Rrrrip—
The pristine new clothes tore to shreds and fluttered to the floor. The culprit looked almost smug about it.
Shi Yanchi stared at him without expression. After a few seconds, he silently held out another outfit.
The fabric had barely brushed Tu Lin’s hand before he snatched it away and ripped it up too.
“You’re still refusing to get dressed?” Shi Yanchi asked. He really didn’t want to watch a bare-chested monster who could go into heat at any moment wander around in front of him.
Tu Lin tipped his chin up, making his refusal perfectly clear.
“Fine. Then I suppose I’ll have to give the clothes I bought just for you to someone else.” Shi Yanchi gathered them up and turned to leave.
“No!” Tu Lin immediately blocked his path and snatched the clothes from his arms. He hugged them to his chest and bared his teeth in warning. “No. Not… others.”
“You’re not going to wear them. What are you keeping them for?”
Tu Lin dumped the clothes onto the sofa and arranged them into a little nest, pinning them down with the tip of his tail. “Mine. You give.”
Shi Yanchi chuckled. Tu Lin could barely string a sentence together, yet his possessiveness was impressive.
“Suit yourself.”
Shi Yanchi stopped paying attention to him, turned on the TV, and sat on the other sofa.
At first, Tu Lin was smug, convinced he had won their little battle. He kept rearranging the clothes Shi Yanchi had bought him, playing with them to his heart’s content. But after half an hour without so much as a glance from Shi Yanchi, he began to realize something was wrong.
Admitting he was at fault was out of the question, though.
He swished his tail over to Shi Yanchi and saw that all his attention was on the TV. With exaggerated casualness, Tu Lin circled the sofa at a crawl, letting the tip of his tail sway slowly in front of Shi Yanchi like bait on a fishing line.
It didn’t work.
Tu Lin was displeased. Shi Yanchi might be tall, but he was petty.
Tu Lin perched on the armrest and prodded Shi Yanchi in the face with his tail tip. “You. Look at me. Now.”
“No,” Shi Yanchi replied, imitating his clipped way of speaking.
The snake was a hypocrite, and the snake was furious.
Tu Lin slapped his tail against the sofa several times. Thump, thump. He flicked out his forked tongue and hissed, as if threatening to do something even he might be afraid of if Shi Yanchi still ignored him.
But Shi Yanchi already knew Tu Lin’s bark was worse than his bite. He paid no attention and didn’t answer.
Tu Lin stared at him, dumbfounded. Shi Yanchi’s nonchalance struck like a bolt from the blue. Tu Lin suddenly felt he’d lost all his power to intimidate this human.
Confused and helpless, he slumped back onto the sofa and hugged his tail, staring into space.
Shi Yanchi was, after all, a mature adult. Seeing Tu Lin like that, he felt his irritation fade.
“Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”
Tu Lin kept his face stern and his lips pursed. Only the tip of his tail moved a little.
“So that’s a no, then? Fine. But I don’t feel like cooking for myself. How about we go out for a meal?”
Shi Yanchi made as if to leave.
Hissss—! The sulking snake sprang upright and grabbed his hand. “No! Me hungry. Eat!”
Shi Yanchi smiled to himself. Tu Lin had a terrible temper, but it came and went just as quickly.
Before going into the kitchen, he tapped Tu Lin on the forehead. “Don’t keep hissing at me. You scared me just now.”
Tu Lin stared at him for a few seconds, only then figuring out what he’d said. His mouth and tail perked up at once.
The snake’s dignity was intact.
Contrary to what outsiders might think, Shi Yanchi could cook—and cook well. Only one and a half people knew: Shi Yanchi and Tu Lin, back when he was still just a snake.
So much had happened over the past few days that life had turned chaotic. They’d been eating whatever ready-made food they could buy, and Shi Yanchi hadn’t cooked once.
He’d gotten used to it, and Tu Lin had proved easy enough to feed. The snake hadn’t complained once.
As the days of “captivity” settled into a routine and the threat of death passed, Shi Yanchi finally had the energy to think about life’s basic necessities.
The fridge was stocked with fresh ingredients delivered that morning. Shi Yanchi steamed minced meat with egg, a meal he’d often made back when Tu Lin was a little snake. Tu Lin seemed to like soft food. Now that he’d grown a human body, Shi Yanchi could make a more substantial meal, piling steamed vegetables and thick slices of meat high on the plate.
As for himself, he had little appetite, so he just made a simple salad.
Half an hour later, he carried the food to the table.
Tu Lin took everything for granted. The moment Shi Yanchi sat down, he slid over to his side, opened his mouth, and waited to be fed—as if he were still a tiny snake no thicker than two of Shi Yanchi’s fingers.
Shi Yanchi glanced at him and handed him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. “Eat by yourself.”
Tu Lin stared at him in shock.
He didn’t accept the offer at once, keeping his mouth open in the same expectant pose. Shi Yanchi, however, showed no mercy and started eating.
Tu Lin waited for about ten minutes, but Shi Yanchi still didn’t so much as glance at him. At last, he realized that the offer hadn’t been a joke. He really was expected to feed himself.
Tu Lin regretted it immediately. If he’d put on the clothes earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have to eat by himself now.
But he had such beautiful, smooth, delicate scales—a symbol of strength. Shi Yanchi, with his bare skin and its obvious fragility, was nothing like him. Why should he cover up?
The snake couldn’t understand.
Eventually, Tu Lin gave in. He sighed, picked up a pair of chopsticks like Shi Yanchi’s, and tried to copy his posture.
The first time, he managed to lift one end of a piece of meat. Then the chopsticks slipped, crossed, and fell apart. The meat dropped back into the bowl.
The second time, he poked the chopsticks into the meat and carefully lifted it, leaning forward with his mouth open to catch it. Just when he thought he’d succeeded, the meat tore at the puncture and fell back into the bowl.
Tu Lin’s eyes widened in fury.
Human hands were useless. They had far too many moving parts. The fingers were connected, yet each worked independently, and it took enormous concentration to make them do anything.
What a stupid design. Human hands must have evolved this way because humans were too weak to do anything with a tail. A snake’s tail is much better.
Tu Lin flung the chopsticks down and curled his tail tip around the spoon. This time, everything went smoothly. The spoon obeyed, the meat didn’t run away, and it sailed straight into his mouth.
Snakes didn’t chew, but to celebrate this great victory, Tu Lin deliberately held the food in his mouth instead of swallowing it right away. He made a loud noise to get Shi Yanchi’s attention. Shi was engrossed in his own meal.
“Can you use them now?” Shi Yanchi had finally noticed him.
Tu Lin lifted his chin and gave a dignified nod, as if it had been child’s play.
“Mm.” Shi Yanchi set down his chopsticks and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I was going to say that if you couldn’t manage it, I’d keep feeding you.”
Clack. Tu Lin dropped the spoon onto the table, opened his mouth, and leaned toward Shi Yanchi.
“You’ve already learned to feed yourself. Playing helpless won’t work.” Shi Yanchi pushed his face away. “I’m not going to feed you anymore.”
The words and the way he said them made Tu Lin intensely unhappy. It meant one more way of getting close to Shi Yanchi was gone. That wasn’t why he’d grown hands and a human face.
Hissss—!
Tu Lin bared his fangs and hissed a threat, as if to warn Shi Yanchi to take back this unreasonable decision.
Shi Yanchi fell silent, but there was no fear on his face. He only looked at Tu Lin coolly, as though he were a strange snake.
Tu Lin hesitated. His unreliable memory dredged up the events of the past few days, especially that rainy night when Shi Yanchi had come home late and Tu Lin had hurt him. Shi Yanchi had looked at him the same way then. Afterward, his scent had turned bitter and sad.
Something inside Tu Lin whispered that he might not want to do that again. He slowly tucked his fangs away and flicked his tongue rapidly.
“Wif—”
“Come here,” Shi Yanchi interrupted, beckoning him over. “I’ll show you how to use the spoon.”
Tu Lin blinked, a little clumsily. Shi Yanchi seemed less upset now. He didn’t know why, but he quickly went over.
“Don’t hold it straight like that. It’s awkward.” Shi Yanchi picked up another spoon and demonstrated. “Curl your hand like this, then rest the handle on your middle finger and pinch it between your index finger and thumb.”
Tu Lin was clearly lost among all the human-specific words. Shi Yanchi didn’t expect much from that tiny snake brain of his.
“Don’t just watch. Try it with me.”
Tu Lin didn’t fuss. He copied Shi Yanchi’s movements, but getting his index finger and thumb to move separately from the other fingers was difficult. After several tries, he finally managed to hold the spoon properly.
“Not too high, not too low.” Shi Yanchi reached over and adjusted his grip. “There. Try it yourself.”
Tu Lin followed his instructions, holding his breath as he carefully scooped up some food. Shi Yanchi’s lesson had made the hand much easier to use. It still felt strange, but at least the food didn’t keep falling off.
Tu Lin picked out one of his favorite pieces of meat and slowly carried it to Shi Yanchi’s mouth.
“You…” Shi Yanchi paused. “Is that for me?”
Tu Lin nodded ever so slightly, careful not to disturb the food. “You eat.”
Shi Yanchi pressed his lips together and stayed silent for about ten seconds. Then he opened his mouth and ate the meat.
Tu Lin had forgotten he was angry ten minutes ago. Seeing Shi Yanchi accept the food made him happy again, and he turned to eat his own meal.
Watching him, Shi Yanchi drifted into a daze.
Had Tu Lin been like this before his parents died, before Shi Yanchi came to live with the Tu family? Quick to sulk, but just as quick to be satisfied, happy over the smallest things?
Probably. This was Tu Lin too, only a side of him Shi Yanchi didn’t know.
A meal was supposed to come with something to drink, but Tu Lin had only just grown a human body and knew nothing about drinking like a person. He still did everything by animal instinct.
After they finally finished eating, Shi Yanchi cleared the table and turned around to find Tu Lin struggling with a mug. His head bobbed this way and that, as if he wanted to climb inside it.
“What are you doing?”
“Water. Drink.”
After several tries, Tu Lin still couldn’t get his head inside the mug. His tongue managed to scoop up a few stray drops, and then he stopped. He sat on the chair, studying the mug with great seriousness, apparently thinking.
Shi Yanchi wanted to see how he’d figure it out, so he stayed quiet.
A few minutes later, Tu Lin pushed the mug farther in. Just as Shi Yanchi thought he’d given up, Tu Lin suddenly changed into snake form and landed on the table.
The little snake was about two fingers thick and a foot long. He coiled up the side of the mug, poked his head inside, submerged half his snout, and began to drink in loud gulps.
Shi Yanchi closed his eyes. He wanted to laugh, but he was also at a loss.
“Tu Lin.”
The snake lifted his head. Drops of water clung to his snout.
“Have you ever watched a person drink water?”
Tu Lin understood him, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He dipped his head and took another drink, then deliberately blew a few bubbles, as if to say that knowing how to drink like a snake was enough. There was no need to learn anything else.
He was only a little snake, after all.
Shi Yanchi was speechless. After a few seconds, he asked, “Do you want me to teach you?”
Tu Lin flicked his tongue a few times, as if weighing the pros and cons. In the end, he dragged the mug over to Shi Yanchi with his tail.
“Change back first.”
Tu Lin obeyed, returning to his human form. He sat curled up on the chair without a shred of human decorum, the tip of his tail tapping a soft, steady rhythm against the floor.
Shi Yanchi picked up the mug and brought the rim to his lips. “Open your mouth.”
He was still worried Tu Lin would bury his whole face in the mug. But Tu Lin caught the rim between his teeth. With the water already at his lips, he figured out the rest without needing another lesson.
“I’ve never been this patient with anyone before.” Shi Yanchi let go of the mug and handed it to Tu Lin. “Drink like this from now on, understand? You’ll have to learn how to live as a person eventually. Who can stay with you forever?”
Tu Lin only heard the first half. He was delighted to receive such special treatment. He looked less like a snake than a little dog, his tail wagging a few times.
After a few long swallows, he handed the mug back to Shi Yanchi.
“Wif—drink.”
Shi Yanchi turned his head and pushed the mug away. “Thank you, but I’m not thirsty.”
Hissss—! Tu Lin immediately objected. He wrapped his tail around Shi Yanchi and pulled him back to his side, then held the mug to his lips. He clearly wasn’t going to let go until Shi Yanchi drank.
“What a mighty emperor you are.”
“Mm!”
Shi Yanchi had no choice but to take a small sip to humor him.
Tu Lin was satisfied and drank the rest of the water himself.
Now that he’d eaten and drunk his fill, Shi Yanchi started to feel sleepy. Tu Lin, however, was still full of energy. He swished his tail as he made his routine inspection of the villa.
He gave anything ordinary only a cursory glance. But at the slightest discrepancy—a thing shifted slightly from where it had been last time, or something new appearing or disappearing—he stopped and scrutinized it gravely, as if an intruder might have broken in. Only after confirming it was an ordinary change of daily life would he stand down and resume his patrol. He’d clearly made the villa his private territory. Shi Yanchi was, naturally, part of it.
Shi Yanchi wasn’t nearly as territorial. After watching Tu Lin for a while, he went back to the bedroom to rest.
When he woke from his nap, half an hour had passed. That was plenty of time for a human to rest, but nowhere near enough for a snake at play.
The villa was unusually quiet.
“Tu Lin?” Shi Yanchi went downstairs and looked around, but saw no sign of him. “Where are you hiding now?”
He stood thinking for half a minute, then turned toward the bathroom.
Tu Lin’s favorite place was the bed Shi Yanchi slept in. His second favorite was the bathtub. His third was the damp bathroom sink.
If Shi Yanchi couldn’t find him, he could head straight for either of the latter two. He knew the snake’s habits by heart.
Drip… drip…
The closer he got to the bathroom, the clearer the sound of water became. He even noticed scattered wet patches on the floor.
Following them, Shi Yanchi found the floor growing wetter and wetter. When he reached the bathroom door, water was still streaming through the gap beneath it.
Shi Yanchi froze. What?
