Chapter 1: Hungry Wolves on a Rainy Night

Lightning carved a path through the thunderclouds, splitting the sky in an instant. The rolling thunder made one's ears itch—it was the rainiest season of the year once again.

Inside the house, the electrical wiring flickered uncertainly; the glaring incandescent light flashed on and off. Half of Qu Yan’s face was shrouded in darkness, his features blurred, revealing only a pair of tightly knitted brows.

Shards of broken glass were scattered chaotically across the vacant living room floor, sharp edges glinting sporadically in the flickering light, hinting at danger.

Apart from the rain, Qu Yan could hear his own heartbeat, and the low growl of another creature.

A wolf—one that had crashed through the window just moments ago and darted into the room.

A wolf, in a strictly guarded wealthy neighborhood, sounded almost absurd, yet it was undeniably real.

Outside, the storm raged fiercely. Fine rain, driven by the wind, rushed in through the shattered window, spreading the salty, metallic scent of blood with no mercy.

The wolf crouched in a corner, its eyes fixed on Qu Yan, glowing green in the darkness.

Qu Yan exhaled slowly, held his breath, and for a fleeting moment, excitement triumphed over fear. Images of himself being devoured by the wolf flickered through his mind; his central nervous system trembled with overstimulation, causing his breath to quicken.

After a moment of cold wind dampening his skin, even his fingertips felt numb. Qu Yan touched his own lips in the dark, seeking the brief warmth, then bit down hard.

Warm blood pooled in his mouth. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and this time, the lights blazed on and stayed. Blood welled from his finger, and Qu Yan saw the wolf’s nose twitch.

It had caught the scent.

The wolf raised its head, amber eyes watching Qu Yan, baring two sharp canines.

Qu Yan curled his lips into a faint smile. His eyes were strikingly beautiful, the corners lifted in an alluring tilt, thick lashes casting shadows; when he smiled, there was a dangerous hook to it, like a demon from a tale of the supernatural.

Unfortunately, his opponent was a wolf, utterly immune to such charm.

A drop of blood fell from his fingertip to the floor. Qu Yan reached out toward the wolf. “Want a taste?” His voice was low, almost coaxing.

Madman—this was how countless people had described him, and in this moment, Qu Yan could only agree.

The wolf stood, scythe-shaped tail drooping, its white tip brushing the floor. Its fur was silver-bright; though thin, it still bore traces of former majesty.

A hungry wolf, now tormented by the scent of blood in the air, any second it might lose control and pounce.

And Qu Yan’s legs were crippled, leaving him confined to a wheelchair, no chance of escape.

Now, in the bright light, there was neither man nor wolf—only two beasts locked in silent confrontation.

Surprisingly, it was the wolf that looked away first. Its paws made almost no sound as it drew closer step by step. If not for the ever-exposed fangs, it would almost resemble a docile dog.

Suddenly, Qu Yan felt a flicker of regret—not from fear of death, but because he thought a bloodied corpse would look too ugly, and being bitten to death would hurt. He disliked pain.

If he truly died this way, what would people say? Most likely, they’d applaud, call it poetic justice, and comment, “That beast was finally taken down by another beast.”

That would not do—such a death was far too cheap for them.

The wolf came ever closer. Qu Yan rubbed his fingertips together, wondering how much strength it would take to strangle the animal.

The blood at his fingertip had half-congealed, yet suddenly, he felt a warm, wet sensation. Qu Yan’s pupils dilated instinctively. Under his gaze, the wolf lowered its head, extended a blood-red tongue, and gently licked the blood from his finger, carefully keeping its teeth retracted, almost as if appeasing him.

“Tch.” Qu Yan clicked his tongue, the sound ambiguous.

The wolf looked up at him, eyes misty, as if veiled by water.

His fingertip was now clean, just a small wound left. Qu Yan glanced at it, then unexpectedly burst out laughing—a pure, genuine laugh, amused by the situation without a hint of calculation.

The wolf tilted its head, still watching him intently.

Qu Yan raised his hand and patted the wolf’s furry head, his voice light with laughter. “You have no idea what’s good for you.”

The amber eyes widened; the tail swept in two circles. The wolf let out a low whine, not fully understanding Qu Yan’s gesture.

It was injured. A long, narrow scar on its ear tip had already scabbed over; up close, Qu Yan noticed a broken canine, a cut at the corner of its mouth still stained with blood, old wounds layered beneath new ones, though mostly hidden by fur.

It looked as though it had been abused.

Qu Yan was thoughtful, withdrawing his gaze slowly. He rolled his wheelchair back a step, watching as the wolf followed closely.

“Stay,” Qu Yan ordered.

The wolf’s ears twitched; its red tongue flicked at the corner of its mouth, but it obediently stayed, only whining softly with a note of grievance.

The wheelchair pressed into the ornate hallway carpet as Qu Yan moved sluggishly toward the bedroom.

The wolf paced anxiously in place, circling twice, but ultimately did not advance, only watching Qu Yan’s retreat with those amber eyes.

Sharp claws tapped against the polished floor, occasionally emitting a rasping sound. Before entering his bedroom, Qu Yan glanced back.

The wolf remained in place, finally settling down quietly beside the wall.

Only the bedside lamp was lit in the bedroom, casting a warm, yellow glow. Qu Yan lifted his hand, gently pinching his finger, feeling a faint pain at the wound.

The wolf’s tongue had been warm, humid with heat, tickling slightly as it swept over his skin.

It was strange, but Qu Yan didn’t mind.

The rain grew finer, drumming softly against the window, like a veil shrouding the world.

Bracing himself on the wheelchair, Qu Yan moved slowly but skillfully onto the bed. The bedding was soft but held no warmth. He wrapped himself tightly, transforming instantly into a cocoon.

His body, starved all day, protested loudly, but he was too exhausted now, lacking even the energy to eat, let alone deal with the wolf.

Still, his mood was light tonight. If, when he woke, the wolf was still there, he might tend to its wounds, Qu Yan thought, drifting gradually into sleep.

The bedside lamp performed its duty faithfully, knowing its master could not sleep in darkness.

It was deep into the night, and all was silent.

The wolf twitched its sensitive ears, sensing that the man inside was sound asleep. Its shadowy eyes flickered with a trace of hesitation.

It slowly lifted a forepaw, placing it carefully ahead. After a moment, it glanced toward the bedroom door, listening to the steady breathing within. With a joyful flick of its tongue, it moved more quickly.

The exhausted master had forgotten to lock the door. The slightly ajar door was soon nudged open, and a pair of glowing green eyes peered through the crack, cautiously, almost greedily, watching the man on the bed.