Bai Ying had no idea that he had already been targeted by a certain large snake. The heartless little snake only felt a bit guilty that evening before falling into a deep sleep due to exhaustion. The next day, he woke up and completely forgot about the matter, happily heading out to play with Xie Jin.
One day wasn’t enough to fully explore West Lake. Besides the lake itself, Hangzhou had many other places to visit and foods to try. Though the city was often mocked as a food desert, Bai Ying was from Shen City and Xie Jin from the Capital City, so neither could judge the other. When it came to foraging for food, Xie Jin was far more reliable than Qin Juanshu. If it had been Qin Juanshu, they probably would have been tricked by some book into going to an overhyped influencer spot that looked good but tasted bad. But Xie Jin could always find a solid restaurant.
On their fourth day in Hangzhou, a light rain started in the morning and continued until the afternoon. Bai Ying and Xie Jin stayed in the hotel for the morning, where Xie Jin taught Bai Ying how to build a house out of playing cards. The little snake was clumsy and clumsy, and it collapsed every time he tried.
“Don’t rush. Find the balance with patience.” Xie Jin came up behind him, wrapping him in his arms. He held Bai Ying’s hand and guided him to stand two playing cards up on the card bridge.
“You can let go now,” he said after a moment.
“Will it collapse?” Bai Ying’s eyelashes trembled lightly.
The grand card bridge before them had all been built by Xie Jin, missing only a small section, which he had handed over to Bai Ying.
“Don’t worry, it won’t.” Xie Jin said confidently.
Bai Ying carefully released his hand, not even daring to breathe for a moment. Only after confirming that the bridge really wouldn’t fall did he turn his head excitedly to Xie Jin. “It didn’t collapse!”
His voice was joyful but soft, as if he feared that speaking too loudly would shake the hard-won bridge apart.
After taking enough photos, Xie Jin held his hand again, and the two of them pulled out the bottom card together. The bridge collapsed in an instant, the cards clattering down in a satisfying cascade.
Bai Ying was incredibly curious about where Xie Jin had learned this. Xie Jin claimed it came from a movie he had starred in. Besides that, he had learned many other card tricks. Bai Ying eagerly asked if Xie Jin could make the cards shoot out like a machine gun, or hide them on his body and move them with subtle motions to evade searches.
“Some I can do, some require props,” Xie Jin replied, then asked Bai Ying, “Does Little Bai know how to play cards?”
Bai Ying’s mind flashed with fancy games like bridge or Texas Hold’em, but he answered honestly, “I think I only know how to play Landlord.”
It seemed they couldn’t play together.
So they switched to Twenty-Four Point. Bai Ying racked his brain using his elementary school arithmetic, but his mind always turned slower than Xie Jin’s. If he had transformed back into his original form, the little snake would surely be thrashing its tail in frustration right now.
But the little snake was one that wouldn’t get mad even after losing repeatedly.
It would just calculate until its own brain went dizzy. Xie Jin had originally planned to go easy on him, but he discovered that Bai Ying had already short-circuited his own brain first.
“I can’t calculate anymore…” The little snake limply collapsed onto his shoulder.
The lunch delivered by the hotel saved the little snake’s life. Bai Ying happily tossed aside the cards and rushed to the food cart. They ate lunch by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at West Lake shrouded in misty rain.
The same scenery looked entirely different under cloudy skies, rain, or snow.
“Want to go for a walk?” Xie Jin could tell what Bai Ying was thinking at a glance.
Bai Ying nodded vigorously.
Xie Jin had a particular fondness for rainy days spent with Bai Ying; his mood was always better than usual. Perhaps because the first time he met Bai Ying had been on a rainy day.
They changed into waterproof shoes and donned transparent raincoats. Even though they had umbrellas, Xie Jin insisted on raincoats—undoubtedly for selfish reasons. As he helped Bai Ying into his raincoat, he mussed up his hair, flipped out the collar tucked inside, and tugged at the hem to ensure it properly protected the clothes beneath. Bai Ying awkwardly reached out, wanting to return the favor, but Xie Jin’s raincoat was perfectly adjusted; he couldn’t find a single flaw.
Xie Jin said opportunely, “Your hair seems to be covering your eyes a bit.”
Bai Ying carefully parted the strand that had fallen over Xie Jin’s eyes. His fingers brushed Xie Jin’s eyebrows—sharp and sword-like, as people often described, yet now they appeared softened, as if harboring tenderness within their steely edges.
“All good.” Xie Jin caught Bai Ying’s hand and led him outside. Bai Ying was already used to it, thinking that once he turned back into a snake, Xie Jin could play a game of chasing his tail.
They stepped into the hazy drizzle.
There weren’t many people out for walks in the rain, but some, like them, had come specifically for the West Lake rain scenery. As they walked, Bai Ying brushed past many others, who seemed veiled in white gauze by the rain, like blurred backgrounds in a movie—sharing the same world yet feeling worlds apart.
Only Xie Jin, holding his hand, remained perfectly clear.
They reached Broken Bridge, which took on even more poetic charm in the rain. Bai Ying thought of the White Lady and Xu Xian borrowing an umbrella at Broken Bridge. Today, there was also a white snake here, though clad in a modern raincoat.
The Little White Snake even got hungry and pestered its future owner to visit a faintly visible little shop nearby for some dim sum.
Of course, Xie Jin couldn’t refuse him. Feeding Bai Ying was one of his great hobbies. The shop was small and had no private rooms, but thanks to the rain, there weren’t many customers—just a few scattered tables. They sat by the window, and the dim sum arrived quickly on a wooden tray, so exquisite that it was a pity to eat it. To sample more, they ordered only one of each type. Bai Ying asked the shop for a small knife to cut the pastries and divided each one in half—one for himself, one for Xie Jin.
Bai Ying liked sweets but not the cloying kind that hurt the throat. This shop added Longjing tea to the fillings in generous amounts, the tea aroma nearly overpowering the sweetness. Bai Ying ate several without feeling sick of them.
He wondered if he should pack some to mail to Mr. Liu far away in the Capital City as a consolation. A demon’s heat cycle was tough to endure. Every time Bai Ying’s ended, he felt utterly drained, wilting for days. His colleagues always found it strange how he returned from annual leave looking like he’d pulled overtime for weeks. Empathizing from his own experience, Bai Ying figured Mr. Liu must be suffering too and needed to replenish his nutrition properly. Unfortunately, when he asked the shop, he learned the pastries had a very short shelf life—probably not lasting until Liu Qingzhang’s heat ended.
The little snake thought, Then I’ll just have to eat extra for the big snake!
Bai Ying ate happily, but there’s a saying: what goes up must come down. Just as he was carefree, Xie Jin keenly sensed something off and put on his mask from the table.
“What’s wrong? Not eating anymore?” Bai Ying looked puzzled.
“Seems like we’ve been recognized.” Xie Jin’s tone was a bit serious, but his expression remained calm.
Bai Ying’s eyes widened slightly. He was about to say something when Xie Jin stuffed a piece of dim sum into his mouth.
Xie Jin lowered his voice to a whisper only they could hear. “There are a lot of them. Keep eating. Don’t let them know we’ve spotted them.”
Bai Ying still hadn’t seen anyone.
He sneakily glanced sideways with the corner of his eye but noticed nothing unusual—just a few people lingering outside, hesitating whether to enter and spend.
“It’s reporters. I saw the camera lens,” Xie Jin said. “Sorry, I wasn’t careful enough.”
Bai Ying felt it was his own fault even more; after all, he was the one who wanted to come to this small shop without private rooms. Xie Jin had only accommodated him.
If it had been fans, it might have been fine, but paparazzi were the worst. Memories flooded Bai Ying: the exploded fan groups, marketing accounts everywhere, topping the hot searches…
“What do we do?” Bai Ying completely forgot the saying that a clear conscience laughs at false accusations.
“Leave it to me.” Xie Jin’s steady voice reassured him somewhat.
Xie Jin called the waiter over. The people outside thought they were leaving and stirred, but when they saw him just ordering more, they retreated. However, once the new dim sum arrived, Xie Jin immediately paid and, while the outsiders were still reacting, pulled Bai Ying and fled through the back door the waiter mentioned.
The rain was still falling outside. Xie Jin didn’t care about getting wet himself and first draped the raincoat over Bai Ying.
Bai Ying’s heart pounded wildly. He’d never experienced dodging reporters before; it felt both nerve-wracking and thrilling.
Xie Jin’s arm was around his shoulders, preventing him from looking back, but Xie Jin didn’t need to. Clearly experienced at shaking paparazzi, he led Bai Ying straight away from West Lake. Once they reached a maze of buildings, he started weaving through alleys and twists.
Finally, they ducked into an empty alley.
“We lost them.” Xie Jin finally glanced back and said so.
Bai Ying leaned against the wall, panting. Compared to the film emperor, the little snake was sorely out of shape.
It was only because Xie Jin had been pulling him along that he hadn’t fallen behind.
“Your clothes are all wet.” Once he caught his breath, the first thing Bai Ying said was this. He reached out and touched Xie Jin’s rain-soaked hair, a water droplet rolling down his fingertip.
Xie Jin had only managed to cover Bai Ying; his own raincoat was left at the restaurant.
“You’re wet too.” Xie Jin lifted his hand to brush aside Bai Ying’s damp bangs.
The wind had whipped rain into Bai Ying’s hair during the escape.
“The rest of me is fine!” Bai Ying emphasized. He looked down and shrugged off the raincoat—it wasn’t even buttoned or zipped, so it came off easily. Before Xie Jin could stop him, Bai Ying held it up over both their heads, just like that time at Wenxiang Mountain.
The raincoat wasn’t big enough, so they had to stand very close.
Bai Ying grinned foolishly. “There, all good now!”
“You idiot.” Xie Jin said helplessly. “I was already wet, and now you’re pressing up against me—aren’t you just getting your own clothes wet too?”
Bai Ying blinked. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”
He was pressed against the rain-soaked Xie Jin, and now his own clothes were damp too.
“No big deal!” Bai Ying quickly brushed it off. “We’re in it together!”
That’s how pets and owners should be!
But there was still one problem…
Bai Ying looked at Xie Jin worriedly. “We definitely got photographed by those reporters. What now? Your scandal’s even more real. If you clarify we’re just friends, will anyone believe it?”
“Probably not.” Xie Jin said. “I haven’t touched anyone’s head except my sister’s. I don’t share a suite with anyone else, don’t travel alone with friends, and I’ve never run away from reporters while dragging a rumored partner along.”
“We’re doomed!” Bai Ying wailed.
Xie Jin sighed softly.
Silly Little Bai—he’d spelled it out this much, and he still didn’t get it? The reason he didn’t do those things with others but only with Bai Ying was simple.
Clarifying they were just friends? Forget whether others would believe it—he himself wouldn’t be the first.
Bai Ying was clearly the one in his heart.
“If we can’t clarify it, then let’s not. Why don’t we make this scandal real instead?” Xie Jin said.
Bai Ying stared at him blankly, not understanding what he meant.
Xie Jin exhaled gently and poured out all the words he’d kept in his heart for so long. “Bai Ying, since debuting, I haven’t taken any kiss scenes or bed scenes. I’ve had a few rumored flings, but they were all fake. I’ve never been ambiguous with any female or male celebrities, never dated. I own three properties inside the Third Ring in the Capital City, and I have enough savings to buy property anywhere in Shen City you like. My work is busy now, often flying all over, group shoots lasting a month straight—but I’ve long prepared to shift behind the scenes. I’ve invested in many film and TV companies, all doing excellently. I can step back anytime and focus on family…”
He went into exhaustive detail, his seriousness and solemnity evident to anyone listening.
“…My family is simple. Besides my parents and sister, I have little contact with other relatives. My parents are open-minded and won’t interfere with my marriage, though they’ll care about my orientation—I can convince them. I have a sister you’ve met; she’s got a great personality and likes you a lot…”
“…Because of work, I haven’t had a pet before. But after finishing my current scripts and retreating behind the scenes, I’ll have plenty of time to raise a little snake… We can raise one together. I’ll take good care of it—and good care of you…”
Xie Jin said many, many things, all just to reassure Bai Ying, all leading up to that final sentence.
“Bai Ying, I like you,” Xie Jin said in a low voice.
Unknowingly, they had drawn extremely close to each other.
So close that Xie Jin could count Bai Ying’s eyelashes, could see the clear eyes beneath those long lashes—eyes like limpid autumn waters, their ripples now calm and still. Bai Ying was stunned, as if still digesting Xie Jin’s words, not yet reacting.
The hand propping up the raincoat unconsciously dropped, but Xie Jin did not catch it. He let go as well, allowing the raincoat to fall and envelop them both.
The rain was slightly cool, but the breaths falling on each other’s bodies were warm.
Xie Jin lowered his head. The raincoat became a prison binding them together as one, and in this private world that belonged only to the two of them, he kissed Bai Ying’s lips.
