Chapter 2: Uniform

When Bai Yiyi woke up again, the first thing he noticed was the familiar aroma in the air. It had to be the scent of that classic braised beef instant noodle flavor from some master chef brand.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying in the bird’s nest made from a coconut shell. It had been bare before, but now it was padded with plenty of cotton threads and flannel cloth underneath him, making it far more comfortable. His owner must have added them when he put him back in the nest.

Bai Yiyi poked his head out through the nest door and perched on the wooden stick, peering outside. In the morning sunlight of summer, at the dining table by the window, that man was wearing a tank top and shorts, slurping away at his bowl of instant noodles with enthusiastic gusto.

The earthworms in the food box were gone. Bai Yiyi’s mood warmed up. He flapped his wings a few times and landed lightly. After taking a few sips of fresh water to moisten his throat and chewing a few oat grains, he leisurely began to observe his owner closely.

Yesterday’s first meeting had been too awkward at the start and too frightening toward the end. Only now could Bai Yiyi finally get a good look at the man outside the cage.

He was around thirty years old, with long hands and legs giving him an exceptionally tall stature, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and healthy wheat-colored skin. His hair was a clean, neat buzz cut, though a white scar at the end of his right eyebrow lent his demeanor a somewhat fierce and stern edge.

Out of habit from his work as an artist, Bai Yiyi let his gaze wander, scrutinizing every detail: the perfect proportions of his physique, the lines of muscle across his shoulders and back, his long fingers, and the way he moved and sat. For some inexplicable reason, though, he kept delaying a direct look at the man’s face.

It wasn’t until the man set down his noodle bowl and strode over to the cage in two big steps, bending at the waist to meet Bai Yiyi’s eyes on his level, that Bai Yiyi had no choice but to confront reality. He stared at the enlarged face right in front of the cage for a good while, and only one word stuck in his mind.

So damn handsome.

It was a face that even an old-man tank top and baggy shorts couldn’t hide.

Bai Yiyi couldn’t quite handle the man’s intense gaze. He dipped his head slightly, letting his pot-lid crest obscure the dazzled gleam in his eyes.

Perhaps satisfied with just checking on his condition and seeing that he was eating and drinking well, the man said nothing more. He headed straight to the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water filled the air—the rhythm of a morning shower.

A few minutes later, Bai Yiyi’s little bird eyes took a direct hit. The tall man emerged shirtless, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Lingering water droplets trailed down his solid chest, exuding an overwhelming sensuality.

Watching as the man approached the wardrobe, grabbed a set of clothes, and laid them on the bed beside him—clearly about to drop the towel—Bai Yiyi felt his legs go weak. His heart pounded wildly. Without thinking, he spread his wings to cover his eyes in a shy, face-hiding gesture.

He covered them tightly, only to feel a twinge of regret at missing out.

Damn it, I’m a bird right now. There’s no risk of getting caught peeping, no embarrassment from anyone finding out. Why pass up the perks of watching a hot guy fresh from the shower? Bird life is hard enough as it is—might as well savor it while it lasts?

Bai Yiyi wrestled with himself for a moment and convinced his inner self. Peeking through the gap in his half-spread wings, he saw that the man outside the cage had already swiftly pulled on his pants and was methodically buttoning his shirt.

From this angle, he could only see the man’s profile, but it was enough to captivate the bird. His posture was ramrod straight and imposing, his chiseled contours and sharp jawline delivering a lethal side-profile attack.

Squinting his little bird eyes, Bai Yiyi watched as the man finished dressing, fully kitted out and ready to head out. Suddenly, it hit him—this outfit’s style? Those two bars and two stars on the shoulders?

His owner was a cop? A Second-Class Police Supervisor at such a young age?

The lustful admiration in Bai Yiyi’s eyes instantly elevated to utter infatuation. He was a total uniform fetishist, with a deep love for the police profession in particular. This young, accomplished, tall, and handsome supervisor had struck right at the bullseye of his preferences.

All the complaints and dissatisfaction he’d harbored over the past three days toward his owner evaporated in an instant at the sight of that uniform.

The messy apartment? Days of disappearance? Totally normal—he was a cop. Everyone knew cops could get so busy they forgot their own families.

And he was probably a detective, judging by the physique and aura that didn’t scream desk-bound community officer. Yesterday’s casual clothes and weary exhaustion upon first meeting backed that up.

As for the earthworm fiasco that had scared him unconscious—well, it had been well-intentioned. Ignorance was no sin, and someone as magnanimous as himself could easily overlook it.

Bai Yiyi swiftly rebuilt his mindset. He watched as his owner donned his police cap, changed into proper shoes, paused briefly at the door, then turned back with a few heavy steps to the cage.

“Bai… Bai-what’s-his-name? What kind of crappy name is that? Can’t even remember it…”

He was talking to him, right? Now fully evolved into a fanboy, Bai Yiyi bobbed his head enthusiastically, thrilled at their shared disdain for the bird body’s lousy name.

After pondering for a few seconds, his owner continued, “Emm, you’re just a white fluffy ball squatting there, with that gray-black spot on your head. Heh, looks like a freshly burst sesame glutinous rice ball. Let’s call you Tangyuan for now. Don’t worry, Tangyuan—I won’t leave you alone for days again. I’ll be back today.”

His owner looked so stern and tough, but he was surprisingly gentle even with a bird, taking the time to let him know his plans. And that casual name was so cute.

If Bai Yiyi really were a tangyuan, he’d probably be melting from sweetness right now. In his heart, he replied okay, while letting out a chirp from his beak.

After his owner left for work, the apartment fell empty once more, leaving just the lone bird behind.

But Bai Yiyi’s mood was worlds apart from the previous days. He felt a strange sense of contentment, like he’d lucked out big time.

With his shut-in gamer tendencies and mild social anxiety, if he hadn’t been forced into this lottery win and turned into a bird, where else would he get a chance to interact with a god-tier hunk like his owner? Let alone live together so intimately?

Before he could savor any other flavors from this, a delighted voice chimed in his mind: “Oh my god, Yiyi, your satisfaction level has actually risen to zero! The negative value cleared in an instant—what on earth made you so happy?”

This was a bit awkward. Bai Yiyi grumbled inwardly: Because I met my dream guy and I’m drooling over his body? How was he supposed to explain that?

He forgot that the system was soul-bound. If it wanted, it could instantly read his thoughts. It asked suspiciously, “So that’s it? Yiyi, don’t you love domineering CEOs anymore?”

Bai Yiyi gritted his teeth. Was there no such thing as privacy anymore?

He vented gleefully, “Of course I love domineering CEOs! If you’ve got the chops, turn one into my owner!”

The system immediately shut up and deflected: “Ah, Yiyi, it doesn’t matter what kind of owner you have—as long as you’re happy and satisfied.”

Bai Yiyi ignored it, in high spirits as he hopped onto the swing called Autumn and rocked back and forth to pass the time.

It was his fourth day here. Crunching the numbers, at most three people from his human life would notice his disappearance.

His mom was easy enough—she’d been sent on a project abroad that would last a year. Due to the time difference, they only connected once every month or so. He’d video-called her just the day before turning into a bird, so she wouldn’t notice anytime soon.

Shishi was his most frequent contact these days, messaging almost daily, but he was just an online friend who didn’t know his exact address. Even if he sensed something off, there was nothing he could do.

The real trouble was He Ze. Half a month had passed since the last manuscript handover. They’d kept to one hand-drawn piece per month for over two years without fail, so with no word from him by now, He Ze would definitely come knocking—and that would blow his cover for sure.

Bai Yiyi didn’t even want to imagine how frantic his mom would get upon learning he’d vanished.

His online hand-drawing streams, which he was treating as a serious future career, weren’t signed with any platform yet as a newbie, so there was no update pressure there. The impact could be written off.

Having thoroughly tallied up the potential issues on the human side, Bai Yiyi even felt a bit grateful for his deep-shut-in social anxiety traits. Otherwise, if someone noticed right away and raised a fuss at the police station or whatever, returning to human form later would be a nightmare.

The pressing priority was to boost his satisfaction level as quickly as possible. Even if full marks weren’t feasible right away, hitting the passing line soon would let him shift back temporarily and reassure everyone.

After mulling over the odds of escaping the cage and flying straight home, Bai Yiyi asked, “System buddy, we’re in J City right now—how far is that from my place?”

The system replied: “567 kilometers.”

Not super far, but not close either. Bai Yiyi had zero confidence he could make it on these pet-bird wings.

“Sigh.”

With a resigned breath, Bai Yiyi eagerly awaited his owner’s return.

Just encountering a uniform-clad dreamboat had spiked his satisfaction by dozens of points out of sheer joy. What if things got even more intimate and thrilling? Wouldn’t the satisfaction soar even higher?

Satisfaction equals intimacy? Bai Yiyi completely failed to notice anything off about his little equation…

Yan Tuo, who had been swamped all day, had no clue that a certain birdman was pining for him desperately. Today had been packed with monthly meetings and case analyses. His body had rarely hunkered down in the office, but his mind hadn’t stopped racing.

As he was about to clock out, his personal phone rang.

Yan Tuo glanced at the screen showing “Yu Lian” and felt a throbbing headache coming on.

The wife of his direct superior, the Detachment Captain, who was also his own cousin by blood, was the CEO of a dating platform. Leveraging her position, she’d become the ringleader of the family’s elaborate marriage-urging campaigns. She was also the main culprit behind his tragic record: thirty-something years old, nearly forty blind dates, zero successes.

He could predict the call’s topic without fail. And Yan Tuo could guarantee that until he finally tied the knot, these headaches would ramp up from a baseline of one per month.

What could he do about it? She was ostensibly his cousin, more than a decade his senior, but in truth she’d always shouldered a mother’s duties toward him. From his earliest days right up to now, she’d showered him with endless care and concern—a debt of kindness he could never hope to repay, let alone muster the will to refuse.

The phone had rung three times by the time Yan Tuo drew a deep breath, picked up, and said with a smile, “Sis, what’s up?”

Sure enough, Eldest Miss Yu dove right in without missing a beat. “Tuozi, listen here. Today I met this Miss Li—she’s an elementary school teacher. Wonderful family, gentle as can be, and her looks? Absolutely stunning. I’ve never come across a catch like her before. No arguments from you—give me a solid date by next week, and I’ll bring you two together for a proper introduction.”

She’d already shut down any debate before he could even reply. Yan Tuo gave up the fight with a helpless nod. “Got it, Sis. I’ll text you once I lock in the time.”

“Perfect. One more thing—Grandpa’s eightieth birthday at the end of next month. Don’t you dare forget. Sort out your time off early. Bye.”

“Mm, sure.”

He’d barely set the phone down when Hua Hongqing’s call buzzed in.

“What’s the deal? Kept getting a busy signal.”

“My sister.”

The voice of his childhood buddy erupted in muffled laughter on the other end. “Oho, suiting up for mission number—what, thirty-nine? Forty?”

Yan Tuo brushed off the ribbing and snapped back, “Business only. Cut the crap.”

“…All right, all right, won’t tease. Anyway… er, your Young Master Snow White—is it holding up okay at your place?”

Yan Tuo, who’d utterly forgotten about the little pet and left the bird so starved it had desperately broken out of its cage, felt a pang of guilt. “…No surprise I keep blanking on it. That neither-here-nor-there name’s a disaster. It’s doing fine. If you’re that attached, I’ll ship it back tomorrow. Pet ownership really isn’t my thing.”

“Hey now, don’t even think it. I gave it to you, so it’s yours. Figured a workaholic like you could use some live company—keeps you from vanishing for half a month at a stretch, chained to one case after another, grinding yourself down until there’s not a shred of life left in you.”

The words carried a bite, but his friend’s intentions rang true. Yan Tuo accepted the sentiment with a quiet chuckle. “Fair enough. Renaming it Tangyuan, then.”

“Tangyuan? Works for me—nice and smooth. Tomorrow’s Saturday. You free? I’ll swing by with a little sweetheart to mate with your Tangyuan.”

“Mate? Meaning?”

“Yup, bird-speak for breeding season. Time to pair ’em up.”

“…Sure.”

Yan Tuo hung up and stared blankly at the ceiling. In under ten minutes, both he and his pet had been roped into blind dates. Had summer somehow skipped straight to spring?

Back home, he flicked on the lights, secured the door, and immediately heard a crisp flurry of chirps—“Tweet tweet tweet!”—as if to say, You’re back?