we really should try to sleep separately…,” he started, but his voice trailed off as he caught A-Yin’s hopeful eyes. The thought of having A-Yin snuggle close, feeling the warmth radiate between them, was incredibly tempting.

“Please, brother!” A-Yin’s pleading expression melted Zhuo Yan’s heart.

Zhuo Yan rubbed the back of his neck, torn between duty and desire. How could he say no to that face?

“Fine,” he relented, “but just for tonight!”

A-Yin’s face lit up with joy, and he quickly scrambled onto the bed, settling in beside Zhuo Yan. The warmth of their bodies quickly enveloped them in a cozy cocoon, and Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but smile despite himself.

“Just remember, no kicking!” he warned, only half-serious.

“Okay! I promise!” A-Yin chirped, already drifting off to sleep.

As the wind howled outside, Zhuo Yan closed his eyes, feeling a strange comfort in sharing the night with A-Yin. In that moment, he realized that perhaps this unexpected arrangement wasn’t so bad after all.