William Wolf was emaciated and walked unsteadily in his garden, leaning on a cane.
He hasn't been able to stand up from his wheelchair for a long time.
The weather is nice today. A few white clouds hang lazily in the azure sky, the Sun shines gently, the freshly manicured lawn is soft to the touch, and a few Crow hop around in the trees not far away.
Apart from a maid who stayed close behind William Wolf, ready to help him at any moment, everyone else was chased away by the stubborn old man.
"Get away from me! How many more chances do I have to stand on my own two feet!" he yelled at the bodyguards and servants. "If you don't trust me, let Martha come with me."
Even his son—the handpicked family successor—Quin Wolf could only stand at the edge of the garden and watch from afar. Fortunately, this was Vancouver, and no one dared to come here to mess with the Wolf Family. Apart from those trusted by Old Wolf, not even a cat was allowed to enter the garden within a two-kilometer radius.
Birds, of course, are an exception.
Those free little creatures flew around in the sky, chattering and making a racket like children who could never be still. But this brought life to the tranquil garden; they didn't care what important figure the poor old man below was, who could only take tiny steps, no bigger than a hand's breadth, and who could be blown over by the wind at any moment.
A Crow Guagua a few times.
Huang Liang looked up and thought of the Boss Coal in Qingmu. He had never actually seen the real form of that magical Crow; he had only seen it in a dream. Later, in prison, he experienced another life. In that life, he saw a specimen of a dead Crow. Now, thinking back, that feeling was like a dream, but he knew it was definitely more than just a dream.
If you count the days carefully, it's been more than two years since he escaped from prison. In these two years, he hasn't seen Qingmu. Logically speaking, he shouldn't be responsible for the promise he made to Qingmu anymore, and he and Qingmu actually haven't met many times, so they can't be considered close friends. But he just feels that Qingmu is the only person in the world he can trust.
Since his escape from prison, a deep sense of loneliness has lingered in Huang Liang's heart. He is like a lonely traveler walking in the snow and ice, like a lonely meteorite drifting in the dark universe, unaware of his destiny, yet unable to escape it.
He glanced at Quill Wolf beside him. This burly fellow was a friend worth having; they had many similarities. But the word "friend" was such a luxury for them, especially Huang Liang, who wasn't even sure if he was even a "person."
A gray pigeon suddenly flew in, fluttering down onto the lawn in the garden. It held one foot up and curiously looked at the people there.
"Are these your family's pigeons?" Huang Liang asked.
"Our pigeons are all white, and our pigeon farm isn't even in Vancouver," Hong Kui said.
"Oh, I thought they were here to deliver a letter."
With communication technology so advanced these days, who still uses pigeons to deliver messages?
"Then why do you raise pigeons?"
"Our family originated in Alaska. In the days before advanced communication, Alaska was almost completely isolated from the South. After our ancestors came to the South, they began raising homing pigeons that could adapt to the cold climate to facilitate communication between the North and South. We have a dedicated pigeon farm and trainers, which has been preserved as a tradition, although it is not as large as before and has lost its communication function."
Old Wolf was still walking unsteadily with difficult, shuffling steps, while the maid Martha followed nervously behind him, keeping a distance of two body lengths.
"Your father is a very stubborn man," Huang Liang said.
"It's inevitable for people to get old. Besides, he's always been a man of his word, who likes to be in control of everything, but now he can't even control his own body."
"He's working hard, he'll get better."
"This is all thanks to you. My father is very grateful to you, he just doesn't like to say mushy things."
Huang Liang laughed, looking at the old man who was shuffling across the flat grass, and Tushu life is truly a cycle, and the older one gets, the more like a child one becomes!
The pigeon remained on the lawn, unperturbed by the presence of people. It tilted its head and looked around for a while, then, perhaps figuring out that the old man closest to it was struggling to walk and posed no threat, began to swagger across the lawn, searching for food in the grass.
The old man walked up to it, and it didn't move away. Just as the old man's foot was about to step on it, it suddenly leaped lightly to the side, causing the old man to stumble and almost fall. It then defiantly raised its head and cooed a few times.
Martha rushed forward to help Wolf, but the old man shoved her away. He angrily waved his cane, shooing the bird away with loud "Shoo--Shoo--", but it wouldn't leave. Furious, he roared, "Get out!"
Martha looked at Hong Kui with a hint of grievance. Hong Kui was about to go up and persuade his father, but Huang Liang stopped him.
"Let him vent; it'll be good for his health. He's been either in bed or in a wheelchair for so long; he's been feeling incredibly stifled. It's only a long time since he can walk on his own!"
Hong Kui stopped and nodded to Martha to indicate that she shouldn't rush.
Old Wolf, panting heavily, leaned on his cane, completely helpless against the pigeons before him.
"I've heard there are many wild pigeons in Canada. Are these wild or domesticated?" Huang Liang asked.
"It's probably domesticated..." Hong Kui wasn't too sure. He wasn't very interested in keeping birds, except for the time he met the amazing Boss Coal at Qingmu's place, and then he studied Crow for a while after returning to Canada —there are many Crow in Canada —but he failed to tame them and eventually gave up. The animals he was most interested in were wolves, especially white wolves from cold regions.
Huang Liang also felt that wild pigeons wouldn't be so unafraid of strangers. He turned his gaze to Martha —this naturally beautiful maid, if she were dressed differently in other places, people would surely think she was some noble lady, but in the Wolf Family manor, she was just an ordinary servant, serving cautiously under Old Wolf's piercing gaze every day, afraid of making any mistakes. Yet, she was also the person Old Wolf trusted most besides his own son, which was truly a strange thing.
"Has Martha served your father for a long time?" Huang Liang asked.
"It's been quite a few years," Hong Kui said. "Her father was a low-level mob boss in Chicago who was shot and killed. Her mother came to my father when they had no other way to survive. My father took them in and later helped them avenge their father. Her mother died soon after, and Martha stayed to help at the manor. My father was always strict with her, but he also trusted her completely. Strictly speaking, she wasn't a maid or a servant, so she had a strange air about her."
"She's a pitiful woman too."
"Yes, just like her name— Martha —the name of the last passenger pigeon in the world."
"Passenger pigeons?" Huang Liang looked at the gray pigeons on the lawn again.
"Before Europe landed in the Americas, there were over five billion passenger pigeons in North America. Every autumn, they would begin their southward migration from northeastern Canada to spend the winter in Florida and Mexico. They flew in large flocks, each with over one hundred million pigeons, darkening the sky and forming a pigeon cloud over six kilometers long and 1.5 kilometers wide."
Hong Kui raised his head and glanced at the clear sky in the distance.
"In the 17th century, after Europe arrived in Americas and discovered the deliciousness of pigeons, the passenger pigeon's nightmare began. In 1900, a 14-year-old boy in Ohio shot and killed the last recorded wild passenger pigeon with an air rifle. By 1910, only one wild passenger pigeon remained in captivity. This one was named ' Martha.' She lived a lonely life, without family, friends, or even her own kind... until her death, their population became completely extinct."
A glint of blue light suddenly flashed in Hong Kui's eyes. "Strangely, many large biological populations in North America went extinct around the same time in the early 20th century—the passenger pigeon, the Rocky Mountain locust... and the Kenai Mountain Wolf!"