Chapter 16
Chapter 16: Aftereffects
Su Yan shouldered a bone bow and a bundle of bamboo arrows—Oro’s old hunting gear.
The bow smelled faintly of smoke and old leather, as if it had been waiting for hands again. Oro had once carried it everywhere, but after his health failed, it had gathered dust in a corner like a forgotten limb.
When Su Yan took it down, Oro frowned so hard his brow wrinkled.
Not because he treasured the bow, but because in his mind, females were delicate creatures. Even with talent, that image never really changed.
Going out with Little Luo to fool around was one thing. Anything beyond that was another.
It took Zulu showing up—offering to carry the bow and arrows for her—before Oro finally relented.
With Zulu nearby, Su Yan would be safe.
What Oro didn’t know was that Su Yan had learned archery back on earth. She’d even competed, and won.
The moment the bow settled in her hands, her shoulders relaxed like they remembered. She drew smoothly, the bowstring singing under her fingers, aimed, and loosed.
The arrow thudded into a wild chicken.
Feathers exploded. The bird flapped, staggered, and dropped.
Little Luo yelped. “Sister—you can use a bow?”
“Of course.”
She handed him the bow and arrows and went to retrieve the chicken. “We’ll stew chicken soup tonight.”
Zulu watched her with open admiration. The clean, confident motion of her shot had been too precise to be luck.
He cleared his throat. “Can I have a bowl? I won’t freeload. The first prey I catch will count as my meal fee.”
Su Yan glanced at him. “Fine.”
Zulu’s eyes lit up. “Then I’ll hunt a wild boar.”
“That’s dangerous,” she warned.
In any forest, a wild boar was a nightmare—thick hide like armor, tusks like knives.
But the more she warned him, the more he refused to back down. “Wait here.”
He knew the area well, knew where the prey gathered. In moments, he picked a direction and vanished between the trees, leaving only the faint rustle of leaves in his wake.
Su Yan tossed the chicken to Little Luo. “Let’s keep hunting too.”
“Sister… will Brother Zulu be okay?”
“If something could happen to him,” Su Yan said dryly, “then no one in this beast forest would be hunting at all.”
She led Little Luo along the forest’s edge, taking smaller prey. Along the way she gathered fruit and wild greens—and then she spotted it.
A whole patch of wild yams.
Some were as thick as her wrist, their vines tangled under fallen leaves.
Su Yan’s eyes went bright. She stopped hunting and started digging.
Meat alone would keep her alive, sure. But for someone who’d grown up eating grains, she missed carbs more than she’d expected—missed the solid comfort of them.
Little Luo didn’t understand why she wanted something beasts dug up to chew, but she looked so happy he crouched down and helped.
They dug for a while, and then the yam under Su Yan’s hands twitched.
The next moment, every yam in the patch wriggled up out of the soil on its own, sliding free as if the earth had suddenly grown polite. They stacked themselves in a neat pile.
Little Luo shouted, delighted, “Brother Lin Lang!”
Lin Lang had earth-type talent. Digging yams for him was like flicking a finger.
Su Yan dusted off her hands and smiled sweetly. “Brother Lin Lang, you’re amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Lin Lang watched her, expression softening. “Anything else you need dug up?”
“No.” Su Yan nodded toward the pile. “What did you hunt?”
“Two deer. I already took them back to the tribe. I’m free for now.”
“Brother Lin Lang, I want to hunt a deer too.”
“Sure. I’ll take you to the herd.”
“Thank you, Brother Lin Lang,” she said brightly. “Let’s go.”
Little Luo blurted, anxious, “Right now?”
Su Yan glanced at the yams. “I won’t go. I’ll carry these home in batches.”
The pile had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. Without her system space, she’d have to run back and forth several times.
“Wait.” Lin Lang didn’t hesitate. He grabbed several vines, tied the yams tight in a blink, and swung them onto his shoulder.
Su Yan didn’t even have time to stop him.
Little Luo gaped. “Then… the deer?”
“After I deliver this,” Lin Lang said simply.
Little Luo swallowed. “Okay. Sister, you go back with Brother Lin Lang. I’ll wait for Brother Zulu.”
“All right.” Su Yan shifted the basket. “These yams need cleaning anyway. Give me the fruit basket and the chicken. I’ll take them back first.”
Little Luo handed them over, still pink in the face from everything that had happened.
He went on hunting. Su Yan and Lin Lang headed toward the mouse clan tribe, the forest thinning as sunlight began to break through.
On the path, Su Yan selected a crisp green fruit—sweet and sour—and offered it to him. “Is it heavy? Eat something. It’ll help with your thirst.”
“It’s not heavy,” Lin Lang said, but his eyes stayed on her, too hot, too conflicted.
Su Yan pretended not to notice. “Little Luo told me what happened. You were injured saving your people and passed out. When you woke up, you were already on the migration route. How’s the wound now? Any aftereffects?”
“Aftereffects?” Lin Lang echoed.
“Old damage that never fully heals. The kind of injury that leaves a permanent ache.”
Lin Lang’s mouth tightened, and the words came out rough. “Losing you—does that count?”
Su Yan stopped walking for a beat, then started again, not answering.
…
Oro returned from the rabbit clan’s tribal shaman in an excellent mood.
Rabbit clan females weren’t many either, but it was easy enough to find a woman from a poor household with at least middle grade fertility. The tribal shaman had promised him news within three days.
He carried two leather bags of goat milk, the warm weight sloshing softly, and was just reaching home when he spotted Su Yan from afar.
With that snow-white hair, it was impossible to mistake her.
But the man beside her—
“Yan Er,” Oro called, startled. “Why are you with Lin Lang?”
“Brother Lin Lang helped carry the yams back,” Su Yan replied.
Oro rushed forward. “Thanks for the trouble, Lin Lang. Give them to me.”
“No need.” Lin Lang adjusted the weight on his shoulder. “I’ll carry them inside.”
In the yard, Su Yan directed him to set the yams beside the pool fed by spring water. The water glittered, cold and clear, as if it had never known dust.
“I’ll make yam cakes,” she said. “I’ll bring you some to try later.”
“All right.” Lin Lang didn’t ask what yam cakes were. If it came from Su Yan, he wanted it.
A shout came from the gate. “Lin Lang! Ashley’s about to give birth! Hurry back!”
Lin Lang’s expression changed instantly, as if a hand had yanked a string inside him.
Su Yan pushed him gently. “Go.”
Lin Lang turned toward the messenger. “Didn’t you say there were still a few days?”
“Ashley said her belly hurts. Just hurry back!”
The messenger dashed off again.
Su Yan understood. Ashley must have heard she and Lin Lang had returned together. Chances were the child wasn’t in danger at all.
“Go,” Su Yan said quietly. “Pregnant women can be unstable. Take care of her.”
She went inside, returned with a small packet—about a pound—of refined salt, and held it out. “I don’t have much, but this is worth something. Thank you for carrying the yams.”
Lin Lang didn’t take it. He turned away, voice low. “Later, I’ll come drink chicken soup.”
“All right,” Su Yan said, forcing cheer into her tone. “Take care, Brother Lin Lang.”
Oro walked him to the gate.
“Just call me Lin Lang,” Lin Lang said without looking back. “I’ll come by later.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Oro replied.
Once Lin Lang left, Oro turned to Su Yan, worry returning to his eyes. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Su Yan said steadily. “We ran into each other while hunting. He helped dig the yams and carried them back. That’s all. Tribe helping tribe.”
“Good.” Oro exhaled. “He married Ashley—she’s the best female in the mouse clan, the tribal shaman’s granddaughter. She might even inherit the tribal shaman position. We can’t afford to offend her.”
“I know,” Su Yan said. Her gaze drifted toward the forest line, where the trees stood like a dark wall. “That’s why my target is Zulu.”