Chapter 23: The Gratitude of Lord Fuli

“Mmmmm—”

Seeing Lin Ying nearly faint from pain, she frantically scrolled through her phone, searching for ways to relieve menstrual cramps.

Had he been able to speak human language, An Sheng would have already called an ambulance for Lin Ying.

As a lifelong single dog in two lifetimes, and having taken health class in school, An Sheng knew women had a monthly period—but the textbooks never said it could be this terrifying!

Seeing a human suffer menstrual pain to the point of near fainting gave An Sheng’s tiny heart a massive shock.

“First, keep warm and apply heat to both sides of the lower abdomen—ideally making the patient’s body slightly warm.”

“And gently massage the spasming area.” An Sheng stared intently at the video tutorial, his fox face lighting up with sudden understanding: “I get it!”

After finishing the tutorial, An Sheng first opened the door from the bed to the balcony, letting the cold air escape.

Lin Ying’s air conditioner was absurdly cold—like she’d secretly turned her room into an ice storage unit.

Every time An Sheng left, he’d raise the AC from 16°C to 23°C—but the next day, when he came back for free meals, it was back to 16°C.

As the cold air drifted out, warm, humid air rushed in, and the room’s temperature slowly rose.

After opening the windows, An Sheng ran downstairs, dragged a bucket up to the second-floor bathroom, and filled it with hot water.

To quickly raise body temperature, besides curling up in bed watching spicy content, the only thing An Sheng could think of was soaking feet in hot water during winter to boost circulation.

“Splish-splash—”

Amid the sound of flowing water, the bucket filled to the brim. An Sheng stood upright, paws resting on the bucket’s edge, hind legs pushing the warm water bucket across Lin Ying’s floor to the bedside.

As for the water splashing onto the floor during the push—

An Sheng didn’t care; he’d wipe it up later.

“Mmm?”

An Sheng jumped and patted Lin Ying. With the room warming up, her complexion had slightly improved, but she was still pale with a bluish tinge, unable to speak.

“Mmmmm—”

An Sheng sighed, slipped under the covers, gripped Lin Ying’s icy ankles with both paws, and yanked her sideways on the bed until she lay flat—with her feet submerged in the warm water.

An Sheng poked his head out from under the covers, grabbed her phone, then ducked back in, downloaded a phone benchmarking app, started the test, and placed the phone on Lin Ying’s lower abdomen.

“At this point, you really need an iPhone.”

Seeing the phone’s temperature rise, An Sheng, who was already using his “paw-kneading” technique to ease her spasms, silently exhaled in relief.

With no heating pads available, and nothing else he could think of that could rapidly warm without causing harm, the only option was a benchmarking phone generating heat.

Five minutes later.

Lin Ying’s body temperature gradually rose; the cold sweat and chill on her arms vanished.

Her cheeks turned rosy, no longer pale. An Sheng let out a long, relieved breath.

Under the covers, An Sheng lay flat across Lin Ying’s lower abdomen, using his own body heat to keep her warm.

Most foxes have a slightly higher body temperature than humans.

The phone had moved from her abdomen to the bed, its shopping app open. An Sheng lay on her belly, kicking his legs as he browsed, adding items he liked to the cart.

Among them, An Sheng bought massive quantities of glue—from regular super glue to industrial-strength “can bond an aircraft carrier” adhesive.

He also bought herring cans.

But seeing the price of the herring cans, An Sheng sucked in a sharp breath.

One herring can cost over three hundred.

The online store noted, however, that the three-hundred-yuan cans were genuine human-grade food.

The hundred-yuan cans were bloated, fermented, spoiled—unsuitable for eating; usually bought by influencers for pranks. Not recommended for regular consumers.

An Sheng thought for a moment and bought three of the spoiled ones.

But An Sheng was so focused on the prank that he never realized those three spoiled herring cans would leave a deep psychological scar on his fox life.

“Gurgle-gurgle-gurgle”

As An Sheng shopped online, Lin Ying’s stomach suddenly growled. An Sheng froze, lifted his arm to lift the blanket, and through the mountain-valley gap, locked eyes with her open ones.

An Sheng lifted his chin and gave a greeting.

Lin Ying nodded silently, pulled the blanket over herself, and pressed the fox-shaped heating pad against her abdomen.

…………

About half an hour later, after washing off his fatigue at Lin Ying’s place, An Sheng slinked back through the door and sprawled out on Yu Xueqing’s bed, fast asleep.

“Slap—”

An Sheng had just fallen asleep when he suddenly felt someone patting his belly.

He opened his eyes to see Yu Xueqing, already dressed, lying beside him, grinning as she pinched his belly, clearly delighted.

“Mmm?”

‘Master~ Foxie wants to sleep more.’

An Sheng asked Yu Xueqing what was so exciting that she woke him up so early—he didn’t have morning classes.

But his confused fox speech, filtered through Yu Xueqing’s machine translation, became a soft, cutesy, ultra-saccharine maid voice.

“Hehe! Little An, wake up—time for breakfast!” Yu Xueqing beamed at the fox, pressing her cheek against his chest and rubbing back and forth, a look of bliss slowly spreading across her face.

For some reason, An Sheng’s white fur was especially fluffy and soft—like a floral, fruity velvet cake, incredibly fox-pleasing, endlessly cuddle-worthy.

“Where to eat? I just ate.” An Sheng sat up straight, licked his lips, and instinctively yawned.

“You haven’t tasted anything this good yet!”

Yu Xueqing beamed, scooped up the half-asleep fox, and carried him to the bathroom to clean up.

The fox fit perfectly in the sink. Yu Xueqing pulled out pet nail clippers and trimmed the fur between An Sheng’s toe pads.

Little An had a slight quirk—he loved keeping his paw pads smooth and clean.

Yu Xueqing didn’t know why, but since Foxie liked it, she didn’t mind the trouble.

“Little An, don’t move—there’s some stray hair here.” After trimming his paws, Yu Xueqing suddenly spotted several strikingly dark stray hairs on An Sheng’s belly under the sunlight.

An Sheng was entirely white—except for his eyes, nose tip, and paw pads.

And the black bullseye on his belly.

“Snip—”

Yu Xueqing, delighted by the stray hair, snipped it off.

An Sheng, who had been half-asleep, instantly widened his eyes, as if struck by lightning.

“Aqing, you—”

Hearing his cry, Yu Xueqing froze, confused: “Can’t I cut it?”

Moments later, after brushing his teeth, An Sheng, for the first time ever, did not use the toilet at home—he ran outside.

An Sheng, face filled with sorrow, spread his hind legs over the dried flowerbed in the courtyard of his self-built house.

The stream of urine, which should have been a straight line, somehow splattered in all directions like a sprinkler.

Had An Sheng not still had a bit of abdominal strength, the urine might have splashed onto his belly fur.

“.”

Watching the fox’s sprinkler, Yu Xueqing’s expression turned complex and guilty—she’d just searched online about the stray hair on the fox’s belly.

That so-called stray hair had a simple, widely known name in zoology: the urination hair.

With it, the fox could spray urine eight feet into the wind.

Without it, the fox gets a sprinkler.

“Aqing, are you done? The village chief is at our door.”

Yu Zhenghong’s voice came from the living room, reaching Yu Xueqing’s ears as she stood there, expression twisted.

The only good news: the fox’s stray hair would grow back in a few days.

The bad news: for the next few days, the fox would have to carry a sprinkler everywhere.

“Coming, Dad!” Yu Xueqing covered her face, vowing never to be so careless again.

(End of Chapter)