Chapter 2: The Ambush

Zhao Weimin carefully stepped through the snow, his footing uncertain as he pulled Lin Qian along. Both of them were dressed lightly, their bodies stiffening under the biting cold wind. Lin Qian, already frail, shivered uncontrollably, struggling to catch her breath.

Seeing this, Zhao Weimin took off his only sweater.

“Weimin, what are you doing?” Lin Qian was startled by his action and quickly grasped his hand to stop him. “You’ll freeze to death!”

“It’s fine, you wear it,” he insisted, ignoring her protests as he removed his sweater.

“I won’t wear it. I’m not cold!” Lin Qian stubbornly refused, her eyes brimming with tears. “What will I do if you collapse?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t collapse so easily,” he replied, forcing the sweater onto her.

Then he scooped some snow from the ground and began rubbing it over his body, as if it were bath soap.

Lin Qian’s eyes widened in shock, her breath catching. The weather was already freezing—why would he rub snow on himself? Was he hallucinating from the cold? She had heard of people dying from hypothermia in the mountains, who felt burning hot before their deaths and stripped off all their clothes. Could this be a sign that Zhao Weimin was about to freeze to death?

Overcome with fear, she embraced him tightly and burst into tears. “Weimin, please put your clothes back on. It hurts me to see you like this.”

His snow-covered hands were held fast as he looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. What he was doing was actually based on science. When your body temperature balances with the environment, you feel less cold. Rubbing snow on his skin was a way to lower his body temperature quickly. But this was risky—if he didn’t raise his temperature soon, he would freeze to death. Time was critical; he had to catch his prey quickly.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. We’ll talk about everything once we’re back. If I delay any longer, I might really freeze to death,” he assured her.

Hearing his calm and logical tone, Lin Qian hesitated but finally loosened her grip. “Are you really okay?”

“Trust me.”

He said no more, focusing on the change in his body temperature. Indeed, the cold had lessened, replaced by a burning warmth. His limbs loosened, regaining some agility. He made a silent gesture for her to be quiet and began scrutinizing the tracks in the snow.

The only sound now was the howling wind; Lin Qian’s sobs had faded. Based on the urine stains and rabbit tracks they found earlier, Zhao Weimin was certain there were snow rabbits nearby.

But the tracks suddenly vanished beneath a large cypress tree, as if they had disappeared into thin air.

Lin Qian noticed too. “Huh? How can that be?”

“You mean the tracks are gone?” Zhao Weimin nodded.

“There’s no rabbit burrow nearby either. Could it have flown away?”

Rabbits didn’t fly, yet the tracks had indeed vanished here. Experienced hunters would know what this meant—they called it “the rabbit becoming a spirit,” meaning the rabbit had covered its tracks. If you looked closely, you’d see faint sweeping marks in the snow—evidence that the rabbit used its fur to brush away its footprints, much like humans erase their traces.

In broad daylight, the glare from the snow would make such subtle signs nearly invisible; in darkness, without light, they’d be undetectable. Nowadays, without specialized equipment, few would notice.

“Let’s go!” Zhao Weimin whispered sharply, pulling Lin Qian forward along the trail.

Using snow to cool down and balance body temperature was a desperate tactic. Already, he felt his body growing cold again. If he didn’t act quickly, he might never leave this mountain alive.

Soon, he spotted a small patch of greenery—a kind of resilient herb called “Passerby Yellow”—growing protected within a thicket of brambles. This plant could survive temperatures as low as minus fifteen degrees and thrived under the shelter of the thorns.

Suddenly, the brambles stirred, moving without a breeze.

Lin Qian’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth. “It looks like something’s there.”

“Shh!” Zhao Weimin also saw the movement and held his breath.

Within the thicket, a patch of white blended almost seamlessly with the snow. Without sharp eyesight, it would have been impossible to notice.

A faint smile spread across Zhao Weimin’s face—his instincts hadn’t failed; the rabbit was indeed there.

“Wait here. You circle around to the back of the brambles,” he directed Lin Qian. “Remember, take the long way.”

Though she didn’t understand why, Lin Qian nodded and carefully moved in the direction he indicated.

With Lin Qian set, Zhao Weimin scanned the area once more and chose his own position, boldly circling around.

There was a strategy in the Art of War called “Surround the Enemy but Leave an Escape Route,” meaning to leave one side open and set an ambush there.

He and Lin Qian formed a pincer. To the east were snowdrifts; the only escape route was the path they came from. His ambush was the horsehair snare he had prepared. If the rabbit fled in that direction, it would fall right into the trap.

Warfare was akin to hunting. A group of hunters chasing wild boar often used this tactic—scaring the animal toward the trap to capture it.

While pondering, Zhao Weimin glanced at Lin Qian across the way; she looked at him expectantly, waiting for his command.

The rabbit was still quietly nibbling the “Passerby Yellow.”

Suddenly, as if sensing danger, it lifted its head and looked toward Zhao Weimin.

Their eyes met, frozen in a tense standoff for two seconds—moments that felt as if time itself had stopped.

Then the rabbit stopped eating and bolted.

This snowy forest was its home turf; it darted across the snow like a swallow in flight.

Zhao Weimin quickly signaled Lin Qian to move.

The rabbit noticed the movement ahead, its red eyes flashing as it skidded to a sudden halt.

After choosing its escape route, it turned back.

Zhao Weimin’s smile deepened—it was caught in the trap.

He followed at a steady pace until he reunited with Lin Qian.

Panting, Lin Qian held her stomach, tears streaming from the cold. “That was fast! There’s no way this creature got away, right?”

“No way,” he replied simply, leading her toward the snare.

Before they reached it, they saw a rabbit tied by the neck, kicking its hind legs fiercely, sending up flurries of snow.

“Got it!” Lin Qian clapped her hands excitedly, forgetting the cold in her thrill. “Got it!”