Chapter 2: Starting Out With a Dog

With this little fellow by his side, Shen Shi finally recovered from the disappointment of not finding a wild Autumn-Leaf Mushroom. Glancing at himself, he realized he had nothing much to offer and gave an apologetic smile.

“Go home now!” Shen Shi patted the little creature’s head again. He hadn’t accepted its wild berries, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry. Before his escape, he’d only eaten a grasshopper—not even enough to fill the gap between his teeth—and that had long since been digested.

Yet this tiny companion’s goodwill inspired Shen Shi with another food source: foraging for wild fruits.

The area was full of woods, brimming with all kinds of wild berries. Shen Shi even spotted several eggs under the low-growing algae trees.

Yes, eggs. He couldn’t tell if they belonged to birds or snakes, but that didn’t matter; as long as they were eggs, they were edible. Gathering a few for dinner seemed like a fine idea.

Truly, this was the ancient world—there wasn’t a hint of awareness about safety. Shen Shi didn’t encounter any birds guarding their nests, nor did he see any snakes.

Ah! Only in ancient times could things be so careless!

After collecting dozens of eggs—enough for a good meal—Shen Shi turned around, only to find the little creature still following him. Not only had it ignored his advice to go home, it had somehow snapped off a branch laden with wild fruits, hoisted it over its shoulder, and was now standing upright, staring at him.

Could a Chinese mongrel really do this sort of thing?

Shen Shi stared dumbfounded at the creature for a long time, feeling that peculiar regret one experiences when their knowledge falls short at a critical moment. If he could, he truly wanted to log onto YY and ask his friends: First, can a Chinese mongrel walk upright? Second, can they carry branches over their shoulder while walking upright?

Unfortunately, he was a soul displaced. Even if he’d traveled here in the flesh, there’d be no internet to help him.

The little thing waddled over with its round belly, upright like a proud general. Except, the wild fruit juice dripped from the branch on its shoulder, staining its fur in blotches of red and purple—the general appeared to have suffered a beating.

“Could this creature be a dog spirit?” Shen Shi felt his tonsils exposed to the air and quickly closed his mouth.

If this world truly belonged in the tales of the supernatural, then a dog turning into a spirit was hardly impossible.

So Shen Shi widened his eyes and stared at the little thing, quietly waiting for subtitles to appear in his vision (what a strange thought!).

But nothing happened.

Instead, the little creature squinted its eyes, grinning smugly as if it understood, and Shen Shi felt that this smile brimmed with intelligence—not quite like any ordinary animal.

Yet no matter how hard he stared, no subtitles appeared.

Was it his imagination at first, or was this just an ordinary Chinese mongrel, hence the lack of any supernatural sign?

Shen Shi crouched down and beckoned. The little thing instantly dropped the branch, scrambled over, and leapt into his arms, nestling its head tightly against his belly. Shen Shi felt a wave of satisfaction sweep over him. He cradled the creature, scratching its head, and it seemed to enjoy the affection, its ears perked high like little wings, purring with bliss like a spoiled cat.

After this brief moment of intimacy, Shen Shi addressed this mysterious being—upright, able to carry things, and fond of human bellies, much like a cat: “Little guy, can you shoot a fireball?”

He had to try, just in case this was a dog demon after all.

Of course, the very phrase “just in case” meant the little thing didn’t breathe fire.

“How about a little spark? We could roast the eggs.”

Shen Shi didn’t give up. To make his meaning clearer, he mimed blowing and eating.

The little creature pondered, then pushed off Shen Shi’s stomach with its hind legs, bounding into the roadside bushes with a squirrel’s agility. In a flash, it returned with more berries, presenting them like treasures. It didn’t breathe fire, but Shen Shi’s heart was full—he already couldn’t imagine life without it.

“Can you spray water, then?”

Touched, but still curious, Shen Shi continued his tests. If it couldn’t breathe fire, maybe it could spray water?

This time, who knows what it understood, but the little thing disappeared into the woods again and returned carrying a fat, wriggling grub—huge, white, and streaked with black lines. It dropped the grub at Shen Shi’s mouth, and he nearly retched on the spot. Fortunately, his stomach was empty; the lone grasshopper he’d eaten earlier had long since been digested, so he could only dry heave and spit up some clear water.

“Damn, you nearly scared me to death.” Shen Shi grimaced, his hand raised as if to strike, but he lowered it again.

He couldn’t bear to punish it.

Could he blame the creature? Perhaps it really was just a regular animal. After all, who could say if this world was anything like the supernatural tales?

Feeling guilty, Shen Shi abandoned his experiments and set about starting a fire the old-fashioned way.

He must have seemed like a foolish father making it up to his son.

The little fellow, however, grew bolder—no longer content to lie on his belly, it climbed atop Shen Shi’s head and perched there, as if riding him.

Goodness! It looked even more like a general now—or perhaps a mischievous child. Yet Shen Shi wasn’t the least bit annoyed. What did this mean?

It was fate! Simply fate!

Starting a fire by friction wasn’t a particularly difficult skill—anyone who grew up in the countryside of the seventies or eighties would have learned or seen it.

Back then, there were no matches, nor any need for them. To cook, people would keep embers smoldering, or strike stones for sparks—these were all methods of making fire by friction.

Of course, there were no embers here, and no stones that could produce sparks. Shen Shi improvised: he gathered some dry branches and took off his foul-smelling socks. They were made of hemp cloth, perfect for creating a makeshift bowstring. Rubbing the hemp against the wood generated heat far faster than using his hands alone. Some dry grass soon caught fire, and Shen Shi gave a quiet cheer, quickly piling on the twigs he’d gathered. Especially those dry pine branches—the resin made them extra flammable. The flames leapt higher and higher, and Shen Shi grinned from ear to ear.

The little creature hopped obediently from Shen Shi’s head and sat beside him. But dogs really weren’t meant to imitate humans—sitting with its hind legs splayed wide before the fire...

Why did this scene feel so indecent?

Was it roasting its own privates?

The little thing sat there with its round belly, gazing at Shen Shi with a goofy smile.

Shen Shi...

“I’d better just roast the eggs.”

“Hiss—why do even those words sound suggestive now?”

The more he tried not to think that way, the worse it got!

Hurriedly, Shen Shi shifted the fire, buried a dozen or so unidentified eggs in the ash and twigs, and refused to dwell on the matter a moment longer. The sooner he finished, the less awkward it would be.