Chapter 353 – Pangpang’s Care
Between September 24th and September 27th, Federation Time, humans wandering through the Threshold, desperately searching for alien species, would occasionally look up to the sky and witness an odd sight.
A strong, elegant white horse, with its dazzlingly beautiful wings shimmering in the sunlight, would streak across the sky, cutting graceful lines like a messenger from a fairy tale.
However, the large fluffy ball of fur it carried on its back turned the fairy tale into a story of exploitation.
“You’re so slow! Didn’t the Mountain God Grandpa say that heavenly horses can travel a thousand miles a day?” The fluffy ball chirped incessantly in complaint.
The heavenly horse, forcibly summoned for manual labor, was already in a foul mood. Hearing this, it immediately retorted without mercy, “Do you guys in the Dang Hu clan have no sense of your own weight? The fact that I can even carry you into the air is impressive! If it were any other heavenly horse, they’d have collapsed long ago.”
Pangpang’s tuft of hair drooped as it thought of its sorrowful plight. “You’re right. Pangpang really is heavy. Pangpang, being a bird, can’t even manage to fly.”
The heavenly horse remained silent, a strange sense of guilt creeping over it.
“Well, it’s not so bad. Isn’t this just how the Dang Hu clan is? You’re not the only one. And there are advantages to it—you’re fluffy and round, and humans love that. Look at the Gu Diao; they’re birds like you, but they’re all skinny and scrawny, and humans don’t like them as much.”
Pangpang felt consoled, its tuft of hair perking up again. “Exactly, exactly! Boss says Pangpang is cute, too. Boss loves petting Pangpang the most!”
Hearing it mention “Boss” over and over, the heavenly horse fell silent.
It didn’t like humans.
Its travels had taken it to every corner of the land, and it had witnessed countless acts of cruelty humans had inflicted upon their companions in this world.
It couldn’t understand why Pangpang was so fixated on a human.
It gathered its thoughts, spread its wings, and flew eastward. All it needed to do was fulfill the mission the Mountain God had assigned it. The rest was none of its concern.
A horse carrying a bird flew in the sky for three full days, covering a distance that a heavenly horse would normally finish in just one.
The moment Pangpang caught sight of the black ocean, its eyes widened in awe.
Though it had wandered far and seen much over the years, it was the first time it had laid eyes on a black sea.
Pangpang tapped the heavenly horse’s neck with the tip of its wing. “Fly lower, along the coastline. Let Pangpang look around for Boss.”
“With your seed-sized eyes, I’d have to fly so close to the ground you could touch it.”
The heavenly horse had a knack for sharp-tongued remarks.
Ignoring Pangpang’s request, it maintained its altitude, its gaze sweeping across the rapidly shifting scenery below.
The heavenly horse’s vision was exceptional. Their species reproduced slowly, with only one foal per birth—unlike the Dang Hu clan, which could hatch over a dozen chicks in one go. With their small population and no extraordinary means of self-defense aside from flight, heavenly horses had honed a keen sense of vigilance and observation to survive in the Threshold.
“I see her. Hold tight.”
It suddenly spoke, then dove like an eagle.
Pangpang clung tightly to its neck, its fur blowing backward from the rushing wind. The sensation of weightlessness terrified it, yet the anticipation of seeing Boss filled it with excitement.
The heavenly horse didn’t land. Hovering two or three meters above the ground, it executed a graceful spin, flinging Pangpang off its back before smoothly regaining its majestic posture mid-air.
“I’ve delivered you. Farewell.”
With that, it departed without looking back.
Face down on the ground, Pangpang flailed its wings, struggling to flip its bulky body upright. By the time it managed, it only caught a glimpse of the heavenly horse’s tail disappearing into the distance.
Getting to its feet, Pangpang scanned its surroundings, searching eagerly for any sign of Tu Ran.
On a massive reef close to the shore, Pangpang finally spotted Tu Ran lying flat on its surface.
“Boss! Boss!” Pangpang shouted, paddling its short legs into the water. After swimming a few strokes, it climbed up onto the reef.
Tu Ran’s face was so pale it was nearly transparent.
Over the past three days, her body had been kept alive by the [Diamond Body] ability, but the lack of food had left her severely weakened. While she was no longer in immediate danger, her external wounds hadn’t fully healed, and she hovered between consciousness and unconsciousness. Though she could sense what was happening around her, she was unable to control her body.
For three days, she had lain on the cold, hard rock. During the day, the sun scorched her, and at night, the biting cold seeped into her bones.
The Qiyu occasionally leapt out of the water and splashed back in, drenching her in seawater each time.
Its reasoning was simple: whenever it left the water, its skin cracked and hurt, so it assumed Tu Ran would experience the same discomfort. Thus, it dutifully repeated the act—once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once at night.
While this inadvertently killed off some bacteria growing on Tu Ran’s wounds, it also introduced new ones. Her injuries were now red, swollen, and on the verge of festering.
Seeing her boss in such a state, Pangpang’s eyes instantly turned red, and tears began to fall one by one.
“Boss, Boss…” it whimpered, carefully nudging Tu Ran’s shoulder with the tip of its wing, trying to wake her up.
In her semi-conscious state, Tu Ran could sense the movement and pain erupted in her injured shoulder.
‘Pain! Pain, pain, pain! My shoulder is injured!’ she screamed internally, though she couldn’t make a sound or move to stop Pangpang.
Pangpang, oblivious to her agony, continued its attempts to wake her.
Meanwhile, the Qiyu, patrolling the surrounding waters, noticed a new and unfamiliar scent. It swam back and saw a plump Dang Hu perched beside Tu Ran, nudging her.
The Qiyu immediately extended two tentacles from the water, pushing Pangpang away.
Caught off guard, Pangpang tumbled backward, rolled off the reef, and splashed into the water below.
“Cha… Don’t touch… Cha…” The Qiyu extended its five intertwined tentacles, covering Tu Ran protectively while warily watching the plump Pangpang emerging from the water.
Pangpang’s tuft of hair was wet and stuck to its head. Seeing the Qiyu’s protective gesture, it realized the creature was guarding Tu Ran, so it immediately began to chatter away in explanation.
Miraculously, despite being species from opposite ends of the world, their languages seemed to overlap.
The Qiyu understood Pangpang’s intent, and the two different species exchanged some words—one chattering in its usual way, the other in a series of chirps.
Both creatures, despite having tiny brains about the size of a thumbnail, managed to piece together a practical understanding.
The conclusion was simple: Tu Ran shouldn’t be exposed to more water, and she needed a soft, shaded spot to shield her from the sun.
Pangpang immediately scurried back to the shore, entering the woods to gather leaves and branches. With practiced ease, it built a small, triangular shelter with a roof.
Meanwhile, the Qiyu used its tentacles to gently lift Tu Ran, placing her on Pangpang’s back. Pangpang, careful not to jostle her, carefully laid her down on the thick bed of leaves.
Tu Ran: Touched.jpg
She was finally able to rest comfortably, no longer having to lie like a dried fish on the rocks, waiting to be sun-dried.
Once this was done, Pangpang took out the last two small red fruits from its bag—fruits it didn’t particularly like, ones that could keep hunger at bay for a whole day with just one. The bag couldn’t hold many things, so it had only packed three. Pangpang ate one to fill its stomach on the way, leaving the other two uneaten.
It mashed the fruits on a rock, then carefully fed them to Tu Ran, spooning bite after bite into her mouth.
Tu Ran desperately swallowed, one bite after another. It took over an hour for her to finish both fruits.
During this time, the Qiyu remained nearby, by the water’s edge, its gaze fixed longingly on the scene.
It made a sound from its throat, “Cha… Eat, want to eat.”
Tu Ran had once fed it a few apples, and the Qiyu still remembered it fondly.
The fruits in Pangpang’s hands looked very similar to apples, and the Qiyu couldn’t control the saliva that started to drip from its mouth.
Pangpang glanced at it and said seriously, “I only have two, not enough to share with you. But when Boss wakes up, she’ll definitely pick a lot of tasty fruits for you. Just wait a bit longer.”
The Qiyu was a gentle species.
Not only did it get along well with its own kind, but it also coexisted peacefully with other species.
It believed Pangpang’s words and stopped causing trouble, quietly slipping back into the water to swim around the area.
Pangpang looked down at Tu Ran, furrowing its brow with worry. “Boss, when will you wake up? Have you been avoiding Pangpang because you’re hurt? If I had come earlier… maybe…”
It sat close to Tu Ran, its warm feathers pressed against her side. One of its wings draped over her body, continuously radiating heat into her, offering warmth from within.
For the first time in three days, Tu Ran’s body felt warmth from the inside out—not the sun’s scorching heat that only dried her skin but left the insides cold.
It was a soothing, comforting warmth.
Tu Ran’s consciousness gradually cleared. She tried moving her fingers, over and over again, until finally, they twitched.
She had succeeded.
With a determined effort, Tu Ran pulled out two bottles of nutritional fluids and two recovery injectors from her space.
Seeing so many items suddenly appear beside her, Pangpang froze, its body stiffening. It looked up at Tu Ran with excitement. “Boss, you’re awake?!”
Tu Ran tried to nod, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her eyelids wouldn’t open. The energy she had painstakingly regained was entirely drained by her use of [Shadow Storage]. All she could do now was silently hope that Pangpang, upon seeing the items, would know what to do.
When there was no immediate response, Pangpang, feeling a little disappointed, lowered its head.
Its gaze fell on the bottles and jars scattered on the leaves, and it belatedly understood what Tu Ran meant.
It had seen Tu Ran drink the nutritional fluids before, so it knew she needed the caps twisted off. When it couldn’t open them with its paws, it pecked a hole in the side of the bottles with its beak and carefully placed them against Tu Ran’s cracked lips, letting the fluid trickle in drop by drop.
After finishing both bottles of nutritional fluid, Pangpang mimicked Tu Ran’s actions and injected the two recovery doses into her arm.
Once all of this was done, Pangpang snuggled up close again, quietly offering its warmth to Tu Ran.
Awww🤧 Cutiess
ahahahaha aww