LAVW – Chapter 168 Tiger Tiger

After Shi Qian finished watching the diving performance, Merlin came to pick up the tiger.

Seeing Delin climb out of the water, soaking wet, then holding Jack and standing by the water’s edge to deliver classic movie lines with deep feeling, Merlin’s emotions were complicated.

Delin must really love acting.

Or else—he truly loved Jack.

But watching a man and a snake reenact a classic romance scene felt strange no matter how you looked at it, so Merlin quietly took Qian and slipped back home.

The next day, Merlin went early to repay the money—and she paid it back in full.

Shi Qian: !

Where did the money come from?

Shi Qian counted all the money in the house three times and still found it far from enough.

Staring at the tiger face that practically had “shock” written all over its whiskers, Merlin patted Qian’s tiger head. “Deanna gave me a card. There’s a lot, a lot of money on it.”

Shi Qian blinked, feeling that this was both reasonable and unreasonable.

Reasonable because it was Deanna—reliable and generous, a true pillar to lean on. Deanna straight-up “keeping” one person and one tiger wasn’t strange at all.

But Shi Qian understood Merlin’s little thoughts quite well. She probably wouldn’t accept such a large gift so easily.

Still, Shi Qian didn’t press the matter.

It wasn’t convenient to ask, and he couldn’t be bothered anyway.

Besides, being kept without having to give anything in return felt just like a daydream—only those who experience it know how good it feels!

One word sums it up: awesome.

Even so, a trace of doubt lingered in his mind.

That doubt was completely answered when Merlin began searching for a suitable rewilding training base for him.

Merlin was doing this for him.

Shi Qian felt a surge of emotion. His feelings were complicated, and he fell silent even inside the modified vehicle.

Sensing the white tiger’s quietness, Merlin—already not very talkative—grew even more reserved.

The calm accompanied Shi Qian and Merlin for several days.

Then, a few days later, that earlier silence proved to be a kind of omen—they found a satisfactory and suitable rewilding training site.

It was the reserve Pascal had introduced. The reserve had professional trainers and offered comprehensive rewilding services.

They had previous experience with tiger rewilding, though the last attempt hadn’t succeeded. Neither the tiger nor its owner had been able to persist through the training, and in the end both returned home. However, there were successful cases with other animals.

Merlin paid a large sum and signed a contract with the reserve, which included strict confidentiality clauses.

A famous tiger like Shi Qian—if news of his release spread, it would inevitably stir interest. With profit as temptation, there would surely be people bold enough to sneak into the reserve to hunt him for huge gains. Letting his release fall into others’ hands was absolutely not what Merlin wanted.

As for the risks in the forest, Merlin had already prepared herself mentally.

Even without rewilding, Qian was already very strong. Big Brother had personally assured her of that.

After Merlin spent a fortune, Shi Qian felt like a child sent to an advanced school—every day filled with study tasks he didn’t want to learn or do.

Even after finishing his “homework,” he still had to stay locked in “school” to continue learning.

To be fair, the training team was highly professional and enthusiastic. They kept improving and adjusting during training, fully living up to Deanna’s sponsorship.

Shi Qian learned how to forage, hunt, enhance mobility in the forest, sharpen recognition skills, and more. He could clearly feel himself growing stronger and better adapted to the wild.

The only problem was that the weather was getting hotter. Shi Qian started shedding fur—and started fearing the heat.

That day, after filling his belly, he ran back into the woods and jumped into a pool fed by an icy mountain spring to soak.

The spring water flowed constantly, refreshingly cool.

Shi Qian soaked in the pool, back against the rock wall, belly facing up, eyes closed, listening to the gurgling water by his ears and the chirping birds above.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Merlin’s voice calling him echoed from afar.

A wild tiger, of course, wouldn’t come running the moment it was called. Shi Qian slowly got up, shook the water off his body, and only then strode out with measured tiger steps, leaving wet paw prints behind.

When he reached the edge of the forest, Shi Qian’s eyes lit up and he ran toward the cheetah squatting nearby, waiting for him.

“Roar—”

Lancel, long time no see.

It had been a while, and Shi Qian had actually missed the guy.

Lancel sniffed the white tiger’s familiar yet unfamiliar scent—and froze for a moment.

At first, the cheetah thought he’d mistaken the tiger.

The change was too great!

When Lancel first met Shi Qian, Shi Qian was still growing, and Lancel still dared to go up and play with the little tiger.

Now…

It was probably only a matter of the tiger playing with him.

Hans and Merlin were also a bit nervous. Merlin said from the side, “Qian, this is Lancel. You still recognize him, right?”

Shi Qian leaned in for a friendly rub with the dazed-looking Lancel, showing that he still remembered this old friend.

Who would have thought—the “cheetah” immediately tried to dart away.

Shi Qian: …

Shi Qian extended his devilish tiger paw, pressed down on Lancel’s tail, then pounced and pinned Lancel completely to the ground.

But the tiger paw didn’t extend its sharp claws. Well-trained Lancel recalled his earlier experiences of being “bullied” by the little tiger and let out helpless, whimpering “ying-ying” sounds.

A leopard and a tiger began to “play” together.

The training specialists were quietly conflicted: the cheetah was also part of the training program.

But on second thought, on the savanna cheetahs and tigers would never normally cross paths. Not to mention that in front of a tiger, a cheetah was just a small thing, posing no real threat. All they needed was to cultivate the white tiger’s vigilance—so that it could tell this cheetah apart from other cheetahs.

Shi Qian roughhousing with Lancel was also a way of satisfying his own social needs.

As the rewilding training continued, his relationship with Merlin would have to grow “distant.” He could no longer spend all day with her.

The same went even more so for everyone else. This was essentially equivalent to Shi Qian cutting off his social life.

For a soul with social needs, having no social contact at all was undoubtedly a harsh test.

Shi Qian felt a bit stifled, so he actually had quite a good time playing with Lancel.

Lancel, noticing that the white tiger had only grown bigger and still posed no real “harm,” gradually relaxed as well.

In a way, Lancel also felt “lonely.” It was just that, compared with Shi Qian, it had long since grown used to this kind of life.

Watching them, Hans let out a sigh of relief and also confirmed one thing—unlike Qian, Lancel would never be able to adapt fully to rewilding. That spared him a great deal of worry, saving him from having to face the same painful choice Merlin had.

After two hours of play, once Lancel was sent off, Shi Qian exchanged a few words with Merlin in their shared tiger–human way, then returned to his original routine.

Structured, progressive learning; bloody, feral hunts; lazy, free-spirited strolls through the jungle; dull, quiet hours soaking in the bathing pool; and, under the arrangements of the training specialists, the gradually diminishing time spent together with humans.

By the time Shi Qian’s rewilding had progressed to the point where he could disappear alone into the forest for three to five days at a stretch, the sanctuary welcomed a new visitor.

In the reception room, Merlin saw Pascal—now rounded out by two extra circles—and stared in shock. “Pascal, what new role did you take on? How did it make you…?”

Pascal smiled helplessly. “That’s just how the role is written. No choice. I’m already trying hard to lose weight.”

But clearly, his efforts hadn’t had much effect yet. And having only just put on the weight, those indulgent days were far too intoxicating—Pascal hadn’t quite managed to adjust back.

Pascal brought good news. “Post-production on the film is more or less wrapped up. Director Laman plans to take The King to a few film festivals. After it finishes its release, it’ll be time for the Oscars and the Golden Globes.”

“Is the competition fierce this year?” Merlin asked with concern. “You might just win Best Actor. I’ve always felt you should have an Oscar.”

“This year’s a weak one,” Pascal said. “I’ve got three films out. We’ll see how luck goes.”

Pascal did care about awards—otherwise he wouldn’t have worked so hard—but at this moment, he was more concerned about the white tiger. “Where’s Qian? I want to see him. I’ve missed him to death.”

Merlin noticed that Pascal’s “he” had turned back into “it.” That meant that as time passed, Pascal’s obsession with Qian had faded. He’d likely stepped out of the role, leaving only his most basic affection behind.

“Qian’s still out roaming,” Merlin said. “No idea which day he’ll be back. If anyone spots him returning, they’ll notify me.”

“I really picked a bad time,” Pascal said, looking at Merlin with concern. “So you just wait like this, day after day, until… Qian stops coming back.”

“Perhaps.”

Merlin continued, “I’ll be leaving too. I auditioned for a role the day before yesterday—the director seemed very satisfied with me. And someone even came to me with animal actors, hoping to sign them under me, but I turned them down.”

“That’s the best ending,” Pascal said. “Both of you can be well.”

As he spoke, a faint sound drifted over. Merlin sprang to her feet with a whoosh and ran toward the back door of the reception room.

Only when she reached the door did she remember to call back.

“Pascal, keep up! Qian’s back.”

Pascal smiled—but as soon as Merlin turned away, the smile faded.

Shi Qian emerged from the forest, prey in tow—a small deer—and came to the edge of the sanctuary where he usually met Merlin.

Seeing the deer on the ground, Merlin knew it was a gift for her.

“Thank you, Qian, but I can’t give you anything in return anymore.” Following the rewilding plan, Merlin had to appear more aloof.

Shi Qian didn’t mind. “Ao—hou…”

I know.

When he saw Pascal, Shi Qian gazed at him, torn over whether to “recognize” him.

In the end, he decided not to.

Who told Pascal to get so fat he looked like two people!

Looking at the increasingly imposing white tiger, Pascal exclaimed sincerely, “Qian right now is like a true king of the forest. He’s incredibly majestic.”

Having lived in the wild, the white tiger was no longer pristinely clean, but neither was he dirty—he simply carried a few more traces of savagery. Like an innocent child who had suddenly grown up into a young adult tempered by hardship, his bearing was utterly different.

Only those blue eyes remained as clear and profound as ever, like a stone pool deep in the forest, cooling the heart even under the blazing sun.

Merlin said only a few simple words, then carefully removed a small camera from around Shi Qian’s neck.

The sanctuary had many cameras, but most were installed around the perimeter. To gather more detailed data, they had also fitted one on Shi Qian’s neck—supposedly at enormous cost.

Considering the money involved, Shi Qian hadn’t touched the thing on his neck.

But a little later, once his “wildness” grew further, he would have to deal with it.

Looking at the camera that had been removed, Shi Qian felt a twinge of heartache for the money.

Although he and Merlin were being “supported” by Deanna, he had once worked for a living and knew how hard it was to earn money.

After roaming the wild for several days and then seeing Pascal again, Shi Qian—who still harbored some fondness for bustle—started slacking off and went back to his bathing pool, soaking every day.

Pascal spent two days watching the tiger, comforted Merlin for a while, and then was chased off with an eye-roll.

Merlin was busy!

She and the training specialists had discovered a new problem—Qian, for all they knew, might have watched too many African savanna documentaries. He’d gotten lion-ish.

“He hunts like a lion—chasing the herd to get them moving, then picking off the weaker ones. That’s a classic lion-pride hunting habit.”

Hearing this, Shi Qian blinked his tiger eyes, a little stunned.

Too many lion documentaries! There could actually be side effects like this?

Fortunately, Shi Qian loved slacking off and also loved big cats’ ambush kills. At least he’d preserved his tigerly dignity—though he now had to begin another round of intensified “study.”

Merlin often stayed at the sanctuary, but she gradually began a new life of her own as well.

She went to auditions, but worrying about scheduling, she accepted only one role in the latter half of the year.

She still cooked delicious food, but occasionally made two different versions—without knowing who the lightly seasoned one was meant for.

She also tried dating, but men seemed to have grown uninteresting. Researching the latest products and going shopping with her girlfriends was far more fun.

Merlin continued learning Tiger Fist at the Hong Gang. The boss praised her talent—she could grasp the essence of the movements—but said she lacked aggression; the spirit just wasn’t quite there.

Merlin: …

Merlin ran back to the sanctuary, squatted in front of Shi Qian, and quietly complained to him about it.

Shi Qian thought to himself: that really is my fault.

He wasn’t exactly a proper tiger. Naturally, the “Tiger Fist” Merlin learned from him wasn’t that ferocious. Being able to master the forms and precise muscle control was entirely thanks to Merlin’s careful study of tiger acting and her thorough understanding.

After all, even when it came to hunting, the specialists occasionally suspected that Shi Qian was simply too lazy—only his overwhelming strength made it look effortless, making it hard to judge.

As the days passed, Laman took The King abroad to attend film festivals.

At departure, when reporters asked whether Golden Globe Best Actor Pascal could win another Best Actor award, Laman smiled. “This is the work I’m most satisfied with so far. Let’s wait for the results.”

The next day, newspapers began arguing over whether The King could win awards overseas and what Pascal’s true strength really was.

Deep in the mountains, Shi Qian knew nothing of this. Naturally, he also didn’t know that a few days later, on the other side of the ocean, crowds would go mad for him.

At the film festival, there wasn’t even a gender distinction for Best Actor—and a double winner emerged.

This “double yolk” shocked the world, because the winner—or, more precisely, the winning entities—were one human and one tiger.

And according to unofficial word from the jury, Pascal hadn’t received the highest number of votes. Those went to the animal actor.

Laman, holding the Best Picture trophy in one hand and the Best Actor trophy in the other, was also astonished.

He knew his film was excellent, but he never imagined it would turn the entire festival upside down.

All of this traced back to the moment when the chairman of the jury, as The King ended and the credits rolled, said through tears, unable to restrain himself: “If we let the actor who played the Little Tiger King compete, then we might just witness a miracle in the history of art.”

A juror laughed and said, “Why not try?”

And so they cast votes that produced a jaw-dropping result.

What’s more, they had no intention of changing it.

Laman, the chief culprit, was simply too powerful—he had created a role no filmmaker could refuse.

By the time Shi Qian learned of all this, the world was already in an uproar. The King was a sensation before release, with everyone everywhere waiting to see it.

Shi Qian, the tiger involved: …

He wanted to see it too!

Is it reasonable for a rewilded tiger to want to watch a movie?