Why is This Clingy Snow Leopard Acting So Innocent? - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: A Slap—The First Time Getting Hit in This Life

Early in the morning, the courtyard gate was knocked upon.

The one knocking was a young man with dark skin, slightly shorter than Su Wen. He looked to be about the same age as Yun Shu, perhaps a bit younger. With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, he carried a casual, almost shiftless air.

He was speaking to Yun Shu, but his gaze drifted toward Su Wen, sizing him up without the slightest bit of reservation.

Su Wen leaned against the wall looking at his phone. On the screen was the photo of the Snow Leopard he’d taken yesterday. He was focused on admiring it when he felt an intrusive gaze.

He lowered his phone and met that ambiguous stare head-on. Only then did the man look away.

The two were speaking the local dialect, which Su Wen couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until the man left that Su Wen remembered to ask, “Who was that?”

“The village chief’s son.”

“Why did he come looking for you all of a sudden?”

“Business, I suppose.”

“Nonsense.”

“I’m going to his house; he probably needs help with something,” Yun Shu explained after a moment’s thought. “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

“Oh,” Su Wen asked casually, “Don’t need me to come with you?”

Yun Shu was silent for two seconds before speaking: “No need.”

Su Wen glanced at him, sensing something was slightly off, but he didn’t press further. He watched as Yun Shu rode off, kicking up a flurry of lingering snow.

Before he could even knock on the station door, he heard a rustling of footsteps behind him. A second later, the iron gate was opened from the inside.

Su Wen turned and greeted, “Morning, Captain.”

“Morning, morning,” Song Nan looked behind him. “Hey, Xiao Su, isn’t Yun Shu with you?”

“Oh,” Su Wen looked in the direction Yun Shu had left, where the desolate landscape held nothing but tracks in the snow. “He said the village chief needed his help with something, so he went over.”

“Quite a coincidence,” Song Nan lifted the thermal curtain to let him in. “We’re heading to the village committee later. Since he’s already at the chief’s place, we won’t have to wait for him.”

“For work?”

“Yeah,” Song Nan handed him the documents on the table. “The Mountain God Festival is only a few weeks away.”

The documents detailed the precautions for the festival: venues for the rituals, the schedule, the flow of traffic for outside tourists versus local herders, and a ban on the private sale of Lungta (prayer flags).

The main priority was tourist safety. The protection station, in collaboration with the local fire and rescue station, had set up fences for the mountains not yet open to the public to prevent tourists from wandering in.

There weren’t many people at the station these days. The original two teams had been split into three. One team was up the mountain monitoring snow leopards, another was patrolling the slopes to demarcate safe zones, and the final group consisted of the three of them—Song Nan, Yun Shu, and Su Wen—tasked with explaining the policies to the villagers.

Song Nan gathered the things in the living room and moved them to the meeting hall. The smaller hall could squeeze in seven or eight people, and the walls were covered with the station’s achievements over the years.

But only those of the last few years.

Song Nan turned around to see Su Wen staring blankly at the timeline of photos on the wall. He suggested, “If you’re done with those, the large conference room has photos from when the station was first built. We moved them there because this room ran out of space.”

Su Wen nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the photo in front of him.

This was the first time he had truly noticed these pictures. At the lowest point of the chronological curve was a group photo. The person at the very corner, holding up a banner, stood out immensely.

Just like how he’d been drawn to the white paper before, his gaze froze on him again.

Messy silver-grey hair blown by the wind, and a pair of eyes—not particularly large, but spirited and beautiful—that seemed to merge with the snowy plateau behind him.

When he smiled, he revealed two prominent canine teeth.

The appropriate adjectives for a twenty-two or three-year-old man should be “handsome” or “dashing,” but looking at him, Su Wen’s mind was filled only with one word: Cute. Truly cute.

Beside him, Song Nan finished tidying up and walked over.

“That was Yun Shu’s first month here, early this year,” he said, pointing at the photo. “He sent his resume from Linzhou University, saying he wanted to be a volunteer.”

“We were short-staffed at the time. Seeing as he was a local and adapted well, we kept him on.”

“Looking back, that was definitely the right call,” Song Nan sighed. “He does the work of two people.”

Su Wen agreed wholeheartedly. He turned to Song Nan. “Captain…”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Did Yun Shu ever say why he came here to volunteer? Or how long he’s staying?”

Song Nan thought for a few seconds. “He didn’t say. He came with a recommendation from his tutor. I assume it’s for credits? Or volunteer hours required by the school?”

“In the past, we used to stamp volunteer certificates for some kids… but they never actually showed up, hahaha. They just wanted the name on the paper; we never saw their faces.”

Su Wen had done the same thing back in university and gave an awkward laugh in solidarity.

Song Nan continued, “He’ll probably leave after a year. After all, he still has school.”

“Did he mention a specific time?”

After some thought, Song Nan said, “He’ll be leaving once your filming wraps up.”

Su Wen went silent, his gaze returning to the cute, smiling person in the photo. He didn’t ask anything else, standing there lost in thought.

“But…” A couple of seconds later, Song Nan remembered something. “In the months since Xiao Shu arrived, whenever he was out on duty, someone would constantly knock on our station door, saying…”

He confirmed, “Saying she was Yun Shu’s mother.”

Su Wen’s heart jolted. He turned back. “Yun Shu’s mother came to the protection station to knock, too?”

Song Nan was confused. “Too?”

Su Wen explained, “A few days ago, when Yun Shu was on duty and I was home, his mother came and knocked on the door directly.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” Su Wen retracted his gaze.

Song Nan sighed, unable to hide his amazement. “It was one thing when the weather wasn’t so cold a few months ago, but now it’s nearly $-20^{circ}text{C}$. That’s some deep obsession!”

Su Wen was stunned for a moment. “She comes often?”

“Yes.”

Su Wen stood frozen, unsure of what to say. After a long while, he only managed: “Did she ever say why?”

“What else could it be for?” A man with a buzz cut pushed the door open—it was Shao Zi, a ranger from the other team who had come back to pick up documents for the rescue station. “Money. Why else would Xiao Shu go so far away for university?”

“Isn’t there a term for this?” He paused, thinking hard for a while before it clicked. “Oh, right—fleeing his ‘original family.'”

Song Nan was even more confused. “This kid… if he already escaped, why did he come back?”

“Don’t try to guess a young person’s mind, Old Song,” Shao Zi patted him on the shoulder, took the documents, and laughed as he turned to leave. “The kid does good work, doesn’t he? Why worry so much?”

That was true.

A second later, Shao Zi poked his head back in. “Aren’t you guys going to the village chief’s?”

Song Nan waved him off. “We’re going now.”

Shao Zi left his car behind and took one of the station’s motorcycles instead.

It wasn’t until they got into the car that Su Wen looked at Song Nan again. “Does his mother ask him for money? Or… give him money?”

Clearly, the latter was unrealistic. Song Nan said, “Every time his mother knocks on the door, it’s because she’s out of money.”

“And she just keeps knocking if he doesn’t give it to her?”

“Well,” Song Nan said thoughtfully, “As long as she knocks, Yun Shu gives her the money.”

“Couldn’t he just… not give it?”

Song Nan shrugged. “If he doesn’t give it, she just keeps knocking. One time she knocked every day for a month straight. She’s just a mother looking for her son; as public servants, it’s hard for us to do anything about it, right?”

Ah, Su Wen understood. A compliance test.

“Is Yun Shu her only son?”

“No,” Song Nan shook his head. “There are two children in that family. There’s a younger brother, about the same age as Yun Shu.”

Hearing this, Su Wen asked tentatively, “Are they… a blended family?”

Song Nan shook his head. “It’s their family business; it’s not right for us to pry, is it?”

Then it was likely as he suspected.

Perhaps ten years ago, Yun Shu’s biological mother passed away, his father remarried, and he became the outsider in the home.

Even though prying wasn’t right, Su Wen still felt an inexplicable urge to ask:

“What about his father? Why doesn’t she ask him for money?”

Song Nan thought about it. He had been transferred here only two years ago and had a basic understanding of the area, but he didn’t care much for village gossip, only picking up bits and pieces from other rangers to pass the time.

“I think he went to Linzhou to find work,” he replied. “For some reason, he hasn’t come back for several years.”

Linzhou.

Su Wen stopped asking. It sounded like the father and son were both working or studying away from home just to provide for this family.

However, it looked more like the father was absent, and the stepmother was forcing the father’s responsibilities onto Yun Shu.

“But,” Song Nan glanced at him with a strange smile, “Honestly, Xiao Su, you could just ask Yun Shu. That kid would definitely tell you everything.”

“Huh?” Su Wen was baffled. “Why?”

Song Nan fell into thought. It was a strange thing to say, but Yun Shu had always been very quiet. He didn’t like talking to people and preferred being alone—either watching movies or just staring off into space.

He was the type who seemed to get along with everyone but was close to no one. He’d talk to you, he’d smile at you, but there was always a distance.

“Before you arrived, that kid barely spoke to us about anything other than work. He was incredibly withdrawn.”

“What?”

Su Wen was completely stunned. Are we talking about the same person?

That guy had a mountain of nonsense to say, especially at the beginning. When they first met, he was always talking about the person he liked, bringing it up at every opportunity as if he were afraid no one would know how devoted he was. To Su Wen, he just seemed like a fool wallowing in the past.

“He,” Su Wen thought for a moment and replied, “Maybe it’s because we’re about the same age, so we have more to talk about.”

“Likely so.”

…

The village chief’s house was in the center of the village, right next to the village committee office. The village was vast but sparsely populated, so being close together was more convenient.

The gate to the committee courtyard was open, and Song Nan parked the car inside.

As soon as they stepped out, they heard a burst of crying and shouting from inside the building. It was all in a language Su Wen didn’t understand, but it sounded like someone was voicing an immense grievance.

Su Wen was curious. “Is there a fight inside?”

Song Nan was used to it; it was probably a dispute over someone’s livestock. “Likely a mediation.”

Just as he said that, Yun Shu’s voice rang out. It was very brief, sounding as if he had been cut off before he could finish. Immediately following it was the sound of a sharp slap.

Su Wen froze for a split second, then shoved the door open and rushed in.

Before the people inside could say a word, he grabbed Yun Shu, intending to give the brat opposite them a lesson.

THUD.

A fist connected with his face. He felt nothing at first, followed by a dull throb, and then a wave of intense dizziness. He heard several gasps, and then someone—he wasn’t sure who—wrapped their arms around him to steady him.

After the pain came the fury. Excluding the requirements of acting on set, this was the first time in his life he had ever been hit.