"Huɑnhuan?" Zhang Xiaohua looked at the strange beast, filthy and bald in several patches, and could not help smiling faintly. He reached out and stroked the horn on Huanhuan's forehead again.
They were two sawn-off horns.
Seeing that Zhang Xiaohua did not dislike Huanhuan, Ji Xiaohua felt even happier.
Just as Zhang Xiaohua was about to ask him something, Old Father Hao said, "Xiaohua, accompany the young master while he handles his business. I'll take Huanhuan back."
Ji Xiaohua smiled. "The young master said he wanted to visit my home. We happen to be going the same way."
Then he turned to Zhang Xiaohua and said, "Young Master, put your sack on the firewood. Huanhuan is incredibly strong—it can carry it."
At those words, Zhang Xiaohua's heart stirred, though his expression did not change. He reached down, lifted the sack from the ground, and set it on Huanhuan's back. Sure enough, the beast seemed not to feel it at all.
As the three walked, Ji Xiaohua told Zhang Xiaohua about Huanhuan.
It turned out Huanhuan did not belong to Old Father Hao. Last year, when Ji Xiaohua had gone to the mountain forests outside the city to gather firewood, he had found it beside a ravine. When he encountered Huanhuan, both horns on its head had already been cut off, and several arrows had pierced its body. It had lost a great deal of blood and seemed unlikely to survive. Ji Xiaohua happened to have a little wound medicine on him, so he applied it to Huanhuan's injuries and slowly led it back from the forest.
But Ji Xiaohua and Madam Zhang did not know how to raise livestock, so they entrusted it to Old Father Hao. After careful treatment, Huanhuan was finally saved, and Ji Xiaohua named it Huanhuan.