Why is This Clingy Snow Leopard Acting So Innocent? - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Photographs — It Feels Like I’ve Been Here Before

The fluffy snow leopard head spent a long time butting against the curtains without success. The heavy fabric pressed down on its large head, leaving only a small, pink, twitching nose peeking out to sniff its way forward.

Su Wen intentionally didn’t help, wanting to see how the creature would get in if he didn’t pull the curtains aside. While he was focused on watching this “performance,” his phone rang—an unknown number. It didn’t look like a scam call, and figuring that a call this late must be important, he answered.

It was Ke Ning.

Su Wen was surprised. “Ke Ning, what’s up so late?”

Her voice sounded urgent. “Brother Su Wen, are you asleep yet?”

At that moment, the snow leopard broke through its head. Su Wen stopped spectating, stepped forward, and pulled the curtains back. Taking advantage of the opening, the leopard leaped into the room. Su Wen absentmindedly rubbed its head while replying to Ke Ning, “Just about to. Is something wrong?”

Before he could ask further, violent coughing erupted on the other end of the line. Then, Ke Ning and someone beside her lowered their voices, seemingly arguing. Finally, Ke Ning replied hoarsely:

“It’s nothing, Brother Wen. I’m calling to ask if you could come to the Village Chief’s house tomorrow morning… um…” After confirming with the person next to her, she said, “Probably around six or seven? It would be best if you arrived by then.”

Su Wen agreed. Though he didn’t understand why it had to be so early, it wasn’t an unreasonable request.

“By the way, Brother,” Ke Ning added just as he was about to hang up, “Is Yun Shu not with you? I tried calling him but couldn’t get through. Maybe he’s asleep. Mention it to him and have him bring you over.”

Su Wen hung up, feeling a bit puzzled. Beside him, the snow leopard was still rubbing against his leg, trying to pull his attention back to itself. He walked toward the door; it followed, nuzzling him all the way. Blocking its attempt to dash out with his leg, Su Wen peeked his head out.

The lights were off, and the living room was pitch black—no one was there. The light in the corner room was also out. Su Wen hesitated for a moment, patted the leopard’s mischievous head, and closed the door behind him.

He walked to Yun Shu’s door and knocked several times, but there was no response. Even when he called, he could hear the ringtone inside the room, but the person inside remained unmoved.

How could someone sleep so soundly? It was as if they were dead. He didn’t bother knocking further and returned to his room.

As soon as he pushed his door open, the snow leopard that should have been waiting by the door was gone. He looked up:

“What are you doing over there?!”

The snow leopard looked like it had been caught red-handed. It quickly lowered its front paws from the windowsill, flattened its ears, and slunk toward Su Wen with an apologetic expression, rubbing against his leg.

Curtains: intact. Window: intact. Outside: no suspicious activity; intact.

Su Wen rubbed its head while inspecting the room. After a long search, he found nothing wrong. But when he turned back, the creature was still rubbing his leg with its ears back, seemingly trying to stay in his good graces. Su Wen bent down to check the leopard’s head; it was fine. Even more confused, he tapped its head and asked, “What mischief did you get into?”

The leopard let out a few whines and butted its head straight into his stomach. Su Wen stumbled back and sat down on the bed. Based on their days together, he understood its body language:

Nuzzling legs = wants attention. Butting stomach = acting spoiled.

No one could refuse a cuddle from a giant, adorable cat. Su Wen pulled it into his arms, enjoying the nuzzling and affection. Just then, the phone on the nightstand started chiming again—pure noise. After a second of hesitation, Su Wen set the leopard aside, rolled over, and grabbed the phone.

This time it wasn’t Ke Ning; it was Su Jian.

He let it ring for another two seconds before answering, pulling the leopard back into his arms with his free hand. “What?” he asked lazily.

“Just checking to see if you’re working hard.”

“You must be bored.”

“Zhang Xiaoqian’s vacation is over. Should I have him head over to find you?”

“No need,” Su Wen refused without a thought. Aside from his original one, the managers Su Jian sent were more like surveillance cameras, reporting his every move to her. “I don’t need a manager.”

“That kid next to you, Yun Shu,” Su Jian paused, then continued, “How are you two getting along?”

Su Wen didn’t want to elaborate. “Pretty well.”

“Good. Just take care of yourself.”

The snow leopard butted his armpit again. Su Wen grabbed a handful of the fur on its chest and gave a lazy “Mm.”

It was difficult for him to have a normal conversation with his sister now; they had reached a point where even a simple exchange felt awkward. In fact, all the words he’d said to Su Jian over the last few years wouldn’t add up to the amount he’d spoken to Yun Shu in a few months. Or rather, compared to his sister, he was much more willing to be with Yun Shu, whom he had only known for a short time.

…

Early the next morning, the village committee called to urge them along. Yun Shu, who hadn’t received the notice the night before, woke up even earlier than Su Wen. Consequently, his mind was still foggy when he sat in the car.

“Say,” Yun Shu shook his head, trying to pull himself out of his stupor as the car wheels turned last night’s snow into muddy slush outside the window. “Why did the Village Chief ask me to come over?”

“Probably about the Mountain God Festival. His health hasn’t been great these past few years; he likely wants to settle things in advance.”

“What does he have to settle with me?”

Su Wen’s confusion turned into shock the moment he was brought before the Village Chief. He could hardly imagine that the emaciated old man half-lying on the bed was the same Chief who had been mediating for the villagers just weeks ago.

Someone stepped forward and whispered into the old man’s ear. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze landing on Su Wen.

“Wen-wen is here?”

Su Wen was a bit stunned but stepped forward to respond. Everyone else was ushered out, leaving only him and the Chief’s daughter by the bedside.

The daughter helped the Chief sit up against a pile of thick pillows. His eyes were brimming with tears as he looked at Su Wen. Su Wen’s heart jolted, but he averted his gaze.

“I’ve wronged you all,” the Chief’s voice was intermittent, heavy with intense guilt, as if he were finally venting years of suppressed agony. “If I hadn’t let… cough, cough, cough—”

Violent coughing filled the room, each sound more alarming than the last. Suppressing an inexplicable agitation, Su Wen sat quietly, waiting for him to continue. After the coughing fit passed, the Chief gasped for air for a long time before continuing:

“Back then, your parents donated several schools to the village… they supported our development every year…”

He braced himself and pulled out an old, loose photo album that looked like it might fall apart at any moment. He flipped to the first page: a group photo of Su Wen’s parents with the Chief’s family. There were his parents, his sister, and…

Su Wen leaned forward, staring at the young boy being held at the very edge of the photo. His mind went blank for an instant. He only remembered going to a snow mountain with his family when he was very young, but he had no clear memory of where it was.

He wanted to ask, but before he could, the Chief looked at him with unmistakable nostalgia. “When you came back then, you weren’t even this tall. You were as pretty as a girl.”

The timestamp at the bottom of the photo showed it was taken twelve years ago. Su Wen would have been thirteen or fourteen then. By all accounts, his memory should be at its strongest, yet he remembered nothing. He wasn’t even sure if he had truly been there.

He said nothing, sitting silently as the Chief reminisced. Dusty memories began to unfurl through the fragmented sentences. Though weakened by illness, the Chief held Su Wen’s hand tightly and wouldn’t let go. Su Wen knew the man wasn’t really talking to him, but through him, to his old friends.

He remembered his parents saying that twenty years ago, they had traveled to a snow mountain. Back then, the villages in the mountains were isolated. The couple had gotten lost while climbing with a guide and were saved by a local villager—who later became the Chief. To repay the life-saving favor, they built schools and sent supplies, following government policies to help the younger generation build up the mountain step by step. They would bring their children to play in the village whenever they were free, and their eldest daughter had even stayed to teach.

But Su Wen hadn’t realized that the snow mountain was Songcuo Mountain. At some point, the memories associated with this mountain had faded to the point where he only remembered a mountain, but not this one.

The Chief didn’t notice his silence, rambling from their first meeting to their last. When he reached that point, he covered his face. The pain buried for five years finally found an outlet. Five years ago, the government-designated tourist zone in the village was completed. He had called them immediately to invite them to the ribbon-cutting ceremony. At the scheduled time, they were still on the road.

“If not… if I hadn’t kept rushing them, kept rushing them,” the Chief said, grief-stricken. “If I hadn’t kept rushing them, how could they have crashed into that person? They surely would have avoided it…”

Su Wen bowed his head, his hands clasped tightly. He didn’t know what to say; there was nothing left to say. The true culprit of the accident was the drunk driver who hit them head-on, but the Chief was right—if not for his rushing, perhaps they could have avoided that person. He had avoided thinking about this for a long time because, other than the drunk driver, no one was at fault, and the person at fault had already paid with his life.

Sensing his avoidance, the Chief patted his hand and stopped talking about the tragedy. He flipped through the album, telling stories about the old days, mostly involving Su Wen’s parents. Su Wen listened intently but couldn’t contribute, merely watching as the pages turned.

There were group photos of all kinds: pairs, trios, the whole family, and even photos of them with Dawa’s family. Su Wen was dazed. While waiting for the next page, the Chief seemed to lose his strength and let go.

The daughter quickly laid him flat on the bed. Once everything was settled, she looked over apologetically. “Xiao Wen, your grandfather has cancer, and it’s worsened recently. He’s been crying out to see your parents, which is why we called you over so urgently. I’m truly sorry.”

Su Wen looked at the emaciated old man on the bed, and a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over him. Ultimately, he just shook his head and said nothing more.

In the living room, there were members of the Chief’s family and village committee staff. After exchanging greetings and being stuffed with bags of pastries and fruit, the two were allowed to leave.

Before departing, Su Wen hesitated for a few seconds, then turned to the Chief’s daughter at the gate. “Amma, could I borrow that photo album for a few days?”

She agreed and hurried inside, returning with the nearly disintegrated album. The morning wind howled. Yun Shu, who had been waiting in the car, stepped out when he saw Su Wen. Su Wen reached out with both hands to take it, terrified it would fall apart.

Naturally, what he feared came to pass.

Before it even reached his hands, the album disintegrated. The photographs fluttered out and scattered across the ground. A gust of wind blew several of them even further away.

They bent their heads against the wind, searching the ground for a long time before managing to fill the album again, though they couldn’t find them all. It was about to snow, so the Chief’s daughter stopped them from searching further and urged them to head home.

Back at the house, Yun Shu stared at the pile of photos on the table, his expression dazed. After a long while, he asked, “Why did you bring these back suddenly?”

Su Wen shrugged, focused on sorting through them one by one. Aside from a few featuring him, most were of his parents and the villagers. After a moment, he replied, “It feels like I’ve been here before, but I don’t really remember it. I figured I’d take a look.”

He didn’t notice Yun Shu freezing in place. “Maybe we even played together back then,” Su Wen added, still searching.

Yun Shu clenched his hands and stood silently, making no move to help. He tried his best to suppress his racing heart, barely keeping it from leaping out of his chest.

Time ticked by. Su Wen flipped through the photos on the table two or three times, but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Eventually, he looked up and smiled. “Guess we weren’t very close back then.”

Yun Shu’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t say a single word.