As a hunter who had lived here for many years, Wu Mo naturally knew these circumstances like the back of his hand.
Wang Yang, since childhood, had never wandered more than a hundred meters from his little cabin.
"Alright, it's getting late. Let's go to bed. If we stay outside any longer, we'll be feeding the mosquitoes!"
Wu Mo affectionately touched Wang Yang's head, then stood up and carried the bamboo chair back inside the wooden hut.
Wang Yang was naturally very well-behaved, following Wu Mo into the house. The interior was simply furnished: a kang bed-stove, a wooden table, and a few bamboo chairs.
All were handcrafted by Wu Mo himself. Over the past seven years, he had learned much. At the very least, he had learned to cook well and take care of a child.
Wu Mo went to bed first, and normally Wang Yang would be by Wu Mo's side because there was only one kang bed-stove and for his safety—after all, this was deep within the mountains.
