HLM – Chapter 104 Zhuang Ding Captures a White-Crowned Crane

A New Year’s Eve dinner with just three people always felt a little lonely. This year’s Spring Festival Gala was especially boring—after watching for a while, Wang Bo gave up and switched to the music channel instead.

His mother heated up some huangjiu on the stove. The traditional rice wine from their hometown, boiled with slices of ginger, brown sugar, and red dates, had a slightly tart yet sweet aroma. It was quite popular.

His father took small sips and sighed, “There aren’t enough people. This holiday just doesn’t feel right.”

Wang Bo chewed on some fish sausage and instinctively comforted him, “It’s okay, Dad. Next year I’ll bring a wife home for New Year’s, and the year after that, who knows—maybe we’ll have a kid…”

“Really?” His parents both turned to him, eyes wide with anticipation.

Wang Bo awkwardly set down his chopsticks. “I was just saying that. If I get beaten for it, don’t blame me.”

His mother poured him another cup of wine, saying gently, “Xiao Bo, how about this—this year we won’t nag you to go on blind dates. Just put in some effort yourself and bring a girl home next year, okay?”

Wang Bo was overjoyed and nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, of course.”

But his father wasn’t pleased. “Why no blind dates? Aunt Qiu introduced several girls already…”

His mother shot him a glare. “Marriage is a big deal—it’s best if the kid makes his own choice. Forced melons aren’t sweet. You can’t shove a duck onto a perch and expect it to fly.”

Wang Bo was so happy he almost clapped. Since when did Mom become so enlightened?

After dinner, once Wang Bo left the house, his father still grumbled about the plan. His mother explained, “Didn’t Aunt Qiu tell you? None of those girls are really suitable. The good ones are all dating someone in the city. If Xiao Bo wants a good wife, he’ll have to find her himself out there.”

His father thought about it and finally sighed. “You’ve got a point.”

Once outside, the village was crackling with firecrackers. Past midnight, even more people joined in.

Smelling the gunpowder in the cold night wind, Wang Bo finally felt the festive atmosphere. But under the pale moonlight, aside from a few homes with lanterns hanging at the door, there wasn’t much New Year spirit to be seen.

He remembered that ever since middle school, that festive feeling had been fading. Now, with many of the wealthier families having settled in the city, the village’s celebrations felt even more diluted.

He let Zhuang Ding out. The moment the little guy appeared, he stood on his hind legs, paws on Wang Bo’s chest, licking his face enthusiastically.

Zhuang Ding had grown quickly—standing up, his head now reached Wang Bo’s chest. And this wasn’t even his limit. As a Tibetan Mastiff capable of reaching 100 kg, Zhuang Ding would eventually grow to be as big and strong as a calf.

But his joy didn’t last long. The sound of firecrackers scared him senseless—dogs were naturally afraid of noises like gunshots.

Wang Bo buried the dog’s head in his arms and patted his back. Thanks to his special bond—Zhuang Ding possessed a “Soul Core”—he was no ordinary dog. Once he realized the firecrackers wouldn’t hurt him, he grew bolder.

Wang Bo took him behind the village and built a bonfire. While warming himself, he roasted a piece of lamb. The aroma of grilled meat wafted through the air, making Zhuang Ding wag his tail excitedly.

Not far off, someone in town started setting off fireworks. Bursts of colorful blossoms lit up the dark sky—vivid and dazzling.

After eating his fill, Zhuang Ding ran around wildly, burning off his boundless energy.

Wang Bo sat by the fire waiting, when he suddenly heard a loud, frantic squawking. Then Zhuang Ding bounded into view, happily trotting back toward him.

It was too dark to see clearly at first, but as the dog got closer, Wang Bo squinted into the firelight—and was stunned: Zhuang Ding had a giant bird in his mouth!

The moment he reached Wang Bo, Zhuang Ding dropped the bird at his feet. The bird was terrified. The fire only made things worse—clearly, in its mind, the flames were meant to roast it alive.

As it hit the ground, the bird flapped desperately, trying to fly away—only for Zhuang Ding to smack it down with a paw!

Wang Bo now saw the bird clearly. It was over a meter tall, with a white head, brown-gray body, and black tail. Its graceful form was strikingly beautiful.

When he saw Zhuang Ding ready to slap it again, Wang Bo quickly intervened and shielded the bird—because he recognized what it was: a Red-crowned Crane, a first-class nationally protected species!

Protecting the crane, Wang Bo glared at his dog. “Get out of here! Lie down! What the hell—where’d you find a crane!?”

The Red-crowned Crane was critically endangered. As far as he knew, there were fewer than 10,000 left in the world. In spring, summer, and autumn they lived in Siberia, northeastern China, and Inner Mongolia. In late autumn, they migrated to southern China and Japan.

Wang Bo’s hometown was on their migration route. He’d known these elegant birds since childhood—though, sadly, his first introduction was at the dinner table. The Red-crowned Crane had some of the most succulent meat among birds.

Back then, the village was poor. The cranes were more common, and each winter people would find ways to catch them. But they didn’t eat the meat themselves—it was sold to make ends meet.

By the time he started elementary school, conservation efforts had improved. He still remembered in fourth grade, the whole class scattering aquatic plants like moss and pondweed on the beach to feed the migrating cranes.

But in recent years, sightings had become rare. Last year, he’d heard that someone accidentally caught one and turned it over to the authorities—only for rumors to surface that it was secretly cooked into soup for county officials.

Shooing Zhuang Ding away, Wang Bo gently released the crane, hoping it would fly off.

Unfortunately, Zhuang Ding had bitten it too hard—its left wing was injured. Though it flapped a few times after being released, it couldn’t take off.

Since it was hurt, Wang Bo had no choice but to protect it. And not just the bird—he also had to protect its eggs.

Red-crowned Cranes rarely broke off from their flocks during migration. If one was left behind, there was usually only one reason: the female had unexpectedly laid eggs and stayed behind to incubate them.

Lifting the large crane into his arms, Wang Bo whistled. Zhuang Ding perked up and came bounding over.

He pointed at the bird. “Where’d you find this?”

Zhuang Ding blinked cluelessly, head tilted.

Wang Bo pointed again, this time more firmly. Zhuang Ding finally seemed to get it—he turned and bolted toward the riverbed behind the village.

Red-crowned Cranes built their nests in mossy wetlands. The overgrown shrubbery and reeds behind the fishing village mimicked that environment—perfect for nesting.

Carefully, Wang Bo followed along the river’s edge. Zhuang Ding led the way to a clump of dry reeds.

As they got closer, the injured crane in his arms began to struggle fiercely, crying out in sharp wo-wo calls—clearly terrified the dumb dog was about to ransack its home.