Zhou Song had just finished feeding the chickens at home this afternoon when he was summoned to the village head’s house in the West Village, along with several other hunters from the village.

They were informed that two nights ago, wolves had attacked the neighboring village, killing chickens from several households. In the middle of the night, a man who heard the commotion got up to check, only to be bitten himself. If he hadn’t reacted quickly, he might have been dragged away entirely.

Thankfully, some families nearby kept dogs, and the barking alarmed people. In the end, two hunters managed to chase the wolf away.

Usually, wolves don’t venture into villages, especially not in autumn when there’s plenty of prey in the mountains. This incident was likely an exception, but it had still frightened everyone.

Hearing about this, the village head grew uneasy and called the hunters together. First, he warned them to be extra cautious when hunting in the mountains, and second, he asked them to keep an eye out to prevent any wild animals from approaching the village.

Losing a few chickens is a minor issue, but if anyone were seriously injured or even killed, it would be a huge problem.

Tomorrow, he planned to go around to each household and instruct families to keep an eye on their children and not let them roam around the mountain. If a wolf took one of them, it’d be too late for regrets.

Although their village wasn’t like the neighboring one and was close only to the lower mountains, where large wild animals from the deep mountains usually didn’t appear, being cautious never hurt. After all, the neighboring village hadn’t expected wolves to show up either.

Once this period passed and winter set in, animals would be less active, so there’d be less need for concern.

The hunters understood the gravity of the situation and readily agreed. They all had families in the village, so if something were to happen, it would be dangerous for everyone.

Zhou Song was skilled and a Qian Yuan, which meant he frequently ventured deep into the mountains. The village head pulled him aside for a few extra words, urging him to stay alert and safe.

After all, the village head had watched Zhou Song grow up and knew all about his family’s circumstances. In the course of their conversation, he couldn’t help but bring up Zhou Song’s marriage prospects.

“You’re not young anymore. Living alone isn’t ideal. There should be someone to take care of things at home. You should start thinking about marriage.”

In the village, every elder he encountered would bring this up, so Zhou Song was used to it by now. He kept his head down, listening quietly.

After speaking at length, the village head took a sip of water to soothe his throat. Seeing Zhou Song’s quiet, unexpressive look, he knew Zhou Song wasn’t interested in this topic. With a wave, he dismissed him. “You stubborn kid, you’re just like your father. You look honest and easygoing, but once you’ve made a decision, even eight oxen can’t drag you back. Go on, go on, I won’t nag you anymore.”

Zhou Song knew the village head meant well, concerned that he might feel lonely living alone. He didn’t find the nagging annoying. He stood up, bowed slightly, and turned to leave.

As he stepped out of the village head’s house, he noticed the sky was overcast again, as though it might rain at any moment.

Ever since autumn arrived, the weather had been unpredictable. Just before he entered the village head’s house, the sun was out, but now the sky was clouded over. The heavens certainly had a volatile mood.

A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, and the clouds seemed to press lower. Zhou Song looked up, guessing that this rain wouldn’t be light—probably lasting all night.

To avoid being drenched halfway home, he quickened his pace.

He kept his head down as he hurried along, and by the time he reached the East Village, the rain had yet to fall. Relieved, he lifted his gaze and immediately noticed a familiar figure hurrying ahead. A closer look revealed it was none other than Wu Lanshu.

It seemed he had unknowingly reached her neighborhood.

Wu Lanshu hadn’t noticed him, carrying an umbrella as she hurried along the narrow path ahead. The only destinations in that direction were either the river or the mountain.

With rain imminent, either destination was dangerous. Zhou Song called out to her, “Aunt Wu!”

It was unclear if she didn’t hear him, as she continued walking quickly without stopping.

Zhou Song took a few strides forward, closing the distance, and called out to her again when he was just a few steps away.

This time, Wu Lanshu stopped, a hint of anxiety still on her face as she turned to see him. She looked surprised. “Zhou kid, where are you coming from?”

“The village head’s house,” Zhou Song replied. He glanced at the path she’d been taking and asked, “Aunt Wu, are you going to the river or up the mountain? It’s about to rain, it’s dangerous. Whatever it is, maybe you should wait until tomorrow.”

He couldn’t imagine what could be so urgent.

“Oh, that won’t do,” she said, her face growing anxious again. “Qingzhu mentioned earlier that he wanted to try the bow you made him and went up the mountain. The weather was good then, so I didn’t stop him, but now that it’s turning, he still hasn’t come back. I couldn’t sit still, so I thought I’d go meet him.”

She’d figured that since Shen Qingzhu was always cooped up at home, it wouldn’t hurt to let him get some fresh air. Besides, he was sensible and wouldn’t venture into any real danger. Who would’ve thought the sky would change so quickly?

Hearing that Shen Qingzhu had gone up the mountain, Zhou Song’s expression changed. When she added that he hadn’t returned yet, his face grew even darker.

His lips trembled, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. One moment, he thought of the rain about to start; the next, he recalled the village head’s warnings. He felt disoriented.

“Zhou kid, Zhou kid?” Wu Lanshu called, snapping him out of his daze. “The rain could start any moment. You should head back. Qingzhu might have already started down. I’ll go meet him by the river.”

Her words seemed intended to reassure herself as much as him.

“Aunt!” Zhou Song, his mind in turmoil, couldn’t let her go alone. “I’ll go instead.”

Wu Lanshu looked at him in surprise. “Oh, I can’t trouble you with this. I’ll go myself. You should hurry home.”

“It’s no trouble, Aunt,” Zhou Song said, shaking his head. Seeing that she was about to speak again, he added, “I know the mountain well. If Qingzhu hasn’t come down, I can find him faster.”

She hesitated, knowing it was true. She rarely went into the mountains herself and could easily get lost. With the sky so dark and nightfall approaching, Zhou Song’s familiarity with the mountain would indeed be more useful.

With a heavy sky above and the impending night, Zhou Song grew increasingly anxious about Kun Ze’s safety on the mountain. Seeing that she was wavering, he didn’t wait for a response and quickly said, “I’ll go now. Aunt, please wait at home.”

“Ah, Zhou kid!” She grabbed his arm, handing him the umbrella. “Take this and be careful.”

“Alright.” Zhou Song took the umbrella, then paused. “If it starts raining and I haven’t returned with him, we may have found shelter on the mountain. Don’t worry. Once the rain stops, I’ll bring him back.”

He said this to reassure her, hoping she’d stay home and not venture out searching for them in case of trouble.

“Alright, Aunt believes you.” Wu Lanshu clutched his arm, “I’ll wait at home. I won’t cause trouble.”

Zhou Song nodded, gripping the umbrella as he turned to leave.

Though his words sounded calm, his heart was racing with worry. His only thought was to find Shen Qingzhu as quickly as possible.

He hurried along the path to the river, then crossed and headed up the mountain trail. Just as he entered the mountain, lightning struck, and the rain began to fall.

Opening the umbrella, he looked at the thickening rain, quickening his pace to find Shen Qingzhu before the downpour became too heavy.

The sound of rain pattering on the umbrella mirrored his frantic thoughts, anxious and jumbled.

With his experience, Zhou Song could usually find someone on the mountain by tracking faint signs, like footprints. But the rain would soon wash everything away, and in the growing darkness, visibility was poor.

Frustrated, he wished he’d brought a lantern.

Rushing from place to place where Shen Qingzhu might be, Zhou Song called his name aloud from time to time, worried he’d miss him in some hidden spot.

His voice echoed through the empty forest, met only by the sound of rain, with no reply.

In such weather, even wild animals hid in their dens, unwilling to venture out.

The longer it took, the more anxious Zhou Song became. Even if there were no real threats, Shen Qingzhu’s delicate health wouldn’t fare well under this rain. A severe illness would be inevitable.

The last time, even a splash of creek water on a hot day had left him bedridden for days. In this cold rain, who knew how he’d suffer?

As these worries filled Zhou Song’s mind, his pace quickened, almost running through the slippery mountain forest.

His eyes scanned around, hoping to spot Shen Qingzhu’s familiar figure.

“Shen Qingzhu!!” he shouted, his voice hoarse from yelling.

Gasping for breath, his chest felt tight—not just from exertion but from the rush of concern and panic.

“Zhou Song?”

Hearing his name, Zhou Song froze, turning swiftly toward the direction of the voice.

With the dim light and trees blocking his view, he couldn’t see clearly. He called out tentatively, “Shen Qingzhu?!”

“It’s me!”

The familiar voice carried a hint of joy.

Overcome with relief, Zhou Song’s mind went blank, but his feet moved on their own, rushing toward the sound with all his might.