Chapter 111: The Imperfect Training

Zhou Xingxing nodded firmly, taking several deep breaths before she regained control over her emotions.

She glanced at Zhang Congwen and signaled him to continue. Zhang said, “Now you can take it a step further. Gently tap Banban’s chest with your palm a few times, then slowly move upward to the head, and finally to the cheeks.”

For some reason, both Zhang Congwen and Zheng Wubin felt a trace of nervousness.

This step was crucial; all the prior preparation had been leading up to this moment. If Banban still exhibited strong resistance, all previous efforts would be in vain.

Zhou Xingxing’s hand slowly landed on Banban’s chest, giving a few gentle taps.

Zhang exhaled slowly in relief. Banban did not show any sign of resistance.

Then, Zhou’s hand gradually moved upward, touching Banban’s head. Banban’s mood remained steady.

Everyone held their breath as Zhou’s hand began to approach Banban’s cheeks.

Suddenly, Banban struggled.

Zhang’s heart sank, but he quickly noticed that Banban’s resistance was very mild. He hurriedly said, “Hold it tight; don’t let it try to run away.”

Zhou was momentarily stunned but soon realized what to do. She quickly used her other hand to steady Banban and gently stroked its cheeks.

Banban’s struggle intensified somewhat but remained within a tolerable range.

Seconds passed like hours.

Zhou no longer restrained Banban with her hands but kept gently caressing its cheeks as she began to clean the crusted discharge from the corners of its eyes.

Over time, the discharge had become hardened, filthy, and blackened, sticking to the fur around Banban’s face.

Zhou’s movements were very delicate, doing her best not to cause Banban any pain.

The discharge was removed, falling to the floor.

Banban ceased struggling.

“Look! The Samoyed’s tail is wagging!” Zheng Wubin was the first to notice, his excitement barely contained.

Fearing his voice might startle Banban, he spoke in the softest tone he could manage.

Yet, his exhilaration was unmistakable.

Even though the Samoyed hadn’t bathed for a long time and carried a noticeable odor, Zhou showed no hint of disgust.

She slowly and gently lifted Banban into her arms, softly patting its back.

At that moment, Zhou could no longer hold back her emotions; tears streamed from her eyes once again, this time tears of pure joy.

Zhang Congwen exchanged a glance with Zheng Wubin. Together, they quietly slipped out of Zhou’s home, giving her and Banban as much peaceful solitude as possible.

Outside Zhou’s door, Zheng said to Zhang, “Your plan was really risky. Luckily, it worked. If it hadn’t, Banban’s condition might have worsened.”

Zhang, exhausted, finally revealed his true state—fatigue not of the body, but the spirit.

Zheng was right. Zhang’s method was daring but necessary.

He simply couldn’t conceive a better approach.

If this attempt had failed, Banban might never have been saved.

Thankfully, it succeeded.

“Do you think the Samoyed recognized itself in the mirror back then?” Zheng asked.

“I don’t know,” Zhang shook his head. “But it must have recognized Zhou Xingxing. The fact that it came back and was willing to live with her shows it hadn’t forgotten the past. It was just too deeply traumatized to accept Zhou immediately.”

Zheng looked at Zhang, his eyes filled with depth.

“You know, I used to suspect you were related to Old Qian somehow,” Zheng admitted.

Zhang chuckled softly.

“Now I realize I overthought it,” Zheng continued. “I wondered why Old Qian would want to cooperate with a newly opened dog training center. Now I see—you’re truly remarkable. I feel like you can always understand what a dog is thinking.”

“Not that amazing,” Zhang replied quietly, unmoved by the compliment and feeling somewhat melancholic. “This is the best I can do. I have some guesses about why Banban refuses to touch things another dog has used, but I’m powerless to change that. This is something I really can’t fix.”

Zheng patted Zhang on the shoulder, offering some comfort. “Don’t dwell on it. Everyone has their limits. What you’ve accomplished is already impressive. I’m certain very few dog trainers in the country could have handled a case like this. That you and the dog can now coexist harmoniously is a great success.”

“Maybe,” Zhang forced a smile, though his heart felt hollow.

In the past, solving a dog’s problem always brought him satisfaction. This time, that feeling was absent.

He couldn’t shake the sense that the problem he couldn’t solve was not a trivial one.

But since he couldn’t truly know what dogs think, he had done his utmost.

Before leaving, Zhang left the mirror at Zhou’s home and advised her to persist with this training every day.

Still uneasy, Zhang cautioned, “I suggest you throw away all of Peipei’s belongings. If you can’t bear to part with them, at least store them somewhere Banban can’t see.”

After parting with Zheng, Zhang did not return to the training base but went back to his rented room to rest properly.

In the following days, apart from continuing daily training with Dasheng, Zhang remained mostly inactive. Even when new clients came to the shop, he found excuses to postpone their cases.

“What’s wrong with Zhang Congwen? He seems off lately,” Song Jiawei whispered to Zhu Qingyan, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I don’t know. He’s been like this since that dog training trip. We didn’t follow him, so we don’t know what happened,” Zhu replied.

“Don’t you know him well?” Song asked.

Zhu raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been with him longer than I have; don’t you know better?”

Song countered, “Our understandings are different. I’m just worried something might happen if he stays like this.”

Fortunately, Song’s worries were unfounded. After half a week of rest, Zhang finally recovered.

“Among the accumulated cases, are there any urgent ones? Let me handle those first,” Song said when he arrived at the training base.

“You finally remember to work? Do you know how hard I worked to keep these clients calm?” Song grumbled upon seeing Zhang back to his usual self.

Still, he continued sifting through a pile of files without pause.

“This one,” Song flung a file onto Zhang’s desk. “Simple reason: biting.”