The next day, I woke up early and prepared all of Syaoran's favorite dishes. I tiptoed into his room and gently nudged him awake.
"What do you want?" he mumbled, half-asleep.
"I made your favorite meat. Come eat!" I said with a grin.
He sat up instantly and rushed to the dining table like a child, already digging into the food before I could even sit down. I looked at him in disbelief and laughed, then joined him at the table.
After we ate, he took the plates to the sink and started washing them. I walked over, stood beside him, and quietly said, "Syaoran?"
He replied without turning, "Hmm?"
"Thanks… for yesterday. I won't ever forget it. You really became my family." I hugged him gently from behind.
He was touched. Patting my head, he said, "Fang… you became my family too. I was once someone who cared for nothing and no one. But meeting you made me understand what life truly is—and what it means to struggle and still smile."
I leaned back, smiling through my tears. Then I left for school.
While I was gone, Syaoran sat in silence, trying to piece everything together. The stone. The moon. My fall. His transformation. Something in his mind clicked—it all pointed back to the moon. But he wasn't ready to accept it. Not yet.
When I returned home in the evening, he was sitting quietly, watching the sunset.
I sat beside him. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said softly. Then turned to me. "How was school?"
"It went well," I said, pulling out a paper. "Look, this is my scholarship. Remember what my teacher said during the meeting? If I turn eighteen, I can go abroad to study! And I'll take you with me—we'll stay together, as a real family."
His eyes softened. But instead of smiling, he looked away, silent. My heart sank a little, and I went inside to eat dinner alone.
That night, while I was asleep, I turned to my right side—but the spot beside me was empty. Syaoran wasn't there.
I sat up immediately. "Syaoran?" I called. No response.
I walked through the house and finally saw him outside, standing under the full moon. His back was to me, his body rigid.
"Syaoran?" I called again.
No reply.
I went closer and tapped his arm. He didn't move. So I gave him a light kick.
That's when he turned.
His eyes were glowing, his expression fierce. A low growl escaped his throat. Slowly, he turned his face back toward the moon.
I was startled, but I wasn't terrified.
His hands trembled, his voice tense. "Go inside. Now."
He still didn't face me.
I followed his gaze. The moon was full. A light guess bloomed in my mind—and I stepped back quietly.
I went into the kitchen to get a cloth, but I accidentally pricked my finger. The scent of blood wafted into the air—and that was when Syaoran let out a wild, powerful howl.
I ran back out, and what I saw stopped me cold.
He was engulfed in glowing violet rays, with a golden beam in the center. His body shifted, transforming into a magnificent werewolf. Not terrifying—but beautiful.
You might wonder why I wasn't afraid.
But I've seen worse in life. This… this was nothing.
I started walking toward him cautiously.
Syaoran, now with four legs, stepped toward me. Then, in a swift movement, he ran up and gently licked the blood from my finger.
His aura changed immediately—stronger, calmer. He let out another low groan, almost like a sigh.
I panicked a little and withdrew my hand, but then reached up and touched his ear softly.
He didn't move. He simply sat beside me and bowed his head.
I stood there, stunned. In all the books at school, we were taught that wolves—especially those who transform—are dangerous. That we shouldn't even get near them.
But this… this was different.
As the moon slipped behind a cloud, the golden rays faded—and Syaoran returned to his normal form, lying quietly beside me under the night sky.