Chapter 26: Sweet Song · 10

Afterward, although the Discipline Office posted an announcement explaining the incident, no one was willing to believe it.

Wind Oil Essence?

You mean that stuff that sent someone rolling on the ground in agony—the very thing that kept Yellow Hair sidelined for two weeks—was Wind Oil Essence?

The campus forum threads exploded with over eight hundred posts of juicy gossip, eyewitnesses chiming in with fervent testimonies.

“That was straight-up snake venom!! I smelled it!! The stench was eye-wateringly pungent!!”

“Way too ruthless—no holding back. It was just a prank, and he went nuclear!”

But even more people fired back.

“You lot bully people all the time yourselves. Hit a tough customer? Tough luck.”

“Who told you to mess with him? I got shaken down for snake sheds once. Should’ve handled it the same way!”

Shang Xi himself stayed perfectly level-headed, eating and drinking as usual. After class, he headed to the lakeside to feed the ducks like always.

His popularity had actually shot up; he’d even made a few little snake friends.

After all, Little Nightingale came off as cheerful and friendly, and he’d delivered a solid warning to those troublemakers on behalf of the underdogs. Folks dubbed him the Wind Oil Essence War God.

The Discipline Office ramped up security with over a dozen new cameras and a fresh crew of patrolling guards. They gave Shang Xi nothing more than a token warning.

Life grew blissfully quiet for him and Fu Congxiao. Every now and then, someone would even leave a snake fruit at their door in thanks.

On the way back to the dorm, Shang Xi brought up the snake fang.

Fu Congxiao didn’t mince words. He pulled open the drawer, picked out a pristine, translucent fang, and offered it to him.

“If you like it, it’s yours.”

A cobra’s fang warded off evil and made a fine primer for certain remedies.

Some retained traces of poison glands and ended up in labs for study.

He was human, yes—but also a rare snake descendant. Attention was bound to find him eventually.

Shang Xi took the fang and held it up to the light.

“The texture’s like jade,” he said, peering closely. “Your snake fangs would actually make killer earrings. Super cool.”

Fu Congxiao replied flatly, “Then get your ear pierced.”

“No thanks. That hurts like hell.”

“……?”

The next survival class rolled around, and a few little snakes slinked over to hang out with Little Nightingale. Other little birds watched the fun from a distance.

Fu Congxiao sprawled out like seaweed over a branch, catching up on sleep amid the chatter as if it were background noise.

The afternoon sun warmed him nicely. He squinted, watching the crew bat sandbags around with their tails.

A sudden gust whipped in, and the little snakes arched up, hissing on instinct.

The wild goose wheeled down and trumpeted at the nightingale.

The big bird cut a striking figure—sleek lines, broad wingspan—so gorgeous that several little snakes forgot to even hiss a warning.

Fu Congxiao cracked his eyes open. He saw Little Yellow Sparrow bouncing excitedly toward the goose, then pivoting to chirp at him insistently.

Senior Brother, I’m gonna go play somewhere else with him for a bit. Catch you later—

The cobra flicked out its tongue, watching the nightingale take off with the wild goose.

They climbed high fast.

At first he could still make out their wings; soon they shrank to black specks, then nothing.

Fu Congxiao recalled that nightingales were migratory birds. Wild geese too.

They flocked across thousands of miles through winter, seeking warm-spring homes.

None of it concerned him.

The cobra stayed put, voiceless, flightless.

The other little snakes hissed sympathetically before slithering off the tree for other games.

Fu Congxiao waited alone for an hour.

Faint birdcalls drifted from afar now and then.

Too distant to discern.

What had blended into habit like second nature suddenly felt thin, brittle.

He couldn’t shake the thought: wait a bit longer, and Shang Xi would return.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

Dark notions slithered in the shadows, tongues flicking.

Fu Congxiao coiled into the tree hollow, ignoring them coldly until they ebbed.

Some unknowable time later, the wild goose glided in with Little Nightingale perched on its back.

They’d had a blast, trilling cheerful goodbyes.

Little Nightingale hopped toward the snake’s nook, set to rouse him for the end of class—only to find the snake gazing at him silently, holding back.

From dismissal bell to dorm return, Fu Congxiao uttered not a word.

Shang Xi figured he’d reverted to his sourpuss mode.

What’s the big deal? Mad enough to go mute.

He tried inviting him to the cafeteria; stone-cold rebuff.

“No.”

“Don’t follow me.”

True to his word, Shang Xi halted, no humming tune as he trailed along.

Fu Congxiao took a few steps before sensing the emptiness behind. He glanced back.

Shang Xi was gone.

Neither knew what silent contest they were locked in.

Fu Congxiao ate solo, buried himself in the lab till ten p.m., then trudged back to the dorm through the night.

His phone remained silent, without a single message.

He told himself it was time to cool off a bit.

He couldn’t very well lock his only friend in a birdcage.

The cobra slithered into the ecology room through the dim light, lifting its head to listen for the nightingale’s song. But the room was utterly quiet.

It spotted a fluffy ball perched on a branch. Sensing the movement, the ball flapped over.

The snake hissed twice, and the bird immediately launched into a chirping tirade against it.

Scolding for ages didn’t ease its anger, so it clamped down on the snake’s tail and chewed furiously.

The cobra was utterly baffled: ??

Aren’t we in the middle of a fight??

The nightingale kept chewing the tail while eyeing it: Oh, so what??

The next second, the snake’s tail whipped free and smacked the nightingale’s rear, nearly sending it tumbling end over end like a ball.

Shang Xi: …!!

No!! Since when do you have such a temper?!

It flew up, aiming to land on the snake’s head again, but lost its footing and tumbled down.

Shang Xi was about to crash into the grass. He figured even if he got covered in dirt and mud, he could rub it all over Fu Congxiao and make a mess of him to feel better.

The next instant, the nightingale was caught by the snake’s tail and wrapped up rather tightly.

The little bird let out a bewildered chirp, unsure if it was about to be strangled or eaten.

But the snake simply held it fast, refusing to let go for a long time.

He vaguely sensed that the man was embracing him.

Awkwardly, refusing to admit it, clinging tightly without release.

Little Nightingale was coiled up like the cream filling in a Swiss roll. At first it felt a little cold, but gradually the warmth seeped in.

It didn’t struggle. Instead, it calmly accepted the situation.

I’m all fluffy and soft; it’s only natural for him to want to hold me.

If he likes it, let him hug away. I’ll just doze off like this.

When he woke the next day, Fu Congxiao had slipped away without a word, leaving a cranberry sandwich on the table.

Shang Xi took a bite. If this counted as an apology, he’d grudgingly accept it.

The two never spoke of the matter again, not until the sports meet arrived right on schedule.

The school suddenly came alive, shedding its air of higher learning to become a boisterous playground overrun by rowdy students.

The announcers bellowed with enthusiasm, while the coaches waited eagerly for the spectacles.

The school’s PE teachers were all veterans from provincial and national teams; nothing surprised them anymore.

The limits of pure human speed had been tested countless times in competitions, but these gene-awakened students? Even a middle schooler could hit Olympic caliber.

That was why most international events now ran secret blood tests, barring anyone special from competing.

Encouraged by several teachers, Shang Xi took the stage rather shyly to sing.

He was fine before opening his mouth. But the moment he did, the students within broadcast range erupted.

What’s going on?!

Suddenly everyone’s super pumped!!

I wanna sprint laps like mad—every bit of energy in me is surging!!

Shang Xi sang on at the broadcast booth, oblivious to the chaos in the distance for the moment.

His light, carefree song retained its lively spirit even over the airwaves, igniting the atmosphere like a spring day.

The high jump coach gawked upward in a daze.

Two point five meters??

Did that kid just clear two point five??

The two-kilometer race judge stared blankly at his stopwatch.

How much?? Three minutes??

Only a few noticed the catalytic effect of the song.

Most just felt like today was going to be an absolute blast.

So invigorated and clear-headed—run all you want, no fatigue. Body revved like a full-throttle engine, sparks practically flying!!

Professor Zhou’s WeChat was flooded; he couldn’t respond to the messages.

Professor Hu: That wind oil essence little bird of yours is incredible??

Teacher Xu: Quick, have him sing another one!! I haven’t finished collecting data here!!

Dean Feng: Write up a report for me later.

Old Zhang: Does your student need a manager? Our company wants to debut him. Think it over.

Shang Xi wrapped up happily after three songs. Though the teachers tried to keep him, he waved goodbye with a smile.

He showed up right on time at the swimming hall, iced soda in hand, to cheer for Fu Congxiao.

The two had still been on the outs a couple days prior, but they nodded to each other from afar.

“Get ready—”

“Go!”

The tall, lean youth dove into the azure water, streaking toward the far end like lightning.

His back was ruler-straight, his lean muscles tracing smooth arcs with every powerful stroke.

Shang Xi watched with bated breath, jumping to his feet as Fu Congxiao surfaced.

“You’re first!!”

“Senior Brother’s the best!! You swam so fast!!”

He helped him out of the water, draped a towel over his shoulders, and dried his hair, eyes sparkling.

“You swim just like a water snake—left everyone in the dust!”

“Teacher was just saying that you’re definitely going to break the record, Senior Brother. You’re so amazing, so amazing!”

Shang Xi showered praise without holding back, like a flood of rainbow candies ready to drown anyone in sweetness.

Fu Congxiao let him towel off his damp hair before murmuring after a long moment, “I’m still a little mad at you.”

Shang Xi found it amusing. “Wasn’t it just me going out for a few joyrides with some other seniors? Is that such a big deal?”

The youth gazed at him sullenly.

Shang Xi didn’t indulge him in the slightest, pulling an aggrieved, innocent expression instead.

“I’m Little Bird, you know. I’m just born to flit around everywhere… Can’t I?”

Fu Congxiao fell silent, lowering his head to sip the ginger tea and chase away the chill. In the next instant, Shang Xi wrapped his arms around him.

The youth was soft and warm, clinging tightly and refusing to let go.

“Senior Brother, don’t be mad anymore, okay?”

“I sang a bunch of songs for the whole school today. Did you hear them?”

“I heard them all,” Fu Congxiao admitted in a low voice, letting Shang Xi hang off him. “Your singing has always been the best.”

Unconsciously, he hugged back, his arms tightening around him like a serpent’s tail.

How he wished this boy belonged to him alone.