The firelight flickered, making soft crackling sounds. The roasting rabbit meat sizzled, emitting a tempting aroma. Zhou Song turned the stick to flip the meat, examining its color, and remarked, “It’ll be ready soon, though without seasoning, it might not taste that great.”

Shen Qingzhu, sitting cross-legged nearby, raised his gaze and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; just something to fill the stomach.”

Zhou Song nodded, glancing cautiously at Kun Ze, pursing his lips. “Are you still cold?”

The hems of Shen Qingzhu’s clothes and sleeves, previously dampened by rain, had almost dried, and the continuous warmth from the fire made him feel not cold—in fact, due to certain reasons, he felt slightly hot.

“Not cold.”

“Mm.” Zhou Song grunted, falling into silence again, unsure of what to say, so he adjusted the position of the rabbit meat once more.

Shen Qingzhu closed his eyes, enduring the discomfort in his body. He was aware that his scent was seeping out and knew that Zhou Song could smell it, but he could only suppress it as much as possible. If the scent grew any stronger, the man might realize his condition.

To divert Zhou Song’s attention, Shen Qingzhu opened his eyes and started a conversation, “Why did you go to the village chief today?”

Relieved to hear him speak, Zhou Song quickly replied, “The chief called me and some of the hunters for something.”

Shen Qingzhu turned slightly, his expression showing curiosity.

“It’s about the neighboring village.” Zhou Song flipped the rabbit again. “Apparently, a lone wolf wandered in and even injured someone. The chief is worried it might stray here and asked us to keep an eye out when we head up the mountain these days.”

“A wolf?” Shen Qingzhu was surprised. “Aren’t wild animals like that usually found deeper in the mountains? And they’re usually in packs—why is there a lone one?”

“You know about this?” Zhou Song raised an eyebrow, surprised. He had thought only people like them, who often ventured into the mountains, would understand animal behavior.

Shen Qingzhu smiled. “I may not live in the mountains, but I like reading a lot. I’ve picked up bits and pieces along the way.”

“I didn’t know books had this stuff.” Zhou Song’s face showed a dawning realization. “I thought it was all fancy poetry and stuff.”

Right after saying that, he felt a twinge of regret, worried that Shen Qingzhu would think him ignorant.

Naturally, Shen Qingzhu didn’t mind at all and laughed. “Not at all. Books cover a lot of topics. There are lighthearted stories, records of strange tales from across the world, and even instructional guides.”

Zhou Song was learning a lot. Illiterate himself, he had always thought that all books looked the same and couldn’t tell one kind from another.

Shen Qingzhu observed him thoughtfully. “Zhou Song, would you like to learn to read? If you could read, you’d be able to explore those books yourself.”

He had previously thought of opening a small school in the village, but lacking teaching experience, he considered trying it out with someone first. Zhou Song would be a good candidate. It would help him prepare and would also let Zhou Song learn to read—a win-win.

“Learn to read?” Zhou Song froze, suddenly nervous. “I… I might not be able to.”

“Sure you can,” Shen Qingzhu reassured him. “Reading isn’t that hard. As long as you’re willing to learn, you’ll pick it up.”

Then, remembering something, he added, “I wrote your name for you last time, remember? Did you practice?”

Zhou Song had practiced, but… no matter how many times he tried, his writing couldn’t match Shen Qingzhu’s, which looked like beautiful art. His own letters looked like squirmy worms clumped together.

“Didn’t practice?” Shen Qingzhu misinterpreted his silence.

“No!” Zhou Song quickly denied it. He didn’t want Shen Qingzhu to think he didn’t cherish the gift. “I did… just… it doesn’t look good.”

The big man lowered his head in embarrassment, unconsciously rubbing the stick in his hand. Shen Qingzhu chuckled. “That’s normal for a beginner. When I first learned, the teacher said my writing looked like a dog had scratched it out.”

Zhou Song was surprised. “No way! Your writing is beautiful.”

Shen Qingzhu raised a hand, brushing back the hair at the nape of his neck to avoid a sensitive spot. “It took years of practice to write like this—just like hunting, which you weren’t born knowing how to do.”

Zhou Song pressed his lips together, and for some reason, hearing Shen Qingzhu’s words made him feel less self-conscious and even a bit happy.

“At my age, learning to read… isn’t it a bit late?” Zhou Song hesitated. If he could read, he might have more to talk about with Kun Ze and not be so clumsy with words.

Shen Qingzhu shook his head. “It’s never too late if you want to learn, even for an elder.”

After a pause, he added, “If you want to learn, I can teach you when we have free time.”

“You… you’ll teach me?” Zhou Song stammered.

Shen Qingzhu raised an amused eyebrow. “Or is there another teacher in the village?”

“…No,” Zhou Song replied. Few people in Qi Shan Village were literate, and none came close to Kun Ze’s level. He rubbed the back of his head, sneaking a glance at Shen Qingzhu before averting his eyes. “Would it trouble you?”

“Not at all.” Shen Qingzhu’s gaze fell back to the fire. “I don’t have much to do here in the village. It’d keep me occupied.”

Zhou Song, already tempted, opened his mouth to agree but then hesitated. “But if we spend too much time together, it might not look good.”

One Kun Ze and one Qian Yuan often spending time together would inevitably stir gossip, even in the simple-minded Qi Shan Village, where some people loved to talk.

It was a fair point. Shen Qingzhu thought for a moment. “Then we could go to Aunt Qian’s place. With her family around, we’ll have an excuse, and if they don’t mind, maybe we can teach Little Brother Lin too.”

It seemed like the perfect solution. Zhou Song had no objections, though he felt slightly irritated when Shen Qingzhu mentioned teaching that brat Lin Erzhu.

If they taught that troublemaker to read, he’d probably barely sit still, constantly bouncing around.

“Is there another issue?” Shen Qingzhu asked, noticing Zhou Song’s dark expression.

“No.” Zhou Song quickly shook his head. “I’m just worried you’ll be tired.”

Shen Qingzhu chuckled. “It’ll be fine.”

The roasting rabbit was golden brown and fragrant. Zhou Song checked it carefully and, realizing it was fully cooked, looked at Shen Qingzhu’s pale hands. He remembered he hadn’t prepared leaves to hold the meat or brought a knife.

Not wanting to make Shen Qingzhu hold the greasy rabbit, he hesitated.

Shen Qingzhu noticed and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. “Just tear off a leg for me. I won’t be able to finish more.”

“Alright.” Zhou Song took the handkerchief, which held a faint orchid scent, even more intense than the scent lingering in the air. He instinctively curled his fingers, holding his breath, and quickly tore off a rabbit leg, trying not to think about staining the handkerchief with grease.

The rabbit was hot, so Shen Qingzhu blew on it and took a small bite. Even without seasoning, the meat was palatable thanks to Zhou Song rubbing some sour fruit juice on it to cover the gamey flavor.

He wasn’t particularly hungry, so after finishing the leg, he was full, and the rest of the meat was left to the man to devour.

After Zhou Song finished, he took the sticks and bones to the cave entrance to bury them, avoiding attracting wild animals.

When he glanced outside, the rain continued to pour down with no sign of stopping. He had no idea how long it would last.

Turning back to the cave, he saw Shen Qingzhu sitting by the fire, hugging his knees with a pale face. The orchid scent was stronger, making Zhou Song take a few steps back.

“Shen Qingzhu, are you…” Zhou Song hesitated, feeling awkward. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Shen Qingzhu looked up, aware that Zhou Song had realized something was wrong. He pursed his lips, not responding.

Zhou Song didn’t need an answer; he felt his own body reacting to the intensified scent, heating up as he struggled to maintain control.

He knew he couldn’t stay close to Kun Ze. During the rainy season, the scent of Kun Ze was overwhelming for a Qian Yuan. And given his feelings, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t act on impulse.

Backing away, Zhou Song asked, “Did you bring medicine?”

Seeing him back away slightly, Shen Qingzhu felt reassured and hugged his knees tighter, shaking his head.

Zhou Song could see that he was uncomfortable and unusually silent, clearly struggling. Worried but unable to help, Zhou Song stayed at a distance, glancing at his pale profile, feeling increasingly agitated as the scent grew stronger.

Unable to stand it, Zhou Song said, “I’ll wait at the cave entrance.”

He retreated quickly, knowing he couldn’t share Kun Ze’s pain and could only distance himself, resisting the enticing scent.

The Qian Yuan retreated hastily to the entrance, looking as if he’d encountered a wild beast instead of Kun Ze’s scent.

Incredibly, Shen Qingzhu almost laughed despite himself. If it weren’t for the rain, he thought, Zhou Song would have fled the scene entirely.

This man… was indeed different from those in the capital.

Those men would gaze at him with veiled, predatory eyes, and given such an opportunity, they wouldn’t hesitate.

The searing heat inside him was almost unbearable, and Shen Qingzhu unconsciously leaned against the cold cave wall to cool down.

The gland in his neck throbbed painfully, and he didn’t dare touch it. Even a slight touch felt like needles.

Shen Qingzhu tilted his head back, his forehead beading with sweat, dripping down his neck into his collar.

“Are you alright?” Zhou Song, still watching anxiously from the entrance, called out softly, his worry making him glance over his shoulder.

There was no response from within the cave. Unsure if Shen Qingzhu didn’t want to reply or was simply too uncomfortable, Zhou Song felt uneasy. Although he didn’t fully understand the effects of Kun Ze’s rainy season, he knew from his own experience that it couldn’t be pleasant.

The sound of rain continued to pour outside, heightening his irritation. If not for the rain, Shen Qingzhu wouldn’t have to suffer here.

Shen Qingzhu heard his question but didn’t respond, afraid he’d make an unseemly sound if he opened his mouth. He bit his lower lip, his fingers clutching his clothes as if his body were a fire, suffocating him with heat.

Through blurred vision, he saw Zhou Song’s faint outline sitting at the cave entrance, seemingly agitated.

But he controlled himself, staying put at the cave’s outer edge, perhaps even letting rain splash on him.

The scent was certainly reaching him. Shen Qingzhu admired his restraint, realizing that if Zhou Song lost control, the consequences could be serious.

Blurry-eyed, Shen Qingzhu asked himself if he could really trust Zhou Song. Making such a choice could mean no way back.

At the entrance, Zhou Song clenched his fists, struggling to control his own impulses while stifling his worry.

Just then, a soft, weak voice came from within the cave.

“…Zhou Song.”