Preliminary Communication

### Chapter 37: Initial Communication

Morning light spilled over the stone hut's window lattice, casting dappled patches on the straw mat.

Chen An carried a clay bowl of steaming broth, his steps light and unhurried.

On the straw mat in the corner, the black dog had already awakened the moment he approached. It lifted its head, ears twitching sharply, its glossy eyes like two warm amber beads in the hazy morning light, clearly reflecting Chen An's figure.

It didn't bark. It simply expressed a wordless vigil through this silent awakening.

Those brown-black eyes were no longer unfocused; they were clear as a deep pool, reflecting the dancing flames and Chen An's silhouette.

It didn't try to stand—the piercing wound on its neck, though covered by new membranes, still made larger movements pull at unhealed flesh—but merely tilted its head slightly, its gaze calmly following Chen An's every move.

Chen An set the warm bowl of meat broth on the stone slab within its reach.

The black dog's nostrils quivered faintly, as if scenting something in the air. A very soft whimper escaped its throat, low and plaintive, like a sigh drawn from deep within. The whimper's tail stretched long, as if testing something, or conveying some message to Chen An.

The black dog didn't immediately lower its head to drink. Instead, it raised its deep eyes to meet Chen An's gaze. Its look carried a complex emotion—a thirst for water, but also something else.

There was no beastly ignorance in those eyes, only a stillness bordering on wisdom.

Chen An crouched down and pointed at the clay bowl. "Drink. It'll help your wounds."

The black dog's ear twitched almost imperceptibly.

The motion of lowering its head was deliberately slow, as if every subtle degree had been precisely measured.

Its pink tongue gently curled the warm broth from the bowl, followed by careful, restrained swallows. It never forgot the pain in its neck; each bow was extremely patient, dissolving any potential sting into invisible caution.

After a few sips, it suddenly stopped, lifted its head again, its damp nose still wreathed in faint steam.

It looked at Chen An and rolled out a short, low, rumbling sound from its throat. There was no pain in it—more like a satisfied, grateful whimper, as if responding to his earlier gentle comfort.

Chen An's heart jolted. This wasn't instinctive feeding behavior—it was a response born of understanding. He tentatively reached out, palm up, stopping an inch from the black dog's nose. "Does it hurt?"

The black dog's gaze fell on his palm. It was silent for a moment, then suddenly shook its head very lightly! The movement was tiny, but unmistakable.

Chen An almost thought he'd imagined it, but then it raised its bandaged front paw and, with extreme slowness, pointed at its own neck wound, letting out a suppressed, pained whimper.

That gesture shattered Chen An's last doubt.

He looked at its pitch-black fur, gleaming like satin in the morning light, recalling how it had curled into an ink-black ball when dying from its injuries. A name slipped out: "From now on... I'll call you 'Little Black.' Is that okay?"

The black dog—no, Little Black—pricked up its ears.

It stared at Chen An, its brown-black pupils seeming to flicker with light, as if weighing the name's significance. After a few breaths, it rolled out a docile, almost sigh-like whimper from its throat, and its tail tip brushed the straw mat very lightly, like a seal stamping a document.

Chen An watched its heartbreakingly understanding demeanor, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curve into a gentle smile.

His eyes held warmth as he slowly extended his hand, fingertips hovering with a hint of hesitation before gently landing on the soft, thick fur behind Little Black's ears.

When his fingertips truly touched that warm softness, his movements grew even more tender, as if caressing a rare treasure.

At the touch, Little Black's body stiffened slightly, but it didn't flinch. Instead, it compliantly lowered its head, letting him stroke it. His palm felt the warm, solid texture; beneath the fur were strong muscles, and even wounded, a dormant power could still be sensed.

"Little Black," Chen An called softly, scratching behind its ear, "from now on, this is your home."

Little Black let out a satisfied purr from its throat, even actively rubbing its head against his palm. Its body beneath the bandages fully relaxed, as if shedding a heavy burden.

In the following days, understanding grew in silence.

When Chen An changed Little Black's dressings, it seemed to grasp his intent, voluntarily turning its side to expose the wound needing treatment, as if cooperating with his care.

Chen An gently peeled off the old gauze, carefully cleaning the wound, while Little Black lay still, without any struggle or resistance.

And when Chen An boiled meat broth over the fire pit, Little Black would quietly wait nearby, its gaze fixed on the rising steam, as if it could smell the meat's aroma from it.

Its tail would occasionally wag gently, showing anticipation for the food, but it always remained quiet, never disturbing Chen An.

When Chen An worked in the yard, Little Black didn't idle either. It would lie on the straw mat, eyes always tracking Chen An's every move.

Wherever Chen An went, Little Black's gaze followed like a shadow. Sometimes, Chen An would suddenly turn around, and every time, he'd meet Little Black's calm, focused eyes, as if it had been silently watching him all along.

What amazed Chen An most was Little Black's learning ability.

When he placed a clay bowl of water before it and said "drink," it immediately lowered its head to lap. When he pointed at the yard gate, shook his head, and said "don't go out," it withdrew its gaze from outside and curled back onto the straw mat.

He even remembered one time when he was focused on grinding medicine, and a smooth wooden pestle rolled off the table, clattering onto the brick floor.

Before Chen An could bend down, Little Black, who had been quietly lying nearby, moved. It simply reached out, deftly nudging the pestle with its furry front paw, sending it rolling back until it stopped right at Chen An's feet, as if it had never left.

"What exactly are you?" Chen An murmured, stroking the new fur on Little Black's neck.

Little Black's response was to rest its chin on his knee, close its eyes, and breathe steadily.

The Safe Zone's barrier shimmered with faint silver light in the sunlight, isolating the wild chaos beyond the yard into a blurred backdrop.

On the straw mat, one man and one dog nestled by the fire pit. The leaping flames stretched their shadows long, casting them on the stone wall, weaving a quiet silhouette.

Chen An looked at Little Black's sleeping profile, a long-lost warmth surging in his heart.

In this perilous wilderness, he was no longer alone.

(End of Chapter 37)