The days grew colder, and frost began to appear in the courtyard, dusting the ground in patches.
As Wu Tianzhen wiped the window, he saw a dog shaking its fur and running. It stepped onto the ice with one paw and tumbled down.
This fall was nothing for the thick-skinned dog. It quickly got up, continued to run around with a branch in its mouth, its tail wagging like a high-speed fan.
But this ice was not safe.
From the chicken coop next to the dog, Zhang Qiling emerged, carrying a bag of feed. The way he held the feed bag was identical to how he held a knife, inexplicably lending him a sharp aura, but this sharpness was quickly diluted by the heavy down jacket he was forced to wear.
He quietly observed the ice for a moment, then put down the feed and walked into the house.
When Fatty came to help Wu Tianzhen tidy the tables and chairs, Zhang Qiling had already begun clearing the ice in the courtyard.
The otherworldly Zhang Qiling cleared ice no differently than an ordinary person, using a small hammer to break the ice surface and pile the fragments in a corner. Because he was handsome and his movements were precise and orderly, even the ordinary act of hammering appeared like an attempt to play a classical instrument.
Several white dogs came running together. After curiously licking the ice blocks, they lost interest and instead affectionately rubbed against Zhang Qiling's legs.
The expressionless Zhang Qiling was instantly submerged in a sea of dogs, but his stance was extremely stable. Even when pushed by many dogs, his body did not tremble in the slightest.
...Only his pants quickly became covered in white dog hair.
This dog hair made the young Zhang seem less transcendent and ordinary.
But Wu Tianzhen liked this ordinariness.
He and Fatty, at some point, simultaneously stopped tidying and quietly leaned against the window, watching the scene outside.
Zhang Qiling was already accustomed to their gaze, so he did not look over, continuing to methodically chip away at the ice and pet the dogs.
He spent a full half hour clearing the ice, and Wu Tianzhen and Fatty watched from the window for half an hour.
As winter arrived, the number of tourists visiting Yuchun decreased. The busy farm stay took a break, and even the two young Zhang brothers took leave for their annual reports.
...Honestly, Wu Tianzhen always felt that this so-called annual report was actually an auction where a group of Zhang family members gathered to bid high prices for photos of the clan leader's deeds.
Over the years, Zhang Haike had gradually gained considerable influence within the Zhang family. Under his brainwashing (not!), the new generation of the Zhang family had veered off course, evolving into devoted fans of the clan leader.
...Let's all say, thank you, Zhang Haike.
"My mother has already bought the New Year's goods. Once Zhang Yisanwu and Zhang Ersiu return, we'll go to Hangzhou to stay for a while. It will be warmer at home."
Wu Tianzhen blew into his hands, the warm air from his mouth turning into white mist and fogging up the glass in front of him.
This was not Zhang Qiling's first winter in Yuchun.
When the first winter arrived, he was still in a drowsy, weak state, spending all his days huddled indoors. Because of this, Wu Tianzhen and Fatty did not notice anything unusual at first.
They lit a roaring stove in the house. Fatty strictly watched the fire, keeping it burning like a small sun. The temperature wasn't too high, but it wasn't freezing either.
Yet, Zhang Qiling's complexion was strangely pale.
In the safety of the house, his Qilin tattoo had emerged, like a trapped beast roaming his chest.
He was very cold.
This cold was not determined by the external temperature but originated from within him.
This was a lingering effect of Nuobu forcefully awakening his soul at the Bronze Gate, disregarding his physical condition. From then on, during every cold weather, he would feel the bitter cold of that time.
The system had warned him.
This sensation was not pleasant, but Zhang Qiling had gradually grown accustomed to it during his hundreds of solitary years in darkness. Therefore, he lay peacefully on the bed, sleeping without making a sound, not even a slight change in his expression.
...But Wu Tianzhen and Fatty had not grown accustomed to it.
This was not affected by the external temperature—Wu Tianzhen thought this as he watched Zhang Qiling clearing ice outside.
...But he still wanted Zhang Qiling to be in a warmer, more comfortable place.
Fatty did not object to Wu Tianzhen's idea. He sped up his movements, finishing arranging the tables and chairs, then casually took out his optical computer with his grimy hands.
"Why don't we just yell at Zhang Haike now and tell him to release the person to us quickly?"—Once the young Zhang returned to manage the zoo in the house, they could take Xiao Zhang and leave.
But Wu Tianzhen shook his head, a pained expression on his face: "...Are you sure only the two young Zhangs will come back then?"
"Zhang Haike said he would come to see the clan leader during the New Year. If he hears we're taking Xiao Ge to Hangzhou, won't he immediately flip over?"
Hearing this, Fatty couldn't help but click his tongue.
It wasn't that they had any issues with Zhang Haike. In fact, deep down, they quite liked him.
After all, he was a rare individual who, from the beginning, was not controlled by titles or destiny, someone willing to fight for Zhang Qiling himself.
...But this did not stop them from disliking the leader of the royalists who always came chattering and trying to take the clan leader back to the clan.
And as the two looked at each other and sighed in unison, Zhang Qiling finally walked in slowly.
He walked as silently as ever, so much so that he was only noticed when he stopped in front of them.
Wu Tianzhen and Fatty used to be startled by his sudden appearances, but now they were completely accustomed to the feeling of a Xiao Zhang appearing anytime, anywhere.
Fatty put aside the current topic, zipped up the jacket for the little Zhang, who was always reluctant to wear it properly. Then he noticed that Zhang Qiling was holding the white knife in his arms.
The white knife was always warm, but its temperature at this moment was exceptionally high. Even from a distance, the two felt the faint heat waves emanating from it, as if the knife itself had gained sentience and was doing its best to keep its owner away from the cold.
And after hearing Wu Tianzhen's musings, Zhang Qiling's expression became a little vacant.
...Going home, seeing mother...
He slowly touched the hilt of the knife. Its scorching temperature felt like spring water under his hand, not burning him in the slightest.
Then he spoke softly, his voice distant, as if his soul had already drifted to a specific faraway place:
"...I want to go somewhere."