Why is This Clingy Snow Leopard Acting So Innocent? - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Critical Condition — Self-Correction is a Disease

The mother snow leopard has not left her den for twenty-four hours. Within forty-eight hours, she will give birth.

To prevent rotor noise from disturbing her, the drones have been grounded. They have shortened the visual monitoring distance, observing through telescopes from a straight-line distance of over nine hundred meters to minimize interference. The rescue center dispatched two veterinarians and several professional rescuers to monitor her and ensure the cubs are born safely.

Thump.

Yun Shu, momentarily distracted, tripped and fell to his knees, kicking up a small cloud of snow.

“Today,” Lin Zhihuan said, hoisting the heavy toolbox in his hand and glancing sideways at him, “you seem a bit… preoccupied?”

Su Wen, the culprit behind this distraction, remained silent for a second. He stepped forward, set down his gear, and reached out to help.

Yun Shu didn’t look at him. He shifted his body to avoid the outstretched hand, grabbed the equipment, and walked away. Su Wen was left standing alone, his hand still frozen in mid-air.

The wind bit painfully into his exposed skin. A few drifting snowflakes would have suited the melancholy mood perfectly, but unfortunately, none fell.

It had been three days. Aside from working together in front of the cameras, the two had almost zero communication. Su Wen frowned. This guy held a grudge for a long time.

All he did was tell the truth, didn’t he? Who keeps forcing themselves to be “moved” by their own devotion when they know the other person doesn’t like them back?

Self-delusion is a disease. In this guy’s case, it was a critical condition.

Fine. If he didn’t want to talk, then they wouldn’t talk. Who wanted to communicate with an idiot whose head was filled only with romance anyway? He’d tried to help him move on, but the guy just insisted on drowning in his own feelings.

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot…

Super big idiot!!!

A few steps away, Yun Shu stopped. Su Wen pulled an oxygen canister from his bag, took a sharp breath, and—using his hiking pole—brushed past him without sparing even a glance.

The new monitoring point was about 920 meters from the den. Two stealth tents had been set up, and the rescue center team was already waiting. This spot was close to their base at the Mountain God Temple, making it easy to return for rest.

Cheng Daozhi didn’t offer many instructions; after so many days of filming, Su Wen was basically a pro. It was a strange thing—if he told Su Jiyan, she probably wouldn’t believe that spending millions on productions wasn’t nearly as effective as simply filming in the snowy mountains every day. He was beginning to wonder if his “camera phobia” was real or just something he’d used to scare himself. Everything seemed normal.

Song Nan was patrolling other mountains and hadn’t come along. Lin Zhihuan, who frequently traveled between Linzhou and Xiping for research, knew the rescue staff well and took on the task of introducing everyone.

The process was pleasant enough. For these professionals, filming a documentary with a washed-up star was a minor detail; the priority was the snow leopard.

“Actually, I arrived two days ago,” one man said, removing his face mask to reveal dark, weathered skin and bright, sparkling eyes. His voice had a distinct Northeast accent. “I stayed with Shao-zi and the others for a couple of days, went down to rest, and now I’m back for the big day.”

This was Song Haicheng, a vet from the rescue center. He had been stationed at the Xiping Wildlife Park for nearly twenty years and had rescued and released over a dozen snow leopards.

He was speaking to Su Wen. Su Wen, not knowing how to respond, offered a simple: “Indeed.”

The non-sequitur amused Song Haicheng. He laughed heartily. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Hmm?” Su Wen was blank. “You look… very familiar.”

“Hahaha, well, it has been a long time. You were just a kid then,” Song Haicheng gestured with his hand to indicate height. “How old were you? Eleven or twelve? Maybe younger.”

“That is quite young.”

“But wait,” Song Haicheng mused. “You saved a snow leopard back then. Did you forget that too? You’d think an event that was meaningful would stick with you.”

Su Wen paused. “I think… you might have the wrong person.”

“No way, I won’t forget this!” Song Haicheng waved a hand. “Your parents were here doing charity work. They donated a lot. You were a tiny thing, but so lively.”

About fifteen years ago, Su Wen’s parents had come to the mountains for charity. Because of his mother’s high profile, they kept it low-key to avoid “PR stunt” rumors, treating it as a family trip with the two children.

For some reason, the usually obedient Su Wen had been stubborn that day, insisting on following the rangers up the mountain. Even after being scolded by his parents and sister, he wouldn’t budge. In the December cold, with snow biting at their skin, an older ranger who was fond of the boy agreed to take him on a low-altitude patrol.

That’s when it happened. They found a snow leopard.

The ranger said the boy had been wandering around as if looking for something. He found a mound of snow with something underneath. It was a dying snow leopard. It bared its teeth at the adults, but it was calm around Su Wen. It was as if it sensed the child’s innocence.

They managed to get it to the vehicle. It had a high fever—$41.2^circ C$—and multiple infected wounds. A notch in its ear was already starting to rot. DNA tests later confirmed it was the cub of a female snow leopard that had been killed by poachers two weeks prior. It was nearly two years old, just about to become independent.

It seemed the mother had sacrificed herself to let the cub escape, but the cub had been shot in the ear. The infection and subsequent fever had caused it to fail in its hunts. Without Su Wen, it would have died.

“How could you forget?” Song Haicheng shook his head with regret.

Su Wen seemed indifferent. He didn’t remember much, and if he hadn’t remembered it by now, it clearly wasn’t that important. He preferred looking forward.

“Is that leopard still at the zoo?” Su Wen asked.

“We released it. You even took leave from school to watch,” Song Haicheng said. “It would be about fourteen or fifteen now. It might have passed away.”

“I see.” Su Wen lowered his head.

…

The wind rattled the tent. Song Haicheng turned to the monitor, which showed infrared footage of the mother leopard. Su Wen stood up to step outside.

Just as he rose, the tent flap lifted, and he locked eyes with Yun Shu. Half a second later, Yun Shu frowned, dropped the flap, and turned away.

Su Wen was stunned. “What is his problem?”

He strode out after him. Everyone else was busy in the observation shed with telescopes, ignoring the friction between the two. Su Wen tried to catch Yun Shu, but the man vanished in an instant.

He checked the computer tent. “Brother Song, did you see Yun Shu?”

“He just left. I sent him to deliver the spare telescopes.”

Su Wen headed to the adjacent shed. Cheng Daozhi shoved a telescope into his hands. Looking through it, he saw the mother leopard panting heavily—not from heat, but from pain.

“It’s starting,” Lin Zhihuan said. “Contractions.”

Su Wen’s heart began to race. He felt a sudden surge of anxiety. He handed the telescope to a rescuer and began searching for Yun Shu again. “Where did he go?”

“Send him to tell Haiwen to prep the equipment.”

Su Wen sighed and stepped outside again. He felt inexplicably irritable. He wandered toward the rock wall behind the tents, wanting a moment of peace.

Someone was already there.

Su Wen walked over. “Why are you hiding here?”

Yun Shu looked up, saw him, and immediately looked away. He kept his head down, clearly ignoring him.

Su Wen sighed softly and squatted down beside him, very close. He spoke gently: “What’s wrong, Yun Shu? Did I make you uncomfortable?”