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Watching her little nephew crack an egg on his forehead, Sang Ye shook her head helplessly, picked up another egg and gently tapped it on the corner of the table, peeled it in a few moments, and handed it to her son, "Huanhuan, eat it while it’s warm."

Huanhuan silently accepted the fragrant egg, looked at his mother who was already lifting her bowl of porridge, and unlike good brother, didn’t hurry to stuff it in his mouth. He used a wooden spoon to gently cut the egg ...

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

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