It was raining in this world.

The rainy world was gray, drizzling down steadily, hitting the black asphalt roads, striking the rust-frozen charred shells of armored vehicles by the roadside, and falling on the green grass blades emerging from gaps in the metal casings. Through the sparse curtain of rain, Ban Xia could see the layered buildings across the Crescent Lake Bridge, as if viewing them through frosted glass. Under the iron curtain-like heavy, stagnant cloud cover, Nanjing’s cracked earth resembled a withered corpse—it was hard to tell if it represented death or rebirth. Everything was slowly collapsing, yet yellow and white wildflowers sprouted along the roadsides.

She hummed softly, not quite remembering all the lyrics, only the melody.

The rain grew heavier. The girl stood up straight in the doorway, feet together, standing very erect.

Raising her hands, she pinched her thumb and middle finger together, rising slightly on her toes, like a symphony conductor standing before the rain, facing the entire city.

She took a deep breath and began to sing:

“Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain…”

“Telling me just what a fool I’ve been.”

It was an English song that her teacher used to sing.

“The only girl I care about has gone away…”

“Looking for a brand new star.”

She couldn’t remember all the lyrics—English songs were still too difficult for Ban Xia. Although her teacher had hummed it many times and taught her to sing it, what kind of person was Ban Xia? She could only read elementary-level English texts with an English-Chinese dictionary in hand. Ban Xia often wondered if this thing was a human language.

Sentences and articles cobbled together from individual letters—how fragmented.

But her teacher said the Latin alphabet system was still normal; if you looked at Arabic or Pashto, those were truly alien scripts.

Ban Xia asked her teacher: Do you know those?

The teacher nodded and said yes.

Ban Xia: Then say something in them?

Teacher: Allahu Akbar!

“When my heart somewhere far away…”

“Zhe ou ni ge ai kan o bao te ha zi gou o wei—”

To be honest, what she sang was neither entirely English nor Chinese. In this world, no one could define her language. She didn’t understand the meaning of the lyrics she was singing because of her limited English skills—she had no idea what she was singing.

She was just singing a mysterious song, one that contained ancient wisdom but whose true meaning had been lost to history.

Ban Xia used Chinese phonetic notation when learning English: “Yes” became “Ye si,” and “bus” became “ba si.” When her teacher sang “I can’t love another,” for Ban Xia it became “Ai kan luo fu a na ze er.” She didn’t necessarily understand the meaning of these lyrics—after all, no one could translate what “Ai kan luo fu a na ze er” meant.

“Rhythm of The Rain” in Ban Xia’s eyes became “Rui zen o fu zha ruan.”

Looking at just the title, it seemed like something a half-beast shaman would chant during rituals.

Besides “Rui zen o fu zha ruan,” Ban Xia could also sing “Zha—en—gou gu na tian xi nuo yo ni—! Xiao—nian—en yo xin wa ni na ni—!”

Human languages had lost their original meanings, leaving only their sounds, and so songs became mysterious chants—which sounded quite punk.

“Rain in her heart.”

“And let the love we know start to grow.”

“Rhythm of the Rain” was a classic old song with a melodious tune, and Ban Xia sang it melodiously too. She waved her hands while singing, like conducting an invisible symphony orchestra.

In the pouring rain, this was her private stage.

She was both a conductor and lead singer.

“Oh listen to the falling rain—”

The melody soaring high—!

The girl pointed her right hand at the grass by the roadside, as if it were the wind section of the orchestra, her hand gently lifting upward to indicate the rising melody.

“Oh listen to the falling rain!”

Descending note!

The original song’s final section had an ascending melody, but Ban Xia changed it because it was too high for her to reach, so she made it descend instead.

“In Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain.”

Her hand swept downward, tracing an arc like a roller coaster plunging from its peak, passing through the low point before reaching a second peak, then Ban Xia clenched her fist tightly—the music stopped abruptly!

Ban Xia proudly bowed left and right, thanking her invisible audience, then turned around and opened her eyes.

Her heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The doorway behind her was packed with audience members—over a dozen large black eyes curiously watching her, their big ears perked up. It was a group of sika deer that had come here to shelter from the rain.

Ban Xia suddenly smiled and gracefully bowed to them.

“Thank you, everyone.”

···

Dragging the hunted sika deer back to the residential complex, the rain had stopped, and Ban Xia’s long-planned hunting operation was about to begin.

“A Bengal tiger?” The voice from the radio was startled.

“Yes, a Bengal tiger,” Ban Xia nodded. “There’s a Bengal tiger in Nanjing city. We’ve encountered it before—I think it’s the one causing trouble.”

When she mentioned last night that there was a tiger in Nanjing’s urban area, it gave BG4MXH quite a fright.

Even now, remembering it made Ban Xia want to laugh.

Was it really that scary?

“Wh-wh-what should we do… Big sis, you absolutely must not act rashly, it’s too dangerous, too dangerous! I-I-I’ll have them send you a main battle tank…”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“I’m not joking, we’re talking about a tiger! Its paw is as big as your entire face! A monster that can kill a cow with one bite—this isn’t something humans can fight against.”

“Is my face really that big?”

“Okay, its paw is even bigger than your face, which makes it even more impossible for humans to resist. Big sis, please don’t do anything foolish.”

“You forgot to say OVER.”

“OVER.”

“I have a gun.”

“Even with a gun, it’s too dangerous, OVER.”

Ban Xia dragged her prey through the main gate of the Meihua Villa complex. It was getting late; it had rained all day, and the ground was still wet.

Perhaps in the eyes of people from twenty years ago, tigers were far more dangerous creatures than wolves, which was why BG4MXH wasn’t alarmed about wolves but panicked at the mention of tigers. But Ban Xia didn’t see it that way—wolves weren’t just dogs, and tigers weren’t necessarily much more troublesome than a large pack of wolves. Both were dangerous predators.

She had seen tigers before.

Regarding tigers, she clearly understood them better than the young student sitting behind the radio who never left home.

A Bengal tiger’s territory could span hundreds of square kilometers, while the entire Qinhuai District was only fifty square kilometers. This meant a wild tiger’s territory could encompass five or six Qinhuai Districts. She was almost certain this tiger was the same one she had encountered before—an old acquaintance.

“BG4MXH, I’ve seen tigers before. I’m not afraid of it. I can handle this. I’ve already made a plan.”

“Handle my ass! Don’t be reckless, don’t confront it directly, absolutely do not confront it directly! Just stay home and don’t go out for a while, wait until it leaves, OVER.”

“What if it never leaves?”

“Then you leave. Move somewhere safe. A good man doesn’t fight tigers, OVER.”

“I’m not a good man, I’m a girl.”

“So you know you’re a girl?! Don’t be stubborn now, my dear lady. I just wish I could reach through this radio and drag you back here, bring you to this side. Don’t play with fire—you’re not Wu Song, what tiger are you trying to fight? You’re worth your weight in gold, not a hair on your head can be harmed. If anything happens to you, what are we supposed to do?”

Ban Xia pulled her cart with a complete deer carcass on it.

She rarely brought back complete prey because she didn’t need it all, but today’s catch wasn’t for herself—it was bait. The Bengal tiger active around Meihua Villa was second in size only to the Siberian tiger. It could be over two meters long, weigh more than two hundred kilograms, and eat sixty kilograms of meat in one meal. It could swim rivers and climb trees; it could knock out Mike Tyson with one swipe like it was child’s play. For this kind of supreme predator—the most fierce, dangerous, and versatile apex predator in nature—small bait wouldn’t work. If you’re going to play, play big.

Her teacher used to say that in ancient times, people hunting tigers used whole pigs or sheep as bait. Tiger hunting required large traps and large bait.

In her teacher’s youth, tigers were extremely endangered. Back then, there were many humans and few tigers, so people protected tigers.

But now Ban Xia was the only human left in the whole world. Humans had become an extremely endangered species—few humans and many tigers. By logic, tigers should be protecting humans.

Why hadn’t all the world’s tigers gathered for a meeting to issue a “World Wildlife Protection List” and classify humans as critically endangered?

“Miss BG4MSR, please understand that you are now the hope of the entire world. Your life safety is more important than anyone else’s. No matter what, you cannot venture into danger, OVER.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m begging you, I’ll kneel and kowtow to you. My lady, did you hear that bang-bang-bang sound? OVER.”

“You’re knocking on the table.”

“BG4MSR, why must you have a grudge against that tiger? OVER.”

“Because this is a rare opportunity.”

“You mean it’s a rare opportunity for it, right? It rarely gets a chance at an SSS-grade ultra-rare ingredient—a human girl, a once-in-a-lifetime delicacy, the only one in the world, with no duplicates… My lady, wouldn’t it be better if you let it go and it lets you go? OVER.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Ban Xia dragged her prey, carrying her shotgun, walking along the path into the residential complex. Ever since discovering the Bengal tiger near Meihua Villa, she carried the shotgun whenever she went out.

“Because I must kill it.”

“Does it have a grudge against you? OVER.”

“Yes.”

“What grudge?”

“It killed my teacher.”

···

“BG4MXH, you know tigers as creatures—they won’t rashly attack prey they don’t understand. Although they’re very fierce and powerful, they’re also very cautious. My teacher once told me a story called ‘The Donkey of Guizhou Shows Its Limited Tricks,’ about a tiger seeing a donkey but not knowing what kind of creature it was, so it repeatedly tested the donkey until finally confirming it wasn’t dangerous before pouncing and eating it.

So thinking back, that tiger must have been tracking us for several days. Its movements were just too stealthy, and we were too careless—we never noticed… until that evening when my teacher was bringing me back from the seaside. Because we didn’t estimate the time very well, by the time we reached the residential complex, it was already dark.”

“Then it attacked you? OVER.”

“Yes. My teacher and I were about to enter the complex gates. She had just taken off her backpack and gun to give to me when it suddenly sprang out from behind us, immediately biting my teacher’s shoulder and dragging her toward the bushes. I was completely frozen with fear—I didn’t know what it was, just a huge shadow suddenly appearing and taking my teacher away. I stood there unable to move until I heard my teacher shouting: Run! Run! Only then did I know to run. I ran home like a madwoman, locked the door tight, and cried heavily. I was soaked through—only when I took off my pants did I realize I had wet myself.”

“Then what happened? OVER.”

“I kept crying and crying until late at night when I heard someone knocking. I went to open the door, and my teacher had returned. I was overjoyed. She said the tiger had dragged her very far, but she managed to stab her knife into its eye, and the tiger ran away. My teacher was amazing. I hugged her tightly, but she was covered in blood, and the wound on her shoulder was terrible. I helped the teacher bathe, cleaned her wound, applied medicine, and bandaged it, then had her lie in bed to rest.

I thought the teacher would get better—after all, she was so capable that even without a gun, she could drive away a tiger with just a knife.

But in the following days, the teacher started running a high fever.”

“Teacher kept having high fevers, her face was pale, and I was so anxious I wanted to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I used all the medicine we had, and I even gathered herbs to make soup for the teacher, but her condition just wouldn’t improve. At night I slept next to her, holding her, and could feel how burning hot her body was.

The teacher’s appetite got worse and worse—she couldn’t eat and would vomit. I cooked for her, made congee with salted fish, wild vegetables, and lotus seeds, and made smoked venison strips, but she couldn’t eat any of it.

She would sleep for entire days while I sat by her bedside keeping her company. Then one afternoon, the teacher woke up. She gently patted my shoulder and told me she wanted to eat something.

She said, ‘Ya Ya, I’m a bit hungry. I’d like something to eat.’

I was so happy—the teacher finally wanted to eat something. She was going to get better.

I hurried to the kitchen to cook for her. I cleaned a wild chicken I had caught the day before and made a pot of soup. I thought a sick person should drink some hot soup—that would make them feel better.

I spent a long time making the soup.

I cooked the meat until it was very tender, then let it cool for a while before bringing it into the room, and calling the teacher to get up and eat.

I held the bowl and called out, ‘Teacher, teacher! Look at the chicken soup I made for you!'”

“But the teacher didn’t answer me.

She was already dead.”

Ban Xia decided to use an entire sika deer as bait to trap the Bengal tiger. She chose a good location, setting the trap between two residential buildings. She decided to keep watch day and night from upstairs, staying on the balcony or by the window with her gun. If the tiger fell into the trap, she would immediately shoot it dead.

“BG4MSR, if you absolutely must take down this tiger, you have to wait for me. I’ll go consult experts for you, OVER.”

“Experts? Are there people who specialize in hunting tigers in your era?”

“Uh… no, hunting tigers is a crime in our time—you’d go to jail. But some experts study tigers. I’ll call the Northeast Tiger Forest Park! Find someone to help you make a plan. I’ll go look tomorrow—you must wait for me tomorrow night! My lady, did you hear me? OVER.”

“Alright, alright.”

Last night BG4MXH said he could help find experts, but Ban Xia knew very well that when it came to hunting any animal and what methods to use, only experienced old hunters who had spent years hunting would have the most expertise.

When it came to dealing with wild beasts, there probably weren’t many people in BG4MXH’s era with more experience than herself.

But since he said he wanted to help, it wouldn’t hurt to listen to his opinion later.

After all, more people meant more power.

Ban Xia casually put down her shotgun and crouched to check the trap setup, then turned to move the dead deer.

She suddenly froze.

Her limbs went completely numb and rigid; she could barely feel her heart beating.

Roughly estimating, the girl was no more than a meter away from that thing, almost face to face. At such close range, through the dense green bushes, she could even see her reflection in that amber-colored eye.

Yes, plans never keep up with changes.

You have a plan, but the other side doesn’t necessarily follow it. They might appear at any time—like now.

Ban Xia’s mind went completely blank.

The last thought that flashed through her mind was:

She wouldn’t be going back tonight. Sorry, BG4MXH, she would have to break her promise.