Chapter 105: The Adventures of The Two Cubs

The dragon mountain was enormous.

Yòu Lín had seen big things before. The iron-wood trees back home were big. Uncle Mo Xiao’s temper was big. Mama’s belly had been big before Zhēn came out.

But this?

This was stupid big.

The cavern stretched up and up and up, so high that the ceiling disappeared into shadow. Crystals grew from the walls like frozen rainbow fire, casting light in colors Yòu Lín didn’t have names for. And everywhere, there were dragons.

Big dragons. Small dragons. Shiny dragons. Dragons that looked like they were made of storm clouds. Dragons that looked like they hadn’t moved in a thousand years.

“They are everywhere,” Ruì Xuě whispered beside him, his purple eyes wide. The snow leopard cub had his tail wrapped around his own leg, his nervous habit. “There are so many.”

“I know!” Yòu Lín bounced on his paws. “It’s AMAZING!” Yòu Lín was moving again.

~

It had started that morning.

Mama had been tired. Not the normal tired, the special tired she got when she had to sit on those hard benches and listen to dragons yell at each other for hours. She had kissed their foreheads, told them to be good for Hóng Yè, and disappeared into the council chamber with Papa and Uncle Zhāo Yàn and Uncle Yàn Shū trailing behind her like worried ducklings.

Hóng Yè had been left in charge.

Hóng Yè was always left in charge now.

“I’m watching you,” he’d said, pointing at each of them in turn. “Both of you. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t even think about exploring.”

Then he’d sat down with one of Uncle Yàn Shū’s scrolls and been completely useless for four minutes.

Which was how Yòu Lín and Ruì Xuě had ended up sneaking through a crack in the guest quarters and into the maze of tunnels beyond.

“Should we wake Zhēn?” Ruì Xuě had whispered.

“No way. She’s sleeping. Also she’d just tell Mama.”

“Zhēn can’t talk.”

“She has eyes, Ruì Xuě. Judgment eyes. She’d judge us.”

Ruì Xuě had considered this. Nodded. “Fair.”

~

The tunnels twisted and turned, sometimes opening into massive caverns that stole their breath, sometimes narrowing so much they had to squeeze through one at a time.

Yòu Lín loved every second of it.

“This one looks like Uncle Zhāo Yàn’s tail!” he announced, pointing at a crystal formation.

“That one looks like a rock,” Ruì Xuě observed.

They passed dragons occasionally. Big ones, mostly, curled up on ledges or floating in pools of warm water that steamed in the cool air. None of them noticed the tiny intruders, or if they did, they didn’t care.

Dragons, Yòu Lín was learning, cared about very little that wasn’t old or shiny.

“We should go back,” Ruì Xuě whispered after what felt like hours. His little legs were starting to drag. “Hóng Yè is going to be so mad.”

“Hóng Yè is always mad,” Yòu Lín pointed out. “It’s his favorite thing.”

“That’s true.”

“Also, I hear something!”

He did. They both did, a rumbling, grumbling, complaining sound echoing from the tunnel ahead.

“—absolutely ridiculous—seven days of discussion—lowlanders in the guest quarters—and now the Burning Sky has gone completely soft—”

The cubs exchanged glances.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Yòu Lín whispered.

“The grumpiest,” Ruì Xuě agreed. “Should we go back?”

“No way! This is the best part!”

Before Ruì Xuě could protest, Yòu Lín was moving.

~

The tunnel opened into a cavern that was different from the others.

Smaller, for one thing. Cozier. Filled with, was that furniture? Giant stone furniture, yes, but furniture nonetheless. A massive chair carved from obsidian sat in the center, and in it—

A dragon.

Not a big dragon. Not like Dà Jiāo Huǒ or even Cāng Jì. This one was old and crabby-looking, with scales the color of dying embers and a face that seemed permanently stuck in an expression of deep dissatisfaction. He was muttering to himself, poking at something on a stone table with claws that trembled slightly.

“—should be sleeping—instead I’m awake—and for WHAT—for lowlanders—”

“That’s a lot of complaining,” Yòu Lín whispered.

“Old people complain,” Ruì Xuě whispered back wisely. “Grandma Gū Gū complains all the time.”

“Grandma Gū Gū is AWESOME.”

“True. Maybe this one is awesome too.”

“Should we say hi?”

“We should ABSOLUTELY NOT—”

But Yòu Lín was already bounding into the cavern.

“HELLO GRUMPY DRAGON!”

The old dragon froze.

His head turned. Slowly. Terribly. His ancient eyes, the color of cooling embers, fixed on the two tiny creatures now standing in his doorway.

One fox cub, tail wagging furiously.

One snow leopard cub, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

“…What.”

“We’re exploring!” Yòu Lín announced cheerfully. “This is a very nice cave! Is it your cave? It feels like your cave. It has your grumpy smell.”

“I don’t have a smell.”

“Everything has a smell! You smell like old rocks and fire and—” he sniffed dramatically, “—and loneliness. Do you need a hug?”

The dragon’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I am ELDER EMBERGLOW. I do NOT need a—”

“I’m Yòu Lín! This is Ruì Xuě. He’s shy. You should say hi to him.”

Ruì Xuě, currently trying to hide behind Yòu Lín’s significantly smaller frame, waved weakly.

Elder Emberglow stared.

His ancient brain, honed over millennia of political maneuvering and scholarly debate, struggled to process.

“You are…..the lowlander cubs.”

“Yep!”

“Just… two of you?”

“Yep! The others are back with Hóng Yè. He’s our big brother. He’s very stressed. You’d like him—he’s also grumpy.”

“I am NOT grumpy.”

“You are literally the grumpiest person we’ve met all day.”

“That’s—” Elder Emberglow sputtered. “That’s—you can’t just—”

But Yòu Lín had already moved on, padding further into the cavern.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

He was pointing at something on the stone table. A small, worn object, half-hidden behind a pile of scrolls.

Elder Emberglow’s heart stopped.

“That’s—don’t touch—that’s NOT—”

Too late.

Yòu Lín’s tiny paw closed around a small, carved figure. A dragon cub, mid-pounce, wings half-spread. Made of wood so old it had darkened to near-black, worn smooth by centuries of handling.

“Ooh, a toy!” Yòu Lín held it up. “Did you make this? It’s cute! It looks like a baby dragon!”

“Put that DOWN.”

The growl in the old dragon’s voice made even Yòu Lín freeze.

Ruì Xuě was at his brother’s side in an instant, pulling him back, his little body trembling but positioned in front of Yòu Lín anyway. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to—we were just—we’ll go—”

But Elder Emberglow wasn’t looking at them anymore.

He was looking at the carving in Yòu Lín’s paws.

No one had touched it in eight hundred years. No one had even seen it. He kept it hidden, in the back of his hoard, where the memories couldn’t reach him.

And now a fox cub was holding it like it was nothing.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep