Chapter 5: Mosquito

Given how the system’s satisfaction score rose and fell without any scientific basis or supporting data—in short, rising and falling at complete random—Bai Yiyi gave up trying to analyze the reasons. Instead, he adopted a two-pronged strategy: facing his bird life head-on and working hard to build intimacy with his owner.

But reality always had a way of disheartening him. He’d only just overcome the crisis of molting when a new problem arose: mosquito bites.

He had never imagined that birds could fear mosquitoes. After all, with their thick feathers, they should have been naturally protected. But now that he had become one himself, Bai Yiyi realized that mosquitoes truly were the most insidious creatures in the world.

He’d been bitten badly, the spots all clustered around his eye rings and the upper parts of his claws—those tender areas covered only in fine down.

The itching was unbearable, yet he couldn’t scratch. Rubbing against the cage bars only made it worse, until he was desperate enough to want to pluck out his feathers and rub himself raw. He hopped and jumped about in agitation.

He longed to kill the culprits, but he couldn’t spot them anywhere. The moment he closed his eyes to try sleeping, though, that hated buzzing returned, circling him like dive-bombing aircraft.

How utterly frustrating—endless and invisible.

Bai Yiyi’s composure was on the verge of shattering again, and the satisfaction score plunged wildly. After racking his brains, he remembered the old saying: when trouble strikes, call the cops. Trusting the profession—and buoyed by his observations over the past few days—he resolved to cry for help, exposure risk be damned.

It was a rare day when Yan Tuo got off work on time. He grabbed a bowl of scallion oil noodles at the Shaxian Snacks downstairs to serve as dinner, then headed upstairs with light steps. He unlocked the door, flicked on the lights, and was greeted by Tangyuan’s enthusiastic chirps of “cheep-cheep!”

Ever since he’d started giving the little guy his daily baths, the bird had grown even more affectionate—and shockingly clever, too. It seemed to understand human speech.

When out of the cage, it never crashed around or pooped indiscriminately, which had given Yan Tuo increasing confidence. He’d formed a habit of letting it roam freely the moment he got home.

Today’s little white Tangyuan seemed especially clingy. When released from the cage, it didn’t fly to the table as usual. Instead, it landed directly on his shoulder, chirping “cheep-cheep-cheep” as if trying to say something.

Yan Tuo paid it no mind and strolled around the apartment. He shelved the few books that had arrived in the mail that day, then went out to the balcony to gather the dried laundry and stuff it haphazardly into the closet. Next, he pulled out his laptop, settled at the desk, and surfed the web.

Time slipped by unnoticed until around ten at night. As he headed to the bathroom to run some water, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and suddenly realized that his little pet had been perched quietly on his shoulder the entire time, without budging an inch.

Yan Tuo tapped the bird lightly on its watermelon-shaped head. “So clingy today that you can’t even be bothered to move?”

Bai Yiyi felt a touch embarrassed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move—he’d simply been entranced, watching his owner browse the internet.

When Bai Yiyi surfed, he favored anime and celebrity gossip. His owner, probably due to his job, preferred social news—especially major criminal cases. He would doggedly track down and search related details, refusing to stop until he had the full picture.

Bai Yiyi had zero interest in that. But with no other options, and after ten-plus days offline as an internet addict, getting to sip even a bit of broth was heaven. Who needed a bicycle?

He had settled on the man’s shoulder intending to carry out his plea-for-help plan, but then the laptop screen lit up, and he found himself rubbing shoulders with the surfing session. In no time, he’d forgotten his original purpose entirely.

Snapping back to reality, Bai Yiyi finally took a tentative step forward. He cleared his throat and began to sing:

“Spring sleep passes unaware till dawn,

Mosquitoes biting everywhere along.

Slaps rang out through the night so deep,

How many mosquitoes did their end meet?”

It was the only mosquito-related song in his head—the Mosquito Song by King Ren Tianwang. He could only hope his owner picked up on the signal.

Yan Tuo heard Tangyuan unleash a long string of “cheep-cheep-cheeps,” complete with rising and falling melodies. He thought to himself that his pet bird had finally opened its voice to sing—and what a crisp, pleasant tune it was. Definitely worth a reward.

He tapped open the Taobao app on his phone and ordered a cuttlebone wind chime for the bird to gnaw on, a serving of premium birdseed, and some fresh mealworms. Checkout done.

He returned to his seat at the desk, but the little guy on his shoulder kept singing without pause. Yan Tuo listened closely for a bit and found it odd—not random warbling at all. It seemed to be a short melody of three or four phrases, looping over and over.

Curiosity piqued, he opened a music app on his phone, activated the “identify song by humming” feature, and recorded Tangyuan’s song.

Then he searched.

The result popped up quickly: “Mosquito Song.”

Whoa— it had actually matched a real song? Had it learned it back at Hongqing’s place?

Yan Tuo played the original. After one listen, he could confirm that his Tangyuan’s pitch was spot-on.

This was impressive. He gently lifted the bird from his shoulder and cradled it in his palm for a closer look. It was definitely a crested canary—the common name was hibiscus bird. No parrot or mynah among its kin, so how could it mimic so perfectly? Utterly unscientific.

From the moment he started playing the original, Tangyuan had fallen silent. Now it sat obediently in his palm, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes, big to small.

After staring for a good while, Yan Tuo finally noticed something off. What were those scattered red bumps around Tangyuan’s eyes? He’d never seen them before. Given their color and shape… mosquito bites?

Connecting the dots to the bird’s repeated Mosquito Song serenade, Yan Tuo was stunned by his own wild speculation. Had the little guy been driven mad by bites and come to him for help?

A moment later, as he gazed at the fluffy little ball in his hand, he couldn’t help but chuckle at his fanciful notion.

No way. What was he thinking? At most, pure coincidence.

Even so, just in case, he opened Taobao again. He selected a local seller and ordered an electronic mosquito zapper, planning to run it twenty-four-seven once it arrived—to spare his little darling any more insect harassment.

Bai Yiyi watched his owner search, compare, order, and pay, and he let out a huge internal sigh of relief. Whether he’d arouse suspicion could wait—for now, the immediate crisis was averted.

After this episode, Yan Tuo’s image in Bai Yiyi’s heart grew ever taller, nearly reaching savior status.

He had never met anyone quite so perfectly attuned to him.

The world was full of people who put on pious airs—two-faced, all smiles in public. As for this man, who knew what he was like outside? But alone at home, he treated a mere bird with such sincere care. It spoke volumes about the gentleness in his soul.

How could someone be so wonderful?

Perched at the corner of the desk, Bai Yiyi gazed at him starry-eyed, imprinting that handsome profile deep in his memory. For the first time in ages, a powerful urge to draw welled up inside him. Alas, as a bird, he had no such rights. He could only trace the lines over and over in his mind.

Over the next two days, the mosquito zapper arrived right on schedule and completely resolved Bai Yiyi’s woes. He slept soundly and ate heartily. He even picked up a few satisfaction points from increased intimacy with his owner. The total crept back into positive territory—a truly promising turn.

Thanks to his exceptionally good behavior, Yan Tuo had fixed the cage door wide open for free access. During the day, with no one home, he simply closed the windows and let Bai Yiyi roam as he pleased.

Bai Yiyi soon explored every inch of the one-bedroom apartment: a stroll across the sofa, a panoramic view from atop the wall clock, drooling over the instant noodle cups in the kitchen, rolling around for a nap on his owner’s bed…

As he grew familiar with the space, though, an itch started creeping over him—not from mosquitoes, but from the sheer messiness of the place. He simply couldn’t stand it.

Where on earth was the cleaning lady that domineering CEO had promised?

Bai Yiyi was a bachelor too, living in a neat-and-tidy ninety-square-meter three-room setup that was more than twice this place’s size—cozy and immaculate.

Of course, that was thanks to his mother Yao Pei’s upbringing from childhood. Orderliness had become second nature; he’d even been named a model soldier during college military training for his pristine dorm.

In short, his paws itched fiercely. He longed to transform back, whip up a shadow clone or two, and scrub the place to a sparkling shine in seconds flat—to make it worthy of his idol.

But fantasies remained fantasies. Still far from the passing line by dozens of points, Bai Yiyi settled for what he could manage.

He ferried used tissues from the desk to the trash bin in his beak. He returned stray paperclips on the floor to their case. He closed half-read magazines on the coffee table and righted the toppled pill bottles on the miscellany cabinet…

By mid-afternoon, he was exhausted, beak and claws aching. He curled up on the sofa to admire his handiwork.

A quick survey all around, and tears nearly welled up. What he’d managed was so trivial. He was dog-tired, yet the room looked barely different.

Sigh—being a bird was tough. Being a clean bird was even tougher. Bird life was hardship incarnate.

Around nine in the evening, Yan Tuo arrived home. No welcoming chirps greeted him, and a glance at the cage showed it empty.

A quick scan of the room turned up no sign of the white fluffball.

Where had the little guy hidden? He called out on instinct: “Tangyuan?”

“Cheep!”

From the sofa’s corner suddenly emerged a black-capped white head.

Yan Tuo hadn’t expected an actual response. On a whim, he extended his hand and said, “Tangyuan, come here.”

Miraculously, the white fluffball stood, spread its wings, and soared across most of the living room to land squarely in his palm.

“Cheep-cheep!”

Yan Tuo’s heart nearly overflowed with astonishment, mingled with utter delight and fulfillment.

He had never encountered an animal so intuitively responsive. Even the famously intelligent border collie, untrained, rarely achieved such fluid communication.

Those who hadn’t experienced it could never imagine the joy of a little darling who trusted you utterly—who, at your single summons, flew straight to you without a moment’s hesitation.

Out of curiosity, Yan Tuo adopted the same attitude one might use with a police dog and commanded, “Sit.”

The white dumpling hesitated for a moment before slowly crouching down.

???

“Stand up.”

It really stood up, its small eyes rolling around as it tilted its head. “Chirp?”

Yan Tuo was at a complete loss for words to describe his current mood. After taking quite some time to process it all, he could only murmur softly, “Tangyuan, are you… becoming a spirit?”