Woo. The little snake, able only to hiss, drooped its head in frustration. Damn it, he couldn’t speak human words in snake form.
And after the ordeal of the heat, he had no strength left to shift back to human form anytime soon.
He really was a pathetic, useless demon… Worse, though they were both snakes, snake language couldn’t convey much information.
“If you’re hungry, I’ll have someone make you something to eat,” Liu Qingzhang said, focused entirely on feeding the little snake. “What do you like?”
“Hiss…” It was hungry, but first, he needed to reassure Qin Juanshu.
The little snake craned its neck toward the wardrobe.
“You want this?” Liu Qingzhang intuitively picked up the phone, where Qin Juanshu was still calling.
“!” The big characters “Boss” appeared before the little snake. This call felt like a death knell. Startled, the little snake’s tail slapped down—pa—and accidentally hung up.
Back on the home screen, dozens of missed calls were shocking.
Oh no. The little snake anxiously patted its tail a few times. Would he get docked pay?
Bai Ying lifted his head and bumped the phone’s edge. Liu Qingzhang understood and placed the phone flat on the bed. Bai Ying immediately crawled down from his lap and expertly opened WeChat, typing with his tail tip.
He typed slowly—his body lacked strength, and his tail tip wasn’t as nimble as before. It tapped the screen bit by bit. Liu Qingzhang found it cute at first, then grew dissatisfied toward the person on the other end. Didn’t they know the little snake was tired? Apparently not, but disturbing the little snake was their fault.
Lacking energy for long sentences and worried Qin Juanshu was anxious, Bai Ying sent short ones, breaking them up.
Bai Ying: [I’m fine.]
He hadn’t finished “Sorry,” let alone “for worrying you,” when messages poured in.
Qin Juanshu: [Bai Ying, where are you?]
Qin Juanshu: [Are you okay? Did anyone bully you?]
Qin Juanshu: [That bastard who drugged you is dead. Hold on, I’m coming to save you!]
Nooo! Bai Ying anxiously slapped the bed with his tail—pa pa pa. Boss, calm down—don’t do anything illegal!
Woo woo, that sentence was too long. Who knew how long it’d take.
Bai Ying was still tapping away with his tail tip when Qin Juanshu called again.
This time, Bai Ying accidentally hit the answer button.
The little white snake froze stiff.
I-it’s over. Now he was just a little snake that could only hiss…
At that moment, a hand reached over and picked up the phone in front of Bai Ying.
It was Liu Qingzhang.
Liu Qingzhang held the phone to his ear. An impulsive male voice came through: “Bai Ying…”
So noisy. Liu Qingzhang frowned.
Besides, he preferred to learn the little snake’s name from it directly, not some stranger.
“You’re disturbing him,” Liu Qingzhang interrupted the unfinished words on the other end.
Bai Ying strained to lift his head. The room was quiet, so he could hear Qin Juanshu.
He had always known Qin Juanshu’s voice was cold—even just listening made him seem unapproachable. But now, it was colder than any time Bai Ying had heard before.
Beneath the hard ice, molten lava seemed to flow, ready to erupt.
Qin Juanshu demanded angrily, “Who are you? Where’s Bai Ying? Why do you have his phone?!”
Where was the little snake?
Liu Qingzhang glanced down at it. The little snake looked back at him, its pitch-black round eyes adorably shiny.
“On my bed,” Liu Qingzhang said cheerfully.
Without waiting for the reaction on the other end, he tossed the phone aside, scooped the little snake from the bed, and placed it on his shoulder.
“Come on, I’ll take you to get something to eat,” Liu Qingzhang said.
Heat cycles were very draining, after all.
Bai Ying was uneasy. Was it really okay to reply like that to Qin Juanshu? But Liu Qingzhang, who didn’t care about mortals at all, had already left the room with him. Outside the bedroom stretched a long corridor bathed in moonlight. Night wind lifted the snow-white gauze curtains. The little snake peered out and saw Willow Mansion’s inner courtyard.
Willow Mansion was huge.
Bai Ying tried to map out its layout but soon got dizzy and gave up, unsure where he even was. His raised head drooped again as the little snake lay on the man’s shoulder.
Liu Qingzhang reached up to steady it, preventing a fall. He brought the little snake to the dining room, where shadow-like attendants served him as he sat.
Bai Ying even spotted the Zhong Family Head he had seen briefly at the banquet. Now, he was no different from the other servants, respectfully inquiring about Liu Qingzhang’s needs.
Liu Qingzhang thought for a moment and said, “Make some food that kids like to eat.”
Bai Ying: “?”
He was already twenty-five!
Liu Qingzhang placed the hissing little white snake on the table. The attendants had already laid an extra layer of soft padding on the tablecloth and brought a napkin suitable for the little snake. Liu Qingzhang personally tied it under the snake’s head. The little snake lightly poked at the item with the tip of its tail—something even his human form had rarely used—and wondered how the Zhong Family had prepared it so quickly.
As expected of a hereditary professional team…
Warm flames flickered in the candelabras on the long table, and a stream of exquisite dishes soon appeared on the table. Although Liu Qingzhang had only instructed the kitchen to prepare food that children liked, the Zhong Family Head had been clever. He asked his son, who was reviewing the surveillance footage to investigate the details of Bai Ying being drugged, to see what this Mr. Bai liked to eat.
Yes, the Zhong Family Head, who had served the great demon for many years, had immediately guessed that the little white snake being coaxed and pampered by Mr. Liu was that beautiful young man.
Zhong Qian compiled a menu, and the Zhong Family Head had the kitchen prepare accordingly. Thus, almost everything served on the table was food that Bai Ying liked.
For a moment, the little white snake didn’t know which to eat first.
And… did replenishing some energy really require such a grand setup…?
Bai Ying sat in a dining room that seemed like it belonged in a fairy tale movie. Only one side of the long table at the head was occupied, but every candelabrum was lit, and every vase brimmed with delicate fresh flowers. Enamel plates with small portions of food were presented one by one, only to be cleared away after Bai Ying tasted them or lost interest. At first, some Zhong Family members tried to feed the little white snake, but Liu Qingzhang waved them off. Under the attendants’ barely concealed astonished gazes, he personally used chopsticks or a fork to feed the food into the little snake’s mouth.
The little snake particularly liked sweet flavors.
Liu Qingzhang thought to himself, no wonder he smelled so sweet.
Besides the scent that only demons could detect, Liu Qingzhang also caught a faint milky fragrance—the milk bath salts were still working. He poured some warm milk into a small dish and watched as the little snake flicked out its scarlet tongue to lap it up bit by bit.
The little snake, which had quickly eaten its fill, sadly thought that it would be better if he were in human form right now. A snake really couldn’t eat much.
Liu Qingzhang no longer needed to eat, but today he unusually ate a little with Bai Ying. The full little snake grew bored and wrapped its tail around his wrist, lifting its head to sniff the blooming flowers in the vase.
At the other end of Willow Mansion, the front hall steward struggled to hold back the furious Qin Juanshu. Xie Jin had finally gotten through to Zhong Qian on the phone.
Zhong Qian really didn’t want to answer. He knew where the person Xie Jin was looking for was, and he was still reviewing the surveillance for his sake. But could they afford to meddle in the affairs of someone connected to Mr. Liu?
Zhong Qian braced himself and greeted, “Senior…”
“Zhong Qian,” Xie Jin said coldly—he had overheard the conversation between Qin Juanshu and Mr. Liu—”I never knew that your Zhong Family would stoop to forcing people.”
The only ones who would dare be so arrogant on Willow Mansion’s turf were the Zhong Family members, but he didn’t know which one it was.
“If anything happens to him…” Xie Jin gritted his teeth.
No matter how much power the Zhong Family wielded, they couldn’t suppress a tidal wave of public opinion. Even if it cost him his future, Xie Jin would make the Zhong Family pay.
Zhong Qian closed his eyes briefly. He understood the implication behind Xie Jin’s words, but the Zhong Family—and certainly not that person—cared about public opinion. A great demon who was several hundred years old had long transcended worldly concerns and didn’t give a damn what mortals said or did.
“He’s fine,” Zhong Qian could only tell Xie Jin this. “I guarantee he won’t have any problems.”
Even if the Zhong Family were slandered, nothing would happen to him. Zhong Qian looked at the menu he had diligently compiled on the table and thought so.
