Taming the Fierce Hound | Chapter 4 | She Had Nothing She Wanted | Novela.app

There was a bit more unplanned time today than usual. Zong Yan glanced at her phone; the dormitory building would be locking up soon. "I made a thousand today. I’ll give you guys a treat." When she passed the pet store, she hesitated for over ten minutes before finally walking in. Under the greeting of the sales assistant, she somewhat awkwardly picked out a can of premium staple food. It was expensive. It probably cost as much as her food budget for two or three days. Zong Yan tucked the can into her pocket, turned the corner into a convenience store to grab a ham sausage, and finally arrived at the commercial street not far from the school gates. There were four trash cans and three small alleys on this street. If she wanted to find those familiar little creatures, she would look for them on the campus lawn during the day, but at night, this was the place to be. Clink, clink. She bent down and tapped the metal can in her hand. Very quickly, several small heads poked out from various corners—fluffy yet filthy. They first stared at Zong Yan warily, their noses twitching. They took a few tentative steps forward, their pure eyes darting around until they finally lit up, focusing on the can in her hand. Zong Yan slowly pulled the tab. A meaty aroma wafted out, aggressively invading the nostrils of the hungry creatures. "Woof!" "Meow!" Before a small, yellowish dog could run over, a nimble figure had already pounced at Zong Yan’s feet. A soft head rubbed against the hem of her trousers before the creature flopped onto the ground with a thud. Seeing that the "Street Overlord" had made its move, the other shadows retreated reluctantly. "Meow—" Zong Yan squatted down, scooped out the meat from the can, and divided it into two portions, placing them on the lid and inside the can itself. "Whimper!" The pitiful sound of the dog echoed behind her. Zong Yan held the lid out toward it. "Woof!" The little dog ran over happily, limping as it moved; its right hind leg hung uselessly against its body. It possessed enough self-awareness to keep its distance from the fat, large tabby cat. It began to wolf down the delicacy—food it had likely never tasted before in its life. Once the tabby finished, it elegantly licked its grayish-white paws. It squinted at its "dining companion"—the stupid dog still stuffing its face—and moved further away with a look of disdain. "Meow." It circled Zong Yan a few times before quickly running off, disappearing into the dark night. Throughout the entire interaction, Zong Yan did not pet it once. The little yellow dog finished its meal too. It stayed where it was, its watery, clean eyes staring at Zong Yan with trust and passion, its small tail wagging rapidly. Zong Yan didn’t know what it was expecting—or rather, she did know, but she couldn't give it. She simply said to the dog, "See you next time." The dog seemed to understand. Its tail drooped in disappointment, and a whimper escaped its throat. Zong Yan stood up, threw the trash into the bin, wiped her hands, and prepared to leave. "Woof-hoo." The dog barked again. Zong Yan stopped and looked down at the ground. Her shoes, which were slightly peeling, were washed very clean, but that couldn't hide how worn-out they were. She thought for a long time, and the dog waited for her just as long. "If you're willing to wait for me a bit longer... I might find a way to take care of you." When she returned to the dormitory, her roommates were throwing a tantrum. Their screams could be heard from several floors away. Zong Yan paused at the door, just in time to hear the shouting inside: "Why is there a cockroach under my pillow! That’s disgusting!" "Maybe it crawled up there at night and you didn't notice, so you crushed it." "Ahhh! Stop talking! I'm getting goosebumps!" "I can't take it. One of you, someone, go throw this thing away! It’s driving me crazy! These sheets and pillows have to go too!" "Uh... I don’t dare touch it either." "I've been afraid of cockroaches since I was a kid..." "You two useless things! Then what? Am I supposed to just not sleep tonight?" "How about we wait for Zong Yan to come back and let her handle it? She’s definitely seen plenty of cockroaches; she won't be scared." Hearing this, Zong Yan immediately turned around and began scrolling through her phone in the hallway, pretending she hadn't heard a thing. Let them scream for a bit longer, she thought. For once, the noise didn't feel grating. After several minutes, a voice of collapsed compromise finally came from inside: "Fine! I'll sleep in your bed today, and you sleep with her. Which one of you is going to help me throw these sheets away?" Following a flurry of movement and grumbling, the dorm door swung open. A roommate rushed out clutching the sheets, running right into Zong Yan. Zong Yan put away her phone and brushed past her, entering the dorm under the roommate’s dissatisfied gaze. One look showed her desk was a mess again. Books had been knocked to the floor, the trash can was overflowing with snack bags, and there were even used sanitary pads. Oh, and there were the clothes she had just washed that afternoon, tossed aside. She watched all this coldly. Her other two roommates were whispering and giggling nearby, seemingly anticipating her reaction. Zong Yan only felt annoyed. These petty actions were effectively painless to her; they couldn't compare to the scars she carried on her body. But if this harassment had no end, if her precious time continued to be wasted, or if they threatened her bottom line... then Zong Yan didn't plan on enduring it anymore. Tomorrow. I'll try tomorrow. If it works, fine. If not... Then she would have no choice. After a long day of exhaustion, Zong Yan fell asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow. Just as her consciousness drifted into darkness, the bed frame was violently kicked several times. She peeled back her heavy eyelids, her gaze in the dark both patient and terrifying: "What do you want?" "Hey, how was the gift I gave you at noon? Did you like it? Hahaha!" "..." "It was just a small joke. Are you actually mad? We're classmates, after all." "..." "Now that you've skipped this class, that old professor will definitely mark you down. Your scholarship is probably gone, right?" "I will go explain." "You think he'll believe you? He criticizes us every day for being 'indulgent' and 'unproductive' college students." "..." "How about this? You answer one question for me, and we can go testify for you—say you were sick and didn't have time to ask for leave. How’s that?" "What question?" "What is the actual relationship between you and Si Jiang?" "There is no relationship." "Liar! You two were clearly in the same class in high school." In the middle of the night, an emotion called jealousy was festering. "Then we were just classmates." "What happened between you and Si Jiang? Why does he always pay 'special attention' to you?" Special attention? Hearing that phrase made Zong Yan feel sick. "I don't know." "I'm warning you, don't brush me off, or you can forget about that scholarship. I remember you haven't paid off this month's loan yet, right?" Because of Zong Yan’s lack of cooperation, the roommate was becoming visibly agitated. "I said, I don't know," Zong Yan closed her eyes and spoke flatly. "The first time he saw me when high school started, he hated me. There were many girls in class who liked him; they formed their own circle. So, for all three years of high school, I had no interaction with him." "If you insist on saying he 'notices' me, it's likely because he finds my very existence an eyesore." "Si Jiang isn't as bad as you make him sound," the roommate said, though her mood had clearly brightened. "Fine, since you behaved well enough, we'll help you explain tomorrow." "Mm." That would save a lot of trouble. "Is there anything else? I want to sleep," Zong Yan asked one last time. The roommates stopped paying attention to her and began chatting about other topics. Their voices weren't low, mixed with the sound of short videos playing on speaker and laughter—it was loud enough to be a public nuisance. But Zong Yan had long ago mastered the ability to sleep in noisy environments. In her daze, she was pulled into a dream. The day before high school started was the anniversary of her biological mother’s death. After drinking three bottles, her stepfather finished a whole pack of cigarettes. The entire house was filled with a pungent, suffocating smell. He paced the living room in a rage. The roughly plastered walls, the exposed wires, the cheap furniture—everything served as a reminder of his failure in life. Today was that day. The day that damned woman who betrayed him used death to escape him forever. He hated being abandoned most of all. His life was supposed to be smooth sailing, but he had been deceived by that woman and fallen to this state. He hated her so much he wanted to dig her up from her grave, consume her ashes, and entangle himself with her in hell. That’s why, he thought, if you don’t want to be abandoned, you can't be a pathetic, passive victim. You have to be proactive. True safety only comes when you take the things you want to keep and control them in your palm. He began to laugh maniacally, his eyes bloodshot, his pale mouth curling as he stumbled toward the bathroom with a cigarette dangling from his lips. The bathroom walls were covered in a layer of soundproofing foam. Aside from a crude sink and a squat toilet, there was nothing else. Except for a chain that shimmered with a cold, metallic luster. And the person confined at the end of that chain. Zong Yan sat on the floor. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a handprint still visible on her face: "Father." "Zong Yan, do you hate me for locking you in here?" "No, Father." The man squatted down and obsessively touched her eyes. "These eyes of yours... they look exactly like your mother’s. No matter how you disguise your exterior, on the inside, you're cold and heartless. You don't care about anything." The "keywords" had appeared. Zong Yan shut her mouth, unwilling to provoke him. Every year during these few days, the man would go insane for a while. If she just went along with him and let him vent, it would pass. If she resisted or gave too much of a reaction, it would only stimulate him, resulting in a brutal beating. The beatings weren't the scary part. Contusions, cuts, burns—she had experienced them all. Physical pain wasn't unbearable. But if that wasn't enough, the man would lock her up, remove all light sources, and block out all sound. The passage of time would become abstract and hollow, enough to birth the deepest terrors in a human soul. "I lock you up because I love you, do you know that?" "You people are always thinking of leaving me, always thinking of betraying me." "But as long as I lock you up, you can only stay by my side." "Do you understand? If there is ever someone you don't want to escape from you in the future, do what I do. Catch them, lock them up, chain them down. Never, ever give them freedom." The man began to laugh foolishly again. "Zong Yan, do you have a dream?" "When I was a kid, I dreamed that when I grew up, I’d have a perfect, happy family. A virtuous wife who loved me, sensible children... I could go outside and be a dog for other people, as long as I could bring the money back to support my family." "As long as they loved me and never left me." "Love me... don't abandon me like my mother did..." Zong Yan’s face was still gripped in his hand. She could only watch him quietly, her expression almost entirely unchanged. Dreams? What a luxury. She didn't have such things. But... she did once have something she wanted. When she was very, very small, her biological father had brought home a puppy. It was so small, so fragile, yet incredibly captivating. It was the first time Zong Yan had touched such a soft, warm creature. The puppy stayed in her hands, looking at her quietly before opening its mouth happily and licking her hand in a fawning manner. For those few days, wherever Zong Yan went, the puppy followed. It was as if this one human was its entire world. Zong Yan was almost obsessed. Three days later, her biological father killed it and ate it. In a steaming hot pot, that tiny life—the one that had trusted Zong Yan so completely and loved her so intensely—turned into a delicacy between teeth. Her biological father frowned and spat out a bone. "Dog meat... it tastes better when they're adults." Then, the leftover soup and meat were flushed down the drain. Zong Yan understood then. She had nothing she wanted.