After a night of sweet dreams.

The next day, Lin Qiu crawled out from under the animal hide and looked at the dozen or so cubs piled on top of him, letting out a labored sigh.

Lang Guo was gone, and there were no other beastmen in the cave.

“Woof?”

A snow-white cub crouched on his chest, tilting its head. Seeing that he was awake, it happily wagged its tail and rubbed against his face.

Lin Qiu gathered the cubs close, sat up, and the cubs rolled off the animal hide like sesame dumplings, piling up together.

Lin Qiu: “Where’s Guo?”

The cub continued to climb enthusiastically onto Lin Qiu.

In the tribe now, aside from Lin Qiu who could eat his fill, most of the beastmen were only half-full. Lin Qiu could sleep from night until dawn, but the beastmen couldn’t keep it up; they were usually woken by hunger just before daybreak.

He had now earned the trust of Lang Guo and was practically becoming another “cub-bearer.”

Lin Qiu hugged the snow-white cub crawling up to his chest and rubbed its belly—it was already flat.

Xue wrapped its arms around his wrist and stared at him with eyes as dark as beans, not blinking once.

Lin Qiu: “Hungry?”

The cub opened its mouth and yawned, its teeth the size of grains of rice. It curled its tongue and let out a “Woof.”

Lin Qiu: “I’ll go get Lang Guo. You two hold on a bit longer—don’t leave the grass nest.”

After giving his instructions, Lin Qiu left the grass nest. He had taken only two steps when he turned back to see the cub tumbling and crawling down from the nest.

“Woof.” Spotting him, the cub couldn’t help but crawl up, its eyes wet with anticipation.

Beside his grass den, on a ramp Lang Guo had built out of wood, cubs were tumbling down one after another.

Lin Qiu finally emerged carrying a huge fur sack—the one Lang Guo used to transport the pups. It was spacious enough to hold them all.

Outside the cave, the muffled sound of wood being struck echoed through the mountains. As soon as Lin Qiu stepped out of the cave, he saw Lang Shi leading the beastmen in chopping wood—not the logs Lang Mo and the others had brought back yesterday, but ones they must have gathered this morning to build a wooden frame. 

The beastmen were hard at work. Lang Mo led a team in chopping wood, while Lang An and Lang Shuang were weeding inside, and Lang Guo was making mushroom and meat soup for the cubs…Only one beastman was sitting beside Lang Guo. 

Lin Qiu recognized him as Lang You, the beastman who had been injured during a previous hunt.

“Lang Guo, the cub.”

Lin Qiu set the cub down. Lang Guo chuckled, “How was it? Sleeping on top of the fur—warm, wasn’t it?”

Lin Qiu: “It’s a bit heavy.” 

He spoke honestly. Lang Guo looked pensive, then nodded in agreement.

“True, it’s not as comfortable as being tucked inside wolf fur.”

“Hm?” Lin Qiu hadn’t heard clearly. Lang Guo smiled, grabbed the fur pouch, and placed it on Lang You’s lap. “Watch the cub.”

“Qiu, this is Lang You, the captain of the first hunting squad.”

Lin Qiu: “I know.”

“I made breakfast for you too. You should eat with us.”

“Okay.” 

“Did the fish rise this morning? Did Lang Mo and the others eat?” Lin Qiu sat down on the other side of Lang Guo.

“They were up early. Wang and the others ate before they left.” Lang Guo said this with a smile on his face, genuinely happy. In the past, the beastmen would go hunting on empty stomachs, and it was never certain whether they’d catch anything. 

Since they’d gotten the fish traps, the beastmen would eat a little fish before heading out—at least to line their stomachs. The river was teeming with fish—so plump and slow that they could never catch them all. 

Following Lang Guo’s lead, Lang You sat down, cradling a fur pouch to use as a cushion for his cub. He sat quietly, his gaze shifting back and forth between Lang Guo and Lin Qiu, saying nothing. He had spent a great deal of time lying in the priest’s cave, where he could almost see Lin Qiu. But Lin Qiu was a man of few words, engaging only in occasional bickering with the old priest. 

The sub-beastman looked just like him, cold and aloof. When Lang Guo spoke to him, Lin Qiu gave only brief replies. Lang Guo stopped asking questions, and Lin Qiu fell silent. Lang Guo wasn’t the quiet type; after speaking with Lin Qiu, he turned to ask him. 

Lin Qiu took the opportunity to wash up, then came back and ate breakfast right away. Lang You had already eaten breakfast, but he was given a bowl as well. He wasn’t picky; whatever was served was fine. But when he tasted the white-eared mushrooms—which he’d previously found rather bland—and found them so delicious, he slurped them down like noodles, clearing his bowl in just a few bites.

Lang Guo said, “Tasty, isn’t it?”

Lang You nodded; it was better than what he’d eaten that morning. 

Lang Guo: “Qiu taught me.”

Lang You: “Thanks, Qiu.”

Lin Qiu: “…You’re welcome.”

After breakfast, as usual, they went to the priest first to identify plants and study herbal pharmacology. In the afternoon, the beastmen began carrying clay blocks to prepare for pottery firing.

The clay blocks were crisp from air-drying, with a whitish hue.

The beastmen handled them with great care, afraid of breaking them. Lang Shi led a group of beastmen, including Lang Mu, to set up the wooden frames, rushing over to help that afternoon.

Almost all the beastmen from the cave had come; Lang Guo even brought the cubs in a leather pouch.

Lin Qiu felt a slight sense of pressure.

Inside the kiln, Lang An sat below while Lang Mo and a few others crouched on top, passing the clay bricks inside. With two kilns loaded, the entire batch of over thirty shaped clay bricks was fully loaded.

There were large and small ones, a full range of types.

After loading, they sealed the openings, and all the firewood prepared the previous day was brought to the kilns.

The amount of firewood required for a single firing was enormous; the beastmen had hauled a batch over from the tribe’s stockpile. The pile of firewood alone was stacked high.

“Qiu, can we start?” Lang Mo crouched in front of the firebox and turned to ask.

The beastman was excited and couldn’t wait any longer.

At the other kiln, Lang Shi was also standing by. As soon as Lin Qiu gave the go-ahead, both sides immediately lit their fires as if in a race.

Before long, more firewood was set alight, and the temperature around the kiln began to rise.

It was already a bright, sunny afternoon, and in no time, the beastmen were drenched in sweat.

Although Lang Guo didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t let his cub suffer alongside them, so he had no choice but to depart with regret.

Seeing the old priest standing idly by, Lin Qiu wiped the sweat from his face.

Pacing back and forth between the two kilns, his face flushed red from the smoke, his hair clinging to his neck—he looked more approachable than usual.

“It’ll take until tomorrow afternoon. Why don’t you guys go back first?”

“That long? Then I’ll bring over the fish traps to weave,” said Lang Yu.

Lang An stopped the sub-beastmen and said, “Qiu seems to be weaving something else. I’ll go ask if he needs help.”

As soon as Lin Qiu heard that Lang An wanted to help weave a backpack, he thought about it and agreed.

A backpack is much like a wicker basket; Lang An is skilled, and picked it up right away.

Several sub-beastmen brought over some vines one after another and stood guard in front of the kiln. Lin Qiu fanned himself with a leaf, but he really couldn’t stand the sun overhead, so he wove a straw hat and put it on his head.

After checking the fire in the kiln, he looked up to see that all the beastmen had one on their foreheads—even bigger ones that provided better shade.

Lang An beckoned to him, “Qiu, come try this.”

Lang An had simply woven the rattan into a shape, adding larger leaves to make it sturdy and wide.

Lin Qiu didn’t refuse and asked Lang An to put it on him.

After putting it on, the sub-beastman patted him on the shoulder, “Go back to work.”

Lin Qiu: “…Alright.”

Pottery firing requires temperatures of 800 to 1,000 degrees. It was fine at first, but as the heat rose, the waves of heat felt tangible, and he felt as if he were inside the kiln himself.

Looking through the firebox, the flames were orange-red, making the entire furnace glow.

Lang Mo’s sweat kept soaking through his clothes, only to dry and then get wet again. Lin Qiu suggested they switch places, but Lang Mo was stubborn. “I have to watch the entire firing process from start to finish. Didn’t you say you wanted to learn how to tend the fire?”

Lin Qiu: “I don’t want to either.”

Lang Mo: “Don’t get discouraged. Let’s figure it out together.”

He had intended to let the beastman rest, but ended up being comforted by him instead.

The kiln fire grew brighter and brighter, casting a crimson glow over the entire western side of Wolf Mountain.

It was already pitch black, and the temperature had stabilized, reaching its peak. 

No one could leave the kiln, so the beastmen’s dinner was brought to them.

The beastmen were exhausted from hunting and needed someone to help butcher the game. Lang An and a few others went back first; Lang Mu felt like he was making himself a nuisance, so he didn’t stay around either.

There was no time to cook dinner, so Lin Qiu joined Lang Mo and the others for grilled meat. It had been a long time since he’d had a piece of meat. Fortunately, it wasn’t burnt, though it was slightly undercooked and still had some blood. 

Lin Qiu stayed by the kiln the whole time and couldn’t really eat much; he took a few bites and put it away. There was no moon that night, and only a few stars were visible. The firewood kept burning, and he lost track of time. After a while, the silence in front of Wolf Mountain faded; it seemed the beastmen had gone into their caves to sleep. 

Lin Qiu sat between the two kilns, glancing now at Lang Mo, now at Lang Shi. Three or four beastmen crouched behind each of them.

“It’ll burn all night. You guys take turns watching it; otherwise, if we get drowsy in the wee hours, it won’t do any good.”

Lang Mo: “Don’t worry, it’s just one night.”

Lin Qiu yawned, propping his chin in his hand as he waited. Confined to the house, he’d read many books but possessed only theoretical knowledge. Matters like mixing clay and controlling the heat required the beastmen to figure things out together through experience. 

Take it slow; there’s plenty of time. 

Tending the fire was a tedious task. The heat in front of the kiln was too intense, and the beastmen had no energy to talk. Their eyes burned with intensity as they guarded the kiln fire as closely as they would Wolf Mountain. Lin Qiu decided to fetch some water for them. He stood up, but before he’d taken two steps, a figure stepped out of the darkness into the light.

Lang Yan was carrying a clay pot. It was the one from the priest’s cave; filled with water, it weighed dozens of pounds, yet he carried it with ease.

“How long has it been burning?” Lang Yan asked. He set the clay pot down, poured water into a wooden bowl, and handed it to Lin Qiu. Lin Qiu cupped it in both hands. “It started at noon and hasn’t stopped since.”

Lang Yan motioned for the beastmen crouching beside Lang Shi and Lang Mo to come over—they were from the first squad of the guard unit. The beastmen poured themselves water, gulped it down, and then passed bowls to Lang Mo and Lang Shi. 

The full clay pot was emptied in an instant, leaving only a few drops at the bottom. Lang Yan watched as Lin Qiu’s lips moistened; he drank half a bowl in one gulp, then held up the pot to refill it for him.

“An said it needs to fire until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Mm-hmm.” Qiu nodded. “After it’s done firing, we have to let it cool on its own. That’ll take one or two hours, so we can open the kiln around five.”

Lang Yan: “Got it.”

He left with the jug. Not long after, he returned with more water, bringing the jug for the cub along with it.

The water in the jug had been boiled and left to cool, just as Lin Qiu liked it.

A flue had been left open on top of the kiln; faintly, one could see a layer of gray smoke shrouding the area around the pottery kiln. Even the stars were obscured.

All night long, Lin Qiu kept watch on both sides, while Lang Mo and Lang Shi remained on high alert.

Lang Yan moved silently; whenever the water in the clay pot ran out, he would go boil more, staying to keep watch as well.

It wasn’t until just before dawn that Lang An came over to relieve him, and only then did he leave.