Yunmu was a Chinese rural dog, often called a "little mutt." Since being weaned, she had wandered everywhere. Her once pure white fur had turned gray and unappealing.
She was often driven away, scolded, even beaten, and sometimes, if luck was especially bad, she would encounter cruel abusers.
If she ran too slowly, she would get hurt.
Through countless moments of hiding, she had never felt a single bit of warmth.
So, she learned to read expressions, and she learned to be cautious.
Until one day, an old man took her home.
For the first time, she slept in a warm bed, ate a hot meal, and was washed clean, smelling sweet and fresh.
That night, she let her guard down and relaxed into a peaceful sleep.
Later, Yunmu could transform into a human, but the old man passed away.
Before he died, he entrusted Yunmu to someone—a person in a wheelchair. Yunmu knew the person's name was Suiyu.
Looking at Suiyu's pale, cold face, Yunmu felt that Suiyu was pitiful, just like she had been. Without thinking, she wagged her tail, rubbed against Suiyu's pant leg, hoping to cheer him up.
From that moment on, she decided she would be Suiyu's dog—obedient, caring, and loyal.
But then, a pair of hands pushed her away, and a cold voice cut through the air: "Get away!"
She lifted her head and saw Suiyu's eyes—icy, piercing, and utterly unfeeling.