Chapter 90

The blizzard continued for days. Every morning when they woke up, the snow outside the cave had piled up past the entrance again. If the door hadn’t been installed to open inward, it would have broken long ago.

The first thing A-Yin did every morning was lift the leather covering on the door, then go outside to clear the snow.

Lately, Zhuo Yan had been a bit drowsy. When A-Yin woke up, he was actually somewhat conscious, mumbling a few incoherent words in a daze, wanting to strike up a conversation with A-Yin. But what he didn’t realize was that the sounds he made were just gibberish.

“I’m wrapped in fur and dressed warmly, I’m not cold.”

“The leather on the back of the door is frozen stiff.”

“Don’t worry, brother, go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up once I’ve boiled the water.”

Yet somehow, A-Yin managed to respond perfectly every time.

Zhuo Yan mumbled something indistinctly, pulled the leather cover over himself, and burrowed back into the blankets for a little more sleep. By the time he woke up, the snow at the cave entrance had already been cleared. Inside, charcoal was burning, and a pot of water was heating on the stove. A-Yin had fetched two buckets of snow, now half-melted, sitting by the fire.

A-Yin was sitting by the stove, peeling potatoes. As soon as Zhuo Yan stirred, A-Yin turned his head and asked, “Brother, how about potato and fish soup for breakfast?”

“Sure. Cut the potatoes smaller and make them nice and soft,” Zhuo Yan replied, already feeling his mouth water a bit. Lately, he had been not only sleeping more but also feeling hungrier than usual — a far cry from when he had told Aman to eat less. Now, the tables had turned, and it was his turn to eat his words.

Still, he didn’t dare to overeat. He stuck to nutritious meals, and most of the fish at home — nearly half a basket full — had gone into his stomach. Every day, he simmered one fish until the soup turned a milky white, adding some potatoes, minced meat, or even a handful of peanuts for extra flavor.

Zhuo Yan got up and dressed, while A-Yin wiped his hands and poured a cup of hot water for his brother to wash up. As Zhuo Yan was putting on his vest, his hand paused — he noticed his belly had grown a bit bigger again. There was a strange sense of novelty to it, but surprisingly, he didn’t feel much resistance to the idea.

He had a home here now, a lover by his side, and soon, a child on the way.

While Zhuo Yan washed his face and brushed his teeth with the warm water, A-Yin went to pour out the dirty water. Then Zhuo Yan took over the cooking. A-Yin had already prepared most of the ingredients, so all Zhuo Yan needed to do was wash and dice the potatoes. He added a small spoonful of oil to the pan, and once it sizzled, he placed the thoroughly cleaned, thawed fish into the pot.

With a sharp sizzle, the fragrance of cooking fish began to fill the cave.

The fish was fried until both sides were golden brown, then hot water was added — this way, the soup would turn a milky white. Zhuo Yan tossed in the diced potatoes, cooking them to a soft, starchy texture he liked. He covered the pot and let it simmer over a low flame.

They had run out of staple food at home, so Zhuo Yan planned to steam a batch of yellow millet cornbread after breakfast — with peanut filling. With the bitter cold outside, they could freeze the buns directly, enough to last ten days or even half a month.

A-Yin wasn’t too fond of yellow millet, so most of the cornbread would be for Zhuo Yan.

After A-Yin returned from feeding Da Fu and Da Ming in the neighboring cave, he said, “I replaced the straw in the cave and laid the leftover scraps of leather on top.”

“Alright. Come warm yourself by the fire — breakfast will be ready soon.”

Now that they had given the wild boars names and started caring for them properly, they treated the father-and-son pair much more attentively than when they were simply raising them as future emergency rations. It was starting to feel more like having “pets.”

As A-Yin went to wash his hands, he heard Zhuo Yan mention steaming cornbread and immediately said, “I’ll go pound the yellow millet.”

“Alright.”

Processing the yellow millet took some effort, but unlike last year — when the two of them were practically glued to each other, caught up in their whirlwind romance — they were much more restrained now. Winter was long, and their days were filled with chores: pounding millet, shelling peanuts, peeling mung beans. With a bountiful harvest this year, there was no shortage of work to do in the cave.

A-Yin pounded the yellow millet in the stone mortar, crushing the husks. Then, he grabbed a winnowing basket and started sifting out the husks — stepping outside the cave to do it. The cold wind howled, and there was no need to toss the basket much; a single gust swept the husks away, carrying them off into the swirling snow.

All that remained in the basket were the heavy, golden grains of yellow millet.

By noon, the two of them shared a meal of fish soup. The potatoes had simmered until they were soft and starchy, thickening the broth into a slightly creamy, milky-white consistency. Zhuo Yan carefully used his chopsticks to fish out the large bones, setting them aside. Each of them had a big bowl.

“Be careful of the small bones — there are still some fine ones left. Don’t let them prick you,” Zhuo Yan reminded him.

Every time A-Yin heard his brother say this, it felt like he was back in that first snowy season when Zhuo Yan had taken him in. Back then, his brother would feed him fish soup, meticulously picking out every single bone. Even so, Zhuo Yan would still remind him to eat slowly and be careful not to get a bone stuck in his throat.

“I know. Brother, you eat slowly too,” A-Yin replied softly.

After finishing their late breakfast — or perhaps an early lunch — Zhuo Yan wasn’t quite sure what time it was anymore. In winter, the lines between morning, afternoon, and evening blurred, with only the deep night feeling truly distinct.

The two of them settled by the stove, rolling the yellow millet dough into cornbread buns.

This was simple to make. A-Yin had just pounded the hulled yellow millet, rinsed it in clean water, and drained it. In this state, all it took was a wooden pestle to mash it into a sticky paste — unlike wheat flour, which needed water added to form dough, the millet was already at the right moisture level after a quick rinse. Yellow millet didn’t absorb water as easily as wheat flour, so it stayed a bit wetter and stickier.

Zhuo Yan began shaping the cornbread buns with one hand, placing them on a grass-woven winnowing basket.

“Just wait a bit longer — once the bamboo grows taller, we can swap these grass baskets for bamboo ones,” he said.

The grass-woven baskets weren’t as sturdy as bamboo ones. They were a bit soft and needed several layers to hold their shape, not as strong or durable as bamboo. The bamboo they planted two years ago had grown to about half a person’s height after enduring last winter’s snow.

“When the snow melts a little, A-Yin, let’s go dig up some bamboo shoots,” Zhuo Yan added.

A-Yin agreed without hesitation — his brother had been mentioning bamboo shoots for a while now, clearly craving them.

Zhuo Yan suddenly thought aloud, “I bet once the snow lets up, the tribespeople will head to Snow Deer Mountain again.” When the weather cleared and the ground wasn’t so muddy, the tribe would have work to do — so anyone planning a trip to Snow Deer Mountain would go beforehand.

He remembered their wedding, when many paired sub-beastmen in the tribe had looked eager, clearly inspired by the ceremony.

In the past year or two, only Lin Rong had had a child among the sub-beastmen in the tribe — it was hard for them to conceive. Spring and A-Shu, for example, had been living together in a cave for over a year — even before Qiao and Ada — but they hadn’t had a child yet, nor had they held a formal partner ceremony.

There were also A-Bai, A-Hua, and other young sub-beastmen in the tribe who had lived with their beastman partners for years but still hadn’t had any offspring.

That’s why there was a saying in the tribe: only the strongest and sturdiest beastman-sub-beastman pairs could have children — and even then, it was difficult. It usually happened among the older generation, like Shitou’s parents or Lin Rong and A-Sen.

“Of course! I even heard them say they want to go in the spring,” A-Yin nodded in agreement.

Zhuo Yan’s eyes lit up for a moment, but before he could speak, A-Yin quickly added, “Brother, we can’t go — we already have a cub. If you want more little ones, we can wait a few years and go again later.”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

Besides, if the Tree of Life really worked as rumored, there was a good chance they’d end up with triplets — he’d be a father of three in one go. Where would he even run off to then? …Uh.

“I meant, we can ask the people going there to bring back some of those clear stones.”

They weren’t particularly heavy, after all.

“They take less time to work with than pottery and are quite durable — we could use them to make farming tools like rakes and hoes.”

Currently, their farming tools were still mostly stone knives. The clear stones weren’t much more wear-resistant than regular stone, but they were easier and quicker to shape. Carving stone took time — it had to be ground down and chiseled, and if you didn’t strike it just right, it could crack.

And the clear stone tools were much simpler to make. All you had to do was mold the wet clay into a shape, pour the liquid clear stone mixture into the mold, and fire it. Once it was done, you could peel off the clay mold — though some pieces didn’t even need peeling.

For tools like rakes, hoes, and shovels, the edges still needed a bit of sharpening. As for the larger molded items, like storage jars, they were perfect for holding grain. But the first batch would mostly be focused on improving farming tools to make work easier.

“Then once the blizzard stops, I’ll go find Da Ya and ask him to check with the beastmen who are planning to go, so they can help bring back some clear stones,” A-Yin said.

Zhuo Yan hummed in agreement. Da Ya lived closer to the center of the tribe, and Cong Lu had a good relationship with both the beastmen and sub-beastmen, so it would be much easier for the two of them to spread the word than for Zhuo Yan and A-Yin to go door to door — especially since they didn’t even know exactly who was planning to go.

Another half a month passed, and the snow piled up even thicker. The blizzard hadn’t stopped once.

Zhuo Yan had been waking up startled in his sleep lately — several times a night.

Tonight, when he opened his eyes, he saw A-Yin staring at him worriedly, holding him close and gently soothing him, just like how Zhuo Yan used to comfort the injured A-Yin back when they first met.

Zhuo Yan was still a bit dazed.

Suddenly, A-Yin shifted into his beast form, his whole body wrapping protectively around Zhuo Yan. His mouth opened, and he spoke softly, “Don’t be afraid, brother.”

“…I dreamed that the snow season never ended. It just kept snowing and snowing,” Zhuo Yan murmured, recalling the dream. “I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but I felt like last year’s blizzards were longer and colder. And this year, with the days and nights all mixed up, I can’t shake the feeling that the blizzard won’t stop.”

What if this kept happening? If each year grew colder and the winters never seemed to end — what would they do?

A-Yin didn’t respond right away. He simply held his brother tighter and gently licked the top of his head in a comforting gesture.

Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but laugh. “So you’ve noticed it too?”

“Mm.”

Zhuo Yan let out a soft sigh. It used to be simpler — they lived off the land, accepting life and death as they came, finding comfort in the moment. But now… he had a family.

His hand instinctively reached down, resting on his stomach.

A faint tremor rippled beneath his palm.

Zhuo Yan froze for a moment. “A-Yin… the cub moved.”

A-Yin placed his large, furry hand over his brother’s, but Zhuo Yan’s stomach was already quiet again — still and motionless. The brief flutter from before felt almost like a dream. A-Yin kept his hand there, waiting silently for a long while.

“Brother, spring will come.”

“Yes, maybe a bit late, but it’ll come. If it doesn’t, we’ll just store more food for winter in the future,” Zhuo Yan replied.

Life had to go on. No matter the problem, there would always be a way to solve it.

The days that followed were slow and uneventful. Zhuo Yan steamed a large batch of yellow millet woowootou, freezing them rock-hard. When it was time to eat, all they had to do was heat them up — simple and convenient.

But winter was long and harsh. The cold, paired with the dim, endless gray of the sky, made the days blend together, and it was easy for the isolation to creep in.

To pass the time, Zhuo Yan became hooked on playing peanut gambling games with A-Yin. They’d grab a handful of raw peanuts and bet on rounds of five-in-a-row. Zhuo Yan won himself a hefty pile of peanuts every day.

Sitting by the stove, A-Yin would peel peanuts for his brother, but when Zhuo Yan started feeling a bit too “heated” from eating so many, he shoved the rest into A-Yin’s mouth instead.

In this endless, snowbound season, they found ways to laugh — bitter fun, but fun nonetheless — trying to keep their spirits up as best as they could.

Then one day…

The blizzard finally stopped.

“Brother, the snow stopped!” A-Yin burst in with the news.

Zhuo Yan: Just a hair away from doing a kip-up.

“Really? Let me see.”

A-Yin ran back to grab the fur cloak for his brother, bundling him up warmly. Once both were dressed, they stepped outside — the world was a sea of snow. It was impossible to tell where the river ended and the cave entrances or mountain peaks began.

But the blizzard had truly stopped.

Finally.

The storm ending meant winter was nearing its end — or at least that’s what Zhuo Yan told himself. Having a goal, something to look forward to, instantly lifted his spirits. Feeling more energetic, the two of them melted several large pots of snow for cleaning, swept the cave, and tossed the wood ash and charcoal dust outside. They even tidied up Da Fu and Da Ming’s den.

More than ten days passed. Before, the snow never stopped, but lately, it only snowed lightly every five or six days. The sun stayed out longer than before.

It really seemed like winter was ending.

Zhuo Yan: happy noises.

A couple of days later, A-Yin went to talk to Da Ya about the transparent stones. Not long after, Zhuo Yan and A-Yin stood at the cave entrance, finally able to step outside for some fresh air after being cooped up for over a month.

“Brother, look!” A-Yin pointed into the distance.

Across the vast, white expanse of snow, a line of flower-patterned leopards padded along, each carrying a “big bundle” on their backs. Their mates were wrapped tightly in fur, bundled so thoroughly that their heads couldn’t even be seen — they really did look like oversized packages.

“Da Ya and Cong Lu are going too,” A-Yin recognized Da Ya at a glance.

Zhuo Yan: “Huh?”

He blinked in confusion before realizing, “…Well, that’s not bad. Cong Lu is still pretty young.”

Since beastmen could transform, raising a child here wasn’t like in the modern world, where it took eighteen years for a child to grow into an adult. In this world, a flower-patterned leopard cub could shift into a seven or eight-year-old child within four or five months, then grow at a normal pace from there.

By modern human standards, Da Ya and Cong Lu were only in their early thirties — still in their prime. Of course, that was also considered prime age in the beastmen tribe.

…The mortality rate in this world used to be far too high.

“When Da Ya comes back, I’m going to laugh at him. When I asked him before, he swore he wouldn’t go. Let’s see what he says now,” A-Yin grinned.

Zhuo Yan noticed that A-Yin had grown a bit more playful — clearly, Da Ya must have teased him before too. “Alright, you two just keep messing with each other.”

“I wonder how my house is doing.”

“Brother, I’ll go check.”

“In a couple of days — we’ll go together then.”

“Alright.”

Zhuo Yan resumed his usual routine of skiing and stretching his legs once the snow stopped, bundled up against the cold. He made his way to the river, not far from Shitou and Aman’s caves. A-Yin let out a long howl, and before long, a distant “awoo” echoed back — followed by Daen’s thunderous tiger roar.

“No need to translate — Aman’s definitely coming down.”

While waiting for the others, Zhuo Yan’s gaze wandered to a “snow house” nearby, its shape barely visible beneath the thick layer of snow. Miraculously, it hadn’t collapsed. A-Yin offered to clear off the snow.

During the blizzards, Zhuo Yan had often worried out loud about the snow collapsing the weaving workshop. A-Yin had remembered his concern and now wanted to clear the roof.

Zhuo Yan stepped back a safe distance, shouting, “Be careful up there! Watch your footing. If the roof looks like it’s giving way, get down right away!”

“Got it, brother—” A-Yin, in his sleek silver leopard form, leapt onto the roof with ease and began pawing the snow off.

Bit by bit, the snow tumbled to the ground with a thud, revealing a sturdy roof of tiles, none of which had fallen. What was even stranger — though the windows were coated with a layer of ice crystals, they remained clear and unbroken.

This glass was surprisingly resistant to the cold.

“Brother, let’s wait inside,” A-Yin said, running over and nudging Zhuo Yan onto his back so they could head into the house to wait for Aman and Daen.

Once inside, Zhuo Yan blinked in surprise. “A-Yin, don’t you think it’s actually kind of warm in here?” — at least compared to the freezing air outside.

A-Yin let out an “awoo” in agreement.

Zhuo Yan walked over to the window, reaching out to touch it. The glass was icy cold, but when he knocked on it, there were no cracks. Standing by the window, he realized something — there was no chill seeping through. Back at his own cave, even with a wooden door and layers of animal hides, the cold still found its way in.

He couldn’t help but stand there by the bed, lost in thought.

“Zhuo Yan!”

“Zhuo Yan!”

A voice called out from outside — Aman, sounding unusually excited. “Guess what! Shitou’s egg hatched—”

Huh? Zhuo Yan snapped out of his thoughts, opened the door, and saw Daen carrying Aman down on his back. They quickly stepped inside, but Aman didn’t even glance at the room — too caught up in whatever news he had.

“Guess.”

“You just said it — the egg hatched.”

“No, not that. I want you to guess what hatched from Shitou’s egg.”

Zhuo Yan’s first thought was, “What else could it be? It has to be a peacock,” but then he noticed Aman’s smug expression, like he was holding onto a secret Zhuo Yan could never guess.

After a pause, Zhuo Yan raised a brow. “…Don’t tell me a leopard came out of the egg?”

It either takes after the father or the mother.

“!!! You actually guessed right — well, not entirely,” Aman said.

Zhuo Yan: ???

Then what else could it be?

“Baoxue has a pair of wings on its back.”

Zhuo Yan: !!! He never would’ve guessed that in a million years. “Let’s go see it, let’s go see it!”

Who cares about ice skating now? Seeing the hatchling was way more important.

The two of them hopped onto their partners’ backs. As they rode along, Zhuo Yan recalled Aman’s words and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Did Shitou name the hatchling already? Is it called Baoxue?”

“Yes! The day it hatched, A-Yin brought them fish. At first, Shitou wanted to name it A-Yu.”

Zhuo Yan: …

“But Boss Kong suggested ‘Baoxue’ instead.”

Zhuo Yan nodded and couldn’t help but say, “Baoxue is a good name — sounds powerful and intimidating.” Just thinking back to those long months of blizzards still made him shiver.

With a name like that, who in the three tribes of the grasslands wouldn’t feel a little fearful?

When the four of them arrived at Shitou’s place, the platform had already been cleared of snow. Kong Huo and the others, bundled up in fur cloaks, were outside tidying up.

Seeing them approach, Kong Huo and the rest lit up with excitement, chattering and welcoming them enthusiastically.

After being cooped up all winter, everyone was the same — the peacock clan feared the cold even more than their tribe did. They were shivering but in high spirits, clearly on the verge of going stir-crazy. Even if it was freezing, they still had to come outside for some fresh air.

Hearing the commotion, Shitou ran out, with Kong Xingxing following closely behind.

The sky was clearer today, and no one wanted to stay holed up in their caves.

“Where’s your Baoxue?” Zhuo Yan asked curiously.

Kong Xingxing opened his fur cloak, revealing a fluffy little head poking out. It looked like a tiny kitten, letting out soft “awoo awoo” sounds, with round, wide eyes staring curiously at Zhuo Yan and the others.

Baoxue, almost two months old and having spent its life so far in a dark cave, was seeing the outside world — and unfamiliar people — for the first time. Fascinated, it wriggled in excitement. Before its dad could react, it broke free and flew straight out of his hands.

Zhuo Yan watched, stunned, as the mewling “kitten” flapped its way toward him, wobbling and twisting awkwardly through the air — but flying nonetheless!

It really did have wings.

Reacting quickly, Zhuo Yan caught the little leopard and tucked it into his cloak, but Baoxue wasn’t having it. The feisty cub wriggled around, stretching its neck to get a better look at A-Yin, Aman, and Daen.

“It really has wings… and it can fly.” Aman was still in disbelief, even after seeing it with his own eyes.

Zhuo Yan, still in a daze, lowered his gaze to the small creature in his arms. Baoxue’s fur was a soft golden-brown, and its wings were covered in short feathers. The base of the wings blended seamlessly with the fur, the same golden-brown color. But as the feathers layered outward, they gradually shifted into a rich green, each row a deeper shade than the last.

The combination of gold and green looked surprisingly harmonious.

“Baoxue, come back,” Shitou called.

Baoxue ignored him, lowering its head and gnawing on the hand of the person holding it, leaving a trail of slobber behind.

Zhuo Yan chuckled. “Heh, doesn’t hurt at all — just a little baby cat.”

“He doesn’t want to stay in the cave. He’s just learned how to fly recently, so he’s very energetic and wants to explore everything,” Shitou said, a trace of apology in his eyes.

Zhuo Yan smiled and handed Baoxue back to Shitou.

Shitou gave Baoxue a light tap on the head. The little cub puffed up in protest, glaring at its father while letting out a series of small, indignant “awoo” sounds. But when Shitou passed Baoxue to Kong Xingxing, the cub immediately started whining and squirming, clearly wanting to go back to Shitou’s arms.

It seemed Baoxue was very attached to Shitou.

After a moment, Shitou asked, “Zhuo Yan, do you think he seems scared?”

Zhuo Yan was taken aback, not expecting Shitou to ask that. But now that he thought about it, he realized something — Shitou had been genuinely happy to see them at first, but there was still a hint of worry hidden deep in his eyes. Even when Baoxue had slobbered all over Zhuo Yan’s hand, Shitou had looked almost… apologetic.

He never used to be like this.

“I was just surprised earlier, not scared of Baoxue,” Zhuo Yan said.

“Same here. Shitou, don’t overthink it,” Aman added quickly. “Look at A-Yin — he’s doing great now.”

But they all remembered how pitiful A-Yin had been in the past, back when he was just a “white-furred cub.”

“This isn’t like before, Shitou,” Zhuo Yan continued. “You used to say that sub-beastmen couldn’t survive together and would starve, but things are different now. We have more food than ever, and you and Boss Kong made it through the winter together. And most importantly—”

Shitou tensed slightly, watching Zhuo Yan closely.

Zhuo Yan smiled. “Did you forget? When spring comes, Aman, Qiao, and I — we’re all having cubs. They’ll be playmates for Baoxue.”

“Exactly!” Aman clapped Shitou on the arm with a laugh. “They’ll grow up together and play side by side. There’s no way they’ll be scared of Baoxue — he’ll be the older brother!”

Shitou, touched by his friends’ words and smiles, felt a weight lift from his heart. He had worried about Baoxue all winter — how others might see him, how he might be treated — but now, for the first time in a while, he felt reassured.

Maybe some people in the tribe would laugh at Baoxue, but it didn’t matter. Baoxue would have his own companions, his own little group — and that was what truly mattered.

“Thank you,” Kong Xingxing said.

Zhuo Yan replied, “I’m just telling the truth — no need to thank us.”

“We’re good friends with Shitou,” Aman added firmly. “There’s nothing to thank us for.”

Kong Xingxing sighed. “We’ve been cooped up in the cave for too long. Ever since Baoxue learned how to fly, Shitou’s been so anxious. Honestly, I thought about taking them away, but there’s nowhere else to go. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t get far with them.”

He was the leader of the peacock clan, yet their mountain had been taken over by other tribes, and his people had dwindled. The weight of his helplessness still hung over him.

Both he and Shitou could sense the other’s worries — the guilt, the fear — though neither of them spoke about it directly. Instead, they kept encouraging each other, each afraid of adding to the other’s burden. But now, with the sun finally out and Zhuo Yan and the others visiting, a few simple words seemed to lift the heavy knot in their hearts.

Little by little, the unspoken worries started to unravel.

Before long, the conversation shifted to other things — whether there was enough food left in the cave, how Daya had led a team to Snow Deer Mountain, how A-Yin had just cleared the snow off the roof of the textile workshop and found it still holding up well…

They chatted for a while, but the sky soon darkened again, and everyone went their separate ways.

“They went to the hot springs,” Aman told Daen on their way back. “There are going to be so many cubs in the tribe this year.”

Daen, still in his beast form, remained silent. Only once they were back in their cave did he shift into his human form. Holding Aman’s hand, he spoke with quiet seriousness:

“Aman, even if our cub is a tiger or a leopard — even if they’re different from the others in the tribe — don’t worry.”

Aman had been joking about the group heading to Snow Deer Mountain, a carefree smile still hanging on his face. But when he saw Daen speaking so seriously, so earnestly, he was stunned for a moment. Then, his smile widened — bright, brilliant — and he simply said, “Mm.”

He could feel Daen’s love, and with it came a surge of courage.

Meanwhile, on the way back, Zhuo Yan and A-Yin were lost in thought.

“What should we name our baby?” Zhuo Yan mused. “I know it’s a bit early, but according to the tribe’s naming tradition, we usually name them after something we see the day they’re born…”

Like Shitou’s idea of naming his cub ‘A-Yu’ after the fish A-Yin brought.

Sitting on A-Yin’s back, Zhuo Yan shook his head. Actually, thinking about names now wasn’t too early at all.

“How about Jin Zha, Mu Zha, Ne Zha…?” He burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding!”

“Or Zhuo Chun, Zhuo Ri, Zhuo Tou… Hahaha!”

A-Yin listened to his brother laughing uncontrollably behind him, his own eyes softening with a smile. “I like the ones at the end — they all have your name in them.”

“…”

Zhuo Yan, who had just been coming up with names to mess with their future kid, suddenly coughed from laughing too hard. The wind caught him off guard, and he quickly corrected himself, “No, no, I was joking! I’ll be serious about it. We definitely can’t use those names.”

A-Yin simply replied, “Alright.”

“My name was given by you, Brother. I think it sounds really nice.”

Zhuo Yan froze for a second, feeling a bit guilty. Luckily, A-Yin couldn’t see his face — because back when he first picked up A-Yin and gave him that name, he’d actually thought of the silver-shaded cat he had back home… a little careless, honestly.

But now — now — he truly loved A-Yin.

A-Yin wasn’t some stand-in for a silver-shaded cat. Zhuo Yan put on a serious expression, determined to emphasize that fact to himself.

“What kind of name would be good?” Zhuo Yan muttered. “I was just laughing at Shitou’s ‘A-Yu’ earlier, but honestly, when the time comes, we might end up with something even worse.”

“Then let’s think carefully,” A-Yin said. “Brother, I’ll help you come up with one.”

“Alright!”

—

Over at Shitou’s cave…

Night had fallen. Shitou was cooking dinner, and Cong Lu and the others had come over — supposedly to help but clearly there to freeload.

When they looked up and saw their tribe leader, Kong Xingxing, standing there with a dark expression, all five of them jumped in fright.

Cong Lu quickly said, “We’re just here for dinner — it’s the last time, I swear! We’ll cook for ourselves tomorrow.”

“Brother, don’t be mad,” one of them added nervously.

Kong Huo: “His face is so dark… Should we not eat then?” “Is he really mad?” “I’m scared.”

Shitou glanced at Xingxing and reassured the five of them, “He’s not angry. He’s just thinking about something. You guys can eat, it’s fine. You even helped me cook.”

Cong Lu responded, “We need to eat too — it’s not really about helping or not.”

The others all nodded in agreement.

When the food was ready, Kong Xingxing gave the group a quick glance and said, “Zhuo Yan mentioned today that most of the snow on the roof of the weaving house has been cleared. Let’s go weave cloth tomorrow.”

“…Huh?”

“!!!”

“???”

“Ch-Chief, w-what did you just say?”

Kong Xingxing… working so diligently? In this freezing weather, with the snow not even fully melted yet — going out to weave cloth?

The five of them were stunned. Back on the mountain, Kong Xingxing had never been like this. If he was in a good mood, he might do some work. If he wasn’t, no one could push him, no matter how much they tried.

But now, he was volunteering… in the dead of winter?

The five of them exchanged worried looks. Was this really their chief/big brother/Kong Xingxing?

“I’ll go with you all, and I’ll bring some charcoal too,” Shitou said at once, grasping Xingxing’s hand. His only choice was to support him.

Kong Xingxing lifted his gaze, giving the big guy a brief smile. But when he turned back to face the five others, his expression instantly hardened. His smile vanished, and he spoke seriously: “Once the Leopard Tribe starts working, we need to have cloth ready. There are so many people — everyone needs clothes. We’ll have plenty to do from now on.”

“We also need to check the ramie fields. If the snow killed the plants, we’ll have to start farming again.”

“We can’t go back to Peacock Mountain. If we’re staying here and want people to respect us, we have to show them what we’re capable of.”

“Otherwise… where else could we go next time?”

Cong Lu and the other four fell silent. Kong Yue obediently nodded — their brother was right.

After a long pause, once dinner was over, the four of them scrambled to clean up the dishes, whispering to each other behind Kong Xingxing’s back:

“What Kong Xingxing just said—”

“Made sense.”

“I know! What I mean is… he’s obviously saying all this because of Shitou and Baoxue, but he acted so serious about it.”

“Isn’t that obvious? Don’t you like Baoxue? Shitou’s a good guy too… Not that I like Shitou or anything! Don’t go spreading rumors, or Kong Xingxing will come after me.”

“…”

That winter — especially during that brutal snowstorm — they were lucky to have Shitou around. All five of them truly respected and liked him, though not in a romantic way.

“Our peacock wings… we can still fly. Baoxue’s amazing.”

But given Kong Xingxing’s jealous and possessive streak, they all tacitly agreed it was safer to shower Baoxue with praise instead — better to say they liked Baoxue than risk any misunderstandings.

“So — we’re going to weave tons and tons of cloth. Next time, who would dare make fun of our Baoxue?”

“Exactly!”