It finally realized, belatedly, that perhaps that damn mating season had arrived.
What was worse was that it discovered it was only sensitive to her scent.
Maybe it was some kind of pheromone. Jiang Xiaoya had mentioned something about pheromones before—only people who like each other can smell the scent on one another. What were pheromones? Probably a relative of pickled mustard greens.
Yet while hiding upstairs to escape the smell, it had to admit to certain kinds of human wisdom.
The little dog had recently become obsessed with horoscopes and fortune-telling, grabbing it every day to read palms. In the past, it had happily listened to her nonsense. But now this kind of companionship had become extremely torturous.
It couldn’t understand anything about life lines or career lines—after all, a monster’s palm has far more lines than a human’s. But when her fingers traced along its palm, it tickled terribly, a kind of itch that traveled from the center of its palm into its chest, making it want to curl its fingers inward and hunch its body.
She leaned in so close that the sweet scent on her body began to trigger an intense hunger and stomach pain. It had to use all its self-control to keep from reflexively grabbing her hand.
It said helplessly, “Xiaoya, don’t torture me.”
Its voice was very hoarse. She thought it was talking about being dragged into fortune-telling. It didn’t explain. Yes, stay a little farther away. You’re the cutest baby in the whole world.
She always liked to sit in its arms and play on her phone. Before, it could be a well-behaved human-shaped big pillow for her; now, that had turned into a form of torture. It could only curl up in a corner, hold its breath, stiffly avoiding her scent.
What was even more excessive was that as soon as she sensed its stiffness, she would deliberately move closer. It had spoiled her into being willful. She was the worst bad thing in the whole world.
It retreated step by step, wanting to hide up on the ceiling.
What was deadly was that it was only sensitive to her scent. Like being allergic to a certain kind of pollen.
It wanted to ignore it, deny it, but the moment she came close, it almost had a fatal allergic reaction. It could only curl up, stiff as a huge rock. Only when she moved far away could it breathe normally again.
It couldn’t continue staying here to suffer this torment.
It planned to find a swamp to hide in until this period passed.
It told Jiang Xiaoya in a low voice that there had been some changes after its molting period that it wasn’t used to yet, and that it might have to leave for a while.
It wasn’t lying to her. The rain above its head worked sometimes and didn’t other times, and that anxious hunger often made its stomach ache, clamoring to devour that enticing fragrance. It needed a space without her.
When the enormous creature left, it was almost fleeing in panic.
Even though behind it was a little dog whose silhouette looked very much like a lop-eared rabbit.
───♡───
Jiang Xiaoya felt that Jiang Ze had been a bit off lately. Because it often looked like it had a stomachache, and the moment she came close, it would curl up. She was a little worried that the big monster might have developed some kind of stomach illness. After all, when it was little, it always ate raw meat. It wouldn’t be strange if it had ruined its stomach. It was only later, after she said it would get sick, that it started eating cooked food.
Although the little beagle wanted to chase after it enthusiastically, Jiang Ze ran very far away. She couldn’t find it, and she still had classes to attend, so she could only call every day, saying “moshi moshi” as she asked whether Jiang Ze was feeling any better.
Each time, it just responded with a couple of perfunctory “mm-hmm”s.
Jiang Ze had actually gone to a vast swamp filled entirely with water ghosts. It tried to relieve that burning hunger through killing or by exhausting itself even further. Its temper had been especially bad lately; it had killed many high-level water ghosts. But it still wasn’t enough. It slept very little each day.
Hunger was a desire that could be endured. It just could no longer keep deceiving itself. Why was it only able to smell her scent? It finally realized that she held an extremely strong attraction for it. This attraction shattered the “mom” façade it took pride in.
It had once wanted to ignore the wild roses growing savagely in its heart.
But pretending not to see it does not mean it doesn’t exist.
The flowers bloom in a corner of the heart.
Killing, exhaustion, going whole days without sleep—perhaps that way it could regain inner peace. It wandered forward aimlessly, conjuring torrential rain. Whenever it realized the surrounding water level had risen, it would change locations and continue.
Perhaps because it had kept some distance from her, it felt much better.
While it was fighting and gasping for breath in the swamp—
She said she was on break and was coming.
It told her not to come.
The little dog said gloomily that she missed it.
It held back, and finally relented.
Come then. You little dead child.
It felt much more normal now. At least it no longer had that kind of hunger; it thought it could face the little dead child at home more calmly, not be tugged by her every move. And besides, it really did miss her a little. It went to pick her up, wanting to use that normal mom-like tone to ask whether she’d lost weight, whether she’d been eating properly.
But the moment it saw her, it realized that all the effort of this period had gone to waste.
It led her toward the tent it had set up for itself, trying hard not to pay attention to the honey-like scent drifting from her body along the way. It completely failed to notice how out of sorts it was at the moment.
The little dog asked worriedly what was wrong with it, and even took the initiative to come closer, handing it a towel and water. At home, she was a little tyrant—she was never like this.
It felt a little overwhelmed by the favor.
Only when it turned its head did it finally see its current state in the shattered mirror opposite—it was so wretched. It looked a mess, covered in blood, its face smeared with blood too, a bit frightening. It felt that it might have made her worry, so it bared its pointed teeth and smiled a little, telling her not to worry.
Jiang Xiaoya didn’t believe it. She felt that its condition was far too wrong. She twisted open the bottled water and used the towel to wipe the blood clean from its face and body. When it no longer looked so miserable, she pressed her forehead against its and asked what was really going on.
The worry in her eyes was about to spill out.
She was too close. That sweet scent carried over with her breathing, and it felt a sensation close to dizziness, to being utterly entranced.
She seemed like she wanted to kiss it—but didn’t, only pressing the tip of her nose against its. Her breath was so near; it felt a searing desire burning. To kiss her—the sweet sweetness was right there, within reach if it just lowered its head.
She said a whole lot, but it didn’t hear a single word.
She was probably scolding it.
Mm. Who cared. Let her scold.
It stiffly curled up, lowered its gaze, doing its best not to pay attention to her lips. It turned its face away, trying hard to avoid her nose and breath; turned its back on her, not letting her see its current expression.
No matter what she said, it couldn’t listen anymore.
It obediently—very large—hid off to the side, only knowing how to nod vaguely and haphazardly.
It was trying hard to restrain that searing hunger. Its appetite was so voracious that it wanted to eat her, to tear at her soul and swallow it together.
It could no longer keep deceiving itself. Why was it that it could only smell her scent, that hunger only arose because of her?
It even had to rely on sheer willpower just to keep from looking at her.
It was very good at enduring pain. It had been so since it was little. Hunger was all it was, and hunger, too, could be endured. Compared to being scorched by the sun or groping through darkness, it was easier. It could endure it.
It was just that it had discovered something long accumulated.
Love.
Blooming like roses.
The little dog, however, began to grow dissatisfied with its absent-mindedness. It had run off alone for so long, turned itself into such a miserable state; she was frantic with worry as she scolded it, yet all she got in return were perfunctory “mm-hmm”s. She felt ignored—after growing up, she had always disliked being treated like a child, and when her opinions were overlooked, she became especially angry. She hated that feeling!
In a burst of anger, she pounced, both hands forcefully turning its head, squeezing her face into the center of its field of vision. The distance was so close that her eyelashes almost brushed its eyelids; within her amber-colored pupils surged anger and grievance as she demanded to know why it wouldn’t look at her—was it feeling guilty?
It stared without blinking; there was nothing else in its eyes anymore.
Her eyes were too beautiful. Burning amber, giving off a sweet fragrance. Nearly dizzying.
It had no choice but to look at her. With difficulty, it spoke:
Alright, baby.
I’m looking at you now.
Satisfied, she sat a little farther away. Hugging her knees, she said that living alone by the sea was so lonely, that she missed it so much, and told it to hurry and finish things up and come home with her tonight.
It adjusted its breathing. Lowered its eyes.
Maybe after waiting a while it would be fine. Those dizzying flowers would wither.
It had to go home eventually. It was always hard to be at ease with her living alone by the sea. And besides, it had heard that she had joined a school-organized internship rescue team and would soon be going away for a long time. In some corner of its heart, it felt a faint loosening—this meant that at least during the time she was away, it could put its shattered “mom” image back in order and maintain that surface normalcy.
When autumn came, everything would get better.
By then, the scorching summer would have passed, the temperature would drop, and the mating season would be over as well.
───♡───
On the first day of autumn, it was certain it had regained a measure of calm. It began trying to make maple syrup to bring to her at school. She always complained that the rescue team’s convenience food was bland and tasteless. It even made a trip back to its old home in the swamp, brought back some yarn, and made her a sweater for the new year. This year the little dog liked red. In a red sweater, she looked as pretty as a red apple.
When two fallen leaves were swept along by the waves, longing began to grow like grass and orioles taking flight. It reminded her over the phone to remember to buy autumn clothes, yet was never quite at ease. After a rain, the temperature dropped sharply. It decided to go and visit the little dog.
Mm, just take one look, put the things down, and leave.
Don’t linger.
Lingering nourishes the greedy beast.
The place where she was doing her internship was too far away. It searched for a long time before finding it. It planned to leave after delivering the clothes to her camp. But once it had placed the clothes inside her tent, it remembered that it had been several months since it had last seen her.
They had agreed on just one look, yet it crouched outside her tent for a long time, until night fell. She came back.
From far away, she saw it. Immediately, she ran toward it.
It clearly heard its own heartbeat.
It had thought it would never love this little dead child. Love her reckless temperament, her dirty shoes, her headlong running day after day? She was its troublemaker, the little burden it could never shake off. It believed it would only ever have a mother’s love for her—nothing more than tolerance and responsibility.
But now, she ran straight at it, carrying the wind as she threw herself into its arms.
In that instant, a kind of pure happiness mixed with dizziness seized it tightly.
“Jiang Ze, Jiang Ze, I missed you so much!”
It didn’t loosen its hold. It felt as though fireworks were exploding all over the sky above its head.
But listening closely, there was only the quiet chirring of insects in the autumn night. Where were there any fireworks?
It carefully picked a fallen leaf from her hair, pulled her back, and looked at her carefully again and again.
It felt very defeated. After all, it had only planned to take one look at first. But in the end, it couldn’t bear to leave, listened to her chatter on for a long time, and still didn’t go. Not until she fell asleep holding onto its arm.
It thought it should leave now. But she was sleeping so deeply.
It sat beside her, letting her lean against it for the whole night. Her sleeping posture was terrible, and she wasn’t even wearing socks. It carefully wrapped her in a blanket, letting her lie more comfortably. Its embrace was wide enough; she probably wouldn’t feel uncomfortable sleeping like this.
It saw a sky full of stars outside the tent.
In crisp, clear autumn weather, the stars were always especially bright.
Maybe—maybe when winter came, it would be better. Snowy days would freeze most plants to death, including the flowers in its heart.
───♡───
When Jiang Xiaoya finished her internship with the rescue team and returned home, it happened to be the day of the Winter Solstice.
Wrapped in a thick scarf, her nose tip frozen red, she rushed in and threw herself at it, shouting, “I’m freezing to death! Jiang Ze, hug me!”
She still carried the chill from outside, but this close embrace seemed to ignite some kind of signal—through the thick layers of clothing, it was that familiar warm body and sweet scent. It didn’t feel cold at all; instead, it felt her body heat pass from its arms like glowing embers.
It couldn’t push her away right away, only stiffly encircle her. It felt its heart pounding wildly out of control, drowning in the winter silence. She complained, “Jiang Ze, you’re so cold,” yet hugged it even tighter, rubbing against its cheek like a little dog.
It was snowing. In winter by the sea, the city was covered in a vast expanse of white snow, yet the sea waves would not freeze. Blue waves rolled in layer after layer, the sky crystalline and clear. This was their first winter spent by the sea.
Early in the morning, she got up and ran out into the cold wind. She was much steadier than when she was little, wearing a thick coat and gloves. Still, she ran off to the nearby watchtower, excitedly wanting to look at the winter sea.
The tip of her nose was frozen red, her cheeks red as well.
It told her to come down from the windward spot.
She refused, even climbing higher, where the wind was stronger. She shouted, “I won’t be cold!”
It got angry and went up to grab the little dead child. It used a big, thick scarf to wrap her up until only a pair of eyes was left. But she still refused to come down, so it could only circle her in its arms, using its broad body to block the howling winter wind coming off the sea. Like a mountain, it blocked all the cold wind.
The little dog spoke confidently:
“See, I told you, I won’t be cold.”
“Because I have big teeth!”
So it had nothing to say.
She told it about a song she used to sing a long time ago, probably back in middle school, when she played hopscotch:
Xiaoya, Xiaoya, no worries when it rains.
Others have umbrellas, I have big teeth.
It froze.
It felt, irresistibly, as though it had been struck by happiness. Like snow falling thick and fast.
Was that love? It was love.
It resisted the drastic changes in life, believing that sticking rigidly to the old ways would keep things the same. It was an old-fashioned, stubborn swamp monster, one that could stay unmoving in a swamp for months. But the upheaval had already happened. Whether it ignored it or not, whether it pretended to be deaf and dumb or not, it was right there. And the little dog had discovered it long ago.
Only, the little dog was passionate and straightforward. She saw the blizzard, and she walked into it.
When she fell, she cried; after crying, she kept walking. The wind and snow on the road were fierce—step by step, she left her footprints, never once stopping.
She was truly a little dog knight, hacking through thorns and brambles.
And it stood in place, making a last-ditch resistance.
But it was about to fail.
It, too, was about to be swept away by the blizzard.
