The happiest thing in the world was nothing more than sleeping until one naturally woke up.
No alarm clock disturbed beautiful dreams, and upon waking, there was no worry about missing the subway or fretting over those headache-inducing jobs. When he realized he had a whole day to spend doing absolutely nothing, happiness peaked. Bai Ying buried his face in the pillow and rubbed it hard twice.
Huh, the pillow’s softness felt a bit off.
Memories gradually returned. Bai Ying remembered that he had been startled awake by a nightmare in the middle of the night the previous evening, and his kind neighbor had kept him company all night.
The spot beside him on the bed was already empty. Tan Ming had woken up earlier than him, but not by much. The sound of a shower came from the bathroom connected to the master bedroom—Tan Ming was taking a bath.
Bai Ying sat up, hugged the pillow, and rested his head on it as he stared at the tightly closed door. Why was he showering in broad daylight?
After waking up, Tan Ming had carefully extricated himself from Bai Ying, who had snuggled even closer to him while asleep. If he didn’t put some distance between them soon, something was bound to happen. He had fled in embarrassment to the bathroom and showered in cold water for half an hour, barely suppressing the fire raging in his body. But the moment he stepped out, he was met with a pair of clear, soft eyes, nearly undoing all his efforts.
Bai Ying hugged his pillow, his sleep-flushed cheeks pressed against it, his head tilted slightly, looking utterly adorable. Tan Ming had no idea how long Bai Ying had been awake or waiting, only that his current appearance made him desperately want to give him a good morning kiss.
But not yet.
The hand drying his hair stiffened slightly. Tan Ming removed the towel. “You’re awake? I’ll go make breakfast… though it should probably count as lunch by now.”
Bai Ying glanced at his phone—it was already eleven o’clock. He had slept for so long. Every day of his vacation was truly making up for all the lost sleep from before.
“Is there anything you want to eat?” After asking, Tan Ming suddenly realized Bai Ying had been staring at him the whole time.
He was only wearing a tank top and shorts, his solid arms and legs exposed to the air, the fitted tank top outlining the shape of his abs… Tan Ming actually kind of wanted to show off a bit, but he worried it might come across as sleazy.
Tan Ming hesitated over whether to grab a jacket.
Then he heard Bai Ying’s soft voice say, “Everything you make is delicious.”
The fire in his heart burned even fiercer. With the room temperature at only fifteen or sixteen degrees, Tan Ming still felt hot even in just a tank top. Before things spiraled out of control, he quickly told Bai Ying where the toiletries were and escaped to the kitchen like his life depended on it.
“…That hungry?” Bai Ying blinked in confusion.
He walked into the bathroom, and a blast of cold air hit him—the temperature was several degrees lower than in the room. Tan Ming had actually taken a cold shower. Bai Ying was deeply shocked. No wonder other people built such solid muscles. He pinched his own soft arm and felt a wave of sorrow. Tan Ming looked like he could take on seven of him. He was disgracing all the demons from ancient myths and legends.
But then he thought about it—he was a snake demon, so it was only natural for his whole body to feel soft and limp.
That’s just how little snakes were!
Bai Ying contentedly turned on the hot water.
After Bai Ying finished washing up, Tan Ming’s egg pancakes were nearly done, the oil splattering with crisp pops. Snakes loved water but feared fire, so Bai Ying stood at a distance and watched as Tan Ming sliced a ham sausage lengthwise in half, pressed it on the griddle for a quick fry, the slightly charred skin making it look even more appetizing. Bai Ying said longingly, “I want two ham sausages.”
“Okay.” Tan Ming smiled and nodded, grabbing another from the cabinet. With a light slice of the knife along the packaging, he peeled it downward, revealing a perfect, intact ham sausage.
What was a perfect host? This was a perfect host! If only Tan Ming weren’t afraid of snakes.
Bai Ying couldn’t help thinking that, but he also felt that being friends was pretty great. Tan Ming was a generous friend who let his neighbor mooch off meals without complaint.
Ham sausages were ready-to-eat once peeled, so Tan Ming just gave them a quick fry. Once done, he spread sweet bean sauce inside the cooked egg pancake, added two pieces of lightly wilted lettuce, placed the ham sausages on top, and rolled it up with fluid motions. The egg pancake was ready.
The millet porridge with sweet potato chunks had also finished simmering, golden in color, sweet, and cooked to a soft mush.
Bai Ying ate with deep emotion. He would forever support Tan Ming’s culinary skills!
Tan Ming felt immensely satisfied inside, as if he were already living the blissful life of cooking for his wife every day after marriage.
The dishwasher handled the dishes. After eating, the two sat down on the balcony. Last night’s storm had raged for several hours, stopping only at four in the morning—Tan Ming remembered clearly because that was when his body’s reaction had finally subsided enough for him to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Now, the mild yet bright spring sunlight filled the room through the glass walls. The balcony, with the best lighting, was connected to the living room and master bedroom. Its curved design featured windows on the sides and transparent glass walls elsewhere, a major selling point of the complex. Yet Tan Ming hadn’t made much use of it; aside from the rattan table and chairs gifted by Madam Tan, the rest was empty.
Madam Tan had once mocked Tan Ming’s decor style as “grab-the-bucket-and-run chic.” Tan Ming used to think, what’s wrong with that? It was easy to clean. Now, though, he found the balcony too plain. Maybe he should buy some plant stands, some greenery, a glass fish tank, a few pretty goldfish—Bai Ying would look perfect amid vibrant flowers and lush greenery.
He should redo the indoor decor too. Eggshell chairs would be nice, add some color to make it feel more like a home.
Tan Ming wished he could do all these things with Bai Ying.
Just like how they were now listing out a shopping list together.
They sat facing each other in the brilliant sunlight, jotting down their procurement lists. Bai Ying racked his brains—work had been so busy he couldn’t remember what his place was missing. There must be things to restock, but he drew a blank for the moment.
“Bath salts… yeah, probably need new bath salts.” Bai Ying recalled how much was left.
“Which brand do you use? I’ll try it too.” Tan Ming had a bathtub at home but rarely used it—showers were more convenient.
Bai Ying looked at Tan Ming. The midday spring sun warmed them thoroughly. Bai Ying rolled up his pajama sleeves, while Tan Ming wore only a tank top.
A scriptwriter who looked refined in neat clothes—who would guess he had such defined muscles?
Imagining a buff guy using milky bath salts, Bai Ying couldn’t help laughing. “You really want to? It’s milk-scented, you know.”
No wonder he had smelled a faint milky fragrance when sleeping in Tan Ming’s arms. Tan Ming pushed his own list toward Bai Ying. “I’ll give it a try.”
Though he probably wasn’t suited for it… but when Bai Ying wasn’t around, smelling the same scent would be nice.
Bai Ying wrote down the bath salt brand. Tan Ming’s list was already long; Bai Ying cheekily copied a few items.
He copied openly, his bright eyes sparkling, making Tan Ming want to pull him into his arms and rub him all over.
Thanks to Tan Ming’s detailed list, Bai Ying finally perfected his shopping plan. He ran back to his own place to change into going-out clothes, then headed downstairs with Tan Ming.
The air after the rain was exceptionally fresh, with small puddles on the ground. Bai Ying lightly hopped over them, the hem of his blue-and-yellow jacket fluttering in the wind.
With a gentle breeze and fine sunshine, it was the perfect day to go out with someone he liked, walking under the sun. Tan Ming, who had long avoided sunlight due to his nocturnal habits, unhesitatingly betrayed his past self.
The supermarket wasn’t far—a twenty-minute walk. The high-end complex had excellent amenities. But Bai Ying rarely came here; he was usually too busy and relied on online deliveries.
He loved browsing supermarkets, though—the satisfaction of filling a cart with snacks was something online shopping couldn’t match!
If he were alone, Bai Ying would head straight for the snack aisle, but with Tan Ming along, he obediently followed. Tan Ming had planned the optimal route, pushing the cart straight to the nearest daily necessities section upon entering.
“Is this the brand?” Tan Ming picked up a box of bath salts.
“Yes, that’s the packaging.” Bai Ying loaded six boxes into his cart.
That would last months with daily baths… Tan Ming couldn’t help thinking. No wonder Bai Ying smelled like milk.
After stocking up on the listed daily items, they moved to the fresh produce section. Though still raw ingredients, Bai Ying could already envision their future forms.
“Green pepper beef strips, cola chicken wings, shrimp with glass noodles…”
“I’ll pay!” Bai Ying dumped them all into his cart.
He had been freeloading so much food from Tan Ming that he felt bad. Guarding his cart, he said, “Don’t fight me for it, or I won’t come over for meals anymore.”
Tan Ming reluctantly withdrew his hand. Fine—once they were together, he’d hand over his bank card anyway.
After buying a week’s worth of ingredients and restocking condiments, Bai Ying finally dashed to his beloved snack aisle.
Weird new flavors of chips? Buy!
Discount bulk candies? Buy! A big bag!
Pearl milk tea-flavored instant mini cakes… damn, pearl milk tea flavor—buy!
Bai Ying’s cart soon piled into a little mountain. Tan Ming didn’t eat many snacks but bought a share of everything anyway—for when Bai Ying came over.
Bai Ying knew when to stop; once his cart was full, he quit.
“That should last a good while.” Bai Ying nodded in satisfaction.
Bai Ying never saved money. After rent, what was there to save from his less-than-two-thousand-yuan salary? With meal allowances from work, he didn’t spend much on food. Most of his cash went to snacks.
Workdays were too miserable; only treats could offer some comfort.
It was a workday for most, so checkout was quick. The cart turned into three heavy bags. Paying stung a bit, but holding the bags felt fulfilling.
“I’ll carry them.” Tan Ming could handle four bags alone.
Without argument, he picked the heaviest four. They felt light; inside, he thrilled at shouldering the role of Bai Ying’s husband.
Bai Ying carried one bag of snacks—half air in packaging, probably. He hurried to Tan Ming’s side. “Isn’t it too heavy? I can take some.”
Tan Ming said casually, “Nah, it’s light.”
Bai Ying was shocked, marveling once more at how some humans had better physiques than demons—sorry, he was still embarrassing demons!
Back home, ingredients went into Tan Ming’s fridge, most snacks to Bai Ying’s place. Bai Ying invited Tan Ming over for gaming; Tan Ming gladly accepted. He had finally entered Bai Ying’s home.
He didn’t know what that little punk had done last time, but he’d left quickly—probably just a drink and chit-chat. Now Tan Ming sat on the sofa Bai Ying sat on, held the controller Bai Ying used, had Bai Ying lean on his shoulder teaching him a game he’d already beaten. Did that kid get this treatment?
Tan Ming felt smug. Even stir-frying dinner had more vigor.
He hadn’t confessed yet. Like how he loved planting all the foreshadowing in a script and detonating it at the end, pushing the emotions to an unprecedented climax before the perfect resolution, his confession would be the same. He would slowly infiltrate Bai Ying’s life like intertwined plot threads. Once Bai Ying was accustomed to him, their lives inseparable, he would confess as the victory chant.
Until then, restraint—no rushing, no scaring him off.
After dinner, he walked Bai Ying home.
“Little snack.” Tan Ming handed him a box of freshly baked cookies. “Eat if you’re hungry at night.”
Bai Ying took it cherishingly, hugging it to his chest.
“If you have nightmares, you can come find me again,” Tan Ming added.
“I’m not scared anymore,” Bai Ying shook his head. “But thanks anyway.”
Tan Ming felt a twinge of regret. The bed still held Bai Ying’s scent, but it surely wasn’t as good as the real thing.
They agreed to shop together again sometime. Back home, Bai Ying stowed the cookies and flopped onto the sofa.
He turned on the TV, unsure what to watch, and flipped to a random variety show. He didn’t recognize anyone on it. Though his work often brushed the entertainment industry, discovering new flops was an everyday occurrence.
“Don’t know what to do…” Bai Ying murmured.
His busy job left no time for personal hobbies. Without invitations, he had no idea what to do. Didn’t want to watch dramas—the last one was a trashy work-mandated show that hurt his eyes and soul. Didn’t feel like gaming either; old games were stale, new ones took time he didn’t have, and work resumed in another day and a half…
Bai Ying even considered knocking on Tan Ming’s door. A snake was too lonely; he wanted someone to keep him company. Even if he hadn’t found anyone who would gently stroke his scales, it was still better than being alone.
No sooner had the thought arisen than his phone buzzed twice.
“Who’s looking for me at a time like this…” Bai Ying picked up his phone.
Bai Ying’s social circle was very small—just colleagues, clients, or subcontractors from the next tier down. The latter two had no reason to contact him outside of projects, and colleagues treated each other as dead during holidays to avoid recalling the pains of work. They probably wouldn’t reach out either.
Who could it be…
Bai Ying unlocked his phone and saw a name that startled him so much he nearly dropped it.
Qin Juanshu (noted as President Qin).
His boss messaging during vacation—what good news could that be?
Bai Ying didn’t want to face reality, but he dared not ignore his boss. In the end, the spineless wage slave tapped open the message.
However, Qin Juanshu wasn’t dragging him in for overtime.
Qin Juanshu had sent a bar location pin, followed by a message: 【Can you come over?】
The tone carried a hint of vulnerability, but he seemed worried Bai Ying wouldn’t show, so he added: 【You can charge by the hour—name your price.】
Bai Ying had no idea what had gotten into Qin Juanshu. Had he gotten drunk at a bar and grabbed a lucky employee to take him home?
In that case, he’d demand five times the overtime rate. Bai Ying replied with a simple “Okay.”
He pocketed his phone and headed out. He had nothing to do that night anyway.
I’ll spare you a bit of my vacation time.
