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Chapter 53: Don’t Talk to the Little Dog


There were mirrors at home and the car’s reflective body outside—Huo Tingfeng never lacked opportunities to scrutinize himself.

The little dog grew cuter by the day. Its floppy ears perked up, its eyes grew large and bright, radiating an innocence that screamed future black history material. That sweet caramel-yellow fur and white collar became more pronounced too.

The most terrifying part? Its body was growing, but its four legs seemed to shrink instead.

Maybe, perhaps, possibly… I’m not a large breed.

Then what breed am I?

Two eerie words popped into his head, only to be horror-strickenly kicked out.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

I have a tail. A big, fluffy, beautiful tail.

So I’m not a Corgi.

I’m not even three months old yet. I still have time to grow.

So, I’m. Not. A. Cor. Gi.

Someone unwilling to face reality tried to convince himself: Idiot rich kids are a dime a dozen. It might not even be Lin Yao looking for a dog body double.

But when he looked up, the young man and woman each carried two fluffy caramel-colored puppies, every one identical to him. Their big, fluffy tails wagged joyfully, hitting peak cuteness in Shen Leyuan’s favorite style.

Huo Tingfeng: !!!

Whether he was a Corgi or not didn’t matter anymore. The real crisis was that the idiot rich kid was promoting new dogs to take his place. If he didn’t hurry back, he’d end up a masterless dead dog!

No more hesitation—he quickly hitched a ride with the siblings.

The pet store buzzed with barks, the floor crawling with highly similar Corgis. They wagged their gorgeous big tails, licking and nuzzling each other or tumbling in playfights.

Lin Yao set the floppy dead dog on his lap, comparing them one by one meticulously.

“This one won’t do—the tail color’s off.”

“This one’s fur is too light, muzzle too pointy. No good.”

“This one matches the color well, but the white fur’s a few centimeters off. Can you dye it with something permanent?”

The siblings led in more dogs: “How about these?”

Huo Tingfeng had arrived even earlier. Staring at the floor full of competitive body doubles, anger surged. His fist hammered forward—only to pass right through as expected.

Lin Yao puzzledly clutched his chest, brow furrowing.

Weird…

He didn’t keep swinging. Huo Tingfeng was desperate to return to where he belonged, but maybe he’d been dead too long—his tiny body generated no pull. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t re-enter it. He could even faintly sense his original body’s location.

Am I going back? Right now?

No, absolutely not. Shen Leyuan would cry himself to death.

What he’d once dreamed of now terrified him. Huo Tingfeng didn’t dare think how he’d escape later—he just knew he had to be an obedient good dog now, returning to Shen Leyuan intact.

Sure enough, trouble came calling. His phone buzzed with Shen Leyuan’s video request.

Flustered, Lin Yao shoved the evidence behind him and picked up with a smile uglier than crying: “Teacher.”

“Huihui’s with you, right?” Shen Leyuan asked urgently.

“Yeah…”

“Good,” Shen Leyuan exhaled, spotting the pet food bag peeking behind him. A strange, ominous premonition stirred. “You’re at a pet store…”

Lin Yao’s heart leaped.

Shen Leyuan: “Buying food for Huihui?”

Lin Yao nodded vigorously like his life depended on it: “Yeah, buying food for Huihui.”

So the dog’s name is Huihui. Good thing I know now—I can train the replacement with treats later, get it to remember the name quick.

Shen Leyuan’s brow furrowed slightly: “Take a pic of it. Let me see.”

His eyes were still red-rimmed. His usual stern face, intimidating as hell, softened a lot, making him look pitiful—like he’d bawl if he didn’t see his beloved pup.

Lin Yao felt guilty, heartbroken, and a twinge of jealousy.

The dog has someone worrying about it.

Not me.

Not daring to keep his teacher waiting, Lin Yao turned the camera to the Corgis scrambling everywhere, lying carefully: “I wanted Huihui to play with some buddies, but now I can’t tell which one’s which.”

So that’s what he’s guilty about. Shen Leyuan chuckled: “It’s fine. I can tell.”

Lin Yao stayed silent.

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!

He plopped down cross-legged by the cages, silently dragging Corgis over one by one, praying to the heavens his teacher would pick wrong.

But Shen Leyuan shot them down, one after another.

“Not it… color’s wrong… eyes don’t match… legs aren’t as long… not it… not it… nope… no…”

The dogs outside the cages dwindled. Tension thickened.

Shen Leyuan’s brow never relaxed again. Ignoring Lin Yao’s eerie silence, he stubbornly identified each one, voice growing hoarse: “This one’s neck fur is off… this one…”

Down to five. Four. Three…

Lin Yao’s heart pounded painfully. He glanced behind him, torn between confessing or making another excuse.

But…

…Where’s the dog?!

Before panic set in, a droopy dog head flopped onto his leg. A paw stretched up, yanking the phone down hard.

Smack!

Lin Yao looked down just as the paw pad swiped the screen, flipping the camera smoothly onto the dog’s face.

“Woof! Woof woof woof! Woof woof woof woof!”

It lodged its complaint loud and clear.

Shen Leyuan laughed, nodding nonstop: “Mm, mm, got it. Poor baby, you got wronged. I’ll punish big brother Lin Yao when you get back. Be good for now, okay?”

That drawn-out, rising “mm?” melted ears everywhere.

But Lin Yao heard nothing.

He frantically scanned around. The thoroughly dead dog corpse had vanished. Only the weird little dog remained—suddenly quiet after the call ended, squatting and staring straight up at him.

“Did anyone come in just now?” Lin Yao asked the chatting shop owner outside.

“Nope,” the owner handed him water. “No rush, take your time. If not, I can ask around other shops.”

The poor kid’s face is pale as a ghost.

His pant leg got patted. Lin Yao turned—the little dog was staring up again.

The owner beamed: “Found a match? Looks spot-on. Whose is it? Let me check the tag on its collar.”

The little dog had no tag.

Or rather, its tag was in Lin Yao’s pocket—Shen Leyuan’s name and number, with a stick-figure owner and bone. Almost ended up on another dog’s neck.

Growing paler, Lin Yao scanned the QR code to pay: “Send me the front and back door footage.”

He didn’t mention the store cams.

The store had no cams. He’d turned them off.

Afraid of getting caught on video online, he’d killed the cams and cleared out bystanders. Now he could only rummage through memory for the little dog’s look, recall the stiff palm feel, the motionless, heartless fluffy chest.

The little dog “woofed” once, urging again.

Monitoring now? Hurry up and send me back to Shen Leyuan!

Another ten-plus minutes passed. After counting every dog in the store, Lin Yao finally staggered out on wobbly legs, hugging the little dog as he opened the car door.

A pair of pale, slender hands took it, planting a light, affectionate kiss.

“Baby,” Shen Leyuan wanted to smile but teetered toward tears. “Sorry, baby. Daddy forgot you in the car. Don’t be mad, okay?”

The little Corgi dropped its earlier aloofness, slurp slurp slurp-ing his face happily, licking away the unusually bitter, salty taste. It reached the corner of his mouth—a warm, soft brush—then paused.

Hm?

The little dog’s motions halted. It went still in Shen Leyuan’s arms.

Shen Leyuan stroked its cool back: “Tired? Sleep, sleep. Daddy’s here.”

Once it was asleep, he turned to Lin Yao.

The young man who’d sobbed his heart out not long ago had composed himself. He asked his former student warmly: “What happened on the road?”

Lin Yao stared out the window, mumbling: “Nothing.”

A pause, then an excuse: “Maybe too many similar dogs at the store. Thought I was gonna ditch it there.”

That was possible.

Shen Leyuan stroked the little dog gentler: “Maybe. Huihui’s smart.”

Buried in the youth’s warm, soft embrace, Huo Tingfeng let out an involuntary whine, heartbeat racing.

He says I’m smart.

Out of all those lively Corgis, he spotted me instantly.

He likes me. Likes me a lot.

But he likes “Huihui,” not Huo Tingfeng…

He hates Huo Tingfeng.

The little dog buried its head deeper, inexplicably plunging into a bizarre nightmare. In it, his Tibetan Mastiff form tackled Shen Leyuan, trailing downward from today’s accidental lick spot—right at the brink of the final step—

Crack!

One slice, two halves.

Huo Tingfeng jolted awake with a yelp.

No anesthetic, just gripping that meat and sawing?!

Wah, Shen Leyuan, you’re so cruel. Even to your good boy, you won’t spare me in dreams…

Wait, dream?

Oh, right. Old me was just having a nightmare.

The little Corgi slowly exhaled, instinctively seeking Shen Leyuan’s warm hold. But his paws met cold floor, eyes landing on wheelchair footrests. Looking up along those legs, a man stared down coldly.

Huo Tingfeng froze.

Why’s Lin Yuan wearing that caught-in-the-act face?

Where’s my Shen Leyuan? After almost losing me, shouldn’t he be cuddling me to sleep tonight?

“No need to look,” Lin Yuan said. “He’s with Little Deer.”

Huo Tingfeng’s scouting head nearly froze—good thing he didn’t glance Lin Yuan’s way. He circled in place deliberately, then pawed the door, “woof woof”-ing and whining like he wanted out.

The little dog doesn’t know. The little dog doesn’t understand. The little dog can’t comprehend.

Don’t talk to the little dog.

Rip—

The plastic bag tore open, wafting pet treat scent—the kind Shen Leyuan fed most often. Sometimes the youth would pour them into his palm, watching tenderly as the little dog licked them up.

At first, Huo Tingfeng felt mortified, but he’d gotten used to it. The sound alone conjured treat flavor, the youth’s soft palm.

He looked up instinctively toward the noise.

Eww, old man’s face.

Don’t wanna see.

But Lin Yuan clearly suspected him. Time for some Oscar-worthy acting.

Gritting through the disgust, the little Corgi trotted to the wheelchair, nipping the treat from the man’s palm. Sharp teeth grazed skin, each bite dripping reluctance.

As the treats neared gone, the big screen lit up. The video showed familiar people and dogs—replaying a scene from Shen Leyuan’s room.

The youth locked eyes with the Tibetan Mastiff, suddenly snapping: “Huo Tingfeng?!”

The Mastiff didn’t react.

But the little dog shivered.


Pathological Shura Arena, But as the Male Side Character

Pathological Shura Arena, But as the Male Side Character

病态修罗场,但男配
Status: Completed Native Language: Chinese
Shen Leyuan transmigrated into a book, landing in the infamous city everyone knew about. Top 1 was the violent, paranoid, shadowy voyeur of a disabled foster father, with surveillance cameras in every corner. Top 2 was the foster brother who snuck into bed in the middle of the night behind their dad's back, his favorite line a snide "little mom." Top 3 was the psychologist who wielded manipulative mind games and toys in tandem, plastering walls with photos of the protagonist bottom. Top 4 was the man who turned into a Tibetan Mastiff, boasting massive pecs once he shifted back to human form. They brimmed with virility, playing all sorts of kinky games with the bottom every day—and occasionally inviting passersby to join the "fun," determined to fill the world with raw sex. Shen Leyuan didn't transmigrate as the total bottom. He became the perverted tutor instead. The kind who'd get chopped up and fed to the dogs. To save his own skin, he pulled his hand off the total bottom's chest, yanked up his pants, unlocked his phone, and resolved to be an upstanding model tutor from then on. Years later, Shen Leyuan woke up rubbing his sore waist. A bigshot proposed with a straight face: "The one from last night was me. Little Deer needs a mom." The original bottom scratched furiously at the door outside, seething: "The one from last night was *me*! Don't believe him, Teacher! QAQ" The puppyish wolf clung to the window, begging: "The one from last night was *me*! You have to take responsibility!" The dog-man lunged violently: "Woof woof woof woof woof—!!!" Shen Leyuan: ... #The healed old tops are splitting personalities again. What to do? #Online waiting, super urgent! ... **Promo for the main-bottom pre-received novel: "The 'Honest Man' of the Shura Arena" Shen Qingyu lived in that unspeakable city, a proper cuckold top. When his good friend visited, he flirted shamelessly with Shen Qingyu's wife above the table and played footsie below—yet Shen Qingyu remained oblivious like a fool. Out shopping, his wife and her lover shared a passionate kiss in the bathroom, leaving marks to taunt him deliberately, but he stayed blind as ever. At night in bed, the neighbor pup snuck over in the dead of night and went at it hot and heavy with his wife—yet he slept like the dead. There was also his boss dropping off the drunken Shen Qingyu and flirting with his wife; a trip where he ran into a friend and his wife slipped out to the next room at midnight; a candlelit dinner he slaved over, only for the lover to show up and freeload... A year passed. On the day it all came to a head, he calmly awaited the lover's ambush at the door. But when he opened it: The puppyish wolf held a rope, the lover gripped a knife, his friend was covered in blood, and his wife charged in fiercely, flat-bottom pan raised high as she laid waste to them all. Shen Qingyu: ??? — Ye Chen got married, but his husband seemed like a total blind man. Good friend visiting? Legs rubbing desperately against the husband—only for Ye Chen to kick him back, while the husband ate calmly. Out shopping? His cousin demanded the husband's contact info, sparking a brawl—yet the husband never noticed the bruise on Ye Chen's lip. At night in bed? The idiot next door slipped into the husband's sheets, got caught by Ye Chen, and took a savage beating—the bed shook like a sieve, but the husband never stirred. On their first wedding anniversary, Ye Chen asked darkly: "Do you even know about them—" "They like you," his husband asked eagerly. "You're divorcing me now, right?"

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