Why is This Clingy Snow Leopard Acting So Innocent? - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Injured — He is a Special Existence

“Awoo~ Awoo awoo~” “Purr… purr…”

The snow leopard lay there, tossing its head and wailing loudly, making it extremely difficult to apply the medicine.

Su Wen lightly slapped its forehead and lowered his voice: “Shut up!”

The leopard stopped howling and lay obediently on his lap, letting him wipe the wounds and bandage them.

He couldn’t tell if it had fought a wolf or another snow leopard; it was covered in injuries, not a single part of it left unscathed. Based on Su Wen’s experience raising cats, the two gashes on its rump were likely sustained while it was trying to run away.

The lecture Su Wen had prepared about “running away if you can’t win” died in his throat. It had run; if it hadn’t, who knows what would have happened?

These injuries were far too many. Although he had checked carefully and found they were mostly superficial, he wondered how this “stupid leopard”—which he had raised so well and was packed with muscle—could get beaten like this by another animal.

It had only been gone a few days and managed to get bullied into this state.

There were numerous bite and scratch marks all over its body. Its front paws had two deep horizontal gashes where the skin, flesh, and fur had been torn away together.

Su Wen hesitated for a long time. He sent a message to Yun Shu, primarily asking: How can you tell if a snow leopard has internal injuries?

But the guy didn’t reply, and there was no sound from outside; he was definitely asleep. Su Wen quickly retracted the message. He still didn’t want his little secret to be discovered.

Seconds later, he turned to the more professional Lin Zhihuan, but changed his approach. He sent over a news article he found online about an injured snow leopard in a zoo, making his inquiry seem casual and not out of the blue.

However, Lin Zhihuan wasn’t a professional rescue expert either and could only provide general methods.

Following those methods, Su Wen systematically checked the leopard’s limbs, neck, and torso. Aside from reacting to the pain when its wounds were touched, the leopard seemed fine. Su Wen breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed there were only external injuries; some medicine and bandages would suffice.

The leopard looked like it had gone wild out there, acting completely heartless as it leaned its medicine-scented body against Su Wen’s stomach. After rubbing against him for a while, it seemingly sensed Su Wen’s stern, angry expression. Despite the pain of its pulled muscles, it stood up, turned around, bit its own long tail that had been trailing to the side, and offered it to his hand.

Su Wen’s first thought was that the tail was injured. He pulled it over and checked it thoroughly—nothing. It was simply handing him its tail.

He flicked the tail back toward the leopard, and the leopard let out a few huffs at him.

Ah, it was sulking.

He picked the tail back up, and the leopard turned to nuzzle his hand.

Happy again.

Su Wen sighed and rubbed its head. He was terrified it had severe internal injuries or might die in the wild, yet he didn’t want anyone to know about the relationship between this human and this leopard. After agonizing for a long time, he ultimately didn’t call the Animal Breeding Center.

He sat cross-legged, propping up his head and watching the leopard for a long while. The leopard was licking its front paw, skillfully avoiding the medicated spots. It looked obedient and healthy, not at all like it was gravely injured.

Su Wen felt a wave of helplessness. He couldn’t blame the creature; wild snow leopards face all sorts of injuries. He pulled out a few bottles of electrolyte water from his suitcase—something he’d bought in Linzhou for energy but hadn’t drunk—poured one into a cup, and watched the leopard finish it.

He decided to keep it here secretly for a few days of observation. He’d snag some meat from Yun Shu to feed it. The salmon was arriving soon; though he didn’t know if the leopard was a picky eater, he remembered a documentary saying leopards eat salmon. Consider it an upgrade to its diet.

Come to think of it, the last time a snow leopard in these mountains tasted salmon was probably back in the Devonian period with their ancestors. The thought made him look forward to seeing the leopard’s reaction to the fish. If he didn’t eat it, he’d just go back to Suolang’s place and get some more mutton.

The “Leopard Raising Plan” was looking good. To ensure it slept well, Su Wen sacrificed his own wool sweater to make a bed for it on the other side of his bed.

But the leopard insisted on huddling with him. Its backside stayed in its nest, but its head pressed firmly against Su Wen’s neck, its tail occasionally thumping against him before finally resting on his arm outside the blanket.

Su Wen was speechless—this was hardly the behavior of an injured leopard—but for some reason, he didn’t want to push it away and let it stay. It was certainly better behaved than before, at least it didn’t do its “explosive pounce” and pin him down.

He even locked the window to ensure it wouldn’t run off in the night. Running out with those injuries would only lead to more.

…

But the plan went sideways.

Early the next morning, Su Wen woke up naturally. He instinctively turned his head. It was empty.

He froze, thinking he hadn’t fully woken up yet. He closed his eyes for another two minutes to clear his head, but when he opened them again—where was the leopard?!

It had run off again. Like a “Cinderella” of the snow leopard world—except it was a Grey Leopard—at the stroke of the hour, it had to leave, leaving only some leopard fur behind as a souvenir.

He was at his wit’s end. Could a snow leopard pick a lock? A latch-style window lock at that? Was that even logical? Su Wen was beginning to suspect it was a human in disguise.

After lying in bed in a state of existential dread for a while, he heard rustling outside. Yun Shu was making breakfast. He got out of bed and walked to the window. When he pulled back the curtain, he was even more dazed.

The window was still locked from the inside, exactly as he had left it last night.

A bolt of lightning seemed to strike his brain. He sprinted out of the room and threw open the door.

Outside, Yun Shu had just placed breakfast on the table. Seeing Su Wen in such a state, he was startled: “What’s wrong?”

Su Wen went straight to the point: “Did you see…”

The word “snow leopard” was on the tip of his tongue, but he forced it back. “…cat?”

Yun Shu blinked, staring at him without saying a word. Su Wen’s face grew darker, and he felt an inexplicable tension.

“No.”

Su Wen let out a long breath of relief. Thank goodness.

“Why do you ask?” Yun Shu looked around. “Did a cat get into the house?” A few seconds later, he added, “Wait, we don’t have cats here, except…”

“Let’s eat first,” Su Wen interrupted, afraid that if they kept talking, his secret would slip out.

Yun Shu obediently stopped talking and poured a glass of freshly boiled milk for him. Su Wen took a sip and set it aside, his gaze shifting to Yun Shu’s hands. “What happened to your hands?”

Both of Yun Shu’s hands were wrapped in thick bandages, but they were poorly done—loose and looking like they might fall off at any moment.

Hearing this, Yun Shu pulled his sleeves down further. “Nothing, just a few scratches.”

Su Wen frowned. He grabbed Yun Shu’s hand without taking no for an answer. How could “small scratches” require such heavy bandaging?

“Hiss—”

The wound was pulled, and Yun Shu gasped. Blood seeped through, instantly staining the white bandages with several spots of red.

Su Wen’s heart nearly stopped. He didn’t even put down his chopsticks before running into his room, returning with a medical kit.

Both of Yun Shu’s hands were wrapped, and as he moved, the blood continued to seep out. It was clear the dressing hadn’t been applied correctly. Su Wen’s brow furrowed deeply as he slowly unwrapped the bandages, revealing two jagged, gruesome wounds. The flesh was practically torn open.

“How did this happen?!”

Yun Shu stammered, unable to answer. Su Wen placed a towel under his arm to prop up the wound. Although it looked terrifying, it had luckily been treated with antiseptic and wasn’t inflamed.

As he tended to the wound, Su Wen looked up, his tone turning cold. “Who did this to you?”

Yun Shu instinctively avoided his gaze. “No one. I just… I tripped last night and got scratched.”

Su Wen had received emergency medical training long ago to ensure his own safety in the field. He could handle basic trauma in the absence of a doctor. He had seen many types of injuries, but Yun Shu’s… the appearance, the depth, and that specific shape…

What kind of object could scratch someone like that? Especially with that distinct indentation at the tip of the wound.

“Did you get into a fight? Were you bitten by someone’s dog or something?”

“It really was a scratch,” Yun Shu’s voice grew weak, losing all conviction. “I just got caught on a nail.”

Lying. Su Wen stood up, intending to go to Yun Shu’s room to see exactly what “nail” could have done. Just as he rose, he was grabbed. He turned back to see Yun Shu holding his hand, meeting his confused gaze with a pitiful expression.

“It hurts. Please help me finish dressing it.”

Su Wen: “…”

“Does the Captain know why you’re hurt?”

“No.”

“Can I not know either?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Su Wen stunned himself. An indescribable emotion surged through him—he couldn’t name it or describe it, but it was… very strange.

He took Yun Shu’s care for granted, never thinking it was out of the ordinary, but Yun Shu didn’t seem to treat the others at the patrol station this way. This was “special treatment” reserved only for him.

It was as if he were a very special existence to Yun Shu.

No.

From the beginning, Yun Shu had said he was hired by Su Wen’s sister, Su Jian. So, there was nothing truly special; it was all for money. Perhaps he was just exceptionally professional, hence the meticulous care.

Su Wen had acted since childhood, understanding characters by dissecting them. He had even studied psychology to gain deeper insights. Now, as he looked at Yun Shu, his movements froze. His beating heart seemed to hang in mid-air.

Yun Shu tilted his head, chin slightly raised as he looked at him. His clear eyes reflected Su Wen’s face.

“You’ll know later,” he said. “Only you will know, okay?”

Su Wen realized it then.

It wasn’t that he was a special existence to Yun Shu.

It was that Yun Shu, to him, was a special existence.