Shang Xi quickly adapted to the transformation process and dove headfirst into his new campus life.
He had sharp instincts and occasionally shifted into his nightingale form to take a quick flight around, though he never dared venture too far.
The elective class system’s biggest perk was the freedom from forced group activities, leaving ample time for personal growth.
The downside? He got lost now and then.
In nightingale form, though, Shang Xi’s sense of direction sharpened dramatically.
He could faintly perceive the geomagnetic field.
Outdoors, without a single cue, he instinctively knew north from south, east from west.
Heaven and earth formed an intricate web of magnetic poles, letting him pinpoint any spot through pure sensation.
Little Bird felt downright optimistic about it.
Come Spring Festival, they’d have a new game: blindfolded direction-guessing.
He might even take on a feng shui master as an apprentice.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder on his way to advanced math, Shang Xi spotted a familiar figure.
Fu Congxiao was there too, bag in hand, frowning at the busy intersection.
The crowd instinctively parted around him, leaving a wide berth.
The young man hesitated for a long moment before turning right.
“Senior Brother—” Shang Xi ambled over. “Where you headed?”
“To find Old Zhou,” Fu Congxiao said.
“Research Building’s that way,” Shang Xi said, jerking a thumb behind him. “You’re going the wrong way.”
The other refused to face facts.
“Old Zhou’s at a meeting in the Laboratory Building.”
“Laboratory Building’s over there,” Shang Xi said, pointing left. “Still wrong.”
Fu Congxiao mumbled something noncommittal and turned to leave.
Shang Xi trailed after him at a leisurely pace, in no rush to get to class.
Fu Congxiao halted, irritation flaring.
“What?”
“Wanna see how lost you can get.” Shang Xi grinned, bold as brass. “Senior Brother, that morning I overslept and bumped into you at the cafeteria entrance around ten—was that you lost on the way to class too?”
“Little Friend Shang Xi,” Fu Congxiao said evenly, “spilling everything you know on the spot doesn’t make you look especially clever.”
“I know,” Shang Xi said, batting his eyes. “But it’s super satisfying.”
“…”
Watching his senior brother stalk off in a huff, Shang Xi was still chuckling.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured a cobra hissing in fury, fangs bared but unable to strike.
Two seconds of glee later, something occurred to him. He fished out his schedule and glanced at it. His smile evaporated.
Crap. Afternoon adaptation class.
The school sprawled across an area rivaling Wetland Park, with half the campus given over to wild outdoor zones mimicking diverse climates.
Adaptation class meant every student shifting into their true form to acclimate to nature—and its predators.
Minimum five sessions a week, at least an hour each, no upper limit.
For big predators like eagles, falcons, or pythons, the wilds were paradise, pure freedom.
Classrooms felt like suffocating cages by comparison.
Shang Xi had put it off from Monday to Wednesday, but he knew he couldn’t skip anymore.
That afternoon, he dragged his feet to the Adaptation Base’s registration desk. He scanned his ankle ring, stowed his clothes, and ducked into a tent to shift into a little yellow sparrow.
Flying felt incredible.
He kept his human mind, reveling in the breeze’s gentle lift, the world’s boundless expanse.
Then, like a duck out of water diving into a pool, he flapped his tiny wings into the deep, shadowy forest.
Bad. Very bad.
The moment he entered, his sense of security plummeted. Instinct screamed to bolt back to the entrance.
Teacher!! I wanna do worksheets!!
Let me hit the books! Arithmetic sequences and parabolas are calling my name!!
It landed timidly on a branch, hoping to scout a nearby tree hollow and sleep away the required time.
Before it could steady itself, the branch twitched.
A crested gecko, perfectly camouflaged as a dead leaf, cracked open blood-red eyes and cocked its head at it.
Shang Xi: !!!
The nightingale practically sobbed as it launched skyward, unleashing a frantic barrage of screeches.
Aaaahhh—gecko!
Help! I don’t wanna be in the woods—I wanna turn human again!!
The fledgling’s panicked cries drew unwanted attention.
Snakes in the shadows thrashed their tails irritably. Malicious flocks chattered among themselves.
-Saw that new kid?
-C’mon, let’s use it as a volleyball.
-Count me in. I’m a pro at spiking, haha!
The nightingale didn’t dare perch anywhere. At last, it spotted a hole in a tree trunk and edged closer, tapping delicately with its beak.
It desperately wanted to speak. Damn it, why couldn’t it be a parrot?!
Shang Xi had no knack for bird calls. He gave it his best shot.
Hello? Anyone home? Mind if I hide in here a bit…?
Little Bird was just poking its head in when a tree snake struck like lightning, fangs gaping wide enough to swallow it whole.
Terrified, the nightingale lost its footing and tumbled headlong into a pile of dead leaves.
If he were still in human form, he would already be sobbing apologies nonstop, flailing helplessly to the point where he barely dared to breathe.
The tree snake had no intention of letting it go, and was even planning to have more fun with it.
It flicked out its tongue with a hiss, slithering down the pear tree as its prey kept shrinking back.
The next second, something rustled nearby.
The tree snake’s eyes changed in an instant, and it vanished without a trace.
The nightingale was a complete mess, its neatly groomed feathers now caked in mud.
He stood up trembling a little, fat teardrops rolling down his face.
I can’t take it anymore. I just want to go home. I hate this place so much…
When the shadow completely engulfed him, the nightingale didn’t even try to hide.
If you’ve got the guts, just eat me!! Go on, eat me!!
Sobbing and giving in to despair, he thought, My parents will burn paper money for me. In my next life, I’ll be reborn as a Guangdong chef and stew all you bastards!!
The cobra let out a soft hiss, as if to remind him.
The nightingale’s tears plopped down for a good while. Seeing that the snake wasn’t eating him, it took him half a day to react.
It looked kinda familiar.
He chirped twice. The snake seemed a bit impatient and finally lowered its head, nudging the little bird.
Shang Xi froze in place.
Fu Congxiao was a beautiful snake.
He was sleek and slender, icy cold, and the special curve of his neck gave him an exotic air reminiscent of an ancient Egyptian deity.
To the little fluffball, he could only gaze up at him, so tiny that he couldn’t even make out the snake’s eyes.
Shang Xi thought sadly, So I’m this small.
Fu Congxiao even had to lean down to see me.
The long, ink-green serpent—smooth as ancient jade—hovered low for a long moment, then nudged him again as if urging him on.
Don’t you usually love playing like this? What’s with the hesitation now?
Shang Xi had only learned two days ago how to retain his consciousness during transformation, so he had no memory of what came before.
He could hardly believe what the other meant.
Was Fu Congxiao telling him to—
The half-petrified little nightingale hopped onto the cobra’s head. Tense with nerves, his body wouldn’t stop shaking.
Once the long serpent confirmed he was settled, it meandered off leisurely.
Shang Xi was still caught between terror and unease.
This isn’t right. How can this work?
He—he—he was riding on Senior Brother’s head! Was this cheating? Would it tire Senior Brother out?!
Not three minutes later, the little yellow sparrow had fully embraced the idea.
What’s wrong with it?! Fox-borrowing-the-tiger’s-might is straight out of the jungle law playbook!!
Senior Brother must have his reasons for letting me ride on his head!!!
Fu Congxiao thought lazily, What a weakling.
You’re the only one who cries that hard.
Serpent and bird roamed the wild zone without a care or constraint, wandering wherever they pleased.
Wherever they went became their territory—no matter what was hiding in the caves or tree trunks.
Shang Xi’s hearing was sharp. He noticed that every time Fu Congxiao slithered near a spot, animals in droves would bolt from the vicinity.
Birds in flight, ground fowl, rabbits, mice, even other snakes.
If Fu Congxiao wanted to nap on a particular tree, nothing lived within twenty meters—not even the ground burrows, from which several snakes would flee in panic.
The young man thought solemnly, This is the world of the strong.
Fu Congxiao, I was a fool not to hug your leg sooner!!
Once the cobra had coiled comfortably on the tree, the little bird flew down and chirped softly.
He first drank some dew from the tender leaves, glanced around, then hopped to the snake’s side.
The little fluffball snuggled against the serpent’s scales and settled down to sleep, tucking his head under his wing.
He was warm and soft, pressed snugly against the cobra, gradually warming its body until it had some heat of its own.
Fu Congxiao was used to staying up late gaming or doing homework. During survival class, he’d just hang from a tree and sleep through it, still acing the scores.
His breed didn’t need to learn “survival” in the natural world anyway.
The young man was a restless sleeper—kicking off the covers on a bed, dangling like a messy seaweed on a branch.
Shang Xi was dreaming of donuts when suddenly he felt himself launched through the air like a baseball.
Eyes still shut, he was flicked into midair by the snake’s tail—only to be caught and reeled right back in the same instant.
Shang Xi: ??
Hey, you got any manners?
The cobra had been deep in sleep and woke just in time when it batted away its little accessory. The recovery was smooth.
Spotting the little nightingale’s face full of accusation, it patted his head lightly with the tip of its tail, as if to say it was no big deal.
Shang Xi deflated and put up with it.
He thought, I’m so mad. But I can’t leave him yet.
If I were a big fierce goose, I’d be chasing snakes all over the place by now.
Fine. Heaven gave me brains and beauty; I guess height was the trade-off…
When the two hours were up and he changed back into his school uniform as a human, Shang Xi let out a long sigh of relief.
He walked out of that class feeling reborn.
He could dress properly before heading out, walk on two feet again, speak normally with his tongue, and see those snakes and birds as puny little animals—being human felt so damn good!!
In two or three quick motions, he tied his tie, grabbed his phone, and called his parents.
“Hey—sonny—”
“Put it on speaker,” Shang Xi said. “You’ve both gotten off work, right? I have some important sentiments to share.”
His parents—one chopping carrots, the other rinsing rice—turned on the speakerphone.
“We’re here. Go ahead.”
“Dad, Mom,” Shang Xi drew in a deep breath and bellowed, “I love being human so much!!”
“There’s nothing bad about being human at all!! Taking classes and exams in the classroom is pure bliss!!”
“If you ask me, students should do practice problems and worksheets every single day!! Worksheets are our one true calling!!!”
Luo Suhe grew a bit worried. “Baby, have you been through something shocking? Are you okay at school?”
Shang Heping crunched on a carrot end. “Probably got a good lesson from Mother Nature.”
~~~
Professor Zhou returned a few days late, and Fu Congxiao’s days had not gone smoothly.
As a rare breed, he was constantly provoked by the shortsighted.
Some instructors, spotting that he was a venomous snake, instinctively shielded their students and issued stern warnings without bothering to sort fact from fiction.
