Fortunately, most guys’ jeans came in just a few colors—either black or navy. The pants Qingli bought me matched the shade of my ruined pair. Even though they were different cuts, I doubted Mom would notice anything off.

Standing at the door, I knocked. “Mom, I’m home.”

“Coming!” Her voice floated from inside. Seconds later, she opened it. “Why so early today?”

“Oh, I told you—it’s for the school anniversary. I’m in charge, so I was visiting another school.” I tossed out the excuse casually. It was perfectly plausible; Mom had already heard about it from my homeroom teacher that afternoon.

“Come in quick. I was just thinking you might’ve forgotten your umbrella.” She glanced at the folded floral umbrella in my hand. “Borrowed from a classmate? A girl?”

“We just sit close,” I chuckled awkwardly. “Geographical proximity, you know? Nothing special—just regular classmates.”

Mom took the umbrella, opened it on the balcony to dry, and I followed her in. I flipped on the TV while she set the dinner table.

Home was truly comfortable. No petty drama, no political scheming, no class divisions like at that elite academy. Mom doted on me like I’d never grow up. Normally, that frustrated me—but today, it filled me with warm happiness.

Someone cooking for you, no dishes to wash… bliss.

Dinner wasn’t lavish: stir-fried green beans, tofu with minced pork, and vegetable soup. But maybe because I was starving, every bite tasted heavenly.

Humans only learn to cherish things when they’re about to lose them. The ordinary life I’d always taken for granted now seemed perfect. How nice it’d be if nothing had happened—attending school by day, coming home to Mom’s hot meals, sleeping soundly at night. Even mountains of homework or Dad’s occasional check-ins on my grades… anything was better than what awaited me.

I sighed, remembering that terrifying voice I’d overheard, Elder Mink scaring me half to death, the giant’s scowl. My future looked grim. This cursed fox fate… the only good thing it brought me was Qingli, maybe?

Her words—*“I’ll take your surname”*—still echoed in my ears, making my cheeks burn. Mom gently tapped my hand.

“What’s wrong? You’re spacing out—sighing one minute, grinning the next. Something happen at school?”

“N-nothing,” I mumbled, shoveling rice into my mouth. “Just… planning the anniversary event.”

Mom didn’t press further. She scooped a second bowl of rice for me. “Don’t let it distract you. Your dad’s back in a few days. If your grades slip, you know what’ll happen.”

I nodded absently, but her words snapped me back to reality. Right. Forget the future—I had a crisis looming *now*. Dad, home only a few days a month, ruled our household. And I was terrified of him.

As the old saying went: *A gentle mother raises filial children; a strict father raises fierce sons.* I understood the logic—but getting scolded still hurt like hell.

Even now that I was grown and he no longer hit me, Dad’s stern face during lectures sent chills down my spine. Honestly, his anger scared me most in this world.

I wasn’t some genius. I had to give 100% just to meet expectations. If I slipped up—if exams went poorly because I’d slacked off—I’d dread his return.

I finished my meal in silence, excused myself to Mom, and headed straight for my bedroom.

“No homework tonight?” Her voice mingled with the clatter of dishes.

“Our committee’s exempt this week. I was running around all day… need rest.”

After that half-hearted reply, I collapsed onto my bed. Today had drained me completely.

…

Out here in the suburbs, buildings stood sparse but greenery thrived—more like a tourist spot than a neighborhood. No one could appreciate the view now. Nightfall and rain blurred everything into haze.

A towering man strode through the downpour under a black umbrella. He’d traveled far from his usual haunts today. In a foul mood, he’d chosen to walk instead of taking transport. *Thud-thud-thud*—his heavy leather shoes left deep prints in the wet earth.

He’d journeyed to persuade fellow Yao Race members to join his faction. Though few in number, their status and strength mattered. He’d failed. His urgency stemmed from a visit that morning: a human faction leader had demanded his surrender.

True, his clan was weak. His followers were just a splinter group—not a major force. But he’d defied ancestral laws to break away for a reason. He *could* submit to a stronger power… but the one pressuring him was a mere upstart, powerful to him yet insignificant in the complex underworld.

He aimed higher—targeting the ancient Four Great Clans. Even second-tier families would do. Though his path mirrored tradition, he relished the *freedom* of choosing it himself.

That’s why he’d sought those influential clansmen today. With their forces, his faction would gain weight—enough to attract real power players, not just newcomers.

Lost in these frustrations, he sensed a dissonance. The chaotic patter of rain… vanished in one spot.

He turned—and froze. On a roadside bench behind him, where no one should be, a girl sat perfectly still. Raindrops dissolved inches above her hair.

Unobscured by water, her delicate features glowed faintly in the night. She leaned back, chin tilted up, as if savoring the rain-soaked scenery.

Though shadows hid her clothes and hair color, he remembered that straight, dark-chocolate mane. This seemingly gentle, ordinary girl made the near-two-meter giant tense like prey.

She was the upstart leader who’d visited him that morning. Yes—this soft-spoken girl ruled a territory in the underworld.

“What do you want?” His voice turned sharp. Their earlier meeting had ended badly. “I said I’d consider it. Can’t you even give me days?”

“No.” Her reply flowed calm as coffee, blending with the rain. She still hadn’t looked at him, as if the view mattered more than him.

Then her next words shattered his composure: “Your clan has other decision-makers now. You’re… unnecessary.”

“What?!” He hurled his umbrella aside. His body convulsed—muscles bursting through his shirt, revealing fur-covered skin.

Unlike his dark clothes, his exposed hide was ash-gray. Solid muscle rippled beneath thick fur. Along his spine, rain-soaked hairs stiffened like bone spikes.

A standing wolf. A gray wolf.

Though not human, he was no fool. Her words meant *elimination*. He’d sensed her terrifying aura during negotiations—she wasn’t an easy foe.

*Shhk!* His massive right claw raked the ground, carving deep grooves like a threat display. He glared at the unmoving girl on the bench.

“If you think others in the Yao Race hold more sway, go to them! I don’t seek conflict—but I won’t fear a fight either. It’s late. Let’s keep to our own—”

“You talk too much.”

Her gaze finally landed on him, cutting him off. The wolf-man snarled, raising his claw—then froze.

Not just him. Raindrops hung suspended midair, liquid crystals trapped in time. The giant gray wolf and the glittering rain formed a still life—like an expensive tapestry pinned to paper.

Then, in the silent downpour, came a sound: *rrrip*.

Like a child tearing a sister’s sketch for fun.

The girl had already risen. Her home wasn’t far—the towering structure faintly visible through the clouds was Lanying Library.

Behind her, the rain-flecked space—and the massive gray wolf within it—had been cleanly split in two.