Julian Zhao Xin felt tension in his muscles as he parked the old SUV outside Bai Lan's childhood home deep in a forested valley of Kunming. He had followed Bai Lan's new white car with flashy silver rims for six long days across mountains and rivers.
As soon as they stepped out, an older man appeared on the worn stone porch of the two-story brick house. His brown hair was streaked with grey at the temples. His face was cold, almost like he didn't recognize the woman before him.
Neither Bai Lan nor her father, Bai Luo, moved to close the distance between them. The silent standoff filled the air like a storm waiting to break.
Bai Lan grasped Jerry Xin, her young son, by the hand and led him up the stairs. She introduced him stiffly as her son and urged him to greet his grandfather. The boy stared at his shoes, too shy to speak. Bai Luo only nodded briefly at the child, his face unreadable.
Bai Lan then introduced Zhao Xin as her stepson.Bai Luo raised an eyebrow, surprised. He grunted that she had failed to mention anything about a stepson on the phone when she spoke about coming back.
Bai Lan laughed awkwardly, adjusting her bright red earrings. She said she must have forgotten in all the confusion of moving and preparing to return to the pack lands. She suggested that Zhao Xin could stay in the den.
But Bai Luo reminded her the den she wanted Zhao xin to use was full of boxes and the old couch was long gone.
Zhao Xin, with a small smirk, joked that he could sleep outside like a stray wolf if needed, just toss him a blanket and some scraps. His southern Sichuan accent slipped out naturally, betraying his origins.
Bai Luo narrowed his eyes but reluctantly agreed to clear out the den and put in a blow-up bed.
Zhao Xin was fine with that. He had no plans to sit around the old house. He was a wolf of action, after all, a junior warrior by pack standards.
Bai Lan quickly escaped into the house with Jerry Xin , claiming she needed to rest from the journey. That left Zhao Xin alone with Bai Luo, who scrutinized him closely.
Bai Luo asked Zhao Xin his age.
Seventeen, Zhao Xin answered dismissively.
Bai Luo Pstated firmly that he didn't expect Zhao Xin to call him Grandpa.
Zhao Xin simply replied that he wasn't planning on it.
Bai Luo grunted again and said Zhao Xin could just call him Bai Luo. He then barked at Zhao Xin to stop standing around like a lost cub and help carry the boxes inside.
Inside the house, the creaking wood floors and heavy furniture spoke of an old life — the former home of a pack elder, now worn down by time.
Bai Lou led Zhao Xin down a narrow hall to a small back room filled with boxes. He told Zhao Xin sternly to keep it clean, handle his own chores, and be useful to the family.
Zhao Xin joked if he would get an allowance for his services.
Bai Luo answered with a deadpan look. Zhao Xin chuckled quietly.
They hauled the last of the boxes inside without much conversation. Afterward, Bai Luo handed him a rolled-up air mattress with no further instruction and disappeared.
Zhao Xin sat among the boxes, feeling the weight of the house settle around him like a heavy fog. This was not his home, and it certainly wasn't his old pack in Sichuan.
He remembered the old times when his real father, Shi Diwen, the former Alpha Commander of their pack, would come home from missions. Zhao Diwen would sweep Zhao Xin and his mother into huge hugs full of strength and love, the kind that made a young wolf feel invincible.
Here, there were no hugs. No smiles. No real family. Only obligation.
The old den with its cracked fireplace and faded wallpaper smelled of dust and bitter memories. Zhao Xin needed space, needed air, needed to reconnect to his wolf.
He headed to the overgrown backyard, stripped off his shirt, and tucked it into his jeans. The summer sun beat down on him. The land was wild and neglected, the grass that was so tall that it brushed his knees.
Near the back of the yard, a weather-beaten shed leaned crookedly to one side. A rusted padlock hung loose from the latch. Zhao Xin pushed the door open and entered.
Old garden tools hung on the walls, and cans of spray paint littered the floor, remnants of the old rituals the pack no longer kept.
His emotions boiled over. With a low growl building in his chest, he picked up a metal bucket and hurled it against the wall. The clang echoed sharply inside the shed.
Before he could lose himself further, a sharp voice rang out behind him.
A girl about his age stood in the doorway. Her long blond braid fell across her chest like a golden river. In one hand she gripped a rusty pitchfork, aimed straight at him, and her fierce silver eyes gleamed under the hood of her black jacket.
Next to her stood a huge wolf-dog hybrid with gunmetal-gray fur. The beast growled low in its throat, saliva dripping from its fangs.
The girl demanded that Zhao Xin stop whatever he was doing or she would call the authorities of the Kunming Pack.
Zhao Xin raised his hands and asked who she was, trying not to smile at her seriousness.
She accused him of being one of the Fairfield Pack thugs, those rogue wolves who had caused trouble since last year's broken treaty.
Zhao Xin calmly told her he had no idea where the Fairfield Pack lived and that he wasn't part of their raids.
She narrowed her eyes, calling his southern accent fake. She refused to back down.
When the big wolf,dog, heard a noise in the weeds and bounded off, the girl turned her head for a moment. Zhao Xin took a step closer.
She panicked, jabbed the pitchfork forward, and — by accident — stabbed the tines straight into Zhao Xin's left boot.
The girl stared in horror. Zhao Xin looked down at his foot, unimpressed.
Before he could say a word, she dropped the handle, slammed the shed door shut, and clicked the lock in place, trapping him inside.
In the darkness, Zhao Xin shook his head and let out a short laugh.
She thought he was a thug.
He thought she was completely crazy.
Only one of them was right.
And it wasn't her.
Venus Lin Yue raced to her house, heart pounding. She hadn't meant to stab the guy—only scare him off. Now he was locked in the old shed, injured because of her. As future healer of the Kunming pack, she was sworn to help, not harm. She was supposed to be studying to take over as the pack's lead medic one day under Elder Zhao Wei's guidance, not threatening strangers with pitchforks.
She bolted through the overgrown yard, dodging half-wild herbs and thorny bushes the pack used for ceremonies. Past the moonlit stone circle where they held their Awakening rites, she pushed open the back door and skidded into the kitchen.
Her mother, Ma Jia, looked up from sorting dried wolfsbane, her wolf senses picking up Venus's panic instantly.
"What happened?" Ma Jia demanded, setting aside the bundle.
Venus struggled to catch her breath. "There's a stranger...he was in the old shed. I thought he was from the Iron Fang Pack, trying to vandalize our sacred grounds. I...I stabbed him, Ma."
Ma Jia's eyes widened. "You what? By the spirits, Venus!"
Her father, Luo Peng, entered, overhearing the last part. His face, usually calm, hardened.
"You locked a wounded wolf in the shed? We are healers, not executioners!"
"I didn't know!" Venus cried. "He didn't smell like one of ours—and I panicked."
"We must bring him to Elder Zhao Wei immediately,"Bai Luo said firmly. "We cannot leave a wounded wolf—pack or rogue—abandoned."
Ma Jia nodded sharply. "Fetch Jerry xin. We'll need his nimble hands to help carry him."
Venus didn't wait. She ran to find her younger cousin brother, Jerry Xin, already feeling guilt clawing at her heart like talons. If the stranger was truly harmless—and worse, if he was a potential ally—the entire Cloud Mist Pack could be in trouble because of her reckless mistake.
And somewhere in the darkened shed,Zhao Xin, as his real name was leaned against the dusty wall, holding his throbbing foot, wondering what kind of lunatic pack he had stumbled into.
He didn't know it yet, but fate had plans for him and for Venus Lin Yue—plans woven long ago by the old wolves under the red sun of the wolf history.
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