Chapter 41: Casting

“You’ll cut it for me? Is that… really okay?”

Bai Yiyi hadn’t anticipated his owner making such a proposal at all.

It wasn’t a matter of doubting the man’s skills—after all, he wouldn’t be seeing anyone for the next few months anyway, so a good or bad job hardly mattered.

His real concern was how intimate the act of cutting hair and trimming a beard could be. He feared he might get carried away with wandering thoughts, give himself away, and let something unintended slip through.

Yan Tuo, however, misunderstood the hesitation. Stroking his own buzzed hair, he explained, “No worries. My college roommate’s family ran a barbershop. The guy had killer skills and was always practicing on us. We picked up a few tricks just by osmosis. I cut my own hair all the time—what’s not to trust?”

Bai Yiyi flashed a quick smile. “Sounds good.”

“How much longer can you hold your human shape today?”

After gauging the time, Bai Yiyi replied, “Roughly fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect. Ten minutes, done.” Yan Tuo rose to his feet, draped an arm over Bai Yiyi’s shoulder, and ushered the pot-lid-haired young man into the bathroom.

He dragged a stool in from the living room and positioned it before the mirror. Bai Yiyi sat down as Yan Tuo retrieved clippers and scissors from the cabinet mounted behind the glass.

Yan Tuo studied the head’s shape from every angle, front to back, then undid the little tuft on top. With a few swift snips, countless strands of hair drifted down like carefree worries falling away.

Exactly ten minutes, as promised.

The boy gazing back from the mirror was utterly transformed.

It was a crisp, tousled crop—not much longer than a buzz cut, yet fluffier and far more natural. The sides were trimmed extra short, sharpening the delicate lines of his face and instantly perking up his whole vibe.

The already striking young man suddenly exuded a sunny, handsome charm, amplified by the fresh style.

Bai Yiyi tilted his head side to side in the mirror, inwardly itching to drop a five-star review on his stylist. Before the praise could escape his lips, however, Yan Tuo gripped his chin and turned his face toward him.

Yan Tuo leaned in for a closer frontal inspection, checking for any spots needing tweaks. Then, in a low murmur, he said, “Close your eyes.”

??

In this pose—with his chin held firm and that handsome face thrust less than an inch from his own—now being told to shut his eyes?

It was the textbook prelude to a kiss!

He knew he shouldn’t entertain the thought, but the fantasy gripped him anyway.

Heat surged to Bai Yiyi’s cheeks at breakneck speed, yet his eyelids fluttered obediently shut.

He felt the other man’s breath drawing nearer and nearer until their noses were nearly brushing.

His heart hammered into overdrive. He even started regretting skipping a post-meal mouth rinse…

“Hoo.” “Hoo.”

A couple of short puffs of air wafted over, carrying the familiar minty tang of his idol’s toothpaste. Gentle fingertips brushed lightly across his face twice more, followed by the words: “There. All good.”

So… that had just been clearing the stray hairs? What the hell was he fantasizing about? He’d nearly puckered up…

Bai Yiyi’s face flamed as he bolted upright. “My neck’s itchy too—gonna rinse off real quick.” He hustled Yan Tuo out of the bathroom, then collapsed against the door, eyes squeezed shut in deep, steadying breaths to tame his runaway pulse.

Yan Tuo blew the clippings from Bai Yiyi’s face, pleased with the result. It wasn’t until he was abruptly shoved out that he realized how overly familiar his actions might have seemed.

The kid was into guys… Had he made things awkward, leaving him flustered?

He tried shrugging off the strange twinge in his chest, but the silken, jade-smooth sensation lingering on his fingertips refused to fade.

~~~

The dog days of summer unleashed their final fury, with heatwaves prowling like tigers.

Midday temperatures soared to 41 degrees Celsius—the sort of sweltering, soul-sucking mugginess that set tempers fraying.

Cao Yiman was buried under two or three active cases. He’d planned to check in with his boss before heading out on assignment, only to run smack into Sun Lei darting toward the office door.

Once inside, Yan Tuo was hunkered at his desk poring over case files, but both newcomers’ gazes were inexorably snagged by the little white dumpling off to the side.

No—make that half a dumpling.

From their vantage, the first thing they spotted was the back of a propped-up phone on the desk. Its custom hand-drawn case boasted a massive, glaring white character smack in the center.

Tangyuan was mostly blocked, revealing just half a pot-lid crest and a pair of pink bird claws dangling below.

But those tiny claws were crossed one over the other like some lounging human kicking back with an ankle over a knee—one even swinging lazily for effect.

Intrigued, they sidled closer. There nestled the white dumpling in a sofa-like phone cradle, glued to a video. Flanking it were two upturned bottle caps serving as bowls: one piled with crunchy noodles, the other bubbling with what looked like frozen cola.

Cao Yiman, frazzled from the workload and roasting heat, turned green with envy. “Holy hell, is that still a bird? That’s a damn aristocrat! Look at it, kicking back in its private cinema with snacks and soda on tap?”

He shot Tangyuan a grumpy glare, rattled off his work update to Yan Tuo in two sentences, and stormed right back out.

Sun Lei had popped in specifically to film the dumpling. With her follower count nearing 400,000 and fans hounding her for fresh content, she hadn’t settled on today’s topic yet. But this setup? Irresistibly perfect and cute as hell.

After getting the owner’s nod, she fired up a live stream.

The crystal-clear feed went live, and comments poured in from all sides.

“Waiting forever for Tangyuan~”

“Pfft, lol, Tangyuan’s bingeing dramas?”

“This setup… Meanwhile I’m in class choking down review notes, tears of envy.”

“What’s Tangyuan watching?”

“Yo upstairs classroom phone gamer, heads up—principal’s incoming.”

Sun Lei cherry-picked fan queries. “What’s Tangyuan got on, huh?”

Bai Yiyi peeped back, “Nezuko.” Then, with deliberate slowness, he twisted around, snagged a snippet of crunchy noodle, and crunched into it with mouthwatering snaps.

“I’m craving crunchy noodles…”

“Humans vs. birds: the eternal L.”

“Nezuko? Some puffed snack brand?”

The camera swiveled, unveiling the phone screen—and the chat detonated.

“Whoa, Demon Slayer!”

“Nezuko! My wife!”

“Nezuko-chan’s got unbeatable charm—even hooking birds.”

“Tangyuan wants Nezuko as its wifey too!”

“Hey, they’d actually match. Tangyuan dude! Shapeshift to human and it’s total stud material.”

~~~

In a flash, fans hyped this bonkers cross-species, cross-dimensional ship into the stratosphere.

Everyone was cracking up when a hand thrust in from off-screen behind—only the fingers visible: long, knuckled with crisp definition, sturdy yet elegant. Unmistakably a man’s.

The hand whisked away the Demon Slayer-playing phone. Seconds later, it returned it to the cradle good as new—except now it was Teletubbies, with the green Dipsy hopping about and crooning that catchy “Bubba-tum” tune.

A deep, resonant male voice rumbled from off-mic: “No bloody cartoons for little ones. Teletubbies are plenty good.”

The lens swung back to Tangyuan. The white dumpling wore a gobsmacked, dopey expression, beak gaping wide as half a crunchy noodle splatted onto its fluffy belly.

The comments hushed for a beat… then exploded anew.

“LMAO, owner’s laying down the law!”

“Dumpling’s will to live: zero.”

“Tangyuan’s owner—voice like velvet~”

“Butt out, I’m a grown-ass bird! Gimme back my girl Nezuko!”

“Dead from laughter. Poor Tangyuan.”

~~~

The stream wrapped up there. Viewers who caught the replay spread it like wildfire, propelling the Tangyuan-tagged clip onto the trending charts—hanging around 20-something place. Enough to snag way more eyes for this suspiciously sapient bird pet.

Eyes like those of He Zheng, who was tearing his hair out over casting for the script clutched in his hand.

He Zheng was a director, 38 years young and already a rising star in the biz.

He’d pumped out nearly ten projects since breaking in, with his top three smashers each clearing the billion-yuan mark. The real deal: talented, visionary, yet savvy enough to rake in the bucks.

His latest brew was pitched at the youth crowd—a frothy light comedy laced with fantasy vibes.

It followed a guy who time-slips into the past, only to reincarnate as his dad’s pet parrot. Shenanigans ensue as the bird plays avian Cupid, stitching its parents’ romance together in a cascade of gut-busting laughs.

Banking on He Zheng’s box-office Midas touch, the cast, budget, and sets were locked and loaded. Everything but the animal lead—that chatty, matchmaking parrot remained MIA.

Filming with real critters? Industry nightmare fuel. Zero communication meant chaos central.

He’d auditioned flocks of parrot hopefuls—tiger finches, lovebirds, cockatoos, you name it. Bagged every connected bird in town, but zilch panned out. He was even mulling full CG replacement.

Until Tangyuan’s video popped up that night.

He Zheng looped the clip a dozen times over. Jackpot—this was his star animal. Parrot or no, white-with-black-pot-lid canary fit the bill perfectly.

Two days later, at high noon, Sun Lei wafted into the boss’s office on a cloud of glee, words tumbling out in a stutter: “C-Captain… Captain Yan! The platform reached out—a director’s smitten with our Tangyuan! Wants it for the movie lead. The l-lead! Protagonist!”

Yan Tuo and the spacey Bai Yiyi both turned her way.

?

Sun Lei’s eyes glittered like fool’s gold as she piled on: “Comes with a work fee too. Nail the audition, and it’s a contract—minimum 300,000 to start!”

Bai Yiyi’s eyes sparked. That figure packed a punch. Though… how the heck did a bird shoot a movie? Let alone carry it as the star?

He toyed with the idea for a second—then promptly lost his nerve.

He hadn’t unlocked any skills in the acting tree. The last time he’d faked being sick, his master had seen right through him and poked fun at him for it.

Yan Tuo didn’t commit on the spot. He simply said he’d think it over. In truth, he wanted to discuss it privately with Bai Yiyi first and hear what the young man himself decided.

After dinner, Yan Tuo brought it up as expected. Bai Yiyi hesitated, clearly torn.

Truth be told, the pay was quite tempting. At the prices his paintings currently fetched, he’d have to toil for two full years—churning out twenty or thirty pieces—to make three hundred thousand, and even that wasn’t guaranteed.

But if he agreed and actually joined the crew, he’d inevitably have to be apart from his master for a stretch. He simply couldn’t bear the thought.

Yan Tuo’s angle was completely different. Ever since he’d realized the kid suffered from social anxiety, he’d been racking his brain for ways to help him out. This was a golden opportunity: it required interacting with people, but Bai Yiyi would be appearing in his bird form, so his anxiety wouldn’t kick in too severely. It was the perfect stepping stone for building those skills.

Yan Tuo coaxed him gently. “Yiyi, why not give it a shot? It’s not like you’re guaranteed to get it anyway. Just treat it like a fun outing.”

And with that, the matter was settled. The other party seemed downright eager upon hearing the news—they arrived in J City the very next day. Around seven that evening, Yan Tuo brought Bai Yiyi along to the audition.

~~~