Thanks

Fortunately, she could still swallow. A sip of water washed the pill down her throat.

Song Weishi loosened the quilt over the girl, then dampened a towel and placed it on her forehead.

After that, she sat quietly nearby, observing the girl's condition.

All the animals fell silent. The black-and-white ape was smarter than Song Weishi had expected. Once the medicine was administered, it sat quietly beside her, mimicking her actions—carefully wringing the towel and placing it on the girl's forehead.

Song Weishi felt a pang of envy. In a world like this, this girl had so many loyal companions she could trust.

Especially that ape, so full of human understanding. If only she had such a companion, the journey ahead might be a little easier, wouldn't it?

But she dismissed the thought. Companions like that came with their own costs. Just look at Xie Yi—she was strong, but she ate like a horse. If it weren't for Song Weishi's space, she'd never have been able to keep her fed early on.

Perhaps it was the ape's friendliness that put the other animals at ease. Some hung back and watched her from a distance, but the snow-white mink crawled straight into her arms. Song Weishi stroked its plush, soft body and smiled a genuine smile. Who could resist a fluffy creature, especially one that offered itself so willingly?

Another, slightly smaller black-and-white ape reached out and gently parted her hair—a gesture of goodwill among its kind. Song Weishi didn't pull away. She let it fuss over her, ending up with a head of messy hair that looked like a bird's nest.

About an hour passed before the girl coughed twice and finally stirred from her feverish sleep.

She opened her eyes. The black-and-white ape rushed forward, gently wrapping its arms around her. The girl hugged its enormous head, patting it soothingly. "It's okay, Xiaoli. Good girl, don't cry, good girl."

The other animals swarmed around the bed, blocking it completely, and soon the room was filled with chattering and calls—a veritable market square.

Song Weishi propped her chin on her hand and smiled at the girl's direction, but quickly suppressed it. She had to remain vigilant. Quietly, she backed toward the window, ready to bolt.

After the commotion near the bed settled, the black-and-white ape seemed to remember Song Weishi. It gently pushed aside the animals, lifted the girl upright, and pointed toward her.

In the dimness, the girl could only make out Song Weishi's silhouette. She flinched, struggling to sit up, instinctively shielding the animals behind her.

But the ape quickly shook its head at her and mimicked drinking. The girl understood at once. "Did she save me?" she asked.

The ape nodded rapidly, then padded over to Song Weishi, reached out, and took her hand. The palm was warm, and its eyes—wet and gleaming—looked at her imploringly as it tugged her gently.

"Thank you for saving me!" The girl's voice was full of gratitude. She looked at the person Xiaoli had brought forward: a bright, sunshiny face, a smile that radiated warmth, and clothes that were clean and neat.

Except for her hair, which was a mess—but that was nothing compared to the girl's own grime.

She blinked, and whether from shame or something else, her cheeks turned crimson.

Once Song Weishi was certain there was no real danger, she sat back down and began talking with her.

"I live in that stone house in the town. Your friend here came and found me to help."

The girl hugged the black-and-white ape, nuzzling against it, and thanked Song Weishi again.

Her name was Jiang Qingrou, a zookeeper here. The theme zoo used to draw crowds every year. She was naturally people-friendly, and all the animals liked her.

When the heavy snow first hit, she couldn't bear to leave the animals behind, so she stayed behind instead of rushing home. Then she got trapped and never made it out.

Most of the animals had died in the cold. Jiang Qingrou had barely managed to gather the survivors. Fortunately, the zoo's reserve food was ample; even now, they hadn't lacked for meals.

There were plenty of tools, too. Jiang Qingrou had kept a hole in the lake, fishing for food every day.

But these past few days she'd felt unwell. Since yesterday, she couldn't even get up. The ice hole had probably frozen over by now.

She'd been waiting for some rescue to come from outside—only now, with Song Weishi's arrival, did she learn that the outside world had changed completely.

Jiang Qingrou's face turned pale, her lips pressed tightly together.

Actually, when the two black-and-white apes had transformed, she'd sensed that this world was already different.

But she was afraid to accept it—afraid her furry children would be left without a home, and afraid of her own unknown future.

Jiang Qingrou lay silent for a long time, covered by the blanket, saying nothing. Xiaoli brought food to her lips, watching her eat, then, imitating her usual gesture, stroked her head.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Yet as she wept, her resolve hardened. For the sake of the animals, and for herself, she couldn't just sit and wait.

Song Weishi filled her in on more of the outside world. Jiang Qingrou sat up, looking at her sheepishly. "Is there anything I can do for you? Thank you for saving me."

Song Weishi looked around the room. It was worse than her own place. She'd only helped because of the black-and-white ape's pleading, and the girl hadn't turned on her—that was already lucky enough.

She'd done her good deed and now wanted to leave quickly. She shook her head and stood. "Since I'm here, I'll do the full favor. I have a map of the escape route. Copy it down if you want—if you ever decide to leave, follow this path."

Jiang Qingrou took the proffered map with both hands and immediately hunted for pen and paper, copying it by the firelight. Her eyes sparkled as a thought struck her. "Oh! If you're going that direction, you can take the lake. It's frozen over—much faster than snowshoeing. There are tricycles on the premises, but they're buried in the warehouse outside."

Song Weishi's eyes lit up at that. It was a great idea. Seeing Jiang Qingrou's troubled expression, she smiled and offered a bit of good news.

"No problem. Just tell me where the warehouse door is, and I'll take a look."

Jiang Qingrou quickly finished copying the map, then handed over something even more useful: a compass. The compass on Song Weishi's phone had completely failed, and her phone couldn't last long outdoors anyway. With this red-and-black compass, it was a godsend.

Unlike the toy compass she'd found back at the ski shop, this one was a precision instrument from the park, with a needle that barely swayed and far greater accuracy.

Song Weishi's fondness for the young woman grew a notch. She gave her a solemn warning—the world outside was dangerous, don't trust strangers so easily, and teach the black-and-white apes to be wary—then headed out the door.

Xiaoli followed her, sent along by Jiang Qingrou to see her back.

Song Weishi stopped at the warehouse entrance and started shoveling snow.

It wasn't much of a warehouse—just a temporary garage. The door had collapsed under the snow, so getting in was easy.

She went inside, switched on her flashlight, and had Xiaoli wait outside.

She tucked a fully enclosed tricycle into her space, then glanced at the other vehicles. Either they ran on electricity or were too large, so none of the others made the cut.

Song Weishi was in high spirits. She stepped out of the warehouse and headed back to her stone house, hand in hand with Xiaoli.

The stove fire was roaring inside, warm and cozy.

Xiaoli handed over the frozen fish Jiang Qingrou had sent along, then reluctantly clutched Song Weishi's hand, took two steps back, and waved.

"Hello, hello," it said in its rough voice.

Song Weishi's heart stirred. She touched its mouth and motioned for it to open. Xiaoli obediently complied, and Song Weishi crammed a handful of sliced watermelon, Shine Muscat grapes, and strawberries from her space into its mouth.

Xiaoli chewed instinctively, its bright eyes fixed on Song Weishi.

The firelight danced in its pupils like stars, and in those stars, Song Weishi's reflection shimmered. She smiled and, in imitation of Jiang Qingrou's tone, said, "Good girl, say thank you."

Xiaoli clapped its paws together, still noisily chewing the fruit. Song Weishi waved, turned, and started inside. But from behind came a familiar, raspy voice: "Th... thank."

It was Xiaoli. Jiang Qingrou had said it had practiced for a long time, only learning "hello." This was its second human word: "thanks."

For a moment, her heart softened. She thought of how her family had ignored her as a child. Maybe she wasn't naturally cold, not born without feelings or disregard for them. She squeezed Xiaoli's hand. "See you tomorrow."