Julian Zhao Xin picked up the scented pink envelope and sat on the edge of his bed. His fingers hesitated before opening it. The heavy cardstock bore shiny golden initials—E.M his grandmother's signature style he couldn't forget. The perfume on it reminded him of expensive silk gowns and incense burned during old pack rituals.
He unfolded the letter. The paper trembled slightly in his hands.
> My dearest Xin,
I am writing with a heart burdened by regret. I have recently been diagnosed and now reflect deeply on the mistakes I have made. There are truths you must know—secrets buried in our bloodline. It is my final wish that you meet me after my final treatment, on the twentieth of June. This is not just about saying goodbye. It's about the legacy you carry.
With eternal love,
Elizabeth Ming (your grandmother)
Zhao Xin sat in silence, rereading the message twice more. His chest tightened. She hadn't mentioned the illness, but that made it worse—like something too terrifying to name. Cancer ran in their bloodline. His mother had passed from lung cancer, though she'd never smoked. Maybe this was the same. Or worse. Something incurable. Something inherited.
He wished he hadn't opened the letter. Now the weight of it clawed at him like a shadow wolf during a blood moon.
Most pack-born teenagers would have flown across provinces to see their ailing elder. But Elizabeth Worthington wasn't just any elder. She was known among the Northern Packs as prideful, clinging to the illusion that noble blood meant strength. Xin figured she now understood that no title, no rank, no silver coins could buy health—or redemption.
He needed distraction.
And there was one wolf who could help him forget.
Venus's room was nothing like her quiet demeanor. Pink walls. Delicate flower patterns. Small stuffed hummingbirds nestled on her bed like spirit guardians. On the wall hung old posters of the Kunming Shadowfangs rugby team and a signed portrait of a well-known rogue medicine wolf, Bai Qiaolian, in healer robes.
Xin leaned on her dresser and teased that being in her room probably lowered his dominance rank by two levels. Venus looked up from her scroll screen, pretending not to smirk. Xin reminded her that she had lost a bet about the existence of synchronized moon dancing—a rare ritual involving trampoline-like movement to honor the Lunar Mother. She claimed he tricked her, but Xin insisted a bet was a bet, and tonight was the night to fulfill it.
Venus checked the time: 6:30 p.m. She wasn't going to back out. She didn't want Xin thinking she couldn't keep her word. She slipped into her usual outfit—sweats and a loose tunic—and pulled her hair into a messy bun. She hadn't slept well; the full moon had stirred strange dreams.
She walked into the bathroom—and froze.
Xin stood at the basin, bare-chested, steam rising off his damp skin, a towel hanging low at his hips. His clan marking—a silver crescent and three claw lines—was visible just above his hipbone. Venus quickly covered her eyes, trying not to focus on the toned muscles of his upper body.
Xin asked, playfully, if she planned to wear that for the night date. She mumbled yes, still shielding her eyes, saying it wasn't a real date. He said he found her outfit "boldly unappealing" in a way that somehow made him grin.
She grabbed her hair tie and left as quickly as she could, flustered by the closeness.
In the living area, Bai Lan and Jerry xin were playing Moonlight Strategy. Bai Lan clapped when she saw Venus coming down, mistaking the occasion for something romantic. Venus made it clear—this wasn't a date. It was just the result of a lost bet.
Moments later, Xin appeared behind her. He was dressed in clean jeans, a deep green button-up shirt, and polished boots made from wolfhide—a traditional look worn by betas during public rituals. His hair was still damp, combed back in a way that showed off his alpha-like features.
They left the den and headed toward the mountains. Venus insisted they return by ten, as she had a healing class the next day with her Master zhao Wei
Xin didn't reveal the destination, just drove along the winding road toward the city. After a long silence, he asked her why she chose to study healing.
Venus told him the truth: her father used to be a respected healer among the pack, but when her mother left, something in him broke. She had started learning medicine to connect with what little was left of him—to honor who he used to be. It hadn't worked, but the path became her own. She didn't need his approval anymore. Still, part of her longed for it.
Xin said her father was missing out. No one had ever told her that before. She stayed quiet, afraid that her voice would crack if she tried to speak.
Eventually, Xin parked in front of a building in Kunming called Li Tao's Sky Hall. The scent of wolf sage and old cedar drifted from the doors.
Inside, an energetic Li Tao and his partner, greeted them. Their robes shimmered with moonsilver thread. They welcomed them to a special training area where young wolves practiced moon leaps and synchronized high-jump combat forms.
Venus stared at the padded floors and suspended platforms. She realized this wasn't going to be a demonstration. This was going to be a full experience.
Li Tao led Xin to the men's changing quarters. While his girlfriend guided Venus to the women's area. She didn't want to follow. But something about the ritualistic air pulled her in.
Xin's voice echoed in her mind—"My mother said to be unpredictable. That way, life never gets boring."
But Venus had known enough unpredictability. The disappearance of her mother. The betrayal of Gao Tianyu. She knew better than to trust unpredictability again.
Yet here she was.
And Xin was pulling her deeper into his wild, untamed life.