Chapter 42: Sweet Song (Extra)

Summer vacation felt like a potent antidote after months of grueling long-distance longing.

On the drive home, Shang Xi forgot he was clutching Senior Brother’s hand so tightly until sweat slicked his palm.

Shang Xi’s father chattered away from behind the wheel about how much a colleague’s high school senior had spent on cram classes, while Luo Suhe offered half-hearted agreement, her mind already on where to take the boys for a nice treat tomorrow.

Fu Congxiao sat quietly in the back, a little dazed from the firm grip.

Even now, he still couldn’t quite believe that Shang Xi really liked him.

They had kissed and hugged, slept tangled up together more times than he could count, yet the thrill of being wanted still felt like a dream.

Deep down, Fu Congxiao knew it all stemmed from a profound self-loathing.

From the moment his birth had branded him with original sin, so many things had become unsolvable.

Lost in thought, he felt Shang Xi gently pry his fingers open, wipe the damp sweat from his palm, and then clasp his hand even tighter.

Fu Congxiao turned to him and murmured, “I’ve always felt like it was one-sided.”

“You’re holding on so tight—I’m not used to it.”

Shang Xi brimmed with self-assured delight. “Of course it’s a huge blessing to be liked by me.”

He went on, “There were times when I called you that I just wanted to burst into tears.”

“During those months when I couldn’t see you at all, the second I heard your voice on the phone, I wanted to whine and complain like a baby.”

I like you so much, but I never get to see you. What am I supposed to do, Senior Brother?

Senior Brother, I want to sit in class with you, take walks with you, burrow under the covers and sleep until ten without stirring.

Can you feel what I’m feeling?

Fu Congxiao thought back carefully. “But you never did.”

“That’s my genius,” Shang Xi said smugly. “If I had, you’d have felt awful, and so would I. No point in that.”

Better to keep things simple and joyful—let all the bad moods take a hike.

Fu Congxiao mulled it over and had to agree.

Status changes, getting shunned at school—none of it seemed to faze Shang Xi much.

He had the kind of easygoing nature that never stewed in silence.

To celebrate the family reunion, they hit up a fancy seafood buffet and swapped university stories over the meal.

Luo Suhe noticed her son idly prodding the octopus on his plate after he’d eaten his fill. Curious, she asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

“You know,” Shang Xi said with mock gravity, “what if the genetic shift back then had been cat and dog instead of snake and bird? Or bird and fish?”

Fu Congxiao gave it a calm once-over.

“First off, if it was cat and dog, every cat and dog kennel out there could board up their doors. Pet licenses would come with mandatory bloodline tests.”

“Secondly, bird and fish? Half our school would be underwater in an aquarium. You might end up sleeping in the bathtub at night.”

Shang Xi sighed wistfully. “Why can’t I be some irresistibly charming mermaid?”

Shang Xi’s father speared a slice of sashimi and tossed out, “Then be a little breadfish in your next life. Your mom and I will hook you up with a fancy bathtub.”

Once they got home, Shang Xi’s father pulled out a stack of freshly laundered new pajamas.

“You boys shot up like weeds—last year’s stuff is already snug. Good thing your mom keeps track; she picked up a bunch of new sets the other day.”

Shang Xi took them with a quick thanks and said goodnight to his dad.

The door clicked shut, and Fu Congxiao began unbuttoning his shirt to change.

Shang Xi’s cheeks pinked up as he stood there watching.

The young man drawled leisurely, “You not changing?”

“Oh,” Shang Xi said. “No rush.”

Fu Congxiao shrugged off his shirt, revealing the taut muscles from chest to waist.

Shang Xi thought even top male models had nothing on him and reined in the urge to reach out and touch.

Senior Brother’s such a natural clotheshorse. In a couple years, he’ll hit six-foot-three easy.

Fu Congxiao let him stare as he slid off his trousers and reached for his sleep pants.

Shang Xi froze for a second. “What’s that on your ankle?”

Fu Congxiao replied evenly, “Finally noticed?”

Shang Xi halted his motion, sat on the edge of the bed, and drew his leg closer. There it was: a silver ring around the other’s ankle.

It bore delicate vine engravings—and a line of French.

‘mon rossignol’

Without missing a beat, Shang Xi blurted, “The word at the end—nightingale?”

“Mm.” Fu Congxiao read it aloud. “My Nightingale.”

On instinct, Shang Xi hiked up his own pant leg to eye his ankle ring.

In everyday life, he did his best to tune out that shackle marking his hybrid status.

It stayed on through baths, through illnesses—a lifelong fixture.

Whether he wore his human skin or took to the skies as a bird.

“You…” He undid Fu Congxiao’s collar directly, and when he confirmed the neck ring was there, he cried out again. “You…”

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Fu Congxiao said calmly.

“Do you remember that night we went to watch the migratory birds?”

“You knew I couldn’t fly, so you wore that glowing pendant and flew the whole night.”

“No matter where you were, I could always see you.”

“That’s different. Have you lost your mind?” Shang Xi fumbled for the clasp on the ankle ring but realized this silver ring might never come off.

“Fu Congxiao, you know we’re just starting to date, right?” He felt angry, yet found it a little funny. “What’s the difference between this and a tattoo? You already have one restraint on you—why add another?”

“I only wore the pendant for one night, but you’re planning to wear this ankle ring for the rest of your life?”

Fu Congxiao asked, “Can I?”

“What if I told you this was my plan from the start?”

Shang Xi stared at him, speechless, then raised his voice. “Neither of us is even twenty yet.”

“Don’t you think no adult would believe in talk of ‘forever’ or ‘a lifetime’?”

Fu Congxiao watched him quietly, his eyes brimming with amusement.

Yet Shang Xi could read the utter resolve in them.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, then hooked his arms around Fu Congxiao’s neck and kissed him.

“Fu Congxiao… you really…” He kissed and nipped at him, his anger turning helpless. “You think this trick will keep me trapped forever, don’t you?”

The young man indulged the long kiss, slowly stroking the back of Shang Xi’s head.

You already know what kind of person I am.

But putting on pajamas had been pointless.

They had to navigate human society during the day, but nighttime demanded transformation.

They hadn’t been asleep long before both reverted to their true forms. The little bird found itself coiled once more in the snake’s tail.

Shang Xi slept in a daze, vaguely thinking that Senior Brother must have grown quite a bit longer after shedding his skin a few times.

As the snake’s tongue lapped at it, the little bird was nudged by something.

It opened its eyes, but the rubbing only grew more insistent.

The little bird chirped softly to signal it was awake.

The snake ignored it, pressing even harder.

Before long, Fu Congxiao shifted back to human form, his voice hoarse.

“If you’re awake, then don’t go back to sleep.”

Shang Xi: “…!”

The young man leaned down and pinched Little Nightingale’s face, his eyes a deep green.

“Transform back.”

The next morning, Shang Heping returned with breakfast and spotted them washing bedsheets on the balcony.

“Huh?”

The window in the second bedroom stood open to air it out. Shang Xi came yawning to grab some food.

“I’ll eat a bit, then crash.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Fu Congxiao?” Shang Xi sneered. “Out on his morning run.”

“His stamina’s off the charts. Eighty kilometers is barely a warm-up for him.”

Shang Heping said offhandedly, “Why don’t you join him for a jog?”

“University’s got plenty of grind ahead,” Shang Xi replied without shame. “I’m planning to be a total couch potato all summer, Dad. Brace yourself.”

Once he got comfortable at home, he often turned into bird form during the day to flit about.

At first, Fu Congxiao worried about alarming them and rarely showed his true form. But the Shang parents had pored over that little popular science booklet countless times by then.

“You two just do whatever feels natural. Your dad’s been itching to pet the snake anyway.”

“…He won’t bite, right?”

“Shang Heping!!”

Soon enough, the couple, one bird, and one snake cuddling on the sofa for TV time became the norm.

By some stroke of coincidence, Eldest Aunt’s Husband showed up one day with fresh eggs from the countryside, ready for a chat.

Thinking it was a delivery, Shang Heping froze for a second when he opened the door.

“Huh?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” Eldest Aunt’s Husband bustled in like he owned the place. “Your aunt’s been missing you all. Swing by sometime!”

Little Nightingale had been dozing but jolted awake at the noise and shoved the snake into the gap between the throw pillow and the sofa.

Fu Congxiao: “…”

After slipping on his slippers, Eldest Aunt’s Husband stepped inside and spotted the sparrow perched on Luo Suhe’s shoulder.

“Whoa, you guys got a pet now?”

Shang Heping forced a smile. “Xiao Xi’s favorite. We mind it when he’s out.”

“Sparrows are tricky to keep!” Eldest Aunt’s Husband gave a thumbs-up. “This one’s nice and plump—you’re doing great!”

“You bet,” Shang Heping said, swelling with pride. “Ours can even count!”

Luo Suhe’s glare could kill. “Shang Heping—”

Eldest Aunt’s Husband gaped. “No kidding?”

Shang Heping prompted, “Three plus two equals?”

The little bird chirped five times, grudgingly.

Eldest Aunt’s Husband looked stunned. “A sparrow this smart? Holy cow, that bird’s gotta cost a fortune.”

Luo Suhe jumped in at once. “Our son’s working on a research project—this little guy’s priceless. We hardly dare touch him.”

Little Nightingale cleared his throat and sang a song with surprising professionalism.

Eldest Aunt’s Husband was still shaken.

“Good thing I didn’t bring that little rascal along today,” he said with lingering relief. “Otherwise, he’d have thrown a tantrum crying for this bird.”

“Absolutely not,” Shang Heping replied. “We’re just borrowing ours for a few days before sending it back to school.”

The family exchanged a few pleasantries before seeing him off with warm smiles.

The moment Eldest Aunt’s Husband was gone, Luo Suhe set aside the basket of free-range eggs and hurried to check on Little Snake.

Little Bird perched on her shoulder and immediately spotted the snake stifling a laugh. He swooped over to peck at it.

“Hey, hey, no bullying your big brother,” Luo Suhe said, chuckling herself. “You were one step away from mimicking a phone ringtone.”

Little Nightingale whipped around and flew off. He transformed back into human form and stormed back in a huff.

“Dad!!!”

Shang Heping sighed. “Let’s just pretend nothing happened, alright?”

Shang Xi shot him a glare.

When Fu Congxiao slipped back into the bedroom to shift into human form, he couldn’t resist one last tease.

“What’s five plus three?”

Shang Xi replied coolly, “Equals I’m your dad.”

Fu Congxiao made a playful grab for his face.

The two tumbled into a playful tussle, hurling pillows at each other across the bed.

Shang Xi braced himself over Fu Congxiao and suddenly leaned in for a deep, lingering kiss.

Fu Congxiao blinked slowly.

“How are you so wonderful?” Little Nightingale blurted out of nowhere. “I’ve kissed you, what, a bunch of times today already?”

Fu Congxiao gazed into his eyes.

“You can kiss me more,” he said softly. “I don’t mind how many.”

Shang Xi straddled his waist and kissed him even harder.

“With you here, everything’s so much better.”

“Even if we can’t see each other. Even when you’re gone and the missing you tears me up inside.”

“But Fu Congxiao, with you here—it’s just so good. So incredibly good.”

Fu Congxiao stared steadily at Shang Xi.

Deep in his heart, some dark, frozen winter ice melted away silently, vanishing without a trace.

“One more kiss,” he murmured. “I love you too.”