Chapter 45 Extra Chapter 1: Peaceful Dream
I. Cold and Light
Cold. An endless cold enveloped me from all directions, seeping into my soaked, tangled hair, piercing my flesh, and freezing my bones. The darkness was as thick and sticky as ink that couldn't be dissolved, with only a blurry, grayish-white sliver of light high and far above my head, but I couldn't reach it.
My left foreleg was throbbing with pain; every tiny movement brought excruciating agony, as if something inside had broken or shattered. Even worse was my stomach, empty and burning, a stark reminder that I hadn't eaten anything in ages, not even the dirty snow I could lick.
My throat was dry; even a whimper was difficult. I gently bumped my head against the cold, hard, rusty fence in front of me. Thump… the sound was so faint I could barely hear it myself. But I remembered a warm current flowing from this direction, very faint, yet carrying a strange, instinctive scent that drew me closer. It wasn't the smell of rotting garbage, nor the metallic odor of snow, but a clean scent, faintly carrying the aroma of food and water, even… the scent of "living things" living peacefully.
My mother's scent had long since vanished, disappeared into the terrible chaos, the loud noises, and the acrid smoke of days before. I followed my mother as she fled, stumbling and falling, and then we got separated.
The world had become too big and too terrifying, filled with broken things, strange noises, and the hostile or fearful eyes of other animals and "two-legged creatures." I was too small, hiding, cold and hungry, until something sharp scratched my leg. Dragging it along, with the last vestiges of my instinct, I crawled into this cold, narrow crevice in the rocks and discovered this black hole.
Behind the cave lay the source of that faint warmth. Was it my last glimmer of hope? Or just another trap of despair? I didn't know. But I had no strength left to search elsewhere. I could only, again and again, use my last ounce of strength, with my head and intact claws, to ram against that unmoving, cold obstacle. Thump... thump thump...
"Waaah..." I couldn't help but let out a weak moan. It's so cold, so painful, so tiring. Am I about to disappear into the darkness and cold like my mother? My vision started to blur, and the darkness seemed to be swallowing up that pitiful glimmer of light.
Just as my consciousness was fading, suddenly, a different sound came from the depths of the cave! It wasn't the sound of wind, but... a rhythmic, slight rustling of metal scraping against metal! Then, the thing that had been blocking my way for so long suddenly moved and was moved aside!
A flood of light suddenly rushed in! Not the grayish light from the sky, but warm, orange, and real light! Along with it came the warm, clean, vibrant, and "safe" atmosphere I had longed for, amplified countless times!
The light was too bright, so I squinted and shrank back. Then I saw shadows appear in the light. Two "two-legged creatures." Tall, standing there. One of them had a more... cold and hard aura, like a frozen stone in winter, carrying a kind of alertness and pressure belonging to a powerful predator that made my fur tighten instinctively. I shrank back in fear.
But another… I smelled it. It was him! The main source of that warm, clean scent that had kept me going until now! He crouched down, very close. I could see him clearly; unlike most of the "two-legged creatures" I'd ever met, he wasn't tall and strong, even a little thin. His eyes… were special, not cold or fierce, but filled with something as soft as water, as warm as sunlight. He looked at me, his eyes filled with concern, with heartache, and with a strange power that made my tense nerves want to relax.
He reached out and enveloped me in something soft. His movements were so gentle, so careful, as if I were some fragile treasure. His fingers touched my dirty, cold fur, but the warmth he conveyed made me shiver. It was a living, real warmth.
I froze for a moment, but my body's instincts kicked in faster than my brain—I smelled the harmless, pure, and clean scent on his hands and body, and felt the unmistakable tenderness in his movements. I mustered my last bit of strength, lifted my head, and gently rubbed my little head against his warm wrist.
I want to tell him: Save me. Take me away. I'm not dirty, I don't bite, I'm very well-behaved...
Then, the boundless darkness and exhaustion completely overwhelmed me. But before losing consciousness, I felt myself being steadily and gently pulled into a warm and solid embrace. The owner of that embrace exuded a comforting, sun-like scent.
II. Yuheran
When I woke up again, the world was completely different.
There was no cold, no darkness, and beneath me lay a dry, fluffy, soft mat. The air was warm and clean, filled with the pleasant smell of medicine and… the aroma of food! My legs were immobilized, the pain lessened, and the sticky grime on my body was gone. Most importantly, that "two-legged beast" with the scent of sunshine was right beside me, looking down at me with a smile in his eyes.
"Awake? Ping An, how are you feeling?" His voice was beautiful, soft and gentle, like the first spring breeze rustling through the grass. He called me "Ping An." I liked that name; hearing it from his lips felt like a blessing, a promise.
I whimpered and tried to wag my tail, but I didn't have the strength, so I could only look at him longingly. He immediately understood and used a small tube to feed me warm, sweet water. Ah, it tasted like I was alive!
Another "two-legged creature" also came often. He was very tall, and his aura was much colder and harder than "Ran's," like the smooth, cold metal walls of a fortress. I was a little afraid of him at first. Every time he came to check my legs or used a strange "little box" (which I later learned was called an instrument) to shine on me, I would subconsciously tense up. But although his movements were swift, they were never rough; in fact, they had a strange, precise gentleness.
Moreover, he always came with "Ran", or he would arrive right after "Ran" left. I gradually realized that the way this cold, two-legged creature named "Yu" looked at "Ran" was different from how he looked at others.
The coldness will melt a little, revealing something deep within, like a steadily burning furnace deep beneath a fortress, unassuming yet persistently warm.
Yu doesn't talk much, but he brings fresh minced meat, and when I'm trembling in pain, he gently and steadily presses my body with his large, warm palms to reassure me.
Once, when he wasn't looking, I quickly licked his finger. His fingers paused, then his hand landed on my head and gave it a firm, quick rub. It was a little clumsy, but I understood. He didn't dislike me.
My leg healed very slowly and left me with a limp; I could never run as nimbly as I remembered my mother. I was a little frustrated, especially when I saw the chicks running around in the fortress (though they were noisy and we couldn't eat them!), or Ran busy in the large, sunny room full of green plants. I wanted to follow them, but I was always slow and almost tripped.
"It's okay, Ping An, walk slowly, we'll wait for you." Ran would always stop, pat my head, and wait for me to catch up. Yu wouldn't say such things, but he would slow down his usually brisk pace, or simply carry me over a difficult threshold. His arms were strong, and his embrace was different from Ran's—firmer, but equally secure.
I know this is my home. These two "two-legged creatures" are my family. Yu is a silent, reliable mountain, protecting us; Ran is a warm, bright sun, shining upon us. And I am... what am I? I think I am their peace. I want to live well and stay by their side.
The fortress was large and complex, with many strange machines and rooms. But my favorite was the sunroom. It was always warm there, filled with the fresh scent of growing plants, and I could smell the soil (though we weren't allowed to dig around), and watch the little bugs buzzing around (though we couldn't catch them).
I spent most of my time there, his slender fingers weaving through the green leaves and flowers, as if playing a silent melody about life. Sometimes he would hum a song, his voice soft and the melody gentle, and as I listened, I would drift off to sleep on the soft cushion at his feet.
Then, I will dream.
In my dreams, my legs are strong and healthy. I run across endless fields of wildflowers, the wind whistling past my ears. The sunlight is golden, and the sky is a clear, transparent blue. I run so fast, so freely, as if I could run all the way to the ends of the earth. Sometimes, Yu and Ran are also in my dreams; they run fast too, laughing and waving at me. We run together, without end.
Every time I wake up from such a dream, I pause for a moment, then sigh softly and touch my weak left foreleg with my nose. A little regretful, but not sad. Because I know that even if I can't actually run like that, walking slowly beside my "mountain" and "sun" is good enough. My world is complete with them.
III. A New Chapter and Old Responsibilities
I don't know how much time passed. Dogs keep track of time differently than two-legged creatures. We keep track of seasons, changes in smell, and cycles of our owner's emotions. Suddenly, life in the fortress began to change. Yu and Ran started frequently discussing something, packing their things, and finally, we got into a moving metal box (car) and left that solid mountain.
The smells of the outside world hit us—complex, chaotic, and filled with the marks of the apocalypse, yet also... a restless, new life. We arrived at a place inhabited by many two-legged creatures, a place filled with both smells and sounds. But Yu and Ran found a house with a small courtyard and settled down.
The yard was initially desolate, but Ran's eyes shone brightly, full of energy. Together with Yu, they quickly transformed it. Yu, with his magical hands, built a glittering little house (greenhouse) that could retain warmth; and Ran, like a sunroom in a fortress, began to conjure all sorts of green life inside, and... flowers.
So many flowers. Flowers of all colors, shapes, and scents, nurtured from seed and seedlings by Ran, filled the yard and were also placed in the house facing the street. There, a new wooden sign was hung—"Yu Ran Flower House." The characters were carved by Yu, and the strokes, like his, were steady and powerful.
I know our new life has begun. It's different here than the fortress; it's more open and "noisier." Different two-legged scents always drift in—some curious, some weary, some sorrowful. The flower shop's door is often open, where a man greets guests, softly introducing his flowers and exchanging flowers and leaves for something in return.
And I, safely, have found my new and crucial job.
I'm getting old, and my legs are becoming less agile. Standing or walking for long periods makes my joints ache. But I still insist on fulfilling my duties every day. My post is at the entrance of the flower shop, in my designated spot under the eaves with a thick, soft mat. It gets plenty of sunshine there, is sheltered from the wind and rain, and most importantly, allows me to see clearly what's happening on both sides of the street.
My ears are still sharp, able to distinguish between friendly footsteps and rustling sounds with ill intentions. My nose can detect tension, greed, or sadness. Most of the time, I spend quietly napping and basking in the sun, letting the warm sunlight soothe the aches in my old bones.
But if any unfamiliar, menacing two-legged creature approaches the flower house fence, or lingers too long, peeking around, I immediately raise my head, prick up my ears, and let out a low, warning growl. My blue eyes will be fixed on the creature, no longer possessing the sharpness and ferocity of my youth, but the composure and determination to protect it that have accumulated over the years are enough to make most ill-intentioned creatures wary and leave sheepishly.
Occasionally, one or two inconsiderate individuals might try to force their way in or utter foul language. In such cases, I would stand up, tense my still massive body, and bark even louder. My bark is not as sharp as a puppy's; instead, it is deep and resonant, carrying an unassailable majesty.
Usually at this time, Yu would come out of the house. He didn't even need to say anything; he just stood there, coldly looking over, and those guys would be so frightened that they would run away in panic.
Sometimes she would squat down in front of me, pat my head, and say with concern, "Ping An, are you tired? Don't be so nervous, go inside and sleep."
I'll lick his hand, nuzzle him with my head, but I'll still stubbornly stand guard at the door. I'm not tired; it's my responsibility, my pride. I'm protecting not just these flowers, but my "mountain" and my "sun," my home. I know I'm old, and there's not much I can do anymore, but at least I can be a reliable door, a pair of vigilant eyes, a silent warning. This is how I love them.
IV. Light and shadow, sweetness and bitterness
The flower shop's business gradually improved. More and more humans came here, not just to exchange items, but also seemingly to look at the flowers, smell their fragrance, chat with Ran, or... just to stay quietly for a while.
I observed them, and on their faces I could see an expression rarely seen in the Fortress Age—a brief relaxation, a gentle touch of being touched by something beautiful.
The atmosphere between Yu and Ran increasingly blended together, becoming indistinguishable. The cold, metallic, and icy aura emanating from Yu was gently enveloped and neutralized by the warm scents of sunlight, earth, and flowers emanating from Ran. The sweet fragrance on Ran also took on Yu's unique, calm, and serene essence.
I can see it. Yu will naturally take the heavy things from Ran's hands, and when Ran stands on tiptoe to reach the flower pots, he will quietly walk over and help him take them down. When Ran is concentrating on pruning the flower branches, Yu will lean against the door and quietly watch for a long time, his gaze deep and gentle.
However, in Yu's smile, besides dependence and trust, there was something else, sparkling like sunlight dancing on the water's surface.
They still didn't talk much, but the silence had become comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding. A glance, a subtle gesture, was enough for them to understand each other's needs. After closing time in the evening, they often sat side by side in the backyard, watching the sunset or the night sky, occasionally talking in hushed tones, but more often just sitting quietly.
That tranquil and contented atmosphere, like the richest and gentlest light, enveloped the small flower house, and it enveloped me as well. I lay down at their feet, feeling this ever-growing happiness, and even the aches and pains in my bones seemed to lessen considerably.
Of course, life isn't always sunshine and flowers. The effects of the apocalypse haven't completely faded, and the shadows of sadness and loss occasionally drift into our little oasis.
I remember that stormy dusk. A soaking wet female biped, exuding an aura of deep sorrow and despair, stumbled out of the flower house. She clutched a small bundle tightly in her arms, inside which... there was no sign of life.
She stood there, like a stone statue about to crumble under the rain. Ran offered her a towel and hot tea, but she didn't move. However, when she saw a small blue hydrangea casually stuck by the fence, soaked by the rain, her eyes flickered sharply.
Later, she picked the flower, bowed to Ran, and then, clutching her small bundle, rushed into the pouring rain. Ran stood there for a long time, holding the other mud-stained embroidered ball left by the woman, his eyes filled with heavy sorrow. That night, Ran remained silent for a long time, Yu holding his hand silently beside him. I went over and rested my head on Ran's lap. His cold fingers dug into my thick, long hair, remaining motionless for a long time.
The sorrow was heavy. But I also saw Ran place the washed blue hydrangea in a simple little ceramic vase on his workbench and look at it for days. Then, he tended to his plants even more carefully, using more color and fragrance to combat the lingering gloom of the world. And Yu, always behind him, supported him in his silent and steadfast way.
Light and shadow, sweetness and bitterness—that's life. But as long as we have each other by our side, a home to return to, and love to rely on, we can always find the courage and strength to continue to blossom.
I can feel that the bond between Yu and Ran has become increasingly strong and deep-rooted through these shared experiences and emotions. They are not just lovers, but each other's last and most solid anchor in this chaotic and recovering world.
And I, Ping An, am a witness to all of this, and also a part of this family. I guard the door, and I also guard this hard-won, warm happiness within it. Although I am old and my movements are slow, my heart, like their love for this family, is steadfast and unconditional.
V. The Return Journey, and the Undying Star
Time flows silently like raindrops dripping from the eaves of a flower-covered house, taking away so much without us even realizing it. I can clearly feel the strength in my body draining away little by little. The dreams of running are becoming fewer and fewer; more often, I'm in a drowsy, light sleep.
The pain in my joints became frequent and persistent; even the warmest sunlight couldn't completely dispel the aching cold that seeped from between my bones. My hearing and sense of smell also seemed less acute than before.
Sometimes, when Ran calls me softly from the other side of the yard, it takes me a while to figure out the direction.
But I still insist on "going to work" every day. It's my pride, my ritual. Standing up from the thick, soft cushion, slowly walking to my spot by the door, and then lying down—this process becomes increasingly difficult and takes longer. But I must finish. This is my post, and as long as I can still move, I will stay here.
The tenderness in Yu and Ran's eyes grew stronger as they looked at me. They would stroke me more gently, prepare food that was easier to chew and digest, and lay an extra layer of soft old clothes under the mat.
Sometimes, however, he would hold my big head, forehead to forehead, and whisper, "Ping An, my old buddy, you've worked hard." His voice had a familiar warmth, but also a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.
Yu would squat down beside me and use his large hands—hands capable of fixing the most intricate machines and easily snapping the wrists of villains—to slowly and thoroughly massage my stiff joints and hind legs for a long time. His technique was professional, carrying an undeniable gentle strength.
I know they are trying their best to keep me and ease my pain in their own way. I also try my best to respond, wagging my tail and licking their hands when they stroke me, looking at them intently with my gradually cloudy but still azure eyes, telling them: I am still here, I am fine, don't be sad.
It was another peaceful evening. The flower shop was closed, and the air was filled with the delicate fragrance of various flowers and plants. The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the window frames, casting warm golden spots on the wooden floor.
Inside the fireplace, the fire Yu had lit that morning was still burning quietly, occasionally crackling softly and releasing the dry, pleasant scent of pine. The room was warm and cozy, dispelling the chill of late autumn.
I lay sprawled in my favorite spot—on the thickest, softest cushion in front of the fireplace. From there, I could feel the warmth of the flames and see Ran carefully arranging dried bouquets by the last rays of daylight at her workbench by the window, and Yu a little further away, examining account books by the light of an oil lamp. Their silhouettes, bathed in the dim glow, appeared peaceful and beautiful. The simple metal rings on my ring fingers occasionally reflected a faint glimmer of light.
A weariness washed over me like a gentle tide, deeper and more reassuring than ever before. The aches and pains in my bones seemed to vanish, replaced by a warm, light comfort enveloping me. My vision began to blur, and in the warm glow, Ran and Yu's figures gradually softened into two comforting lights.
I struggled to lift my increasingly heavy eyelids and took one last look at them. My mountain, my sun. They were very close, and then it seemed they said something. Yu looked up and smiled at him, a smile so gentle it could melt all the ice and snow in the world.
This is wonderful. I think. This is my home. The place I've protected my whole life.
Consciousness rose slowly, like smoke from a hearth, and drifted away. The last sensations were Ran's warm fingers gently combing the long hair on my neck, and Yu's broad, comforting hand resting steadily on my back. Their warmth penetrated my skin and soothed my gradually slowing heart.
No fear, no regrets, only boundless peace and contentment. I'm so tired, I need a good night's sleep. By this warm fire, surrounded by my beloved family, I'll have a long, beautiful dream.
In my dream, my legs felt light and strong. I ran freely across fields filled with blue hydrangeas and endless summer flowers, the wind whispering in my ears, carrying the familiar scent of flowers and sunshine. The sky was a clear, deep blue, and in the distance, two familiar figures stood side by side on a flower-covered hillside, waving to me with bright smiles.
I shouted joyfully, quickened my pace, and ran as fast as I could towards that warm, bright light.
Inside the flower-filled house, the fireplace burned quietly. Under the oil lamp, Wen Yu put down his notebook and looked towards the fireplace. Su Ran stopped what she was doing, her fingertips trembling slightly. The two exchanged a glance, both seeing the same premonition and deep sorrow in each other's eyes. They rose almost simultaneously, walked gently to Ping An's side, and slowly knelt down.
The massive Alaskan Malamute lay quietly on the mat, its chest no longer rising and falling. Its eyes were closed, its expression serene, even a faint, contented smile playing on its lips, as if it were lost in a sweet dream. Its snow-white fur gleamed warmly in the firelight.
Su Ran's tears slid silently down his face. He reached out and, for the last time, very gently and softly stroked the contours of Ping An's face from its forehead to the tip of its nose, his fingers lingering on its ears, which would never move again. Wen Yu's hand covered Su Ran's trembling hand, silently clenching it, while his other hand lingered for a long, long time on Ping An's side, which had lost its warmth but was still soft.
There were no loud sobs, only a silent sorrow flowing in the warm air, mingling with the fragrance of flowers, the smell of firewood, and a profound tranquility about parting and eternity.
After a long while, Wen Yu spoke in a hoarse voice: "It's sleeping very peacefully."
Su Ran nodded, large tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto Ping An's snow-white fur. He choked back sobs and whispered, "Yes... it was just... tired from running. It went... went to where it wanted to go... and kept running."
Outside the window, night had fallen. The Milky Way shone brightly, silently overlooking this small flower-filled cottage, warmly lit and fragrant with blossoms, which had just bid farewell to a loyal old friend. One particular star seemed especially bright, twinkling gently, like an undying guardian, its brilliance mirroring the ever-burning fire inside the window.
He's gone peacefully. But the thick, soft mat at the entrance of "Yuran Flower House" remains. On sunny days, it seems one can always see an invisible, warm shadow, perched there, its blue eyes slightly narrowed, guarding its home, its mountain, its sun. Forever.