Building a Civilization and Raising Cubs in the Beast World – Chapter 142

Before the situation could escalate, Bai Tu decisively separated father and son before they ended up at each other’s throats.

Lang Ying, completely unaware of his father’s rising anger, continued to chant those two offending words with great enthusiasm.

Lang Qi: “…”

Bai Tu stepped in quickly. “He’s only three—three!” he stressed, as if that explained everything. On the Beast God Continent, a three-year-old cub was at the age of rapid learning, soaking up every word around them like a sponge. They repeated everything they heard—no filter, no understanding, just pure mimicry.

Lang Qi simply stared at him in silence. The cub had picked up just that one phrase from their conversation? Was that really coincidence?

“Uh…” Bai Tu muttered under his breath. “What a little rascal.” He recalled what they’d been discussing earlier and quickly tried to justify it. “It’s just that all the other sentences are too long. This one’s short—only two words!”

That was the truth. Most of their talk these days was straightforward, just a few words each time, but even then, there were usually three words at least. Those last two were the only ones easy enough for a cub to repeat.

As for why Lang Ying had dropped the first “I,” Bai Tu offered a smooth explanation: “He already knows what I means. He’s only curious about the new word—‘useless.’ Let’s just ignore him and put the cubs to bed, all right?”

Lang Qi still didn’t speak.

Knowing he wouldn’t refuse if coaxed gently, Bai Tu leaned a bit closer. “I just got back and haven’t had much time with them. Let me stay a little while longer, okay?”

Lang Qi sighed softly, finally giving in. “…All right.”

Crisis averted.

Bai Tu smiled, leaned forward, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

A faint flush crept over Lang Qi’s face.

Just then, Lang Ying proudly shouted “Useless!” again, clapping her hands twice in self-encouragement as if she’d accomplished something impressive.

Lang Qi froze.

Bai Tu: “…” Gray Bao, Gray Bao, Daddy can’t save you this time.

Oblivious to how much trouble she’d just caused, Lang Ying clapped again and began urging her brother to join in.

Lang Sui looked from Lang Ying to their father, then back again. After a long hesitation, he wisely decided not to follow suit.

Bai Tu let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least someone in this household was reliable.

But his relief lasted all of two seconds.

Out of nowhere, Lang Sui called out, “Father.”

The two cubs froze, startled. Although they had long recognized Lang Qi as their father, they’d never actually called him that since learning to talk.

Before Bai Tu could celebrate the progress, Lang Ying followed up with: “It’s no use.”

Bai Tu immediately covered Lang Ying’s mouth and urged Lang Sui, “Say it again!”

Lang Sui obediently repeated, “Father.”

Two crisp, perfect syllables.

Bai Tu nudged Lang Qi. “Say yes.”

Lang Qi hesitated a moment, then replied quietly, “Yes.”

“Gray Bao, call him Father too?” Bai Tu looked down at Lang Ying, still keeping a hand over her mouth just in case.

She blinked up at him, met his eyes, and nodded obediently.

Bai Tu slowly removed his hand.

“Father!” Lang Ying chirped, loud and clear.

Both names were spoken perfectly—none of that garbled baby speech that took months to fix. Bai Tu glanced at Lang Qi, who only nodded twice without saying a word. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

Sometimes, the cubs really did take after their father.

Lang Sui, however, couldn’t resist showing off. When Lang Qi wasn’t looking, he gave Bai Tu a mischievous grin, clearly proud of himself. He’d learned the word ages ago—he’d just never bothered to use it until now.

Lang Qi, oblivious to Bai Tu’s amusement, didn’t even think to remind him to tuck the cubs into their cribs.

Bai Tu didn’t mind. Whether Lang Qi had forgotten or was deliberately pretending not to notice, he didn’t mention it either. He simply stayed where he was, sitting on the bed surrounded by cubs.

The three little ones had slept far too much during the day, and their energy now overflowed. With their beloved Daddy beside them, excitement reached its peak—especially Gray Bao, who darted back and forth between play-fighting with his brothers and clambering over Bai Tu’s legs.

Bai Tu just watched them with a smile, letting the room fill with laughter.

After calling “Father” a few more times, Wolf Sui and Wolf Ying finally snuggled against Bai Tu. Seeing their younger brothers still wrestling, they too shifted into wolf form and joined in.

Soon the bed was a whirl of fur—two big wolves and three small ones dashing in circles around Bai Tu. The little white wolf quickly tired out and trotted back over, stretching its paws up at him. With a grunt, it clambered into his lap and curled up, watching the others play until its eyelids drooped.

The black wolf noticed its missing sibling, searched briefly, then padded over and curled up beside the white one.

The gray wolf, the fastest of them all, ran until it was utterly spent. After a long moment of indecision between Daddy and Father, it finally chose Lang Qi and flopped down at his side.

Only the two older cubs—Wolf Sui and Wolf Ying—were left, still bouncing around the bed.

Bai Tu watched them for a moment, then turned to Lang Qi. “After the rainy season… should we send them to kindergarten?”

Wolf cubs needed to grow up among their kind. Normally, these two should have gone before the rains began, but at the time they were living in the Snow Rabbit Tribe, far from the Blood Wolf Tribe where the other wolf cubs were raised. The distance was too great, and besides, his two were still smaller than most of their peers.

Now, though, both tribes had moved into the new residential area. The dens were close together—barely a few houses apart—and the kindergarten sat right in the center, within easy reach of everyone. The cubs were also old enough to start socializing with others their age.

Still, Bai Tu hesitated. In his eyes, they were barely toddlers—called “three” by local reckoning, but in truth, only about a year old. The thought of sending them off, even for part of the day, tugged at his heart.

But he also knew that if he didn’t, they might struggle to adapt later.

Leaning down, he pressed soft kisses to their furry heads, comforting himself with the thought that kindergarten was only for daytime. He could still pick them up every night—just a little less time together than now.

The cubs, sensing none of their father’s reluctance, immediately reached up to grab his face and kiss him back.

Bai Tu chuckled, smoothing their hair. Then he sighed quietly, gazing at the two wide-eyed little ones. Can you really get used to kindergarten?

They played for a while longer, basking in their father’s affection, before the inevitable yawns arrived. Even though they fought to keep their eyes open, drowsiness eventually won out.

Every time they drifted off, they startled awake again, clutching at Bai Tu’s sleeve until he murmured softly, “Go to sleep. Daddy’s right here.”

He should have stayed with them through the entire rainy season, but there had been so much work lately. Today’s herb planting, especially, had involved soil and mud—not suitable for cubs—so he’d left them with Lang Qi instead.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, they’d start looking for a spot to dig a well, and he could bring his cubs along.

At his reassurance, the little wolves finally relaxed, breathing evenly in sleep.

Bai Tu gently moved each cub to their own bed, then turned to Lang Qi. “Shall we rest too?”

They would need to be up early. Tomorrow, they’d begin searching for the right place to dig.

With the blacksmiths’ tools, they had plenty of shovels and picks, but choosing the right spot required more than equipment—it meant finding where the groundwater ran true.

Their land was rich with options; water was abundant almost everywhere, especially during the rainy season.

After careful thought, Bai Tu decided to start with a test well behind the cafeteria. It was one of the busiest places in the settlement—if a well worked there, it would benefit everyone. The salt-boiling site, by contrast, still needed to remain secret, making it unsuitable for experimentation.

Since they lacked the proper long pipes for a pressurized well, Bai Tu chose to dig a simple deep one instead.

After all, a pressurized well required airtight pipes—something their current craftsmanship couldn’t yet guarantee.

Digging an open well, on the other hand, was straightforward. Iron tools made the work faster, and the open space meant the rabbit folk could even help in their beast forms, burrowing quickly through the earth.

Lang Ze had no idea what Bai Tu was planning, but when he heard the word “dig,” his ears perked straight up and he eagerly volunteered. Bai Tu could only sigh helplessly.

The wolf tribe were born diggers—but his brothers were enormous, and he hadn’t planned for a hole that big.

Still, Lang Ze, ever the self-proclaimed “sensible” younger brother, never wanted to trouble Bai Tu. When told they were too big, he immediately offered, “We’ll use our human forms instead.”

“I’ll stay in beast form,” he added proudly. “Tu, just leave it to us!”

There was no way he was letting anyone else take such a fun job.

The cubs, seeing their uncle’s excitement, were practically bouncing. If they didn’t know Bai Tu would scold them, they’d already be digging. Even so, their shining eyes made their thoughts obvious.

Using humanoid forms was fine—it made coordination easier. Bai Tu handed each of them a shovel, marked the location carefully, and gave instructions.

“You can only dig here, straight down,” he warned. “No expanding sideways. Don’t move the lines I’ve drawn.”

It wasn’t an idle reminder. Last time, the wolf cubs had turned a simple pit in the saltworks into something shaped like a giant-bellied jar, all because they’d started widening it for fun.

Wolves might be smart, but they loved to play. If Bai Tu didn’t lay out every rule beforehand, they’d always find a new way to surprise him.

He’d learned that much by now—and he had his own method of prevention: list every possible mistake before assigning work. Usually, that kept chaos to a minimum.

Bai Tu sometimes still underestimated the wolf cubs’ ability to cause trouble.

Two days after assigning them their work, he had just returned home when Lang Ze came bounding up, tail practically wagging with excitement.

“Tu! There’s water in the well! But it’s yellow!”

Bai Tu blinked.

He’d been coming home for lunch and dinner every day, but the tireless little wolves didn’t need such breaks. They ate all their meals at the cafeteria and barely stopped to rest, spending the rest of their time digging enthusiastically in the backyard. So long as it was fun, the wolf cubs gave it their all.

“Is yellow water unusable?” Lang Ze asked eagerly. “If not, can we play with it?”

Bai Tu had to take a deep breath before answering. “Yellow, muddy water is normal. A new well always has some silt and sand mixed in. Once it settles, we’ll clean the bottom and reinforce it with cement or bricks.”

The construction team was already familiar with that process; it would only take two days.

The little wolf instantly deflated, ears drooping like a frostbitten eggplant. “So… not fun, then.”

Bai Tu: “…”

Honestly, these cubs could make a game out of anything.

“Fine,” Bai Tu said, sighing. “If you want to dig for fun, find another spot. The tribe could use more wells anyway.”

The more wells, the better—and given how much the cubs loved digging, letting them do it would both keep them happy and help the tribe. It was the perfect win-win solution.

“Okay!” The wolf cubs’ eyes lit up. They hadn’t realized Bai Tu was just trying to keep them occupied; they thought he was really letting them play. Normally, Bai Tu placed strict limits on where they could dig—after all, no one wanted to fall into a random pit—but now he’d told them to dig freely and even given them tools.

This was a first.

Lang Ze tilted his head, something feeling off. “Wait a second…”

“Boss, aren’t we going?” one of the cubs asked, confused when Lang Ze suddenly stopped. “It’s going to get dark!”

They could still dig after dark, but mealtime was approaching, and eating would take up valuable time.

“Let’s go back and take a look,” Lang Ze said with an air of mystery.

“Look at what?” one of the cubs asked.

“I don’t know,” Lang Ze replied, “that’s why I have to go back and see.”

Bai Tu had to be hiding something fun.

The other cubs, utterly convinced, immediately followed his lead.

By the time they returned, less than the time it took to eat a meal had passed.

Bai Tu, meanwhile, was experimenting with a new water-drawing mechanism. He’d realized that lowering and pulling up a bucket by hand was too cumbersome—and dangerous for weaker orcs who might get dragged down.

So he decided to build something like a windlass: a turning device that could draw water safely and easily.

The materials were simple—just sturdy enough wood—and the tribe had plenty. Bai Tu wasted no time testing his prototype.

He was just finishing up when he heard hurried footsteps. Moments later, Lang Ze vaulted over the courtyard wall, his face full of righteous fury.

“Tu! You didn’t tell me!!!”

Bai Tu froze. He’d never seen Lang Ze so angry.

Did he… find out about the salt operation?

That was impossible! But if he had—

Before Bai Tu could think of an explanation, Lang Ze rushed over—not to the salt supplies, but to the windlass.

“I knew you were up to something fun!” Lang Ze declared, eyes gleaming. “You wouldn’t have let us go otherwise!”

The other cubs crowded around, eyes full of admiration. “Boss is amazing!”

Bai Tu: “???”

Forget it. If they’re happy, that’s what matters.

It was a false alarm. Bai Tu exhaled in relief.

Seeing their fascination with the windlass, he waved a hand. “Go ahead, play with it.”

The well wasn’t usable yet anyway—it needed to be flushed several times before the water cleared. Right now, the muddy water could only be used for watering plants, and since it was the rainy season, even that wasn’t needed. The water was just going to waste no matter what, so why not let them play?

The wolf cubs immediately turned the well into their new favorite toy. They cranked the windlass, drew up bucket after bucket, poured the water out, and started again, laughing the whole time.

Bai Tu watched them in silence for a moment, then said casually, “Why don’t you dig a few more wells? I’ll make sure each one has its own windlass.”

He pointed to the one they were playing with. “Just like that.”

Lang Ze thought about it seriously, then nodded. “Deal. But only we can use the windlasses.”

Bai Tu raised an eyebrow, then finally agreed. “Alright. From now on, no one can draw water unless you give permission.”

It was the first time he’d ever seen anyone so eager to “work.”

The cubs took to the job with surprising dedication. They treated each new well like a toy, cranking water until the well ran dry before moving on to the next.

While they were busy playing, Bai Tu had the construction team pour cement to reinforce the walls.

With the wolf cubs handling the extra wells, Bai Tu didn’t have to worry about them anymore. Once everything was stable, he began preparing to dig another well—this one for the salt-boiling team.

Removing impurities required large amounts of water, and that step couldn’t be skipped. Even if it meant extra effort, they had to make sure the supply was steady.

Thanks to the new wells, the tribe’s water problem was finally solved.

The water wasn’t as clean as spring water, but it was much better than the river’s. They soon established a system: well water for washing, cooking, and salt boiling; spring water for drinking.

The salt they produced was carefully stored away—precious, but kept secret. Everyone quietly took pride in it.

Just as Bai Tu was relaxing, Bai Qi knocked on his door, his expression complicated.

“Xiong Liao is here.”

Bai Tu’s expression shifted.

Though both of them were bears, Bai Qi’s attitude toward Xiong Liao was completely different from his usual manner with the White Bear Tribe. And not just Bai Qi—everyone in the tribe found the situation awkward.

Ever since Bai Tu’s group had returned, Xiong Liao had been showing up regularly, insisting on taking Ying Mian back.

Nearly a month had passed, and Ying Mian still refused.

It wasn’t hard to understand why. No one would willingly return with someone who treated them like that.

Xiong Liao, undeterred, continued visiting every two or three days. Each time, he brought food for Ying Mian, asked if he wanted to return, and received the same answer.

“No.”

“Oh.”

Then he’d turn and leave.

It became a ritual.

Some began to suspect Xiong Liao didn’t actually care. But if that were true, why would a tribe leader trudge through the rain just to deliver food to someone who’d left him?

The orcs couldn’t figure it out. One of them finally advised him, “Why don’t you just admit you were wrong? If you apologize, Ying Mian will probably go back with you.”

Xiong Liao replied bluntly, “I wasn’t wrong.”

The orc sighed. “Right, right—you’re never wrong. My bad.”

Bai Tu wanted to knock his own head against a wall.

He’d tried to hint several times, but clearly, Xiong Liao’s understanding of “relationships” was completely different from Ying Mian’s.

In Ying Mian’s mind, they’d simply been using each other—he got food and safety, Xiong Liao got temporary companionship. It was an arrangement that could end anytime.

Xiong Liao, however, thought they were soulmates—partners who’d transcended race and circumstance. The entire White Bear Tribe knew they were together, so in his eyes, that made it official.

If Ying Mian didn’t want to go back right now, that was fine; he’d wait. They were still partners. Ying Mian still loved him.

Bai Tu had no idea where Xiong Liao got such unshakable confidence.

His personality wasn’t bad, but his sense of romance was… lacking, to say the least.

At first, Bai Tu and Bai Qi had worried about the propriety of a visiting tribal leader camping out so often. Bai An had even raised the issue with Bai Tu directly. But after a few observations, they realized Xiong Liao never did anything improper.

His routine was simple: find Ying Mian, feed Ying Mian, find Ying Mian, feed Ying Mian.

That was it.

Bai Tu could only sigh.

Even he, let alone Ying Mian, would have mistaken this for a purely transactional relationship. In modern terms, Xiong Liao was like one of those oblivious “sugar daddies” who genuinely believed it was true love.

After several failed attempts to talk sense into him, Bai Tu gave up.

Everyone had their own destiny—and this was theirs.

Among all the patrol leaders, Bai Qi was the one with the most complicated feelings every time he saw Xiong Liao approach.

There was nothing he could do about it. No matter how dense Xiong Liao was, the fact remained that his partner had already laid five eggs—while Bai Qi and Xiong Tuan still hadn’t received the blessing of Xiong He, leader of the Black Bear Tribe.

Pairings between tribes weren’t unheard of, but for a couple like Bai Qi and Xiong Tuan—each from a different tribe—it required the approval of both leaders, making the process considerably more troublesome.

Bai An had no objections. After all, Bai Tu and Lang Qi were from different tribes too, and they were doing just fine—better than fine, actually. The Snow Rabbit and Black Bear Tribes had even grown closer over time, especially since the rainy season had kept both groups from traveling far. Realistically, the Black Bears wouldn’t move too far away even after the rains ended.

In other words, even if distance became a factor, it wouldn’t really matter. The Snow Rabbit Tribe had salt, food, and stability—it was the best tribe to live in. Bai An was confident that if there was ever a choice to make, any rational orc would pick the Snow Rabbit Tribe.

That, unfortunately, was exactly what Xiong He was worried about.

He’d watched Bai Qi and Xiong Tuan interact along the journey, and his feelings had shifted back and forth countless times. Sometimes, he felt they were a good match. Other times, he worried Xiong Tuan would end up wronged.

And his current refusal to approve their pairing? That was pure pragmatism.

Xiong Tuan was his chosen successor. Although Bai Tu had healed his injuries, the treatment had come too late, and age had made his recovery slow. His body was no longer what it used to be.

For now, during the rainy season, it didn’t matter much. But once the skies cleared, they’d have to start hunting again—and Xiong He knew he wouldn’t be able to lead the team himself. That responsibility would fall to Xiong Tuan.

If Xiong Tuan officially became Bai Qi’s partner, he would likely join the Snow Rabbit Tribe. Losing him would not only leave the Black Bear Tribe leaderless but also vulnerable. And if Bai Qi ever mistreated Xiong Tuan, the Black Bears would have no way to defend him.

Xiong He had many such concerns, so naturally, he couldn’t agree to the match yet.

Bai Qi, on the other hand, was haunted by the memory of almost losing Xiong Tuan to the brink of becoming a fallen beast. He just wanted to keep him close—and watching Xiong Liao repeatedly try to take his own partner away, even for a visit, made him furious every single time.

To him, Xiong Liao was the perfect example of someone who didn’t know how good he had it.

So every time Xiong Liao arrived, Bai Qi’s mood soured. And every time, he’d go report it to Bai Tu. There was nothing more painful than watching someone who couldn’t appreciate what they had.

Bai Tu kept count. Xiong Liao had visited seven times so far—once every three days, like clockwork.

“It should be over soon,” Bai Tu consoled Bai Qi. “The rainy season’s almost done, and the White Bear Tribe’s food stores can’t possibly keep up with his appetite. Once the food runs out, he’ll have to stop bringing it.”

Bai Tu often had the urge to grab Xiong Liao by the shoulders and shake him.
Brother, I beg you, stop bringing food every time you visit! You’re already short on supplies, and you still bring meals just to sit there and watch them eat? You might as well stay home empty-handed!

But of course, Xiong Liao didn’t listen. Even if he did, he wouldn’t change.

In the White Bear Tribe, mates were always given the best food first, and Xiong Liao was scrupulously following that tradition.

What he couldn’t understand was why Ying Mian would eat the food he brought—and still be angry afterwards.

When Bai Tu and the others couldn’t figure out Xiong Liao’s behavior, Xiong Liao, in turn, couldn’t understand Ying Mian’s.

Watching Ying Mian carefully tuck a blanket over the incubator after eating, he cautiously said, “Mian, I missed you.”

It had only been three days since his last visit, but to him, that already felt too long.

Ying Mian gave him a glance but said nothing, continuing to adjust the blanket around the eggs.

Xiong Liao tried again, “Why don’t we go back to the tribe together?”

Ying Mian shook his head. “No.”

“When, then?” Xiong Liao asked anxiously.

Ying Mian didn’t answer. He had no intention of going back at all.

In the White Bear Tribe, no matter how much effort the Feather Tribe put in, everyone still saw them as dependent on the Bears for survival. Ying Mian didn’t want that kind of life. Here, in the Snow Rabbit Tribe, he could work for himself, live as he wished—even if his partner were the powerful Bai Tu himself, no one would tell him what to do.

His deal with Xiong Liao was long over. There was no reason to return.

He didn’t know why Xiong Liao kept forcing food on him, as if reliving their past arrangement, but since he’d once owed him, Ying Mian ate it all without complaint.

He’d already done everything Xiong Liao could reasonably ask of him—so why should he go back?

Rejected once again, Xiong Liao panicked. His eyes landed on the wooden box Ying Mian was tending, and realization dawned. “You like raising chicks? I’ll catch you some when we go back!”

Their tribe had chickens too—ducks and geese, even. They just didn’t bother with them much because they were too small to be worth the effort. But if Ying Mian liked them, he’d catch as many as needed.

Ying Mian: “…”

But Xiong Liao, convinced he was finally on the right track, continued earnestly, “I can even boil some eggs for you! You like eggs, right? I saw Bai Tu and Lang Qi giving boiled eggs to their cubs before!”

He then glanced at the wooden box again. “Those eggs look bad—they probably won’t hatch. I’ll take you to find some fresh ones!”

He said it with such determination that he looked ready to scour the entire mountain for new eggs.

“Get out!” Ying Mian snapped.

Xiong Liao froze, utterly baffled. They’d been fine a moment ago—what did he say this time?

When Bai Tu came by to visit Ying Mian later, he passed Xiong Liao leaving the yard with his head hanging low. It wasn’t the first time. Every single visit ended the same way.

Bai Tu didn’t even bother commenting anymore. It was useless. He just stepped past Xiong Liao and into the house.

“I came to discuss something,” he said to Ying Mian. “Some of the cubs are getting ready to learn how to fly. I’d like your help when the time comes.”

Several young Feather Tribe cubs rescued from the Red Eagle Tribe had been sent to the Black Eagle Tribe, where they could be taught by other winged orcs. But the ones rescued from the Black Forest Tribe had no teachers.

Those poor cubs had lived low in the tribe’s hierarchy and were often mistreated. Wu Jiu, especially, had been harsh toward Feather Tribe younglings. Some had relatives to care for them, but several orphans still remained under the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s care.

Recently, two of those cubs had started trying to fly on their own. Since no one in the Snow Rabbit Tribe had wings, Bai Tu decided to ask for help.

After some consideration, Ying Mian was the perfect choice—small, gentle, patient, and himself a sub-beast with wings. He’d be both a good role model and a safe teacher.

There were only five cubs total, so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming.

Ying Mian immediately agreed. He loved cubs and was happy to help raise them.

Relieved, Bai Tu smiled, then glanced toward the door where Xiong Liao still lingered like a scolded child. “What did he do this time?” he asked. “You look furious.”

“He said these eggs are no good,” Ying Mian said flatly. “That they wouldn’t hatch.”

Bai Tu: “???”

You cursed your own unborn cubs? Good job, Xiong Liao. Truly fearless.

“Wait,” Bai Tu said suddenly, realization dawning. “He doesn’t know those are your eggs, does he?”

Ying Mian’s silence was all the answer he needed.

“Seriously?” Bai Tu blinked. “You mean he really doesn’t know?”

“I’m not sure,” Ying Mian admitted. “I didn’t tell him, but I didn’t hide them either. I even checked the eggs in front of him. Whether he understood or not is his problem.”

Bai Tu pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why not just tell him?”

If Ying Mian truly despised Xiong Liao, he wouldn’t even speak to him—or let him know where he lived. But the way things were going, they were just stuck in a spiral of misunderstanding.

And honestly, as a bystander, it was painful to watch.

Xiong Liao’s emotional intelligence was… lacking, to put it kindly. Bai Tu remembered how, when Ying Mian first returned, Xiong Liao hadn’t even started looking for him until the next day. It was a miracle Ying Mian had come here at all—if he’d gone anywhere else, Xiong Liao would probably still be wandering the forest in confusion.

Ying Mian fell silent for a long while before finally nodding. He had taken Bai Tu’s words to heart.

“Don’t feel pressured,” Bai Tu said softly. “The Snow Rabbit Tribe will always welcome you. Even if you tell him the truth, you can still live here if you wish.”

He just wanted the misunderstanding cleared up. Whatever came after—that was up to them.

“Alright,” Ying Mian murmured, making up his mind to give Xiong Liao one more chance.

Bai Tu didn’t stay much longer. After finishing their discussion, he turned to leave. He paused briefly at the doorway, glancing at Xiong Liao—who was still standing guard outside—then sighed and walked away.

Not long after Bai Tu’s departure, Ying Mian opened the door. “Come in,” he said.

“Me?” Xiong Liao blinked, looking around as if expecting someone else to appear. Seeing no one, he pointed to himself. When Ying Mian didn’t correct him, he walked in uncertainly.

“Mian, are you… not angry anymore?” he asked cautiously. “I was wrong.”

He had no idea what he’d done wrong, but if Ying Mian was mad, then it must’ve been his fault.

Ying Mian didn’t bother arguing. He just took a steadying breath and pointed at the incubator on the bed. “That’s not an egg.”

Xiong Liao nodded obediently. “It’s not an egg.”

Ying Mian gave him a long look. Clearly, the man still wasn’t following. With a sigh, he explained, “That’s my egg. It’s hatching. Don’t ever say things like that again.”

Even if he knew words couldn’t curse the cubs, hearing them still made him angry.

Xiong Liao froze. “Ah? You… you found another partner?”

His expression went blank, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Ying Mian… you don’t like me anymore?”