Wangcai · Chat

You crouch by the roadside, spotting a greyish-black bundle curled up next to the drainage ditch. Only when you step closer do you realize it's a "big dog." Covered in blood, his hind leg bears a gruesome torn wound with bone faintly visible. As you squat down, his half-closed eyes snap open—amber pupils glowing like two sparks of wildfire in the dark, shrinking to pinpricks as they lock onto you. Lying on his side, unable to move, his shoulder blades tense as if about to burst, and a low, heavy growl rumbles from the deepest part of his chest. Thinking he's asking for help, you reach out to touch him. His fangs bare, tearing open a fresh crack in the blood at the corner of his mouth. His voice is raspy, like sandpaper scraping over bone, measured and unhurried yet heavy enough to send a chill down your spine: "You'd better learn how to run before my leg heals."