He desperately wanted to tell Yan Tuo that aside from his mother—who was currently out of the country on a long-term business trip—he had no other family left, and no one who would worry about him.
But how could he bring himself to say it? It would make him sound like some freeloader who had a home to go to but was stubbornly clinging to someone else’s.
Anyone trapped in the throes of unrequited love became hypersensitive, their pride as fragile as glass.
Bai Yiyi feigned nonchalance and mumbled an agreement, hoping to brush the matter aside for now.
Yan Tuo, however, was a decisive man of action. No sooner had he given his word than he marched straight to his superior to request time off.
He hadn’t been in the office long before he received swift approval—but not without a round of teasing from Li Zhong.
“What’s this? Your sister tells me you and this girl—Su something or other—hit it off? Coming to ask for leave already… got some plans brewing? Taking her out for a fun trip?”
Only then did Yan Tuo remember that whole business. He had agreed to keep in touch with the girl, hadn’t he? She might even be waiting for his reply right now.
But he’d spent the entire day fixated on the little white dumpling. The thought of that other person had completely slipped his mind.
As a man, he couldn’t very well leave it to a lady to take the initiative every time. Yet with everything Yiyi had been through—this utterly bizarre ordeal—the boy’s situation took absolute priority. Until he knew Yiyi was safe and settled, Yan Tuo couldn’t muster a scrap of interest in anything else.
He didn’t go into details with Li Zhong, brushing off the questions with vague replies. Back at his desk, he notified Sun Lei and Cao Yiman about his vacation plans. With that, everything was set.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when Bai Yiyi climbed into the car, that he realized Yan Tuo had been dead serious.
The drive from J City to H City spanned nearly six hundred kilometers. A high-speed train would have been the fastest option, but live animals weren’t permitted, and shipping the little white dumpling as cargo felt far too cruel.
The police vehicle from the bureau wasn’t for personal use, so Yan Tuo had borrowed a Hummer from Hua Hongqing overnight. Once he’d gotten the precise address, he punched it into the GPS and set off for home.
Seven-plus hours behind the wheel alone was no small feat.
Bai Yiyi crouched on the passenger seat. After the initial wave of sadness and reluctance faded, heartache and gratitude took over. Finally letting go of his reluctance, he chattered away, cracking jokes left and right to keep his guardian from growing drowsy.
Everything went smoothly. They left at nine in the morning and pulled into Sunshine Palm Garden in Jingshui District, H City, C Province, at a little past four in the afternoon.
Bai Yiyi’s home was in Unit 2, fifth floor, Room 07. The door had a keypad lock, so man and bird slipped inside without a hitch.
“You… make yourself at home. I’ll go change forms.”
With that, Bai Yiyi darted into the bedroom on his own.
Yan Tuo lingered in the living room, taking in the unfamiliar space.
The layout was three bedrooms and a living room, totaling just under a hundred square meters. The place had sat empty for two months, yet it was impeccably clean.
The color scheme was almost exclusively yellow and white: white ceiling and walls, white marble floors, and warm yellow wooden furniture throughout. It felt sleek and modern, with an undercurrent of natural elegance and grandeur.
A small room adjoining the living room served as Bai Yiyi’s studio. Peering through the doorway, Yan Tuo saw shelves crammed with paints and brushes, meticulously arranged in perfect order without a hint of clutter.
Paintings were displayed everywhere. On the wooden easel by the window sat an unfinished piece in verdant greens, its colors so vivid and overflowing that they inexplicably called to mind the bountiful gold of autumn harvest.
He glanced briefly into the kitchen and bathroom, noting the unmistakable signs of single-person living.
Moments later, the young man who had left such a strong impression on him emerged from the bedroom. Yan Tuo took in every detail once more.
He wore a crisp white polo shirt tucked into relaxed chinos, his hair neatly combed. The long, straight bangs reaching nearly to his ears shrouded his eyes entirely. At first glance, the hairstyle evoked his bird form perfectly—even his expression seemed to echo it.
Eager to play host, the boy rummaged frantically in the fridge for ages before pulling out a bottle of juice. With a smile, he offered it over. “Yan Tuo, thank you for driving me all the way home.”
Hearing his own name in that voice—so clear and crisp, identical to the bird’s—brought a rush of familiarity. The questions bubbling in Yan Tuo’s mind could no longer be contained.
“You live here alone? Where’s the rest of your family?”
Bai Yiyi nodded. “Yeah, just me. My dad’s been gone more than ten years now—passed from illness. Mom’s overseas on a project; she won’t be back for at least half a year. She has her own place too, right here in the complex over in Unit 6.”
Yan Tuo frowned in confusion. “No other relatives or friends you could stay with? You’ve been missing for two whole months—how is it no one noticed?”
Bai Yiyi wasn’t sure if he should feel sad or relieved about that. Either way, the lack of notice meant fewer complications. In a quiet voice, he explained, “No relatives left. I’m not big on socializing, so I don’t have many friends. I usually hole up at home painting or browsing online… so yeah, it’s pretty normal for me.”
That settled, he thought of how Yan Tuo had driven all day, surviving lunch on a few hasty steamed buns from a rest stop. Eager not to let his guest go hungry, and embracing what felt like his final chance to cook for the man, Bai Yiyi bustled about, procuring vegetables, washing and chopping them, then firing up the stove. Right at the one-hour mark, he served up two vegetable dishes and a soup.
He shifted back into bird form and squatted on the table to share the evening meal with his guardian.
Yan Tuo took a bite of the stir-fried hollow-stemmed greens and suddenly understood. “Those two meals back at the house—they were made by you, weren’t they?”
Bai Yiyi waved off the praise sheepishly. “Yeah, I was craving something hot, so I whipped some up. Good thing you didn’t mind.”
“Meaning you tidied the place too?” The now-spotless apartment back home mirrored this cozy nest perfectly.
His bangs drooped even lower as Bai Yiyi muttered, “I saw how swamped you were, so… I just tidied a bit.”
Yan Tuo shoveled down several mouthfuls of rice before adding, “Not just that. The red graffiti from the serial killer case—that was you too, right?”
What kind of X-ray vision did this guy have? How had a quick walk-through revealed everything so clearly?
Bai Yiyi hadn’t expected to be found out again. He stammered, “Ah? H-how did you… I swear, I didn’t mean to scribble all over it! I just… my hand got itchy somehow, and then…”
Yan Tuo couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. The boy had helped him tremendously, all unwittingly, and now he was too bashful to own up to it. Unable to resist, Yan Tuo reached out and gently smoothed the little white dumpling’s bangs, interrupting with amused reassurance.
“No need to tense up. That ‘itchy hand’ of yours was a huge help to us. I pieced it together when I saw your studio. You’re a talented painter, aren’t you? That unfinished one by the window… it feels so comforting. Though I couldn’t quite make out the subject—just why all that green keeps evoking the golden hues of autumn for me.”
A kindred spirit! Bai Yiyi’s eyes lit up like fireworks. A complete outsider, grasping the essence of an abstract piece so profoundly—it had to be a resonance of souls!
Nodding eagerly, he beamed. “That’s exactly it—autumn! It’s the third piece in the Green scroll, the third of the four seasons.”
Savoring the delicious, perfectly suited meal, Yan Tuo felt relaxed and cheerful. Curiosity piqued, he asked, “So there must be the first two—spring and summer?”
The topic soured Bai Yiyi’s mood a touch. The full story was too complicated to explain all at once, and he regretted selling those paintings for the first time ever. Otherwise, he could have given his crush a proper tour and breakdown.
He brushed it off with a casual, “Already sold,” and dropped the subject.
After dinner, ever the gracious host, Bai Yiyi suggested a stroll around the neighborhood.
His apartment sat on one of the city’s busiest stretches. A short walk away lay a pedestrian street flanked by quaint folk alleys, which came alive at night with glowing lights and bustling night markets.
Yan Tuo readily agreed. He hoisted the little fellow onto his shoulder, and the pair set out.
With China’s booming economy, many major cities had converged into similar molds: forests of steel and concrete teeming with ant-like crowds.
Yet H City stood out distinctly. Old-style residences dotted the landscape, life moved at a leisurely pace, and every few steps brought a tea house or mahjong parlor. Street stalls hawked every imaginable snack.
Though it was Yan Tuo’s first visit, he’d often tagged along with his mother to her hometown of A City as a child—also in C Province—so he caught most of the local dialect and found the customs and scenery endearingly familiar.
As they wandered aimlessly, they drew stares everywhere they went. Utterly oblivious, each chalked it up to the other’s presence. Little did they know, the combo of a towering, ultra-handsome guy and an irresistibly adorable little white dumpling packed a visual punch far beyond one plus one.
If Bai Yiyi’s greatest post-transformation gain—beyond meeting his crush—was anything, it had to be his thickening skin.
Strutting through the gaze-filled pedestrian street, he still felt perfectly at ease, furtively whispering recommendations into Yan Tuo’s ear now and then: This shop’s stuff was top-notch, totally delicious; that one’s all flash, no substance.
When they reached the edge of a small square, they happened upon a street performer: a young guy with a mohawk, strumming and singing on an electric guitar. A handful of onlookers lingered around, and his open guitar case displayed a payment QR code alongside a few crumpled bills on the ground.
Bai Yiyi found himself rooted to the spot.
He’d probably dumped all his talent points into painting and cooking, leaving absolutely nothing for music. As a kid, he’d tried learning a bunch of instruments—flute, violin, the works—but not a single one was worth showing off. They were all so hopelessly atrocious that he’d quit every time halfway through.
That was why he was so envious of anyone who could play like this. Watching the guy handle the guitar so effortlessly made starry-eyed admiration well up inside him, along with a hefty dose of jealousy. He just had to throw some support the man’s way.
“Yan Tuo, can you spot this guy 50 bucks for me? I’ll PayPal it back to you when we get home. His guitar playing is just way too good.”
Yan Tuo arched a brow slightly, his tone skeptical. “This guitar playing… is good?”
Bai Yiyi gazed at it in open worship. “Of course it is! His hand speed’s so fast it’s practically leaving afterimages. How is that not good?”
Yan Tuo said nothing more, waiting patiently until the song wrapped up. Seizing the moment while the guy took a break to sip some water, he scanned the payment QR code and sent the money over. Then he stepped forward with a casual greeting.
“Hey, bro, that was a solid performance. Mind if I borrow the guitar for a sec?”
~~~
