The little white snake stirred, and Lu Changjun, whose gaze had scarcely left him, immediately realized that he was awake.
Bai Ying was actually a very proper sleeper. Over these past few days, as Lu Changjun shared a room with him, he had quickly noticed this. Although he liked to hold onto something while sleeping, as long as there was something in his arms, he wouldn’t budge the entire night. The little white snake was the same; when asleep, he coiled his body quietly, his jade-like scales tempting one to stroke them, yet so well-behaved that no one wanted to disturb him.
Upon just waking, Bai Ying was still a bit dazed. The little white snake’s body slowly slithered, halting abruptly when he accidentally pressed on his injured tail.
Snakes clearly had no tear glands, yet Lu Changjun seemed to see those beady eyes grow misty with tears, full of grievance. He stepped forward, scooped the little snake into his arms, and gently stroked his head in comfort.
Bai Ying nuzzled his wrist.
He saw that Xiao Lu had already tended to his own wounds. His dried pants were properly back on, though his upper body remained bare, wrapped in bandages made from strips torn from Xiao Lu’s own clothes. At the cave entrance lay a clump of shredded fabric mixed with bloody mud and water. Lu Changjun had even fetched rainwater to wipe the bloodstains from his body.
Bai Ying climbed onto Lu Changjun’s shoulder, dangling his little head to peer at his back. Blood had seeped through the bandages, filling the little snake with worry.
“It’s fine. The bleeding has stopped,” Lu Changjun said as he picked up the little snake and set him on the ground first. He then removed Bai Ying’s freshly dried shirt, shook it out, and slipped it on, hiding all his wounds beneath the fabric.
Bai Ying’s shirt was actually a size too big for him; he always had to fold the cuffs twice. But on Xiao Lu, it seemed a bit small, the fabric clinging to his developed arm muscles. Lu Changjun simply left the buttons undone, letting the shirt hang open—after all, the fire was right there beside him, and he didn’t feel cold.
The little white snake lifted his head and bumped against Lu Changjun’s thigh again and again.
Lu Changjun gazed at Bai Ying in bewilderment.
The senior, now back in snake form, couldn’t speak human words, and with his tail in too much pain for typing, Bai Ying could only convey what he wanted through gestures. Lu Changjun had to guess. Following the direction of Bai Ying’s nudges, he ventured, “Does Senior want me to turn around?”
The little white snake nodded, then eagerly turned his head toward the clothes drying by the fire.
His jacket and pants should be dry by now too.
Lu Changjun guessed again: “Is Senior going to transform back into human form?”
The little white snake nodded vigorously, his eyes bright. He rubbed against Lu Changjun’s leg in what seemed like praise.
Flattered, Lu Changjun quickly removed Bai Ying’s clothes from the fire and laid them flat on the ground. He then obediently faced the stone wall, turning his back to Bai Ying.
He heard the rustling of the dry grass pile as Bai Ying transformed back into human form and sat upon it. The cave wasn’t small, but with a fire pit taking up space and two grown men inside, it felt cramped. Lu Changjun guarded the spot near the entrance, so Bai Ying sat farther in, right by the dry grass pile left by previous visitors.
Bai Ying didn’t pick up his clothes right away. Instead, he panted slightly.
His head spun, as if he had a concussion. Or perhaps it wasn’t “as if”—maybe he really did. Bai Ying still remembered tumbling off the cliff with the car; even with all the buffers along the way, a tremendous force had shaken him straight into unconsciousness.
A head injury wasn’t a minor issue. This time, he feared he’d have no choice but to see a doctor—and he hoped it wouldn’t reveal that his brain was smaller than a normal person’s…
The discomfort made transforming back into human form far more taxing than usual. He rested for a long while before he had the strength to dress.
Truth be told, in his current state, it was best to stay in his original form. Demons always reverted to their true shapes when overly exhausted or gravely injured—it was the most reassuring form and allowed for the best recovery. But Bai Ying didn’t know when the rescue team would find them. If they arrived and he was still a snake, things would get complicated.
With trembling fingers, Bai Ying grabbed his clothes from the ground.
He picked up his pants first, bent his legs, and slowly pulled them on. It should have been the simplest task, but his fractured injured leg made everything agonizingly difficult.
When he pressed against the wound, Bai Ying couldn’t hold back a small cry of pain. He had tried his utmost to suppress it, but in the small cave, even the tiniest sound rang clear to the other person.
“Bai Ying…” Lu Changjun whipped his head around in panic. He hadn’t thought twice; Bai Ying’s stifled sob had made him turn instinctively.
What met his eyes was a flash of white like fresh snow, leaving him dizzy.
Lu Changjun froze for a good four or five seconds before realizing his mistake. He jerked his head back, wishing he could bash it against the stone wall. “Sorry, sorry…” he kept muttering.
Bai Ying barely registered what he said or did. Tears welled in his eyes as he complained pitifully, “It hurts so much…”
That soft, tearful grievance made Lu Changjun actually knock his forehead against the wall. But the cold stone did nothing to calm him.
His mind replayed the scene he’d glimpsed.
In those four or five seconds—a fleeting glance—Lu Changjun had been utterly dumbfounded. At first, he hadn’t even processed what he’d seen: the pale naked back, the flushed shoulder blades, the sudden narrow dip of the waist, and the rounded curve below. It was seared into his brain.
Lu Changjun babbled incoherently, “I-I-I can take responsibility…”
Bai Ying finally managed to pull on his pants despite the pain. Blinking through tears, he looked back. “What?”
“Sorry, I was talking nonsense!” Lu Changjun banged his head against the wall again, wishing he could knock the babbling fool out cold.
But then came rustling sounds from behind, drawing closer. Bai Ying had crawled right up to his back. As he nearly pressed against him, Bai Ying reached out, placing his hand between Lu Changjun’s forehead and the wall. Puzzled, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
You’ll knock yourself silly like this.
Lu Changjun felt like he’d already been driven silly by the temptation… Could this count as seduction? The mere thought of turning made him glimpse Bai Ying’s bare white arm.
Lu Changjun pinched his own thigh hard. “Senior, put your clothes on first…”
“Oh.” Bai Ying obediently went back to dress.
His jacket’s exterior was a bit dirty, but the inside was still clean and soft against the skin. Lu Changjun didn’t relax until he heard the zipper pull up. But just as the breath escaped halfway, a light weight settled on his shoulder.
Bai Ying rested his head there, his voice faint like a soft sob. “Xiao Lu, I feel awful…”
Lu Changjun’s heart flew into chaos. He turned, and Bai Ying fell into his arms.
His eyes were closed now, lashes wet with his own tears.
Realizing something, Lu Changjun reached out to feel Bai Ying’s forehead. It burned with fever.
Yet Bai Ying murmured, “So cold…”
“Senior, you’re burning up!” Lu Changjun wanted to do something—anything—but his skills, his influence, all meant nothing in this isolated cave. He could only hold him tight. Bai Ying burrowed deeper into his embrace, but it wasn’t enough. His skin scorched alarmingly, yet he shivered as if plunged into an ice cavern. Lu Changjun’s body heat wasn’t sufficient to warm him, and right now, Bai Ying had nothing else to rely on.
Bai Ying curled up, just like when he was a little snake, shrinking into the smallest ball possible.
Helpless, Lu Changjun held him, his gaze falling on Bai Ying’s bare feet. When he’d transformed into a snake, his clothes had all slid off. Even though Lu Changjun had swiftly gathered both clothes and snake into his arms, he’d forgotten the shoes and socks. Those jade-like feet were frozen, blood welling faintly beneath the skin. Lu Changjun cradled one foot in his palm, trying to warm it.
Outside, the rain curtain hung endlessly.
When would this storm finally end?
For Lu Changjun, this was an unprecedented moment of closeness with Bai Ying, who lay curled fully dependent in his arms—like something out of a dream. Yet he didn’t wish for it to last a second longer; he only hoped someone would appear the next instant to rescue Bai Ying.
Bai Ying’s condition was dire. He needed help.
His heart ached as if torn open. Far from fearing Bai Ying for being a snake demon, Lu Changjun pitied him all the more. The senior was just such a small snake…
Time ticked by agonizingly, each second an eternity for Lu Changjun.
The rain hadn’t lessened, but suddenly, a figure emerged through the curtain. Lu Changjun first thought it a hallucination, until the shadow drew nearer and entered the cave.
It was a tall man who had to duck to pass through the narrow entrance. The simple motion carried an air of elegance and nobility. His features were exceptionally handsome, but his aura often overshadowed them—contradictory, blending scholarly refinement with a cold, decisive edge.
Lu Changjun stayed silent, watching the man warily.
Something was off. This guy was seriously off…
The man glanced at him once before fixing his gaze entirely on the person in Lu Changjun’s arms. “Hand him over.”
Lu Changjun’s response was to hold Bai Ying tighter. Wary and guarded, he demanded, “Who are you?”
The man’s gaze turned icy, sending a chill of primal terror through Lu Changjun. It was an utterly foreign sensation, yet it linked to a memory: during a summer expedition with a pro adventure team in the Amazon rainforest, their boat drifting downriver amid laughter—until, passing a certain stretch, everyone fell silent at once.
It was instinct, sensing danger.
Only after the voices died did they spot the anaconda coiled on the riverbank tree, watching them coldly.
Even armed, they’d frozen in instinctive fear… Now, unarmed, Lu Changjun felt as if facing that anaconda head-on.
Why did he feel this way…?
Just then, Bai Ying stirred from his semi-delirium.
He seemed to hear a familiar voice, smell a familiar scent. The massive tree’s aura wasn’t as terrifying as the first time; it had reined itself in, lowering its branches to better shelter the delicate flower in its territory.
“Mr. Liu?” Bai Ying murmured uncertainly.
He struggled to open his eyes, but fever blurred his vision to a hazy tall silhouette. For a demon, though, scent trumped sight.
How could Mr. Liu be here…?
The last time he’d encountered Mr. Liu, his body had felt awful too…
Path dependence kicked in; Bai Ying instinctively leaned toward Liu Qingzhang, reaching out to him.
Liu Qingzhang roughly snatched him from Lu Changjun’s arms.
Lu Changjun’s resolve wavered—not as firm as before. First, because Bai Ying clearly knew this man; second, because he finally pinpointed the source of the unease since the man’s arrival.
While rescue teams couldn’t enter the mountains, this guy appeared out of nowhere, alone. He’d walked through the downpour yet remained crisp and dry, leaving no trace of water behind.
Could he be…
Liu Qingzhang ignored what the mortal was thinking, his focus solely on the little snake in his arms. Once held, the snake climbed his shoulder, wrapping around his neck. His eye corners flushed red, streaked with tears—he was clearly suffering badly.
Liu Qingzhang had rushed here at top speed, even shifting to his true form midway to sharpen his senses. Yet now, he cursed himself for not arriving sooner.
“Endure it a bit longer,” Liu Qingzhang soothed softly. “I’ll take you to the hospital right now.”
Didn’t want to go to the hospital… But if the big snake was taking him, it should be fine…
Bai Ying’s mind wandered, but he still reminded him, “Take Xiao Lu too…”
Liu Qingzhang frowned at the youth rising by bracing against the wall. The young man’s eyes brimmed with hostility, and Liu Qingzhang had no fondness for this mortal who’d been holding his little snake while wearing his clothes.
He couldn’t be bothered with the mortal’s life or death—let humans handle their own.
But it was the little snake’s request…
With a cold face, Liu Qingzhang knocked Lu Changjun out and roughly carried both away.
