He had just sat when someone plopped right next to him. Finally, one mustered courage. He waved a hand in front of Bai Ying’s face, scratched his head, and flashed a bright smile. “Can I add your WeChat?”
Bai Ying glanced at him, then the identically dressed boys grinning beside him, then their racket bags. He clutched his briefcase tighter, ducked his head like a snail retreating into its shell. “Not buying classes. Not signing up for cards.”
“Huh? No, we’re not selling anything!” The high schooler hurriedly clarified. “We’re from No. 1 High. Um… you’re really good-looking. Can we get to know you?”
Bai Ying grew more scared, scooting to the bench corner. But for every inch he moved, the boy followed. Teens could be shamelesser than adults. “For real, we’re not bad guys. Just say hi, bro.”
Bai Ying said weakly, “I’m twenty-five.”
“I’m seventeen. Perfect match.” The closer he got, the prettier Bai Ying seemed. The boy had never thought men could be this beautiful. Staring, he broke into a silly grin. “You’re really pretty.”
Still a minor—how was that perfect?!
Terrified, Bai Ying got off at the next stop, hailed a cab home. On the way, he recalled past incidents.
People had used similar lines to get his contact before. Bai Ying had thought they wanted his meager salary, tricking him into classes or memberships—so he’d refused flat-out. But now… maybe, possibly… they were hitting on him.
He was such a heartbreaker!
Bai Ying hugged his briefcase sadly. Maybe he wasn’t a snake demon, but a fox spirit.
No traffic midweek daytime. The cab soon reached the complex outskirts. A short walk under the sun led to the AC-cooled building lobby. Bai Ying took the elevator up. Doors opened to an unexpected figure.
Tan Ming.
Tan Ming looked equally surprised. He straightened from leaning against the wall, stammering, “Y-you’re back? Off work early today… Uh, I just got back too! Wrapped up on the set, just off the plane.”
Bai Ying stared at him.
Before, he might’ve bought the excuse. But enlightened now, he spotted the inconsistency. What were the odds of so many coincidences? Every time he returned, Tan Ming “just” arrived—or was “about” to leave. Clearly, he waited outside the door.
Leaning against the wall like that, possibly for hours. As Bai Ying’s return neared, he’d shift to feign freshness. Sometimes when Bai Ying skipped dinner for work or travel, Tan Ming would casually reply it was fine, he hadn’t cooked anyway—then retreat home dejectedly.
Tan Ming liked him too.
Bai Ying was certain.
He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dejection in his heart. It had happened again—another person liked him, and he had lost yet another friend. Why did it always end up like this…
Tan Ming had no idea why he was staring at him or why he had fallen silent. He only knew that once he calmed the panic stirred by Bai Ying’s sudden return and began to properly look at his face, he immediately noticed the red, swollen rims of his eyes. He had clearly been crying.
“What happened to you?” Tan Ming asked in a panic. “Did you get wronged at the company?”
Bai Ying lowered his head. “I quit.”
“Was the job too exhausting? Your company does pile on the work. It’s good that you quit. Take some time to rest properly, and when you’re ready, I can help you find a new one… Um, or you don’t have to find one at all…” Tan Ming’s gaze flickered for a moment.
No need to work. He thought to himself that he could support Bai Ying. He would work hard on his scripts, pour himself into his job, hand over every penny he earned, and as long as Bai Ying was happy every day, that would be enough.
Tan Ming only indulged in this unrealistic fantasy for a moment.
Then he made a serious suggestion. “If you’re feeling down, why don’t you come to my place to rest? I’ll make you some snacks. Eating something sweet will cheer you up.”
Bai Ying still didn’t lift his head, but he softly replied, “Okay.”
Tan Ming assumed he was just upset and took his hand, leading him back into the apartment. He had intended to settle Bai Ying into his special eggshell chair, but Bai Ying gripped his hand in return and pulled him toward the bedroom.
The action caught him completely off guard, and Tan Ming blankly allowed himself to be led along.
“Do you… want to sleep for a bit? I’ll get you a blanket…” Tan Ming said. He had just gotten home himself, and the bedding was still sealed in the closet. But Bai Ying didn’t let him go. Once they were in the room, he suddenly turned around and pinned Tan Ming against the firmly shut door.
Tan Ming was dumbfounded.
He never dreamed that such a scene would one day play out between him and Bai Ying. His briefcase had been tossed to the floor the moment they entered, and now Bai Ying had one hand braced against the door, trapping Tan Ming between it and himself as he looked up at him.
A textbook wall slam.
But weren’t their positions reversed? Bai Ying had such a gentle personality; it was hard to imagine him taking the dominant role.
Tan Ming looked down at Bai Ying and suddenly realized something was off about his eyes. The curtains were drawn tight, and no lights were on in the bedroom, making the room exceptionally dim. Yet they were so close now—close enough for Tan Ming to clearly see Bai Ying’s eyes.
They were inhuman eyes.
Both the irises and pupils were unnaturally large, round like little black beans. They would have been cute on an animal, but on Bai Ying at this moment, they gave off an eerie, demonic vibe.
In that instant, Tan Ming realized that Bai Ying’s features actually leaned toward the alluring and glamorous side. It was just that his mild, innocent temperament had always softened their sharp, bewitching beauty.
It was as if he were watching a pristine white flower stained with vivid crimson.
Tan Ming’s mind reeled. Before he could recover, he heard a voice that blanked his brain in an instant.
The voice was extremely soft, but the room was so quiet now that only their breathing could be heard. Tan Ming realized he had forgotten to turn on the AC, and the sound coming from below made him break out in a cold sweat.
Bai Ying had undone the button of his dress pants.
“…Bai Ying.” Tan Ming was hit with too much shock; for the moment, all he could do was call out his name.
What was Bai Ying trying to do? Why was he suddenly…
Tan Ming couldn’t figure it out. After unbuttoning his pants, Bai Ying kicked off his shoes and socks, then slid the pants down.
“W-Wait!” Tan Ming hurriedly tried to stop him. Wasn’t this too sudden? He didn’t even dare glance downward, feeling like looking anywhere would sully this exquisite beauty.
But Bai Ying ignored him completely. After shedding his pants, he stripped off his underwear too. Then he let out a muffled grunt. Bai Ying frowned to himself, thinking that he still wasn’t quite used to it.
His lower body began to shift, so he had no choice but to wrap his arms around Tan Ming’s neck and press tightly against him. Tan Ming’s arms hung awkwardly in the air—he didn’t know whether to hug him or not.
Everything happening overwhelmed his senses. His throat went dry, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly. Did Bai Ying even know what he was doing? Was this his way of seeking comfort? Of course he didn’t mind—any kind of comfort was fine! But… but…
What if Bai Ying regretted it once he sobered up…
Tan Ming’s mind was stuffed with a jumble of chaotic thoughts.
But all of them were wiped clean by a single sentence from Bai Ying.
“Look at me,” Bai Ying said.
Tan Ming instinctively looked down, meeting those inhuman eyes. Bai Ying continued, “Not there—lower.”
“That wouldn’t be appropriate…” Bai Ying wasn’t wearing anything below now…
Tan Ming said this, but his gaze still drifted downward honestly.
Yet when he saw Bai Ying’s lower body, instead of the reaction he had initially expected, all the blood in his body seemed to run cold in that instant.
He saw a snake tail.
A snow-white snake tail extending from Bai Ying’s waist, with more than half of it trailing on the floor.
The tip of the tail twitched. Bai Ying thought to himself that he still wasn’t fully accustomed to this half-human, half-snake form. Not long after Liu Qingzhang’s arrival, he had discovered that besides his full human and full snake forms, he could also take on this special half-and-half state. It no longer caused the tearing pain, but it was very taxing and couldn’t be maintained for long— at most an hour before exhaustion forced him to choose between pure human or pure snake.
An hour was short, but to scare Tan Ming, a few minutes would suffice.
