Zhang Shuguang paced back and forth along the shore.

The cool seawater washed over the golden sandy beach again and again. The sound of the water lapping against the shore, the slightly chilly sea breeze.

Zhang Shuguang sniffed and turned his head to sneeze.

He couldn’t help but feel like a total idiot for letting his head get carried away and following Mang Jiu out here just now. Mang Jiu’s massive serpentine head emerged from the water, bobbing up and down with the waves.

“Get in.”

Zhang Shuguang asked, “Is it too late for me to go back now?”

Mang Jiu flicked his tongue in confusion, tilting his head forward slightly. “Hurry up and get in. I’ll take you to see the glowing pearl.”

“A glowing pearl?” Zhang Shuguang thought of the night pearl Ning Na had. “Is it the same as Ning’s?”

“Pretty much. It’s even prettier than hers. Come down.” Mang Jiu swam forward and offered his tail.

Even the tip of its tail was as thick as his ankle. Zhang Shuguang sighed, but in the end, he took off his leather shorts and put them in the backpack, then slung the backpack over his back.

“My clothes will get wet.” Even if he’d taken off his leather shorts, it wouldn’t have helped! Oh no, why did I take them off!

Mang Jiu paid no heed to his current discomfort. With a coil of its long tail, it hoisted him onto its back. Not only that, but in just that brief moment, his body had become entangled with numerous palm-wide strands of dark green kelp. Zhang Shuguang clung to the kelp as the creature carried him up and down through the water.

“You—blah blah—you—blah blah!” Just as he opened his mouth, the other party dragged him underwater, and Zhang Shuguang’s words were drowned out by the oncoming seawater.

After swallowing two huge mouthfuls of seawater, Zhang Shuguang coughed until his face turned bright red.

Unable to hold back, he slammed his fists twice against the slimy snake’s back. Mang Jiu gradually slowed its forward momentum, its head rising high above the water’s surface as it turned to look at him.

“Hm?”

“……” So it wasn’t that it was ignoring him; it had simply been too excited by the thrill of cutting through the waves to hear him. Zhang Shuguang raised his hand and slammed it down twice more. “Can’t you wait until I finish speaking before you act!”

Mang Jiu gave a soft “Hmm.” 

“Go ahead.”

Zhang Shuguang spat out seawater, the saltiness making him wrinkle his brow. “Swim a little slower. I can’t breathe underwater—you’ve got to give me time to catch my breath!”

Mang Jiu’s massive body, writhing in the water, suddenly froze. Then, the thick serpent abruptly raised its upper body and, in a posture that made one wonder if it was a snake or a spring, bit down on its own chest and abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Zhang Shuguang stared blankly for a moment, completely baffled by his actions.

Mang Jiu’s bite didn’t draw blood; instead, he handed over a fan-shaped, semicircular scale.

Zhang Shuguang was even more baffled. He realized he’d been left speechless a bit too many times today.

He reached out to catch the scale, which was almost as big as his palm, and cradled it in both hands with the utmost reverence.

“What does this mean?”

A strange emotion flickered in Mang Jiu’s snake-like eyes. When Zhang Shuguang met his gaze, he didn’t feel the same bone-chilling dread as before, but rather a sense of confusion.

He looked down at the snake scale in his hands, his mind racing with questions: Can snakes pull off their own scales? What’s the point of doing that? 

“Eat it,” Mang Jiu said, his voice flat and unemotional, as if those two words were as ordinary as telling Zhang Shuguang to eat a piece of meat. Zhang Shuguang looked at the scale, then looked up at the giant snake’s head.

“What did you just say? The wind was too loud; I don’t think I heard you clearly.” He picked his ear and asked. The snake’s tongue flickered in and out from between its lips.

“Eat. If you eat it, you’ll be able to breathe underwater.”

“Is that for real?” Zhang Shuguang didn’t buy his nonsense. Mang Jiu gave a noncommittal “Hmm.”

After hesitating for a moment, Zhang Shuguang ultimately chose to believe him.

He hesitantly cupped the black-and-gold scales in his hands, bringing them close to his nose to sniff. There was no strange odor, only the briny scent of seawater.

“How do you know eating it will let me breathe?”

“Just a feeling.” Mang Jiu wasn’t sure why he knew either. When he heard Zhang Shuguang say he couldn’t breathe underwater, the first thing that came to his mind was to have the other man eat his scales.

Zhang Shuguang took a deep breath and tentatively took a bite from the edge. As he bit down, he wondered: this thing is rockhard—no matter how strong his teeth are, there’s no way he could chew it up and swallow it, right?

But as he bit down, there was a crisp snap—it felt like biting into a crispy cookie, not nearly as tough as he’d imagined. It had a slight salty taste from the seawater, and honestly, it wasn’t that bad.

He crunched through all the scales, wiped his mouth, let out a loud burp, and asked, “Is there any more? I feel like a couple more pieces would fill me up.”

Mang Jiu looked utterly helpless.

Zhang Shuguang saw the exasperation in the snake’s eyes and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I was just joking…” He paused, pressed his hand to his chest, and looked up at the giant snake’s head. “Mang Jiu, were you just thinking there was only one scale, and once I ate it, that was it?”

Mang Jiu was surprised. “Yes.”

Zhang Shuguang licked his lips. His fear of the giant snake seemed to have vanished after eating that scale, replaced by a sense of closeness.

A sense of closeness- he didn’t mind at all.

“It seems that after eating your scale,” he tilted his head, choosing his words carefully, “I can communicate with you on a spiritual level.” Mang Jiu’s enormous snake eyes blinked. For some reason, Zhang Shuguang felt that if snakes had eyelashes, they would be beautifully curled. 

“Let’s go.” Zhang Shuguang patted the snake’s body. “We’ll talk more once we get there.”

Mang Jiu obediently dove down. Zhang Shuguang held his breath; once in the water, he didn’t start breathing right away, but instead tentatively blew a bubble.

Mang Jiu swam along while turning its head to glance at him.

“I’ll give it a try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go back up.”

Zhang Shuguang “heard” him say this.

He took a slow breath and discovered that although seawater still entered his nasal passages, it was expelled directly through his open mouth. It wasn’t that he was getting oxygen from the seawater, but rather that he could, like a fish, let the water in and then let it out.

He called out in his mind, “Mang Jiu!” 

Mang Jiu: “Mm.”

Zhang Shuguang was delighted. “We can communicate underwater! Is this what they call a spiritual connection?” 

Mang Jiu: “Mm-hmm!”

Zhang Shuguang smiled broadly, clutching the seaweed in his hand. “I’ve never gone scuba diving before! The ocean floor is truly beautiful!”

Perhaps because of the moonlight refracting through the water, the ocean floor at night wasn’t pitch-black and impenetrable; instead, it resembled the Milky Way, shimmering with a myriad of sparkling colors—beautiful coral and fish of every hue.

Zhang Shuguang felt as if he were in a dreamlike world of light and shadow, dazzled by the scenery flashing past him. He remained silent for quite a while, but Mang Jiu could sense the joy in his heart.

He was equally delighted as he guided Zhang Shuguang toward the small island.

Once they reached shore, Zhang Shuguang finally snapped out of his trance. To his surprise, the temperature on the island was actually higher than it had been when they were by the sea.

He looked around and discovered that the island wasn’t barren and empty after all but was covered with towering trees. The trunks were thick, and their roots were exposed high above the ground.

Mang Jiu shifted back into human form, and the seaweed wrapped around his body automatically fell onto the sand.

Zhang Shuguang wrung out his soggy leather shorts and put them on, then gathered all the seaweed into his backpack. “This smells great—we can make garlic-flavored seaweed with it.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “If you like it, I’ll go pick some. There’s plenty.”

Zhang Shuguang hummed in response and pointed at the large trees. “What’s going on? You said you couldn’t see this island during the day—is it submerged by seawater?”

“Yeah,” Mang Jiu said, carrying the basket in one hand and pulling him along with the other. “This island is magical. I came here once during the snow season—it was warm here, and it didn’t snow.”

“Last snow season?” Zhang Shuguang was surprised. Based on what he knew of Mang Jiu, if this guy had discovered such a great spot, there was no way he wouldn’t come here to soak up the warmth during the bitter cold.

Mang Jiu shook his head. “It was a long time ago, not long after my first molt,” he said, pausing to think. “Around thirteen, I suppose.”

“How did you end up here?” Zhang Shuguang asked curiously.

Mang Jiu pulled him over to the big tree, set his backpack on the ground, then gathered some dry twigs and grass to start a fire.

“I used to love swimming in the sea back then. That winter was very cold, and the Beastmen in the tribe brought back very little game. I couldn’t get enough to eat, so I went into the sea to catch fish. Later, I don’t know how it happened, but I swam all the way here.”

Zhang Shuguang watched as he lit the fire in just a few moments, quickly made a firebreak on the ground, and asked him, “Didn’t you tell anyone in the tribe?”

“I mentioned it to the Shaman once. He said there’s no need to tell others because they can’t swim in the sea for that long—even if they knew, they couldn’t make it over anyway.” Mang Jiu shrugged and sat cross-legged on the ground. “I told the Giant Eagle Clan once that there should be an island around here, but when their people flew over to look, they couldn’t find it.”

Zhang Shuguang felt a little thrill of excitement. He asked with a smile, “Then why didn’t you bring them here?” 

“I didn’t want to.” Mang Jiu shot him a sidelong glance.

“They’re none of my business anyway.”

Zhang Shuguang pursed his lips, his smile growing wider. “Go catch some seafood. We’ll cook it up and eat.” 

Mang Jiu grunted in agreement and headed into the sea with his basket.

When he came back up, his two baskets were filled with all kinds of seafood: lobsters, crabs, shellfish, and conch—a huge pile of them.

Zhang Shuguang rinsed the pot he’d brought with seawater, then dumped all the seafood directly into it and placed the pot over the fire to heat it up.

Since there was no lid, the crabs and lobsters—with their claws—all scrambled to climb out of the pot as it heated up. Zhang Shuguang held a wooden stick in his hand, poking down any that tried to escape.

Gradually, the sounds of struggling in the pot ceased, and the creatures slowly turned from dark greenish-black to orange-red.

“Is there any fresh water around here?” He stirred the shells in the pot, using tongs to remove the ones that had opened and set them aside, then poured the rest back in to continue cooking.

Mang Jiu: “Yes, and there’s bamboo too. I’ll go get you some water to drink.”

“Draw a circle around me,” Zhang Shuguang said, grabbing him. Mang Jiu laughed. “There are no wild beasts on this island.”

Zhang Shuguang insisted, “Better to be safe. Who knows if there are any amphibians that can crawl ashore? I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat.”

Mang Jiu thought of some of the large sea creatures in the ocean and realized he had a point, so he drew a large circle around him before leaving. Zhang Shuguang cooked all the seafood Mang Jiu had brought back and placed it in his backpack.

Mang Jiu returned with two large bamboo tubes filled with clear freshwater.

“If this island gets flooded by seawater every time, where does this fresh water come from?” Zhang Shuguang took the bamboo tubes, sniffed them, and took a small sip—it was crisp and sweet.

However, he didn’t dare drink too much cold water, so he placed the bamboo tubes directly over the fire to warm them up. Mang Jiu watched his actions and asked in confusion, “Won’t that ruin them?”

“It’s no big deal; bamboo tubes are very heat-resistant,” Zhang Shuguang said, taking the cooked seafood out of his backpack and handing it to him. “Eat up. Once we’re done, we’ll go to that warm-water pool you mentioned.”

“Look at those trees. When the seawater rose, it reached the dark part of the trunks, but the center of the island wasn’t flooded.”

Mang Jiu was holding a large lobster. He examined it, then yanked off the head and tossed it aside before pulling out the meat inside to feed to Zhang Shuguang. “Here, you eat.”

Zhang Shuguang saw the piece of lobster meat, which was over a foot long. He took a bite and laughed, “A lobster this big would fetch a fortune in my world.”

“You really like this.” Mang Jiu took the lobster meat back and devoured it in just a few bites, then picked another one apart for Zhang Shuguang. After taking a bite himself, he took it back and ate the rest.

Zhang Shuguang didn’t refuse his kindness. He pinched the two shells together and scooped out the meat. “I do like seafood, but I don’t dare eat too much.”

“Why?” Mang Jiu asked, puzzled.

“It’s easy to get an upset stomach.” He couldn’t help but envy the Beastmen’s iron-clad stomachs; however, it was better to play it safe.

Zhang Shuguang glanced at the water inside, which was already steaming. After heating it for a while longer, he set the bamboo tube aside to cool. He planned to wait until it cooled down a bit before drinking some water to help settle the seafood in his stomach.

A night breeze blew by, and he shivered.

“It’s cold.”

Mang Jiu looked around and realized neither of them had brought anything to keep warm, such as animal hides. There weren’t any wild beasts nearby for him to skin on the spot to warm up, so he had no choice but to give up on that idea.

Zhang Shuguang drank some of the hot water, which drove away much of the chill. He stood up and said, “Let’s go take a bath.”

Mang Jiu led the way. They walked uphill, and before long, they came upon the warm pool Mang Jiu had mentioned. Zhang Shuguang rubbed his face and glanced back at the path they had just traversed.

He also noticed that the ground beneath his feet was no longer soft sand but hard, uneven rocks. He swallowed hard.

“Mang Jiu…” Zhang Shuguang reached out and grabbed the man walking ahead of him, asking nervously, “Don’t you think this spot under our feet looks like a small hill?”

Mang Jiu glanced back at him, puzzled as to why he had suddenly stopped walking, but upon hearing the question, he replied matter-of-factly, “It’s a small hill—the kind with a low peak.”

Zhang Shuguang took a deep breath and pointed to the circular pool not far away. “Do you think the water in there is hot?” Mang Jiu nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty much like a hot spring cave.”

“Are you sure this place gets flooded by seawater every day?”

Mang Jiu grew even more puzzled and asked directly, “What are you afraid of?”

Zhang Shuguang’s anxiety had rubbed off on Mang Jiu; even without him saying a word, Mang Jiu could sense it.

“This is a volcanic crater!” Zhang Shuguang pointed at the pool not far away, his finger trembling. “Look at the ground, look at the slope, look at the surroundings!”

Mang Jiu looked around in the direction he pointed, then turned to ask, “What’s a volcano?”

Zhang Shuguang: “…How am I supposed to explain this to you?”

“Just tell me, and I’ll try my best to understand.” Mang Jiu knew full well that he couldn’t fully grasp much of what Zhang Shuguang said, but he could learn!

Zhang Shuguang spoke and gestured, explaining at length what a volcano looked like, how it erupted, and what kind of material it spewed out.

When he finished, he lowered his hands and looked up at Mang Jiu. “Do you get it?”

Mang Jiu nodded slowly. Under Zhang Shuguang’s expectant gaze, he summarized, “It’s a mountain that spews fire, lava, thick smoke, and rocks.” 

Zhang Shuguang: “……” I’ve been rambling on for ages, and his summary actually hits the nail on the head.

“Has fire ever erupted from here?” He pointed to the spot that looked like a volcanic crater or hot spring. Mang Jiu shook his head. “No, but thick smoke always comes out—white smoke.”

Zhang Shuguang rubbed his chin, figuring the white smoke was probably just steam—nothing to worry about.

Besides, volcanic hot springs are rich in minerals that are good for your health. Since this volcano seemed to be dormant, why not go down and soak for a while?

“The timid starve, while the bold feast.” He figured that even if he were unlucky enough to trigger an eruption by jumping in,

Mang Jiu would be the first to whisk him away at top speed.

Mang Jiu, watching him suddenly become so eager to climb the slope, was a bit puzzled. Zhang Shuguang turned back and said, “Hurry up, don’t dawdle. It’ll be dawn soon.”

Mang Jiu thought to himself, Who was the one dawdling just now?

Zhang Shuguang glared at him. “Are you talking about me?” 

“No.” Mang Jiu replied solemnly.

Zhang Shuguang took off his leather shorts and vest, sat on the edge, and dipped his feet into the water to test the water temperature.

“This water isn’t even hot,” he said. As he spoke, he slid down and fell straight into the water. It was too deep; he had to kick his feet to keep from sinking.

“Come over here.” Mang Jiu waded into the water as well. He reached out to guide Zhang Shuguang to the other side

and helped him sit on a submerged platform. Zhang Shuguang looked down at the water’s surface and said, “It would be nice if we had some eggs—we could try making some hot spring eggs.”

“What’s a hot spring egg?” Mang Jiu was intrigued by every food term that came out of Zhang Shuguang’s mouth.

Zhang Shuguang smiled. “It’s when you use this warm water to slowly poach the egg. Hot spring eggs usually taste great mixed with rice or noodles.” Mang Jiu stared at him.

Zhang Shuguang sighed and explained to him what rice and noodles were.

“You guys really have so many different kinds of food,” Mang Jiu said sincerely, sitting down beside him.

Zhang Shuguang chuckled softly and patted his arm. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure you get to eat rice and noodles in your lifetime. Once the corn grows, we can dry it and grind some cornmeal. Oh, and make a note for me—once we get back to the tribe, we need to make a stone mill. I’ll use it to grind things.”

Mang Jiu nodded. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what a stone mill was—he’d find out sooner or later.

The water was just the right temperature—not so hot that it made you dizzy, and certainly not so cold that you’d start shivering after a few minutes.

Zhang Shuguang ran his hand over the platform he was sitting on. Knowing Mang Jiu as he did, he guessed that this entire space—just big enough for a person to sit in—had been dug out by Mang Jiu himself.

His hands and feet had become wrinkled from soaking in the pool, but Zhang Shuguang didn’t want to climb out. It was Mang Jiu who, fearing he might get sick from soaking too long, had to physically lift him out. 

Zhang Shuguang lay motionless on the rock, like a dead fish.

He’d lost any sense of shame about being naked; he just lay there, refusing to budge. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move—it was that soaking had left his body so limp he couldn’t be bothered.

Mang Jiu had already wrapped his animal-skin skirt around himself. Seeing him still playing dead, he couldn’t resist reaching out and giving his firm, white, perfectly curved buttock a sharp slap.

The feel of it was soft and incredibly bouncy—that kind of “duangdaungduang” sensation! Mang Jiu blinked, then gave it a squeeze.

Zhang Shuguang shot upright and turned to glare at him. “You…” 

Mang Jiu: “Hmm?”

Zhang Shuguang let out a sigh. “Never mind. I’m not going to stoop to your level.”

Seeing he wasn’t angry, Mang Jiu reached out and pinched it again, saying, “You don’t look like you have much meat on you, but this part is pretty soft. And why are you so pale?”

Zhang Shuguang had been pinched several times, and his face was starting to turn red.

Hearing this, he quickly sat up straight, picked up the leather shorts lying nearby, and put them on, then looked down at his skin.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been soaking in water for so long or perhaps due to the color of the moonlight, but his skin now seemed to be faintly glowing white.

He raised his hand to examine the back of his hand and forearm, then stretched out his leg to look at his thigh—to his surprise, the color was exactly the same from top to bottom.

“Could this pool water actually have a skin-whitening effect?” he wondered. He turned to look at Mang Jiu beside him and curled his lip.

“You haven’t gotten any whiter either.”

Mang Jiu raised an eyebrow. “I won’t get any whiter. Haven’t you noticed that a Beastman’s skin color is similar to their fur? My serpent form is black and gold, so my skin won’t be very white.”

“Is that even possible? Does that mean A-Si will end up with green hair someday?” He had actually noticed that many people in the tribe didn’t have black hair, but he’d simply assumed it was normal, just like their mixed heritage. He never imagined it was a matter of fur color. Thinking about it, he chuckled again and asked Mang Jiu, “But you don’t have any fur in your beast form—so how come you still have hair?”

Mang Jiu looked at him with a slightly odd expression. Zhang Shuguang tilted his chin. “What’s the matter?” 

“Even though I can transform into a beast, I’m still human,” Mang Jiu said with a serious expression.

Zhang Shuguang bent over and burst out laughing. It was so funny to hear him speak so earnestly!

“Yeah, yeah, you’re human. Let me braid your hair for you.” Mang Jiu’s hair was jet-black and, once wet, incredibly smooth—a far cry from the tangled mess on Zhang Shuguang’s own head.

Zhang Shuguang ran his fingers through his own hair. If it weren’t for the fact that no one else in the tribe had a completely shaved head, he’d have shaved it all off and let it grow back. But to avoid standing out too much, he put up with this half-grown, weed-like mop.

Mang Jiu turned sideways, facing away from him. “You do it.”

Zhang Shuguang wasn’t skilled at complicated hairstyles, but a simple three-strand braid was no problem. Plus, Mang Jiu’s hair fell past his shoulders, giving him plenty to work with.

He took the dry grass left over from starting the fire earlier out of his backpack, twisted two strands into ropes, and then began combing Mang Jiu’s hair. First, he ran his fingers through the hair to smooth it out, then started braiding.

His fingers moved quickly; in just a few moments, the braids were done, and he secured the ends with the twine.

Mang Jiu shook out the braid; he still wasn’t quite used to it, but he had to admit it was much more comfortable than the way he’d tied it up himself.

Zhang Shuguang stepped back to take a look and nodded with satisfaction. “A handsome guy looks good no matter what. If the braid comes undone, I’ll braid it for you again. Too bad I don’t know how to do other styles—otherwise I could really braid a few more complicated styles for you,” he said, then began to chuckle softly, clearly in a very good mood. “If we sleep until dawn before leaving, will we get flooded?”

Mang Jiu was still a bit dazed by his smile. After hearing the question, he fell silent for a moment before replying uncertainly, “I’ve never tried it. Why don’t we give it a shot?”

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. “Forget it. I don’t want to fall asleep and dream about wetting the bed. Let’s pack up and go. We’ll grab some seafood to take home.”

“Alright.” Mang Jiu nodded.

Although they’d still have to wade through the water on the way back, Zhang Shuguang was particularly looking forward to diving into the sea this time.

It wasn’t just Mang Jiu catching seafood; Zhang Shuguang also reached in and grabbed several large conch shells. By the time the two returned to the coastal forest, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

Looking at his sopping wet leather shorts, Zhang Shuguang chuckled, “That bath was a waste.”

“If you like, you can dig a pool right here to bathe in.” Mang Jiu set his backpack on the ground and handed him a dry piece of leather. “If we don’t have enough stones, I’ll go dig some more over by the hot cave.”

Zhang Shuguang shook his head. “No need. I’ll just dig one on the back mountain when we get back. With this weather, there’s no need to soak every day.” He wiped the water stains from his body, yawned, and said, “Let’s sleep. I’m tired.”

He slept straight through until the sun was high in the sky. Only when the outside world was already bustling with activity did he open his eyes. The three little rascals had run off to play somewhere; beside him lay only Mang Jiu, his eyes closed.

Zhang Shuguang, who had been about to get up, paused, staring at Mang Jiu’s sleeping face, momentarily lost in thought. It was the first time he’d seen Mang Jiu asleep.

It was only in that moment that he could see a hint of youthfulness on that handsome face. He curved his lips slightly. Right, Mang Jiu was only twenty-one after all.

Mang Jiu’s long eyelashes fluttered slightly. Zhang Shuguang didn’t know what had come over him, but he quickly lay back down and closed his eyes. Mang Jiu opened his eyes, saw Zhang Shuguang’s expression, and chuckled softly. “You were peeking at me.”

Zhang Shuguang snapped his eyes open. “I was looking at you in the open.”

“Then why were you pretending to sleep?” Mang Jiu rolled over and sat up, reaching out to pull him up as well.

Zhang Shuguang rolled his eyes. The two of them stepped out of the heated room to check on the others drying salt. They found that many piles of crystallized wet salt had already been placed on the last salt-drying field, and A-Si was using a paddle to slowly spread the salt crystals out to dry.

“This much?” Zhang Shuguang stood on the path made by piling up dirt and asked in surprise, “There wasn’t this much yesterday, was there?”

“Yeah, it’s warmer now, so it dries faster.” A-Si tilted her head and nodded toward the large stone vat beside her. “Take a look—do you think this will work?”

Zhang Shuguang walked over, stood on tiptoe, and peered into the vat. A layer of fine white salt crystals covered the bottom.

“You guys are moving way too fast!” he exclaimed happily. “Some of it’s already dried!” He picked up a stone ladle nearby, scooped some out, pinched a bit between his fingers, and licked it. His eyes lit up. “This tastes amazing!”

It was saltier and more savory than any salt he’d ever tasted, and the concentration was very high.

“It worked! You guys are amazing!” He was so excited that his face turned red.

A-Si smiled and said, “It’s you who’s amazing. If you hadn’t taught us, we never could have made salt this good.” Hearing this, the others chimed in loudly, “That’s right, it’s all thanks to Shuguang’s great teaching!”

“Shuguang, if we set up a few more salt pans, wouldn’t we be able to produce even more salt?” “If we dig a few more salt pans, I can produce salt really fast over here!”

“Right, right! Let’s go dig up more stones!”

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand and said to them, “We haven’t even figured out how to manage one field yet. Be careful—one rain could wash everything away.” 

The group exchanged glances. A younger Beastman said, “If it rains, we can just gather all the salt up.”

“Hmm, let’s wait until you’re not running around frantically trying to harvest the salt. Besides, being too greedy will attract attention from other tribes. Don’t tell me you don’t want to trade salt for other goods.” Zhang Shuguang understood their thinking, but he didn’t support it. At least not until they had fully mastered the various operations of the salt fields; he didn’t support unrestrained expansion.

The young Beastmen’s enthusiasm was doused with a bucket of cold water. It was true—Shuguang was right. If they wanted to use salt to trade for more goods, the first thing they had to do was keep it a secret. This method of salt-making was really too simple; if others saw it, they’d pick it up in no time.

Xi San stood to the side with his arms crossed, nodding in agreement with every word Zhang Shuguang spoke. When the other fell silent, he stopped nodding and spoke up: “Keep your mouths shut about what goes on here, every single one of you. Anyone who dares to spill the beans, I’ll skin you alive!”

His stern tone, paired with a menacing expression, scared the young men into obediently nodding their heads. Zhang Shuguang chuckled softly, then turned to Mang Jiu and said, “I want to take a look around here to see if there are any seeds we can use.”

Mang Jiu hummed in agreement. He couldn’t possibly let Zhang Shuguang go off alone, so he turned to Xi San and said, “I’ll go with Shuguang.” Xi San nodded. “Go on, go on. We’ve got this covered here. You take Shuguang and explore the area a bit.”

In their eyes, Zhang Shuguang was now like a walking treasure, and his every need was treated as the highest priority.

Zhang Shuguang still remembered the three stalks of sorghum he’d received from Li. After walking a short distance with Mang Jiu, he asked, “I heard Li say there’s sorghum around here—a crop with slender stalks topped with ears.”

Mang Jiu thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll take you there.” He bent down to signal Zhang Shuguang to climb onto his back. Zhang Shuguang was so used to being carried by him that he hopped up with remarkable ease.

Mang Jiu ran in the direction he remembered, and before long, a field of tall crops with green stalks and ears of grain came into view.

Zhang Shuguang hopped down and looked up, unable to resist exclaiming, “Why am I shorter than even these sorghum plants that have only just sprouted!”

Mang Jiu had no idea how much this guy cared about his height; he thought the boy was complaining that the sorghum had grown too tall, so he said, “I remember that when these ears turn red, lots of wild birds come to eat them. I’ve tried one myself—it’s hard, but it does have a bit of a sweet taste.”

The moment Zhang Shuguang heard the word “sweet,” he felt like laughing; he couldn’t help but think this guy was just thinking about honey!

He thought to himself that when the flowers bloomed in a few months, he’d be sure to bring back plenty of honey for Mang Jiu to stock up on.

“Sorghum grains need to be steamed or boiled before eating, and you have to remove the husks first, but you can chew on the stalks to get the sweet juice inside—it’s actually pretty tasty.” Zhang Shuguang walked around in a circle and noticed there was quite a lot of sorghum growing here, though it was a bit crowded. 

As he walked, he scratched his chin until it turned red, then said, “Why don’t we just pull some up and plant it on the back mountain?”

Mang Jiu reached out and lifted his face, frowning at his reddened chin. “Itchy? Why do you always scratch it with your hand?”

Zhang Shuguang gave a soft “Mm-hmm, it’s itchy.”

He tilted his face up, gesturing for Mang Jiu to take a look. “I just felt some little bumps. Help me check them out.”

Mang Jiu bent down, straining his back to get a closer look. He noticed that besides a few stubble hairs, there were several small red bumps on his pale, smooth chin. The bumps were arranged in a tight, dense row, as if he’d been stung by some kind of insect.

“Does it hurt? Or is it just itchy?” Mang Jiu asked, furrowing his brow. “I don’t see any bugs.”

Zhang Shuguang shrugged indifferently. “The rain brings the bugs out. It’s nothing. Just rub some salt on it later.”

“You can rub salt on insect bites?” Seeing him reach out to pick a sorghum ear, Mang Jiu plucked one for him and handed it over. “Go ahead and pick if you want, but is there even room left to plant in the field?”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “Salt kills germs and stops the itching. We don’t have any special medicine around here, so I’ll just rub some salt on it. I’ve already planted that field full; if I want to grow anything else, I’ll have to clear a new patch.”

He was thinking about clearing another plot nearby. Since he’d gotten used to Mang Jiu occasionally shifting into a snake-like form anyway, he might as well have Mang Jiu transform and run wild in the weedy hills behind the village once they got back.

He chuckled, picturing Mang Jiu No. 9—a giant earthworm—turning over the soil, and burst into a fit of giggles.

Sighing, perhaps because Zhang Shuguang had been thinking so intently, he actually saw a vision of himself turning over the soil in various ways. Realizing it was caused by him eating his own scales, Mang Jiu said helplessly, “I’ll go back and help you till the fields.”

Zhang Shuguang squeezed a sorghum ear, then plucked a grain, popped it into his mouth, and chewed. “Tastes okay. When are we going back?” Mang Jiu replied, “If you want to go back, we can leave right now.”

Zhang Shuguang calculated the progress of the salt-drying. At the rate they were working, he estimated they could produce enough salt for the entire tribe’s weekly supply in three days. “Let’s wait three days before leaving. We’ll take a batch of salt back with us.”

Zhang Shuguang and Mang Jiu walked back, chatting casually as they went. “What do you think the people from the Ivory Tribe are here for? Do you really think they brought that so-called treasure just to get you and Ning Shengdan to mate?”

Mang Jiu shook his head. “They’re here for the gathering.”

“The gathering?” Zhang Shuguang asked in surprise. “What does the gathering have to do with it? Didn’t you say…” He paused, then realized, “It’s about the price hike at the Salt Mountain tribe, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, probably.” Mang Jiu took his hand, and the two strolled back slowly, taking a proper walk. Zhang Shuguang gave a sarcastic smile: “So they really are trying to kill two birds with one stone.”

“The chief won’t agree to it. Don’t worry.” Mang Jiu squeezed his hand.

Zhang Shuguang froze, then turned to look at him. “What do I have to be at ease about? You’re the one who should be at ease.” 

“As long as I have you, that’s enough,” Mang Jiu said earnestly.

Zhang Shuguang scratched his chin again. Mang Jiu reached out to stop him, frowning. “Don’t scratch it—it’s already all red.” 

“Let’s go. We need to rub salt on it.” Zhang Shuguang quickened his pace, his ears bright red.

Mang Jiu chuckled softly, catching up to him and asking, “Isn’t having me all you also need?” 

Zhang Shuguang: “Shut up!”

Mang Jiu: “I’m serious.”

Zhang Shuguang: “I told you to shut up!”

Mang Jiu: “Are you planning to find another Beastman? I won’t allow it!”

Zhang Shuguang turned away in embarrassment and glared at him. “Just because you don’t approve doesn’t mean you can just swallow the person whole!”

“No,” Mang Jiu said coldly, “I’ll beat him to death.”

Zhang Shuguang couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re so bossy.” 

Mang Jiu: “You’re mine.”

Zhang Shuguang shot him a sidelong glance and snorted. He didn’t refute it, nor did he respond.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that if Mang Jiu found someone else to go everywhere with, live with, and eat with—no, he couldn’t even think about it. It made his chest feel tight.