Lin Xingwan, 28, died from working overtime.
When she woke up, she was lying in a strange wasteland beneath two suns. A group of two-meter-tall beastmen surrounded her, arguing fiercely. “No beast form.” “A degenerate throwback.” “Throw her out.”
She had transmigrated. She was now a good-for-nothing female, abandoned by her entire tribe.
The one who took her in was a silver-haired man covered in blood, dragging an old injury behind him. His people all called him “Mad Dog.” Eight years ago, he had been the White Lion Tribe’s greatest warrior. After being poisoned, he grew violent and no one dared go near him.
There was nothing in the stone house. Bai Ye pushed his last piece of dried meat toward her, then curled up facing the wall.
Lin Xingwan didn’t cry. She searched the house and found flint, dry moss, and animal fat. The next day, a fire was burning. On the third day, she made a coarse clay bowl. By the seventh, she had fashioned a lamp from a cotton wick and a dish of oil.
Bai Ye stared at the light for a long time, then looked up at her. For the first time, warmth appeared in his amber eyes.
He wasn’t some great hero who had to protect her. It was just that… no one had smiled at him in years.
The beastmen of the tribe still can’t explain what happened next. They only know that the “useless girl” they threw out first built a house, planted crops, and healed Mad Dog’s old wounds. Then, on the day the Black Tiger Tribe launched a surprise attack, she held back a tide of enemies with traps and fire. Later, the priest knelt before the whole tribe and hailed her as the “Mistress of Starfire.”
And the once-feared “Mad Dog” simply stayed by the stove, roasting a sweet potato and waiting for her to come home.
“She is my life,” Bai Ye said, his voice perfectly calm, as if stating the most natural thing in the world.
