Bai Ying could no longer remember how he had been sent home.
He only remembered being with the big snake on the high tower of the castle, blowing in the wind and gazing at the moon. That night, there was a round full moon, its gentle light like water. The castle was the tallest spot in the amusement park, built on a small hill, and the high tower was the tallest part of the castle. From the top, one could overlook the entire park.
From above, the glowing roller coaster tracks resembled another giant snake sprawled on the ground, surrounded by various amusement facilities like little flowers clustered beside it. The park’s outline along the Shen River looked like a plump apple, with a small island in the river serving as a green leaf garnish.
Being carried horizontally was actually a very insecure position for the one in the embrace. The space below felt empty, as if one might plummet at any moment, the body entirely dependent on another person. But the big snake’s arms were sturdy, and his scent, once accustomed to, made the little snake from the same kin feel at ease. After going wild for most of the day and half the night, Bai Ying actually fell asleep in Liu Qingzhang’s arms just like that.
At first, he did not sleep deeply and felt cold, burrowing hard into the big snake’s clothes until he was wrapped up and finally settled down. Liu Qingzhang placed his hand on his bare back; the palm was scorching hot, blocking the chilly night wind.
“Do you want to go home?” Bai Ying heard Liu Qingzhang ask softly.
“Yes…” Bai Ying mumbled indistinctly, “Take the squirrel…”
The big squirrel plush sat on the stone railing of the high tower, watching the moon with them.
Although Liu Qingzhang held him with both arms, Bai Ying believed the big snake surely had a way to bring the squirrel along. Not long after, Liu Qingzhang carried him away from the tower. Even descending the spiral stairs, his steps remained steady, and Bai Ying felt no jolts.
After that… after that, he seemed to get into a car. The vehicle drove smoothly for a good while until they hit traffic ahead. The jam was not severe; after just ten minutes or so, traffic resumed normally. Still, impatient drivers honked their horns loudly.
The blaring horns were too piercing. In his sleep, Bai Ying frowned.
Immediately, a palm covered his ears, blocking out the noise, and Bai Ying finally sank into deeper slumber.
When he regained awareness again, it was to the sound of rain the next day.
The pattering spring rain had been falling for some time when Bai Ying woke from his dreams. A newly awakened person’s mind had not fully returned to their body, but his hand instinctively reached to the side for his phone. Not finding it in the familiar spot, Bai Ying sat up blankly. The blanket slid off him, and he realized he was still wearing that dance skirt with its layers of sheer gauze.
The little snake tilted his head, dazedly tugging at a corner of the skirt.
He was not fully awake yet.
After sitting blankly for a while, Bai Ying finally looked beside him and spotted the adorably chubby big squirrel plush on his bedside table. Yes, his bedside table—Liu Qingzhang had sent him back home, but Liu Qingzhang was not there now.
Moreover…
Bai Ying could not help thinking, why had Mr. Liu not helped him change clothes this time?
Bai Ying lifted the blanket and flipped over to kneel on the bed. The pure white dance skirt, intricate in its simple tailoring, trailed behind him. He found his phone right in front of the big squirrel; Liu Qingzhang had even plugged it into the bedside charger to charge. He leaned forward, reached out, and took the phone from the bedside table.
The screen lit up: eight in the morning.
At this hour, the sun should have risen, but the room was dim—not entirely due to the curtains, as Bai Ying knew his home’s curtains were not that light-blocking. He set down the phone, got out of bed, slipped his feet into the fluffy slippers Liu Qingzhang had placed by the bed, and walked to the window. He pulled the curtains halfway open and saw water droplets rolling down the glass; it was raining outside.
The sky was overcast, explaining the darkness, but the room was not particularly cold—perhaps because Liu Qingzhang had closed the windows early, or because he had just left the warm bed. Due to the rain, the phone showed today’s temperature was five or six degrees lower than yesterday. Yet it was not until he left the bedroom that Bai Ying felt the chill.
Liu Qingzhang had closed the bedroom windows but left the balcony ones open for ventilation. The breeze blowing in carried a cold, slightly damp scent along with fresh air.
Bai Ying felt a chill on his upper body. He glanced to the side and caught sight of himself in the TV screen. The TV was off, its black surface mirroring his figure like a mirror. While the skirt’s lower half was extra fluffy from the dozen layers of gauze, the upper half was too thin—no straps, and his back was bare. Bai Ying reached behind, hooking the lowest bow.
He recalled how Liu Qingzhang had dressed him in this skirt; it seemed untying the lowest bow would make it fall apart and slide off. Bai Ying did not rush to remove it. Instead, he wondered: Where was Mr. Liu?
There were no signs of anyone else in the house. Liu Qingzhang had brought him back but had not stayed. For some reason, Bai Ying felt a twinge of disappointment. He had thought he would wake up to find Mr. Liu by his side, like those days in the hospital.
This time, Mr. Liu had not even changed his clothes for him…
The thought bubbled up in his mind again, and Bai Ying wanted to bang his head against the wall. Such childish ideas made his face flush. When had he become so dependent on someone else?
He lowered his head and kicked his foot. The fluffy slippers peeked out from under the skirt hem, the toe featuring a snow-white lop-eared rabbit whose long ears flopped with each step. Because it had been placed by the bed, Bai Ying did not have to step on the cold floor to find shoes first thing in the morning.
Mr. Liu was as gentle and considerate as ever, even thinking of small things like slippers, yet he had not changed this skirt—which was not comfortable for sleeping—off him.
Bai Ying did not know why he fixated on this trivial matter, as if some tremendous secret hid behind it.
He shook his head, telling himself not to overthink. Finally, he took off the skirt, gently pulling the bow at the back. The dance skirt fell to the floor, revealing nothing underneath. Bai Ying had tried to empty his mind, but now memories flooded back of how Liu Qingzhang had dressed him in it. Back then, Mr. Liu had kept his head down, as if focused solely on putting the skirt on him properly. Yet sometimes, carelessly or roughly, he had gripped harder. Bai Ying clutched the head gauze in front, seeing faint finger marks left on his calf where it had been held.
When the skirt was pulled up over his upper body, the bunched-up head gauze finally had to be removed. Liu Qingzhang then lifted his head, his gaze shifting to Bai Ying’s face, avoiding his bare hips and chest. His eyes were deep, like an ancient well with no bottom—once fallen in, escape was impossible. As he stared at Bai Ying’s face, Bai Ying dared not meet his eyes and lowered his head.
Liu Qingzhang helped him stand, stepping on his shoe fronts. One large palm gripped his waist, the other empty hand pulling the skirt up. When it accidentally brushed his hip, Bai Ying trembled.
At the time, he had not thought much of it.
Perhaps the night made people muddled. Bai Ying had let Liu Qingzhang change his clothes in a daze last night. Now, in the clear light of day, recalling it made the little snake’s heart race in panic.
Something felt off…
But Bai Ying could not pinpoint what. The barrier of elder and junior could be a wall between them or the thin paper allowing ambiguous indulgence.
The breeze from the balcony window grew cool, and Bai Ying hurriedly banished these jumbled thoughts. He turned and slipped into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water, added bath salts, transformed into his little white snake form, and crawled into his small bathtub. The hot water made the little snake’s mind hazy; his head rested on the tub’s edge, half-asleep.
So warm…
While Bai Ying thought this, Liu Qingzhang immersed himself in the cold pool.
After sending Bai Ying home and settling him, Liu Qingzhang could only describe his return to the capital city as fleeing. Yes, fleeing—that was the only word for his actions. An eight- or nine-hundred-year-old great demon routed by a little white snake not even a thirtieth his age; even Liu Qingzhang had to mock his own wretched state.
He did not return to Willow Mansion but went to a cold pool also on Maple Mountain. Located at the deepest part of a secluded cave, he had used it for cultivation since discovering it. Most demons had yin-cold constitutions, but he was the rare opposite—a demon with a pure yang body like those in mortal tales. Usually a boon—in eras with Daoist exorcists, fierce spells barely affected him—but sometimes, it made his cultivation more perilous than other demons’.
When cultivation went out of control, he felt his limbs and bones burning like fire, his veins flowing not blood but magma. Few demons shared his condition, so with no teacher on his path, Liu Qingzhang devised using extreme cold to balance his inner blaze and aid practice.
After burying several extreme cold items, this natural cold pool stayed icy even in the hottest weather, its surface frosted. Liu Qingzhang had not come in a long time; his deepening cultivation base no longer needed aids, and in the End of Dharma Era without Heaven Earth Spiritual Energy, progress stalled, so his body caused no cultivation issues.
Liu Qingzhang never imagined returning due to improper desires. The snake demon reverted to his original form and soaked in the cold pool water. Frost continually formed on his pitch-black scales, only to melt instantly.
The untimely emotion burned him like fierce flames. Realizing it had nothing to do with mating season or an elder’s care for a junior—that everything he had done to Bai Ying stemmed from love and desire, even committing offenses—Liu Qingzhang wished karmic fire would incinerate him utterly.
