This one! Bai Ying found it.
Thanks, little snake. He pulled up the QR code scanner just as the bus arrived. Liu Qingzhang scanned it under the machine, which beeped.
Big snake, two yuan. Little snake rides free, Bai Ying narrated.
The big snake carried his free-riding little snake to a window seat. It was a weekday, avoiding rush hours, so the bus was spacious. Besides Liu Qingzhang, there were only some elderly passengers—though in truth, Liu Qingzhang was older than all of them combined.
The window was half-open. Bai Ying poked his head close. Obeying traffic rules, the little snake did not stick it out, just got nearer to feel the whooshing wind.
The April city brimmed with greenery. Street trees were in full leaf, and the small city’s sights unspooled like a film reel before the little snake’s eyes as the bus moved.
Liu Qingzhang and Bai Ying got off at City Heart Park.
The little snake wanted to see flowers, and City Heart Park’s crabapple blossoms were in full bloom. Clusters of gorgeous pink crabapples lined the moon-shaped artificial lake, like rosy clouds. When Wenxiang Mountain suffered that massive storm, this small city had gale-force winds that scattered many petals, carpeting the grass like a rug.
The little snake rolled happily in the flower pile.
He accidentally rolled into a dense patch, sinking into the thicker flower blanket with his head buried. The moment the little snake vanished from sight, Liu Qingzhang’s expression shifted slightly. He hurried over, and the little snake popped out with a whoosh, petals atop his head.
Little snake, stay still for now, Liu Qingzhang said.
Bai Ying was puzzled but obediently froze.
Liu Qingzhang pulled out his phone and snapped a photo with a click. The invisibility spell fooled the human eye but not the lens, capturing the little snake with petals on his head.
“Cute,” Liu Qingzhang said aloud.
Bai Ying shyly shrank into the flower pile, then suddenly remembered something—if the big snake called him cute, it must be true!
Could he send this close-up little snake photo to Xie Jin, letting him preview the snake he might raise later?
Bai Ying coiled around Liu Qingzhang’s wrist: Mr. Liu, can you send me that photo?
Liu Qingzhang sent it right away. If he knew Bai Ying planned to forward it to Xie Jin, he would have coldly recalled it in an instant.
Bai Ying happily went back to playing.
The last time he had rolled so freely on grass was probably before becoming a demon. Bai Ying lost track of time until the sun dipped westward and the little snake grew tired, slowly crawling into Liu Qingzhang’s palm.
Liu Qingzhang used wet wipes to gently clean the dust and dirt from the little snake, restoring his white jade scales to pristine shine.
The medical gauze on his tail had gotten dirty, but Liu Qingzhang had watched closely, confirming no reinjury. He unwrapped it, reapplied ointment, bought fresh gauze from a nearby pharmacy nearby, and tied an even bigger bow.
Bai Ying still thought his tail smelled delicious.
So at dinnertime, in the restaurant Liu Qingzhang had booked entirely for themselves, the now-visible Bai Ying sat openly on the table and ordered a mint-flavored small cake.
It was palm-sized, but still too big for the little snake.
I’ll eat whatever you can’t finish, Liu Qingzhang urged him to eat freely. No waste.
They dined at a local restaurant specializing in regional dishes, which had many rules—all of which vanished before the great demon. The little snake could sit on the table. The dessert chef hastily baked an experimental mint cake. Liu Qingzhang barely glanced at the menu, simply ordering the entire thing from start to finish, but in one-tenth portions.
Unreasonable, but the restaurant could not fight a bulldozer.
The little snake hated waste, and the big snake claimed he could eat it all. The little snake curiously eyed the big snake’s belly, as if peering into another dimension.
Just how big was Mr. Liu’s true form?
The dinner was so delicious that the little snake soon forgot the question.
After the tasty meal, it was time for hot springs.
Hot springs were a local specialty, said to be rich in minerals beneficial to the body. Many sanatoriums perched on mountains for their natural hot springs.
The Zhong Family had prepared Hot Spring Manor well in advance.
The manor was filled with wooden buildings in the Tang style, and many flowering trees bloomed romantically even at night. Palace lanterns hung under the eaves, illuminating the pebbled paths below. Liu Qingzhang dismissed the Zhong Family servants and led the little snake to the hot spring pool in the center of the courtyard.
The pool was fed with fresh water, the hot spring channeled in through bamboo sections, with separate pipes for drainage. Steam rose hazily from the surface, scattered with fallen petals, for a massive flowering tree loomed directly overhead. A breeze sent more blossoms drifting down from the branches.
A small wooden tray floated on the water, typically used for snacks or fruit, but now Liu Qingzhang placed the little snake on it. Watching the little snake test the water temperature with the tip of its tail, Liu Qingzhang said, “I’m going to change into some clothes. Wait here for me.”
The little snake nodded.
It continued to play in the water, its tail tip quickly growing accustomed to the warmth and soaking comfortably. But the little snake didn’t dare submerge its whole body—the natural hot spring was a bit hotter than the water in its bath, and the pool was far larger and deeper than its little tub. With Liu Qingzhang not nearby, it would be disastrous if it tired out midway.
The little snake lay on the wooden tray, drifting idly across the surface.
It wasn’t until it heard the clack of wooden clogs on the floorboards that the little snake suddenly lifted its head. Liu Qingzhang had returned. He had changed into a dark-colored bathrobe, its collar slightly open to reveal the sleek, well-defined lines of his musculature. Liu Qingzhang removed his shoes, made sure the little snake was secure, and then stepped into the hot water. The surface rippled briefly before settling back into calm.
Bai Ying, tray and all, was encircled in Liu Qingzhang’s arms.
Liu Qingzhang lifted its tail and carefully inspected the injury. “Much better. As expected, returning to its original form speeds up the recovery.”
For humans, it took a hundred days to recover from injuries to muscles and bones, but the little snake’s fracture hadn’t been severe to begin with. After about a month of rest, it had nearly healed, and now in its original form, in another ten days or so, it would have no trouble walking normally, even if running and jumping were still tricky.
Seeing Liu Qingzhang examining its tail so seriously, Bai Ying suddenly grew curious. 【What does Mr. Liu’s original form look like?】
Liu Qingzhang smiled. “Want to see?”
The little snake nodded, torn between fear and curiosity.
It had always been afraid of snakes larger than itself, terrified of being eaten, but Liu Qingzhang wouldn’t eat it. So in the tug-of-war between curiosity and fear, curiosity won out.
Liu Qingzhang thought for a moment. “If I transformed back here, half the pool’s water would probably overflow.”
Bai Ying: “!”
This hot spring was already big enough for a person to swim in—how enormous was Mr. Liu’s true body!
Liu Qingzhang added, “But I can make myself a bit smaller.”
Bai Ying watched him expectantly.
Liu Qingzhang gave the little snake’s tail a pinch. “Since you want to see, I’ll show you—but don’t get scared.”
The little snake nodded solemnly. Don’t worry, it had already steeled itself mentally!
In the next instant, the older man transformed into a black python. It was pitch black all over, even its belly a deep shade, only slightly lighter than the scales. The only contrasting color was its eyes—emerald-green vertical pupils glowing with a chilling, eerie light.
The black python floated in the water, still coiling its body around the wooden tray and the tiny white snake atop it, just as it had in human form. The little white snake seemed stunned, its beady eyes staring blankly at the python’s head right in front of it.
Liu Qingzhang gauged his size—he had shrunk to a fraction of his original length, now only about five meters long. Not that big, right?
Liu Qingzhang’s true form was non-venomous, and its fangs weren’t particularly frightening. Besides, its mouth was closed now, revealing only an elliptically shaped head.
Hmm, not scary at all.
Thinking this, Liu Qingzhang gently nudged the little white snake with his head.
But unexpectedly, the little white snake toppled sideways from the nudge, nearly tumbling off the tray. Liu Qingzhang froze—he had definitely held back his strength. Then he realized it was because the little white snake was trembling violently, barely able to stay coiled.
Bai Ying whipped its tail up to cover its eyes. Now it wouldn’t have to see that massive snake head that could probably swallow several of him in one bite.
Wahhh, it had overestimated its own courage—it was still so scary!
