HLM – Chapter 36 Zhuang Ding

The public dog shelter consisted of a few wooden buildings. The hygiene was so-so, and as one approached, a strong, fishy stench filled the air. Eva had been very thoughtful and made a call in advance. When Wang Bo arrived, a middle-aged man was already waiting for him.

“Ms. Eva said you wanted to come see Nuonu, but I’m sorry, fellas—you’ve come at a bad time,” said the caretaker, who introduced himself as Lasek, shrugging with regret.

Wang Bo asked with disappointment, “He was taken away?”

Lasek nodded, then shook his head. “No. He was taken away before, but just got returned two days ago. The problem is—Nuonu’s changed. He might not live up to your expectations now.”

Puzzled, Wang Bo asked what he meant, and Lasek explained. About a month ago, the mastiff Nuonu had been adopted by a kind-hearted person. But that person clearly hadn’t done their homework—only after taking the dog home did they realize it was a giant breed, potentially growing to the size of a calf.

Overwhelmed, the adopter decided they couldn’t handle the pressure and returned the dog. And that’s where the trouble started. Mastiffs, by nature, have inherent psychological flaws—they tend to swing between extremes: either being violent or timid.

Nuonu had originally been a normal dog—optimistic, energetic, proud. But this experience had shaken his confidence, and he became extremely timid and lifeless. Now he just lay around in his pen, staring blankly at the wall all day.

Lasek led them to one of the kennels, about the size of a room. Inside, a large grayish-yellow dog lay slumped on the ground, its head drooped listlessly on its paws, eyes dull and lifeless.

“This dog doesn’t seem that big,” Wang Bo commented, surprised.

It really didn’t look that big—about the size of an adult rural dog back in his hometown. But its frame was massive, with a broad square head and a powerful chest, exuding a tiger-like presence.

Lasek gave a dry laugh and said, “Well, if I told you he’s just over three months old, maybe you can imagine how big he’s going to get.”

Wang Bo’s eyes lit up in realization. Then he called out, “Nuonu, look over here—I’m taking you home!”

The dog didn’t react at all. Like an abandoned child, it lay there pitiful and lonely. Wang Bo whistled. Finally, the dog stirred a little—its ears twitched, and it raised its head slightly to glance at him before lowering it again.

Lasek called out to him several times as well, but Nuonu didn’t respond. When it finally got annoyed, it just turned its head to stare at the opposite wall.

The cowboy sighed. “He’s ruined. This dog’s done for—just eating and waiting to die.”

Looking at Nuonu, Wang Bo thought of the children Eva worked with—kids struggling with psychological trauma. In a way, this dog wasn’t much different.

With a determined punch to his palm, Wang Bo declared, “I’ll take Nuonu. I’m going to help him regain the dominance he once had as king among dogs! He’s supposed to be a wild beast that rules the mountains—not some pitiful creature wasting away indoors!”

Lasek was deeply moved. “If only you had been his first owner… No! You are his first owner. That other guy? Just a passerby in Nuonu’s life!”

Clearly, Lasek had grown attached to the mastiff—just the name he’d given him said as much. “Nuonu” was a household name in New Zealand, belonging to a star player on the national rugby team, the All Blacks.

Still, Bowen wasn’t convinced. “Should we pick a different dog instead? That Rottweiler over there looks pretty badass too.”

Wang Bo shook his head. “Nope. I’m taking the mastiff. I’ll train him to be an emperor—like Napoleon!”

Lasek went to fetch the adoption form and asked Wang Bo to take a photo with Nuonu while holding him. For the first, third, and sixth months post-adoption, Wang Bo would need to return with the dog for check-ins to prove the adoption was genuine. If the dog died, a veterinary death certificate would be required. Everything was handled very formally.

Wang Bo cautiously approached Nuonu, worried the dog might suddenly bite. But the mastiff was so dejected he let Wang Bo handle him however he pleased—his demeanor screamed, I’m dead inside, just a walking corpse now.

After the adoption, Lasek suggested giving him a new name to mark a fresh start in life—it might help.

The cowboy got excited and started throwing out all sorts of random names—President, Marshal, Captain, Undertaker, Little Tyrant, Yellow Mamba…

Wang Bo rejected all of them. Looking at the dog’s powerful build, he said, “Let’s call him Zhuang Ding! I hope he becomes a strong and able-bodied lad!”

“Zhuang… ding?” The cowboy struggled with the Chinese pronunciation, trying hard but never getting it quite right.

After that, they got back on the motorcycle. Wang Bo had Bowen go buy food and dog supplies, while he took the dog to a print shop. Wang Bo asked if they could make warning signs—he’d seen them all around town and wanted to follow suit.

The worker at the shop said no problem. Wang Bo paid a deposit and gave them the design details before leaving.

Bowen returned with bags of supplies, hanging them all over the ragged motorcycle. He picked up Wang Bo, and they sped off with the wind.

As soon as they left the dirt road, the ride turned bumpy. Finally, Zhuang Ding reacted. His doggy eyes widened in terror, and he turned to look at Wang Bo, mouth opening as if to bark. But right at that moment, the motorcycle hit a bump and went airborne. He nearly bit his tongue and instantly curled up tightly in Wang Bo’s arms.

Just as Lasek had said, even though he was big, Zhuang Ding was still just a pup. This kind of treatment was a bit too harsh.

When they reached the foot of the mountain, Wang Bo couldn’t bear to let his dog suffer anymore. He got off and led Zhuang Ding up the slope. It wasn’t more than two hundred meters high—a piece of cake for a mastiff.

But even walking, Zhuang Ding was dragging his feet, head drooped and tail limp behind him. If there had been a hole in the ground, he might’ve crawled in to hide.

Seeing this wouldn’t do, Wang Bo crouched down and had him sit. He cupped the dog’s face and locked eyes with him. “Zhuang Ding, this is your first lesson from your old man. Life is full of setbacks—for people and dogs. So here’s your motto: Don’t wimp out, just do it! Whatever you face, just tackle it head-on! Got it?”

Zhuang Ding was actually quite cute. His ears, muzzle, and eye rims were black, with bright brown eyes. His V-shaped ears lay flat against his cheeks, and his droopy lips made him look adorably dopey.

He stared blankly at Wang Bo, then slowly pulled his head away and continued trudging up the mountain—but this time, he stuck close to Wang Bo, as if saying: Dad, I’m being good, don’t leave me behind…

This time, the Commander didn’t come down the mountain—it had stayed behind in the castle. But when it saw Wang Bo returning, it joyfully flew down—until it spotted Zhuang Ding behind him. Instantly, its feathers puffed up and it flapped its wings, squawking angrily: “Ah! Your mom blew up! Ah! Your mom blew up!”

The cowboy burst out laughing. “I understood what that bird said! It’s gotta be saying: ‘I waited at home like a good girl, and you bring back a mistress?!’ Right? That’s totally what it means, right?”

“Get lost!” Wang Bo bellowed.

With that one shout, the Commander was heartbroken. Its mood dropped, and it too slumped down, as if its whole world had crumbled.