Peach Blossom Land On Longyin Island Chapter 22

Heart Disease

The mother wolf had multiple arrow wounds, front and back, covered in bloodstains, and lay on the ground, barely clinging to life. The cub seemed to sense the impending final separation from its mother, constantly nudging the mother wolf’s body with its head, letting out heart-wrenching whimpers.

An Mai examined the mother wolf’s injuries and shook his head heavily at An Le: “It can’t be saved. The injuries are too severe, especially the one in the chest. It’s a fatal wound. It’s a miracle it didn’t die instantly and held on until now.”

An Le remained silent, and the surroundings were quiet. The hunting team had assisted An Shun and An Tu in killing the other five wolves and rushed over after hearing An Le explain the sequence of events. An Mai, who knew medicine, immediately began treating the mother wolf, but her injuries were too severe, and his efforts were futile.

Before long, amidst the deepening night and the mournful cries of the young wolf, the mother wolf stopped her weak breathing and died completely.

“An Le.” An Xiaoyu squatted down, gently pressed An Le’s shoulder, and called out softly.

An Le let out a long breath and called out to the cub, which was still nudging the mother wolf’s body with its head: “An Xiaojin.”

The cub lowered its ears, its eyes sad, and slowly walked up to An Le. It rubbed its head against An Le’s calf, letting out aggrieved whimpering sounds.

An Le rubbed An Xiaojin’s head and looked up at An Tong, saying, “Brother Xiaotong, I want to bury it.”

No one objected. Everyone worked together to dig a pit, buried the mother wolf, and piled up a small grave mound. The cub circled the small grave mound, pawing at the dirt.

An Tong said, “It seems the cub accidentally wandered into the camp, and the pack followed its scent. Le Le, you have the cub’s scent on you, which is why the mother wolf pursued you relentlessly.”

“But is this really a wolf?” An Linmian squatted down, picked up the cub, and asked doubtfully, “Are there wolves this friendly?”

“Could it be a wolfdog?” An Tu speculated. “I think its ears look a bit bigger than a wolf pup’s.”

An Tong pondered, “It’s too young to tell now, but it’s possible. The hunting team’s hounds were bred by our ancestors by crossbreeding dogs and wolves. This one does look somewhat like a wolfdog.”

“Woof~” The cub struggled slightly in An Linmian’s arms, as if wanting to get down. An Linmian put the cub down, and it went to An Le’s feet, rubbing its head against An Le’s leg and whimpering.

An Le bent down and picked up the cub. It quieted down in An Le’s arms. An Le hesitated for a moment and asked, “Can we find the rest of the wolf pack?”

An Tong shook his head. “Wolf packs operate as a family unit, and each pack has its own territory. They rarely venture into others’ territories, but there is no pack in this hunting area. We don’t know where this group of wolves came from, so it will probably be hard to find them. And…” An Tong glanced at the five adult wolf corpses laid out on the ground, hesitating, “Usually, a wolf family only has five or six adults. These might be all the members of this family.”

An Le lowered his head and stroked the cub in his arms, whispering, “Then how… will it survive in the wild?”

“Take it back,” An Xiaoyu interjected softly. “We can release it back into the mountains when it grows up.”

An Le had considered this, but since it was a wolf, its nature was still uncertain. If he wanted to keep it in the village, he needed the villagers’ permission.

An Tong saw what An Le was thinking and said, “It’s still small now and poses no threat. If you keep it fed, it shouldn’t cause trouble in the village. Taking it back is fine. Winter is coming soon, and it will be hard for it to survive in the wild. We can release it back into the mountains next spring. With the hunting team vouching for it, the villagers will agree.”

An Le gave a low hum of acknowledgment and said, “Thank you, Brother Xiaotong.”

An Tong patted An Le’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go. It’s time to head back to the camp.”

An Xiaoyu and An Le successfully hunted an adult wolf together, and An Shun and An Tu performed outstandingly in killing the pack. The assessment was announced to be over ahead of schedule, and all three passed and officially joined the hunting team. However, this hunting trip was not just for the assessment but also to prepare furs and pelts for the villagers’ winter clothing, so the hunting had to continue.

After dinner, An Le finally emerged from the guilt of having killed his good friend’s mother. An Xiaojin, full and rested, also recovered his spirits and enthusiastically ran around everyone like a dog.

An Linmian and An Mai couldn’t resist the fiery enthusiasm of the cute, fluffy creature. They took An Xiaojin to bathe and played with him for a long time, eventually tiring him out. With droopy eyelids, he escaped into An Le’s wooden cabin, jumped onto An Le’s bed, and immediately lay down to sleep.

An Le also planned to sleep, but just before drifting off, he remembered something: he had intended to ask for another blanket!

But he had gone to bed late tonight, and the night was already deep. To knock on a door now to ask for a blanket… An Le quickly shook his head, thinking he would just manage for one more night. He had already caused enough trouble for everyone today.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing An Le sitting on the bed staring at the blanket without moving, An Xiaoyu asked from the bedside.

“Nothing, nothing.” An Le quickly said. At the same time, he moved An Xiaojin, who was sleeping on the inner side of the bed, to the middle, and then lay down tightly against the wall.

His intention to maintain distance from An Xiaoyu was obvious.

An Xiaoyu: “…”

“Turn off the light quickly, let’s sleep, let’s sleep.” An Le urged.

“Oh.” After a brief silence, An Xiaoyu said “oh,” blew out the lamp, climbed onto the bed, and silently burrowed under the blanket.

Complete darkness descended. An Le quietly breathed a sigh of relief, reminding himself repeatedly before falling asleep not to cross the line!

But when he was woken up in the middle of the night by the soreness in his body, An Le despairingly realized that he was being held by An Xiaoyu again, and this time he couldn’t break free—because he was already pressed tightly against the wall. An Xiaoyu was the one who had crossed the line!

Just like last night, An Xiaoyu was lying on his side, his forehead resting on the top of An Le’s head, one arm pressed across An Le’s waist. The only comfort was that this time An Le wasn’t using An Xiaoyu’s arm as a pillow.

An Le pressed a hand to his forehead, took a deep breath, and then mustered his strength. Using two fingers, he pinched An Xiaoyu’s wrist and cautiously lifted the arm that was encircling him.

“An Le.” Before the arm could leave his body, An Xiaoyu’s slightly low voice reached An Le’s ear. The warm breath passing his ear tip made An Le’s body tremble in surprise. The two fingers pinching An Xiaoyu’s wrist suddenly lost strength, and the wrist that hadn’t managed to leave his waist fell back down.

An Le adjusted his breathing and said in a casual, nonchalant tone, “Move over. You crossed the line.”

An Xiaoyu didn’t move. He asked, “What line?”

“The boundary line.” An Le said.

An Xiaoyu didn’t understand: “What?”

“The Chu River and Han Border!” An Le exclaimed irritably, pushing An Xiaoyu’s arm away and grumbling, “Don’t you have any sense of propriety?”

“What sense of propriety?” An Xiaoyu asked again.

An Le turned onto his side, putting a little distance between them, his face directly facing An Xiaoyu. He said indignantly, “An Xiaoyu! You have amnesia, you’re not stupid! What kind of brothers sleep pressed up against each other?! There’s a safe social distance between people! You! Crossed the line!”

An Le seemed to recall a psychological theory he had heard from his mother: people have a safe social distance for interacting with others. Normal people unconsciously maintain this distance during social interactions, and once someone crosses this distance, it creates a feeling of invaded territory. Psychologists call this the intimate distance, and the meaning is clear: only very intimate people are accepted into this range.

Sworn brothers were clearly not within the scope of a very intimate relationship.

After An Le finished venting, he waited a while before hearing An Xiaoyu say “oh” in a low mood, and then shift his body outward.

For some reason, a strange irritation welled up in An Le’s chest. He flipped over without a word, lying on his side pressed tightly against the wall.

A slight rustling sound. An Xiaojin, who was sleeping at the foot of the bed, stepped on the blanket and reached An Le’s chest, squeezing into the narrow gap between An Le and the wall.

An Le had to move outward slightly, and his back unexpectedly bumped into An Xiaoyu’s chest.

An Le sighed softly and said, “Move out a little more.”

An Xiaoyu didn’t move. He stared at the blurry outline in front of him and called out softly, “An Le.”

An Le stroked the wolf with one hand, giving a muffled response from his throat without opening his mouth. The fluffy sensation slightly dispersed the irritation in his heart.

“At that time… when you were attacked… by the wolves… what were you thinking?” After a moment, An Xiaoyu asked haltingly.

“I’m going to die again.” An Le answered calmly.

“Anything else?”

An Le was silent for a moment, then said, “No.”

After a while, An Le heard An Xiaoyu ask again, “Then last time… why did you die?”

“I was sick.”

“What sickness?”

“Congenital heart disease.”

“Heart disease? What is that? A heart ailment?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

An Xiaoyu was silent again for a moment, then asked, “What were the symptoms?”

“Normally, I couldn’t get excited, couldn’t exercise strenuously, and had to constantly monitor my heart rate to maintain a steady rhythm. When the illness flared up, my heart would beat very fast and erratically, pounding against my chest like a wild beast. My chest felt like it was being squeezed and constricted by a huge iron clamp, making it impossible to breathe. My body would instantly break out in a cold sweat, and my mind would generate a profound sense of terror. And—” An Le paused, stopping his words.

“And what?” Seeing An Le stop talking, An Xiaoyu pursued the question in a low, husky voice.

“It hurt a lot,” An Le whispered. “My heart hurt, my chest hurt, my body hurt.”

An unbearable, overwhelming pain.

“An Le.” An Xiaoyu’s voice carried an indescribable emotion, perhaps distress or sympathy. An Le took a deep breath and comforted him in a nonchalant tone, “It’s fine, the illness is gone now—”

Before he could finish, An Le’s body stiffened, and his voice suddenly cut off. An Xiaoyu was holding him from behind, his forehead resting against the back of An Le’s head, and he whispered, “An Le, I think I have heart disease.”

An Le’s breathing hitched. After a long pause, he managed to speak with difficulty: “What… what do you mean?”

“At that time… that’s how I felt.”

Hearing this, An Le breathed a sigh of relief, utterly speechless: “You were just scared.”

“Mhm, I was scared. I was very afraid,” An Xiaoyu continued. “The moment I saw you appear, my heart was beating very fast, and all I felt was fear, deep fear.”

An Le’s heart suddenly stopped for a moment, then violently, rapidly, and chaotically accelerated its beating.

“What… are you saying?” An Le pressed his chest, struggling to calm his heart rate, asking with an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.

“An Le,” An Xiaoyu unconsciously rubbed his forehead against An Le’s fluffy occiput, “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

For a long time, An Le didn’t know how to react.

“An Xiaoyu.” After a long while, An Le turned to face An Xiaoyu. In the pitch blackness, he couldn’t see An Xiaoyu’s face or his expression. He imagined that familiar face in his mind but couldn’t picture the expression on it right now. An Le asked directly, “Are you afraid that I might die?”

“Yes, I’m afraid.” An Xiaoyu replied.

An Le blinked and said, “Why?”

An Xiaoyu was silent, then whispered, “I promised Auntie I would protect you.”

So that was it.

An Le felt a vague, inexplicable disappointment rising in his heart, so he turned around, lay flat, and pretended to be relaxed: “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Even if I really died, my mother wouldn’t blame you.”

After saying this, before An Xiaoyu could speak again, An Le ended the night talk: “Go to sleep quickly, it’s late.”