In short, this reunion after a long separation was like a cup of fruit wine warming on the stove; there were no grand collisions, but in the steady stream of laughter and conversation, the distance created by the years slowly warmed up.
The playfulness of the Little Wolf Cubs, the brightness of new clothes, the warm glow of the fireplace, and Big Brother Wolf's words, "It's good to have you back," were like a piece of warm jade, fitting perfectly into Gwof's heart.
But before the lingering warmth of the gathering had fully dissipated, Big Brother Wolf arranged accommodations for the others but kept Gwof behind.
He seemed to be pondering over finding "something to do" for Gwof.
Anyone with eyes could see that this Wolf King was afraid—afraid that before Gwof's seat had even warmed, he would shoulder his pack and disappear into the depths of the forest again.
After all, the old Gwof was like a gust of wind that couldn't be caught; he always loved running off, returning each time covered in dust only to turn around and embark on a new journey.
"I never said I was going out to play."
Sitting in his chair, Gwof heard Big Brother Wolf muttering to the She-Wolf, "I have to find something to tie him down, or he'll vanish again in a few days."
He couldn't help but roll his eyes internally, silently crying foul. This was blatant slander!
After wandering so long in the outside world, how could he possibly still want to go out?
He had once sat by a campfire all night in the forest, with only a few people for company, listening to the distant howls of wolves and the sobbing of wind through the leaves, so lonely he could hear his own heartbeat.
He had also walked through the snow, watching heavy flakes bury all footprints until the world was nothing but white, so cold his very bones shivered.
He had broken into a king's palace, where gilded floor tiles reflected the light of blood and crimson carpets were soaked through; when the blood droplets rolled off, they looked just like red plum blossoms suddenly blooming in the dead of winter, brilliantly desolate.
He had also saved a girl who was nearly freezing to death in the ice and snow; she was curled in a corner, her small face frozen blue and purple, with ice crystals clinging to her eyelashes.
Sleeping in the rough was common, and he had seen his share of blades and shadows; he was tired—not a physical fatigue, but the drive to always go and see things was like a blunted arrow, having lost its original sharpness.
Now his greatest wish was to completely set down those inexplicable burdens on his shoulders and just lounge around the palace, living an easy life and waiting for the end, just like he used to do at the Dwarves' house.
There was no need to open his eyes even when the day was bright; he could let the sunlight crawl over the window frame to cast mottled shadows on his face, listening to the distant playfulness of the Little Wolf Cubs as a lullaby, sleeping for as long as he wanted.
He didn't have to worry about where his next meal was; the palace kitchen always wafted the scent of roast meat, and a maid would bring warm wheat porridge to his bedside on time.
Nor did he need to figure out where to go tomorrow; when he opened his eyes, there was the familiar wool carpet, and when he closed them, there were the pine-scented bedsheets.
If he woke up early, he would take a fishing rod and sit by the pond in the backyard for a while.
The pond water was so clear he could see the fish flicking their tails, and the weeping willows on the bank reached down to the surface; once the line was cast and he leaned back in his lounge chair, it didn't matter if a fish took the bait—taking a nap in the sun was the real business.
Occasionally, a Little Wolf Cub would run over to cause trouble, sweeping his cheek with a tail or tossing bait into the water, but he didn't get angry; he would simply scoop one up into his arms and let the little fellow trample all over his belly.
When he felt like playing, he would take Liya to see the wooden gadgets Fox Aji had recently tinkered with.
Or he would lean over to Groot and watch him chisel patterns stroke by stroke, or turn around to tease the white cat raised by Psyche.
In the evening, he would pull up a chair by the fireplace, watching the She-Wolf knit sweaters and listening to Big Brother Wolf talk about the trifles of the kingdom.
The Little Wolf Cubs would squeeze against his feet, gnawing on his boots like toys, while the Gray Mouse curled up in his pocket, munching on nuts while listening to the stories.
The firelight was warm and cozy, making everyone's faces glow red, and even the air wafted with a lazy sweetness.
There was no need to think about the storms outside the forest, nor the blades and shadows of the past.
He would just let the days pass like that, turning life into a piece of honey-soaked marshmallow—soft, sweet, and with every breath carrying a sense of comfort.
Of course, how long exactly would these "few days" be? Gwof himself couldn't say.
Perhaps three to five months, perhaps a whole year, or even shorter—maybe one morning he would wake up and hear the wind outside carrying the scent of unfamiliar plants, scratching at his heart like a little hook, and that hidden wildness would resurface, making him unable to resist packing his bags to see if the sun outside the forest had changed colors.
But at least for now, he really wanted to stop.
Besides, could his travels these days be counted entirely as play?
The people he met and the scenery he saw were more like soft little brushes, carrying the warmth of human life and the clarity of natural frost, brushing over his heart and slowly smoothing out those inexplicable wrinkles.
He used to feel like something was blocked in his heart, as if pressed down by a heavy stone, making it hard to breathe.
Now, when he thought back to those blades and his wanderings, it was like looking at reflections in water; when the wind blew, they shimmered and dispersed, leaving hardly a ripple.
Just as he was thinking, the hushed conversation between Big Brother Wolf and the She-Wolf suddenly stopped.
That moment of silence was like a string being snapped, sending a subtle ripple of tension through the warm room.
Big Brother Wolf turned around, his tall figure blocking part of the light from the fireplace; half his face was submerged in shadow, while the other half was lit red.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes; instead, it carried a fox-like cunning, the very picture of "ill intentions."
The tip of his tail swayed gently behind him as if it had no bones, sweeping across the wool carpet with a faint "shasha" sound, as if he were plotting something.
"My dear brother,"
When he spoke, his voice was wrapped in a deliberately softened tone, sounding a few degrees more cordial than usual.
"Let me discuss something with you..."
Gwof's heart skipped a beat, like a small pebble being dropped into a calm pond, sending out a circle of uneasy ripples.
His right eyelid twitched inexplicably—once, then again, making his heart tighten.
He knew Big Brother Wolf too well.
This Wolf King's affection was never spoken aloud; he wouldn't pounce on him to nibble and nuzzle like the Little Wolf Cubs, but those eyes that were always glancing his way couldn't hide it—he would notice which piece of roast meat Gwof liked to eat during meals, he would subconsciously shield him behind his back when speaking, and even the action of handing over fruit wine was a bit more careful than when he gave it to others.
These subtle little movements were like steeping tea in warm water, slowly soaking through, making Gwof feel both warm and helpless.
Clearly, Big Brother Wolf was determined to "nail" Gwof down in the kingdom; the stubbornness in his eyes couldn't be hidden, looking just like a hunter staring at his prey, afraid it would run away if he let go.
He circled Gwof twice, his claws tapping lightly on the ground as if weighing which mold this "material" should be stuffed into.
Sure enough, before Gwof could figure out a way to avoid the trouble, Big Brother Wolf slapped his chest, his voice loud enough to shake the dust off the roof.
"I think you should be the Police Chief!"
He paced in front of Gwof, his tail wagging proudly.
"You have no idea, the forest is booming now; rabbits, Hedgehogs, foxes—they come in wave after wave. It's lively, sure, but the headaches have increased too—the rabbit in the east stole the Hedgehog's carrot in the west, the fox in the south tricked the goat in the north out of a chicken. People come to the palace to complain every day, and it makes my head spin!"
He patted Gwof on the shoulder with a weight that was neither too light nor too heavy, carrying an unquestionable familiarity.
"You've seen the world outside; you can handle this! You'll have over a hundred Wolf Soldiers under you, every one of them strong and fit, all at your command. Think how majestic it'll be, having an escort whenever you go out!"
When Gwof heard this, his head throbbed.
Just imagining sitting in an office every day, facing a pile of trivial dossiers—"Investigation Report on Gray Rabbit A-San Stealing Cabbage," "Witness Statement of Little White Fox Suspected of Defrauding a Pheasant"—and having to deal with those noisy mediation scenes where rabbits cried and foxes argued stubbornly, he felt his skull ache as if poked by a wolf soldier's spear. He waved his hands hurriedly, the motion so large he nearly knocked over the chair beside him.
"Big Brother, spare me! How could I manage all that?"
He made a long face, his tone pleading: "I have a short temper. If I get impatient while listening, I might end up scolding both sides. Instead of resolving the dispute, I'll just offend everyone. Wouldn't that just be causing trouble for you?"
Seeing his firm attitude, Big Brother Wolf didn't force him, but he started pondering while stroking his chin, his brow furrowed into a knot and his claws unconsciously scratching the tabletop with a faint "shasha" sound.
The Old Rat, who had appeared out of nowhere and had been sipping tea with his eyes squinted, now slowly put down his teacup. The bottom of the cup clicked lightly on the table, a sound that wasn't loud but was just enough for both of them to hear.
"In this old servant's opinion, why not establish a 'minister of culture and entertainment'?"
He stroked his whiskers and continued.
"Managing things like singing, dancing, storytelling, and making new clothes—it's both leisurely and would make the kingdom more lively.
His Highness Gwof is well-traveled and knows many novel things; it would suit his nature perfectly and make everyone's lives a bit more flavorful."
Big Brother Wolf's eyes lit up instantly, like torches being lit in the dark; he slapped his thigh suddenly, the chair leg making a heavy thud on the floor.
"That's the one!" The excitement in his voice was impossible to hide.
"Old Rat's idea is great! You won't have to deal with those annoying trifles every day, and you can show off the world you've seen outside. It's practically tailor-made for you!"
He looked at Gwof with an expectation that almost overflowed, as if he could already see the lively scenes of singing and dancing in the kingdom.
This position was a first for the Wolf Kingdom; there wasn't even a proper set of regulations, and it was entirely a matter of "crossing the river by feeling the stones."
Gwof stroked his chin and thought about it for a while, deciding that this job wasn't bad—no need to manage chaotic disputes, no need to carry a spear on border patrol; what to do and how to do it would be entirely up to him.
For example, he could have the Gray Mouse figure out how to add moving illustrations to the kingdom's storybooks, so that whatever page you turned to, the little animals on it would come to life and hop around.
He could have Liya teach the Little Wolf Cubs to sing nursery rhymes from the human world; those "la la la" tunes sounded much more cheerful than wolf howls.
He could also have Lettuce draw the designs for those new clothes and compile them into a "Dressing Guide," so the little ones wouldn't always wrap their scarves like zongzi... "Alright then."
Looking at the expectation Big Brother Wolf couldn't hide, like a child waiting for candy, Gwof finally nodded.
Anyway, there wasn't much difference between lounging around and being an "idle official" within the system; at least the latter sounded a bit more respectable.
However, he didn't notice that the moment he agreed, Big Brother Wolf breathed a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly slumping, and the tip of his tail curled up proudly behind him like an old fox who had succeeded in his scheme, the smile on his lips impossible to suppress.
Meanwhile, the Old Rat slowly picked up his teacup and gave Big Brother Wolf a look, as if saying, "See, I told you he would agree," the very image of a master strategist.