There weren’t many tools in the cave, so Xu Shuangci took everything usable up the mountain.

It took him and Qing two days to clear a patch of land at the edge of the cliff. They cut down the trees and cleared away all the weeds and loose rocks.

Qing had to go hunting, so he left again.

Xu Shuangci went up the mountain alone, using a homemade stone hoe to level out a salt field on the gently sloping terrain.

First, he laid a layer of wooden slats at the bottom of the salt field, then covered them with gravel, and finally packed down red clay to prevent water leakage and soil seepage. During this time, Qing would often go out for the entire day and return with enough game to last five or six days.

Whenever he had free time between hunting trips, he would help Xu Shuangci. Qing chopped the wood, and he hauled the red clay back.

With a few tweaks here and there, Xu Shuangci spent five days building this salt pan. The work itself wasn’t difficult; it was just a bit of a hassle hauling supplies up the mountain. While waiting for the red clay in the salt pan to dry, Xu Shuangci began digging a kiln.

There were only the two of them now, so they didn’t need much pottery. Pile firing or pit firing would have worked, of course.

But since he had to fire the kiln anyway, he knew how to build a simple vertical kiln using the natural terrain. This way, it could be reused repeatedly, and the efficiency of firing pottery would be higher.

A vertical kiln consists of a firebox, a flue, a grate, and a firing chamber. The firebox is located below the firing chamber, allowing for more complete combustion compared to a horizontal kiln. With so many hills in the area, Xu Shuangci looked around and settled on a small hill by the river near where they had been digging for red clay.

Once the location was chosen, he sketched a simple blueprint on a piece of bark. After finalizing the dimensions, he picked a sunny, windless morning, grabbed a stone hoe, and began digging.

Qing had no idea what Xu Shuangci was actually doing; he just saw him messing around with mud all day long.

He was either digging a hole or on his way to dig one, often coming back covered in dirt and dust. He even suspected Xu Shuangci might be a sub-beastman.

But seeing how much fun he was having, Qing had no reason to stop him. Instead, he’d go out hunting for a whole day and catch a few extra animals, so he’d have plenty of time to help when he got back.

Three days later, the salt on the mountain was almost ready.

Xu Shuangci was halfway through digging when Qing called him back for dinner. It was stew again, made by Qing. Xu Shuangci hadn’t seen how he’d prepared it, so he just assumed his paw pads were nimble.

After the meal, they should have rested, but Xu Shuangci suddenly remembered he hadn’t checked on the salt fields on the mountain in a long time. Impatient to wait, he decided to head up there himself.

And that’s how things ended up like this—

He was lying on top of Qing, letting him carry him.

Xu Shuangci was that sort of person; when he was focused on a task, he often forgot to eat or sleep. He put his work before everything else.

Just like when he used to work.

Perhaps deep down, he always put himself last; he didn’t even think there was anything wrong with sacrificing his health for it. He never delved too deeply into his own psychology because he knew he was a bit off his rocker.

But who isn’t a little off?

He wrapped his arms around the big cat’s neck and yawned. Tears glistened at the corners of his eyes, like translucent ice crystals. In a thick, nasal voice, he said, “So sleepy…”

Qing’s tail brushed against his back. “Go to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep after I’m done.” Xu Shuangci rubbed against the fur, his eyes half-closed.

He’d been digging holes by the river these past few days, covered in dirt and grime all day long, and he was grateful Qing didn’t mind. He’d just finished over there that morning; he hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes yet, and he’d already dirtied Qing’s fur just by lying on his.

Big cats really are the best.

Unfortunately, it would never be a big cat that belonged to him alone.

Qing made his way up the mountain. His steps were steady, and he deliberately moved slowly, his breathing growing deeper and more drawn-out. When he reached the halfway point, the wind picked up, so he found a rock sheltered from the wind and lay down.

His body tilted slightly, and the limp sub-beastman slid down his fur. Qing extended his tail to cushion the fall.

Just as Xu Shuangci was about to open his drowsy eyes, the tiger’s tail brushed against his body again.

He raised his hand to hug it and nuzzle against it, then fell back into a deep sleep.

Qing draped the animal hide he’d brought specifically for this purpose over him, then went into the woods to shift into human form and wrapped the hide around himself. Following Xu Shuangci’s instructions, he poured the spring water into the pool.

He filled it to the brim, so much so that a little spilled over. After finishing, he walked over to Xu Shuangci’s side.

Qing bent down; his long white hair slid from his back to his shoulders, revealing the smooth contours of his muscular back.

He wore nothing but an animal-skin skirt tied around his waist, which looked particularly flimsy in the chilly early spring breeze. But he seemed oblivious to it, his ice-blue eyes fixed on Xu Shuangci on the ground.

The sub-beastman had been exhausted for days and seemed to have lost some weight.

Yet his complexion was no longer the pale, weak-looking pallor of someone who’d never seen the light; instead, it had a healthy flush. Qing brushed against it with the pad of his finger.

He dared not press too hard, but even so, it left a red mark. It was smooth and felt lovely to the touch.

The utterly exhausted sub-beastman couldn’t wake up, so Qing cradled him horizontally, supporting his back and the crook of his knees.

Without needing to adjust his position, Xu Shuangci had already found a comfortable spot on his own and lay still. His forehead rested against the crook of Qing’s neck, his shallow breaths brushing against his skin.

The intimacy of their skin touching made Qing’s body stiffen.

He wasn’t used to this kind of intimate contact without the fur as a barrier.

Qing pressed his thin lips together tightly, but made no other move. With the fur no longer blocking the view, the crimson flush on his ears was clearly visible. After standing there for a moment to adjust, Qing pulled the animal hide over Xu Shuangci to cover him.

Fearing the wind, he even pulled the fur over his head before setting off down the mountain with him in tow.

Walking on two legs was no easier than on four, and since early spring was still cold for beastmen, they all preferred to remain in their beast forms at this time.

The descent was smooth as silk, and Xu Shuangci didn’t notice anything amiss.

It wasn’t until he woke up from a nap in his bed, rubbing his head, that he felt as though he’d had a dream. It was that white-haired hunk again.

Could it be that even after being transported here, he still had some connection to that man? He couldn’t figure it out, so he stopped thinking about it.

Xu Shuangci rolled over and sat up, pulling back the animal-skin blanket and calling out, “Qing! My salt fields.” How had he, in the blink of an eye, found himself back at the starting point?

Qing: “I’ve been there. You weren’t dreaming.”

Xu Shuangci shivered, hurriedly wrapped the animal skin around himself, and sat down on the rattan chair next to Qing.

“How did you know what I was going to say?” 

“I could tell.”

“What about the salt fields?”

“I flooded them.”

Xu Shuangci smiled as he looked at the big cat, which was taller than him even when lying down. You can’t just fill a salt field with water on a whim.

He hadn’t even tested to see if it leaked yet.

But he won’t mention this to the kind-hearted Qing. He’ll check back in a few days to see how it turns out.

He ruffled Big Cat’s head, found the rattan chair uncomfortable, and slid down to lie directly against Qing. An animal pelt was tucked under his buttocks, and the tail—which wouldn’t listen to Qing—draped over his waist.

A fire was still burning nearby.

Xu Shuangci let out a sigh, rolled over to rest his head on Qing’s back, and asked lazily, “Qing, is it going to rain in the next few days?”

Qing: “There was a shower recently, but it’s not raining much right now.”

In another month, the rain will pick up.

Xu Shuangci reached out to tickle Qing’s chin and chuckled softly, “Alright, thanks, Qing.” The gesture was practically flirtatious!

Qing immediately lifted his head to avoid it.

Once he lay down, he didn’t want to get up.

But Xu Shuangci was the kind of person who could overcome his own laziness. He rolled over and rolled around on Qing’s stomach.

Not satisfied, he pinned Qing down, avoiding his tail as he rubbed him from head to tail, leaving Qing completely dazed. The big cat was dumbfounded. He laughed heartily, then got up contentedly to continue digging his hole.

The sub-beastman who’d been teasing the beastman was gone. Qing’s loose fur still floated in the air.

Qing, however, slowly lay down on the ground, burying his face between his two paws, his ears flushed bright red. Did he even know that such intimate gestures were reserved only for mates? Xu Shuangci, of course, had no idea.

It was as if he’d recharged his energy; he was now racing toward the river with boundless enthusiasm. After that, Qing didn’t dare let Xu Shuangci get close for several days.

Fortunately, Xu Shuangci had finally finished building his kiln and had already started washing clay to make pottery, so he didn’t notice. Pottery-making is simply a process of playing with mud.

Freshly dug clay cannot be used directly; it must be crushed, washed, and allowed to settle to form clay lumps. Then, it is shaped by coiling or throwing, glazed, and air-dried before finally being placed in the kiln.

The last time Xu Shuangci had played with clay was before he turned six, so he felt a bit dazed as he kneaded and molded the clay. So he didn’t do it alone; he dragged Qing over to join him.

He even used Qing’s paw pads to leave his paw prints on several clay pots that had been specially shaped into legs.

Qing was a bit exasperated, but he played along.

They made pots, bowls, and gourd ladles, and even crafted a hundred or so small clay pots for boiling salt. After air-drying, they loaded them into the kiln in batches, waiting for the firing to begin.

Before that, Xu Shuangci made another trip up the mountain.

The results were promising: a layer of white crystals had formed on the surface of the salt pond. This was salt. Finally, they wouldn’t have to drink brine anymore. Xu Shuangci immediately grabbed a wooden board to scrape it up.

Qing followed close behind, glancing at the sky and then at the parched salt flats. So this was how they could drain the water.

Seeing Xu Shuangci scraping up the soil and mud together, Qing reminded him, “There’s mud in the layer below.”

Xu Shuangci replied, “This kind? If we raise animals, we can feed it to them. It’s not a waste.” They would need livestock eventually, so he figured he might as well stock up in advance.

As he spoke, Xu Shuangci froze.

He jerked his head up, the smile still lingering on his face.

He couldn’t catch his breath, and his voice came out faintly: “By the way, those eggs I brought back…” 

Qing: “I put them by the fire.”

Xu Shuangci: “They didn’t get cooked, did they?” 

Qing: “I flipped them over.”

Xu Shuangci muttered, “I’ll go check on them later.” How could he have forgotten about those perfectly good eggs so easily? As it turned out, Qing was completely reliable.

As night fell, Xu Shuangci was led down the mountain by Qing, carrying a small bag of salt and a sack of salt mixed with dirt.

Once inside the cave, Xu Shuangci rushed over to the eggs.

Qing closed the door and walked over to the sub-beastman, half-human, crouching by the fire. Xu Shuangci was holding an egg up to the firelight, examining its interior closely. “Can you see anything?” Qing walked over and looked along with Xu Shuangci.

Xu Shuangci’s face was tickled by the soft, intermittent brush of his fur, so he simply tilted his head and pressed his face right up against his.

He pointed at the egg and said, “There are tiny black specks inside, and these web-like blood vessels. That means the egg is fertilized and can hatch.” Some eggs are good, and some are bad.

Xu Shuangci’s smile didn’t last long before it faded. He had just weeded out nearly half of the fourteen eggs as dead ones.

Looking dejected, he continued to explain to Qing, “Take these, for example—the ones with darkened shells. Or the ones that feel empty when you shake them. Those are dead eggs. We can’t use them.”

Qing: “So, that leaves only six eggs now. That’s a little better than expected.”

But seeing the sub-beastman’s dejected expression, Qing said calmly, “I’ll just look for some more.” 

“Really?” Xu Shuangci’s eyes lit up.

“Mm-hmm.” Qing remained calm. “Big Cat, you’re so kind!”

Xu Shuangci lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Qing’s head, and planted a firm kiss on it. He kissed so hard that the fur actually dented. Then…

Qing suddenly lashed out with a paw, flinging him off, and—looking ferocious—… shook his bright red ears?

“Xu Shuangci!”

“I’m here!” Xu Shuangci lay sprawled out, looking a bit dazed at the large paw pad pressing down on his belly.

Qing could tell from his expression that he hadn’t meant to do it.

He swished his tail and went off to sulk.