Chapter 38

After the storm passed, the weather turned bright and sunny.

Bai Ying had not fully woken up yet. His consciousness remained hazy, and he felt as if he were lying on a soft, fluffy cloud, so comfortable that his bones seemed to be melting away. His sense of touch returned first, followed by his sense of smell—the sweet fragrance of fruits mingled with the delicate aroma of flowers. Then came hearing: birds chirped melodiously on the branches, their clear and lilting calls echoing softly.

Finally, Bai Ying opened his eyes.

He saw an unfamiliar ceiling adorned with intricate entwined floral patterns along the edges. The curtains were drawn open, filling the room with ample natural light, though the lamps remained off. The large bed where Bai Ying slept was positioned perfectly, allowing the warm sunlight to fall gently on the soft bedding without shining directly into his eyes.

Where was this?

Bai Ying propped himself up on the bed to sit, but the mattress was so soft that it sank under his weight. His body still lacked strength, feeling limp and weak; even the simple act of sitting up took effort. Just then, a pair of hands reached out from the side to support him.

Liu Qingzhang set aside the book he had been halfway through reading and helped Bai Ying sit up.

“Mr. Liu?” Bai Ying stared at him with a dazed expression.

The little white snake, freshly awakened, had not yet recalled the events before he fell asleep.

“Have you slept yourself silly?” Liu Qingzhang asked, reaching out to stroke his cheek. The little snake did not move, allowing the touch obediently. This snake was always like that, as if he would never refuse anyone.

A few strands of hair that had stuck to his cheek during sleep were gently brushed away by Liu Qingzhang.

Bai Ying gradually remembered some things. He recalled how Mr. Liu had suddenly appeared, rescuing him from the cave surrounded by raging storm winds and rain. The scene around them had twisted for an instant, and the next moment, they were in a cramped, bumpy space. Mr. Liu had told him they were on a helicopter.

He buried his face in Mr. Liu’s neck.

It was actually because he felt cold and instinctively sought a warmer spot, but Mr. Liu seemed to misunderstand, thinking he was afraid of flying. Throughout the flight, Mr. Liu had gently coaxed him, telling him not to be scared.

Like soothing a child, he lightly patted Bai Ying’s back. Bai Ying had drifted off to sleep completely without realizing it, and when he woke again, he was in this unfamiliar room.

“Where is this place?” Bai Ying suddenly remembered something important and grabbed Liu Qingzhang’s sleeve in a panic. “What about Xiao Lu?”

Liu Qingzhang felt a twinge of displeasure. The little snake paid too much attention to that mortal.

But he still answered Bai Ying: “This is a hospital. He’s in another room.”

The little snake’s eyes widened in shock. Bai Ying looked around; no matter how he saw it, this resembled a luxurious hotel room. How could it be a hospital?

Yet the medical equipment subtly integrated into the surroundings confirmed to Bai Ying that it truly was one.

Bai Ying glanced down at the back of his hand, and Liu Qingzhang immediately understood what the little snake was thinking. “Don’t worry, no IV drip.”

Bai Ying looked up at Liu Qingzhang again, his eyes questioning how he had been treated. Afraid of being discovered as a demon, the little snake avoided hospitals whenever possible. He was unfamiliar with them and usually healed minor injuries on his own.

“I prepared some medicine for you. You were very obedient while asleep and drank it when I fed it to you.” Liu Qingzhang had never encountered such a cooperative patient before. The little snake had a high fever and wouldn’t wake no matter how he called, so Liu Qingzhang hadn’t wanted to disturb him further. He had thought feeding the medicine might be difficult, but when he placed the warmed herbal broth—made to taste like sugar water—against the little snake’s lips and parted them slightly, the little snake swallowed it down unconsciously with gulp after gulp.

“The fever has broken, but the leg injury needs rest.” Liu Qingzhang continued, “There are also some minor wounds that require daily ointment application.”

Lu Changjun had shielded Bai Ying completely at the time, but some debris and glass shards had still grazed his body, leaving many small cuts. Most had healed to faint red lines, but Liu Qingzhang remained vigilant.

As for the fractured leg, Liu Qingzhang had no choice. He knew some medical principles but was not an expert, and his demon power was too overbearing and fierce for healing spells. He could only leave it to mortal doctors.

Bai Ying lifted the blanket and saw his injured leg in a cast. The restrictive feeling was so uncomfortable that the little snake hugged the blanket sadly.

Then he noticed his clothes had been changed.

Not only changed, but he seemed to have been bathed too; his body felt clean and fresh. Bai Ying clutched the hospital gown and looked at Liu Qingzhang again.

Liu Qingzhang said calmly, “I changed them and wiped you down while I was at it.”

He had personally applied medicine to every small wound on Bai Ying’s body. It was like seeing exquisite porcelain cracked in places; each new scratch Liu Qingzhang discovered pained him deeply.

Bai Ying’s expression shifted from stunned to despairing.

He buried his face in the blanket, not daring to look at Liu Qingzhang. His muffled, stammering voice emerged from within: “I-I’m s-s-sorry!”

How could he let a great demon do such things!

“No need to apologize,” Liu Qingzhang placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can rely on me for anything.”

Moved, Bai Ying looked at Liu Qingzhang. Mr. Liu, are you really not some long-lost father I never met?

Liu Qingzhang lowered his eyelids and added, “…After all, I’m your elder from the same clan.”

It was unclear whether he said this for Bai Ying’s benefit or to convince himself.

An inexplicable irritation stirred in his heart. The little snake was his junior—that was the fact of the matter, and nothing more. The little snake was only twenty-five this year, while he… Liu Qingzhang couldn’t quite remember. Eight hundred something, or maybe nine hundred? One of his scales alone was nearly as large as the coiled-up little snake. What else could their relationship be?

Elder and junior, plainly and simply.

Liu Qingzhang tried to calm the sudden ripples in his emotions with other matters. He asked, “Are you hungry?”

Bai Ying’s stomach gave no sensation. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You’ve slept for a day and two nights,” Liu Qingzhang said.

Bai Ying: “!”

He wasn’t not hungry; his stomach had gone numb from it!

Pathetically, Bai Ying said, “The snake is hungry.”

Liu Qingzhang patted the pitiful little snake’s head and immediately had some light, stomach-friendly food delivered. It arrived in just a few minutes, clearly prepared in advance so it would be ready whenever Bai Ying woke.

Bai Ying ate half of it, then paused with the spoon in his mouth, puzzled. “How did Mr. Liu know something happened to me?”

Liu Qingzhang sat beside him reading, though his attention wasn’t fully on the book. He replied, “I invested in that movie. The crew’s updates come to me daily.”

It wasn’t just the movie Xia Dao.

Every project Bai Ying handled—from upstream clients to downstream partners, even the Minghong Group where he currently worked—Liu Qingzhang had silently infiltrated with his influence in an incredibly short time.

As a demon who had lived nearly a millennium, the power Liu Qingzhang wielded was far more terrifying than what the Zhong Family displayed. His influence spread like the roots of a massive tree, quietly burrowing deep into the land.

Liu Qingzhang didn’t elaborate, fearing he might scare the little snake. And the little snake, straightforward as ever, didn’t overthink it. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he asked no more.

He focused on finishing the sweet porridge and side dishes cleanly.

“Still feels hungry,” Bai Ying said, holding the empty bowl.

“You’ve been hungry too long. Don’t eat too much at once; have small meals frequently. Rest well these days, and I’ll make the arrangements.” Liu Qingzhang set the empty bowl back on the tray, placed the tray on the bedside table—someone would collect it—and folded down the small table. He saw Bai Ying gazing worriedly at his leg.

“This should count as a work injury, right?” Bai Ying murmured.

Liu Qingzhang chuckled. The little snake was still thinking about work. “Yes, a work injury. I’ll approve paid leave for you.”

He wasn’t even the little snake’s boss, but if Liu Qingzhang said there was paid leave, there was.

Come to think of it, the little snake’s actual boss seemed to be at this hospital too?

The thought flashed through Liu Qingzhang’s mind, but he dismissed it. He never wasted energy on unimportant people. This private hospital had A and B inpatient wings; the A wing where the little snake stayed had been fully taken over by the Zhong Family—no one could disturb them.

Though he had paid leave, Bai Ying was still unhappy.

The cast felt too confining, like his snake tail bound tightly with rope… Wait, in this state, could he still transform back into a snake?

When faced with the unknown, Bai Ying instinctively turned to Liu Qingzhang. “Can I still turn back into a snake?”

Liu Qingzhang assured him, “Whenever you want, you can.”

Bai Ying hesitated. “But my leg has a cast…” If he turned into a snake, those things would surely fall off—his true form was so small, after all.

Liu Qingzhang told him not to worry. “Your true form heals faster than your human one. If you transform back, it’s fine without them.”

Bai Ying had more concerns. “Can I really stay as a snake the whole time…?”

Switching between human and snake forms while injured clearly wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t keep transforming and getting recast every time—the doctors wouldn’t like it, and it made Bai Ying uncomfortable just thinking about it. He had maintained human form for long stretches before, but snake form? Aside from staying as a snake for days during mating season, he had never remained in his true form for more than a day.

Living as a little snake in human society was very difficult.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” Liu Qingzhang told Bai Ying. “Even if you transform back, you can go anywhere.”

Bai Ying asked, “Can I go out to play? I don’t want to stay in the room.”

Liu Qingzhang nodded with a smile. “Yes.”

Bai Ying’s eyes lit up, perhaps from the sunlight streaming through the window, scattering bright flecks into them as well.

The young man on the hospital bed suddenly transformed back into the little snake, and the prepared Liu Qingzhang scooped him up with one hand. The little snake lowered its head and bit his sleeve, as if urging: Let’s go play, let’s go play!

“Wait just a moment,” Liu Qingzhang said, patting the little snake’s head.

The little snake tilted its head in confusion.

Liu Qingzhang gently placed the little snake on the pillow and fetched his homemade ointment. The special ointment didn’t irritate wounds and had no foul medicinal smell; it was what he had used on Bai Ying’s minor injuries.

Previously, it could only treat scrapes, not fractures—but that was for human form. Once Bai Ying turned back into a snake, it was different.

Liu Qingzhang pinched the tip of the little snake’s tail, lifted it gently, and applied a ring of ointment. Bai Ying watched with his beady eyes; the milky-white ointment blended perfectly into his scales once smoothed, completely invisible.

But the ointment smelled like minty cotton candy—his tail now smelled delicious.

“This is medicine; you can’t taste it,” Liu Qingzhang stopped the little snake as it tried to get closer.

He wrapped medical gauze around the little snake’s injured tail with just the right tension, winding it a few times before tying it off with a butterfly knot.

“All done.” Liu Qingzhang placed the little snake on his shoulder. “Now we can go play.”

***

While demons enjoyed peaceful moments, others bore heavy burdens behind the scenes.

Dealing with Tan Ming, Xie Jin, and Qin Juanshu who came knocking; shaking off the Lu Family to bring Lu Changjun over; and handling Yun Ze who had just flown in—Zhong Qian grumbled about how so many people showed up while mentally reviewing the challenges faced by previous Zhong Family Heads.

He had no memory of the too-distant past, so he counted back a century.

When his great-grandmother took over the Zhong Family, the feudal dynasty was collapsing amid turbulent world events. Even demons couldn’t stay aloof. Mr. Liu stepped from behind the scenes multiple times, and his great-grandmother followed him through the chaos, not only preserving the Zhong Family but expanding it into military and political spheres.

His great-grandfather succeeded her amid similar turmoil, often wartime, doing much the same.

Then came his grandfather and father in succession. With real battles over, the fights turned to commercial warfare. Under Mr. Liu’s protection, the Zhong Family continued to grow.

Mr. Liu, that stable and dominant figure, had been pivotal to the Zhong Family’s current status. But Zhong Family members couldn’t just follow blindly; every Family Head faced significant trials. As the carefully groomed heir, Zhong Qian was prepared.

Yet his predecessors dealt with battlefields or business storms—why had the tone shifted so drastically for him?

The Zhong Family revolved around Mr. Liu; Mr. Liu’s affairs were the Zhong Family’s. For a moment, Zhong Qian wasn’t sure if Mr. Liu’s current demon life theme was fatherly affection and filial piety, or romantic entanglements.

Zhong Qian pondered while maintaining a smile as he rejected the several men’s requests to visit. His attitude appeared mild, but in reality, it was unyieldingly firm. Every young talent before him was a proud son of heaven from major political, business, or artistic families. Making enemies of these people would be troublesome, but Mr. Liu’s orders had been given. To carry out Mr. Liu’s will, Zhong Qian could use any means necessary if the situation demanded it.

Thugs hid in the shadows, and snipers had already taken high ground positions. They wouldn’t take lives, but knocking someone out or sedating them was another story.

Zhong Qian still hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

However, the group, who also had their own backing, seemed prepared to force their way in.

Zhong Qian subtly furrowed his brow.

Just as the Zhong Family’s people decided to use force to block them, Zhong Qian received a message.

The content of the message made him gesture behind his back, and the people in the shadows withdrew. Zhong Qian seemed to soften his attitude, stepping aside to let them in.

Zhong Qian did not follow them. Instead, he handed over control of the hospital side to others.

After all, the person those men wanted to see was no longer at the hospital.

As the quasi-head of the Zhong Family, Zhong Qian’s duty was to follow the Zhong Family’s power center. When the power center moved, he had to follow, ensuring he could serve at Mr. Liu’s side whenever needed.

Zhong Qian took a group of people with him, issuing orders one after another. These people silently dispersed into the city—some disguised as merchants, others pretending to be tourists, some infiltrating the city’s surveillance systems, and others influencing traffic. Most of the time, they took no action at all, but when needed, they would immediately carry out their tasks according to their respective identities.

And there was only one mission objective—

To make the little snake have fun.