Chapter 21: Sweet Song · 3

The couple still harbored a selfish wish deep down: they didn’t want their child studying so far away.

Their small city might not be as prosperous as Hangzhou, but life there was warm and steady. The family could see each other every single day.

They had originally planned to head home and discuss it for a few days before making a final decision. But that very night, after Shang Xi fell asleep, he transformed back into the little nightingale—and nearly suffocated under the covers, unable to fly free.

Luo Suhe brought a mug of hot milk and knocked on the door. No answer. When she pushed it open, she spotted a telltale lump under the blankets, accompanied by the little bird’s frantic chirps for help.

She hurried over and yanked back the covers. The little yellow sparrow burst out in a flurry of feathers, darting straight to the living room and circling wildly around the fluorescent lamp overhead.

Shang Heping craned his neck to watch, not daring to try catching it for fear of hurting the poor thing.

“We still have to face reality,” he said, trying to console his wife. “Our kid’s calls really do sound just like an electric scooter.”

Luo Suhe kicked him.

Two days later, the couple completed Shang Xi’s school transfer paperwork. With hearts full of reluctance, they sent him off to Hangzhou once more.

An adolescent’s transformation period was notoriously unstable. He still needed professional oversight and guidance.

Seated on the high-speed train, Shang Xi unconsciously rubbed his leg against the ankle ring.

He had never been one for jewelry, but he would have to get used to its constant presence from now on.

Shang Heping couldn’t bear to watch. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a large sack of snacks.

“Your mom and I picked these out for you. Not sure if you’ll like them—we’ve just been too embarrassed to hand them over until now.”

Shang Xi assumed they were cookies or chips. He took the bag casually, then froze.

Freeze-dried crickets.

Freeze-dried mealworms.

Black soldier fly cat-claw biscuits.

Salt-and-pepper cherry cockroaches.

Shang Xi’s silence was deafening.

His father said earnestly, “Your mom and I were wiping away tears the whole time we scrolled through Taobao! She was sobbing and asking me whether you ought to sleep in a pure cotton bird’s nest or a wool one.”

A few passersby nearby caught snippets of the conversation and stared in utter bewilderment.

Luo Suhe hissed under her breath, “Keep your voice down—we all signed nondisclosure agreements.”

Shang Heping lowered his to a whisper for his son. “We already bought them. Why not give them a try?”

For the first time, Shang Xi found the journey to Hangzhou interminably long.

With a stern expression, he twisted open the lid on the mealworms, intending to take a sniff and shove it back inside.

The moment the foil seal tore, a toasty aroma like roasted wheat wafted out. The boy’s throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed.

Luo Suhe watched, her heart aching yet glad. “It’s a good thing if you like them. Go on, try one?”

Shang Xi glanced silently at the words “pet snacks” emblazoned on the packaging, then popped one into his mouth.

The texture was like a rice cracker—crisp and roasted, with an oddly sweet milky flavor.

…It was delicious!

The boy resolved to ignore the images of parrots and lizards printed on the bags. He tore them all open, one by one, and sampled everything.

The freeze-dried crickets tasted like oatmeal chocolate.

The cat-claw biscuits had a rich, savory beef flavor—better than any jerky he’d ever tried.

As for the cherry cockroaches…

Shang Xi frowned and tossed one into his mouth. He chewed with a complicated expression.

Damn, it was actually good—like a sweet-and-sour pork snack.

Shang Heping felt a strange thrill, as if he could raise both a son and a pet at the same time. “Want Dad to buy you more? How about some cuttlefish bones for grinding your teeth?”

“I like these ones, and these,” Shang Xi said, rifling through the bags. “We can stock up on some at home, too.”

He pulled out a bar of his old favorite oatmeal chocolate and took a fresh bite.

Human food had started to taste bland.

The sweetness and savor were still there, but muffled somehow, distant and dulled.

In a fit of self-resignation, the boy kept munching on the cherry cockroaches.

He didn’t even want to imagine what they served in the school cafeteria.

The enrollment procedures went smoothly.

Professor Zhou rubbed his bald head with a cheerful grin. “Perfect timing—there’s an empty spot in Fu Congxiao’s double room. The kid can bunk there.”

The couple wasn’t entirely reassured. They sent Shang Xi off to buy a bottle of water from the campus shop, then pulled the professor aside to ask privately: What kind of animal had this Fu classmate transformed from? Was there any danger?

“He’s a cobra,” the old man replied with a hearty laugh. “Likes field mice and rabbits. Oh, and small birds, too. Our school shop’s freeze-dried quail sells like hotcakes, and the cafeteria can’t keep pigeon soup in stock!”

Luo Suhe snatched up the luggage and turned to leave. “Absolutely not! I’ll take him back to the countryside and we’ll live there for the rest of our lives!”

“Hold on,” said the professor. Though his face still bore that amiable smile, his tone grew earnest and steady. “Have you ever stopped to think what the world will look like in the future?”

“Right now, wild animals are confined to the suburbs and zoos. But the genetic mutation rate keeps climbing.”

“Soon enough, your son might discover his neighbor is a python, his boss a swan—and he could bump into a bamboo leaf green just riding the bus.”

“Uh, Professor,” Shang Heping ventured, “what about folks like us, who can only stay human?”

“Humans, Feather Descendants, Snake Descendants—we’ll all have to adapt to a world where the three coexist sooner or later.” The old man shrugged. “I’d love to turn into a bird myself. Commuting to work by flying right over would be great, but please, not a vulture.”

Judicial systems, employment, transportation, social rules—they’d all change eventually.

The couple was meticulous and still brought some gifts before going to meet Fu Congxiao first.

The young man looked defiant on the surface, but in front of his roommate’s parents, he appeared reserved and restrained.

“Thank you, Uncle, Auntie. No need for gifts. I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’re so skinny, wearing so little—are you cold?” Luo Suhe gently touched him, her voice full of concern. “Congxiao, you just got over an illness, didn’t you? Your complexion doesn’t look good.”

“Auntie, I’ll leave some fish oil vitamins for you too. Take them when you have time—don’t refuse this time. Thank you for looking after Xiao Xi.”

Fu Congxiao seemed like he’d never been fussed over before. He paused blankly for two seconds before awkwardly murmuring his agreement.

Shang Heping was off to the side, helping make the bed and wipe down the bunk ladder. As he passed Fu Congxiao’s bed, he caught sight of the ID tag.

[Name: Fu Congxiao

Age: 17

Gene: Sama Spectacled Cobra

Advisor: Zhou Baofu]

“Hey, it really is a cobra. I’d completely forgotten.” Dad Shang said casually.

Fu Congxiao’s eyes darkened slightly. In a low voice, he said, “Uncle, Auntie, don’t worry. I don’t have any venom normally. I won’t hurt him.”

Shang Heping clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s so cool! Sounds totally badass!”

Fu Congxiao: “…”

Meanwhile, Shang Xi picked up two sets of school uniforms, completed his identity registration, and under Professor Zhou’s guidance, filled out a class schedule.

“Credits for cultural classes and Survival Class are calculated separately each semester. You’ll need to meet the graduation requirements.”

“If you don’t like English, you can take Japanese or Spanish instead. Some teachers are too lazy to come in person, though, so those end up as online classes.”

The little old man thought of something and added, “Our school’s final exams usually have Snake Descendant teachers proctoring. They’ve got built-in infrared sensing—pulling off any sneaky moves is basically impossible. You get what I mean, right?”

“Cheating is shameful,” Shang Xi said with utter sincerity. “Teacher, I’m already prepared for make-up exams.”

Professor Zhou: ?

That evening, the family had dinner together on 109th Street before parting reluctantly.

When Shang Xi returned to the dorm, he felt a little out of sorts.

His life over the past week felt like he’d suddenly stepped into a sci-fi novel.

The school was fitted everywhere with reinforced infrared sensors. The dorm doors had fingerprint locks, and if anything unusual was detected, the dorm supervisor could push right in to guide or assist the students.

He’d stopped by that afternoon and found the room bigger than a standard six-person dorm.

The layout was like a one-bedroom apartment.

Pushing open the door revealed two bunk beds—upper bed, lower desk—along with a private bathroom, balcony, and a simple connection to an Ecology Room.

There were no partitions separating the human and animal living spaces, just a ten-centimeter threshold.

The Ecology Room measured nearly eight square meters, its floor covered in thick fine sand. There were rock piles for hiding, along with tree branches and bird nests.

Shang Xi had been exhausted all day but needed to stay in human form to get things done. Now he draped a blanket over himself and instantly shifted back to his bird body.

Sensing a student who hadn’t yet entered the Stabilization Period undergoing Transformation, the dorm door and windows clicked shut automatically.

The little nightingale hopped twice, pecking at his silver-white Ankle Ring with his slender beak. He wasn’t too happy about it.

The closest daddy and mommy from his imprint weren’t here anymore. Even their scents were slowly fading away.

The fluffy little bird ball floated into the air, taking stock of his new home.

He had no interest in the bed or desk. Instead, he flew first to Fu Congxiao’s desk, perched on the rim of his cup, and took a couple sips of water before heading into the dim Ecology Room.

The bird nest offered good cover and had no odd smells, but it needed some grass and mud to reinforce.

The little nightingale leaped onto the soft grass patch, scratched aside the alfalfa, and keenly spotted a dark green little worm.

He hopped nimbly over and snapped it up in his beak, chomping away.

The cobra had been dozing lazily but sprang upright with a threatening hiss.

The little nightingale tilted his head, eyeing it as he kept chewing the tip of its tail. The texture was pretty good.

Fu Congxiao was already itching to swat this furball against the wall with one tail swipe.

Are you brain-dead? Can’t you tell predator from prey?!

You’re the size of a biscuit—everything must look like a predator to you, huh??

The little nightingale hadn’t regained his human senses yet. He chewed a couple more bites, then looked up to see a pair of dark red eyes fixed on him. He flapped his wings and took off.

Then landed precisely on top of its head.

The cobra, now topped with a clump of nightingale: “…”

It slithered forward, aiming to flick on the daylight lamp so this idiot could see exactly what it was doing.

Little Bird had been a little nervous at first, but he quickly discovered the fun in balancing atop the snake’s head like it was some kind of self-riding scooter.

It was so convenient—no need to flap his own wings.

As the light brightened, the snake gave its neck a shake, but Little Bird stayed right where he was, perched calmly on its head.

He showed zero signs of budging.

Fu Congxiao: “……”

The snake slithered back to the blanket in the corner and shifted into human form.

The Nightingale fluttered over on his own, settling atop the young man’s hair and promptly dozing off.

So soft. So thick and lush. Perfect—no need to bother building a nest.

Fu Congxiao grabbed his phone and scrolled to the message his senior sister had sent half an hour earlier.

[An Ming]: Old Zhou’s off to Beijing for a work conference. He told you to take good care of little junior brother this week—don’t let it be a hassle.

[An Ming]: Cultural classes you can ignore, but keep an eye on him during Survival Class.

[Fu]: Got it.

His senior sister replied with an adorable Snow Owl clutching its heart emoji.

[An Ming]: You’re a trooper! You’re a trooper!

[An Ming]: Is he scared of you? He knows you don’t have any venom most of the time, right?

Fu Congxiao reached up to stroke the fluffy puffball on his head—and promptly got pecked.

Gritting his teeth, the young man typed out a reply.

[Fu]: Oh yeah, he’s super close to me.