Little Nightingale’s tail was very long. With a gentle hop, its tail feathers brushed across his fingertips like a soft little fan.
The boy watched silently for a long time, unable to quite comprehend it.
How had this tiny thing—who got nervous even during Survival Class—traversed fields and towns through the darkness to find this place?
Especially… just to cheer him up.
He simply fell silent. After confirming the door was locked, he draped a towel blanket over himself and shifted back into his snake form.
The ink-green serpent arched its body and hissed softly, inviting it to join him on the windowsill to gaze at the moon.
The nightingale let out a joyful trill, proud today of having flown so far.
Shang Xi wasn’t worried at all about getting lost. He’d only glanced at the Hangzhou City map once and memorized every street layout.
The snake slithered ahead. The nightingale hopped along twice, and upon spotting the swaying snake tail, it instinctively latched on and chewed chew chew.
Fu Congxiao, quite used to it: …
Shang Xi, utterly oblivious: ???
Huh, what am I doing…? He chewed a couple more times out of habit before barely regaining his senses.
No, this is Senior Brother’s tail!
But his body wouldn’t obey!
The snake didn’t dodge. It simply turned aside, waiting patiently for it to finish playing before continuing on.
If Shang Xi had been in human form right now, his cheeks would probably have flushed crimson with embarrassment.
The little bird, disappointingly, chewed several more times before finally releasing the tail and flying to the windowsill.
Tonight, the bright moon hung high in the sky, amid a sparse scattering of cold stars.
The little yellow sparrow bathed in the moonlight, stretching out lazily in utter relaxation before beginning to chirp chirp and sing.
The cobra coiled into a neat loop and nestled beside it, quietly gazing at the birds wheeling overhead and the distant stars.
He would have had a wretched night otherwise.
Perhaps suppressed to the point of nightmare after nightmare, or coming to loathe the very act of living even more.
But now, at least he could listen to the little bird finish one song.
Time lost all meaning.
It was neither long nor short.
Fu Congxiao’s world emptied out, filled only with the clear, stream-like flow of song and the occasional hop from the fluffy little sparrow.
No need to dwell on old wounds. No need to fret over the future.
He knew full well that he was relying on him.
After several songs, the nightingale seemed a bit reluctant to stop. It flapped its wings, burrowed into the towel blanket, shifted into boy form, and took a sip of water.
The cobra waited patiently at the edge of the table, ready to spend the entire long night with him.
“Alright, there’s curfew check later.” The boy drank another half cup, saying cheerfully, “Senior Brother, I’m heading back first. Bye-bye!”
Snakey: …?
Shang Xi shifted back into nightingale form, circled Senior Brother once more, and flew off happily.
Snuck out to play—yay!
By Monday, school was buzzing with life again.
Ever since he’d stuck his nose into Fu Congxiao’s business that time, the students led by Yellow Hair had taken to targeting Shang Xi one after another, clearly nursing a grudge against him.
Their social circles didn’t overlap, but they were all Feather Descendants, so it was only a matter of time before they ended up in the same classes.
On the way to Flight Class, Shang Xi found his path blocked.
“Let’s talk,” Yellow Hair said. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
The boy couldn’t be bothered. “Not interested. Move.”
“You’re a bird,” Yellow Hair said, his tone sharpening, “and yet you’re siding with a snake. Helping him out at every turn.”
“The whole school sees it plain as day. You, a bird, glued to a snake day in and day out—haven’t you noticed you barely have any friends?”
Shang Xi rolled his eyes. “You’re the center of the universe, are you? Hundreds, thousands of people at this school with nothing better to do than stare at me?”
“You can’t beat him in a fight, you can’t outact me, now you’re skipping class to start trouble, and your credits don’t even touch mine. What the hell do you get out of this?”
Yellow Hair choked on the comeback, flying into a rage. “Fuck you. I shouldn’t have even bothered talking sense to you—you’re a goddamn idiot.”
Cursing all the while, he lunged forward, reaching to grab Shang Xi’s hair.
“Today, I’m gonna get a real good look at what kind of bird you are!”
Shang Xi dodged nimbly, only to bump into the Slim Tall Guy, who clamped down on his shoulder.
“Don’t dodge,” Slim Tall Guy said icily. “This is what happens when you stick your neck out for others.”
Both of them reached for Shang Xi’s tousled hair at the same moment—when Yellow Hair suddenly cried out in pain and went flying.
Even Shang Xi’s gaze traced the parabolic arc.
…Huh.
Fu Congxiao drawled leisurely, “You want to take a trip too?”
Slim Tall Guy rushed over to help him up, snapping irritably, “No way! Why the hell do you always manage to kick people like that?!”
“Explosive power,” Fu Congxiao replied. He pulled Shang Xi close and shoved him toward the classroom.
Shang Xi, still thinking of class, called out, “Senior Brother, I’m going ahead! What are you doing here?”
“Got turned around.”
Yellow Hair clutched his leg, unable to stand for the longest time, fuming, “I didn’t even lay a hand on him!”
Fu Congxiao let out a chuckle.
“We haven’t settled the score from last time.”
“Want to keep going?”
The Slim Tall Guy saw things weren’t going well and hauled Yellow Hair to his feet.
“Don’t go bothering him,” Fu Congxiao said mildly. “Or I could just grab a snake and let it loose in your Ecology Room sometime around midnight.”
Yellow Hair spat a couple of curses and hobbled off.
Shang Xi’s flight class went pretty smoothly.
The teacher personally demonstrated a few flying techniques that day, lecturing in the gentle style of a doting dad.
“I’ve set aside fifteen minutes today,” the teacher announced. “Yan Yan, would you please explain how to handle strong turbulence while flying? This high school senior has already been guaranteed a spot at Beihang University, and he scores S or S+ on every evaluation.”
A wave of envy rippled through the students below, all of them sighing in unison.
Yan Yan stepped up to the wind platform and signaled for the teacher to turn on the fan. He picked up a model and explained several methods for controlling wing adjustments.
Shang Xi scribbled down a ton of notes. When his eyes met Yan Yan’s, he felt a twinge of nerves.
That familiar longing and restlessness surged up again.
He couldn’t help thinking: This is getting bad.
Senior Fu was being heavily scouted by several top universities too—they were both so exceptional.
So what about him? What was he supposed to do down the line?
Take the Gaokao, go to school, bury these memories, and sneak out for a quick flight every now and then?
Once flight class ended, Shang Xi didn’t want to wait around. He headed straight for Professor Zhou’s office.
Zhou Baofu was munching on peanut crisps, tiny crumbs dotting his beard. When he spotted the student, he hurriedly brushed at it a few times.
“How’ve you been lately? Anything you want to talk about?”
Shang Xi didn’t stand on ceremony. He sat down beside his teacher and poured out all the worries that had been weighing on him lately.
To his surprise, Zhou Baofu turned out to be an excellent listener.
He seemed to understand that the kid had come half for advice and half just to voice his insecurities.
Shang Xi had only meant to ask a couple of quick questions, but the words kept flowing, and it was a good while before he trailed off.
“Sorry, Professor. I think I…”
“No worries,” Zhou Baofu waved it off. “Everyone gripes about life now and then.”
“Shang Xi, the problem you’re describing is just objective reality.”
“People start from different lines to begin with, and genetic talents only widen the gap further.”
The old man reached for the little round tin of peanut crisps and grabbed another piece.
“But have you ever thought about this?”
“To make something of yourself means climbing mountains of knives and swimming seas of fire.”
Shang Xi froze for about two seconds, then shot to his feet.
“Being a little nobody sounds pretty great after all, Professor. I’ve figured it out!”
“Hold on, don’t go yet!” The old man was still chewing his peanut crisp, spraying a bit as he spoke. “Sit back down—I haven’t finished!”
He gulped down two mouthfuls of hot tea, smoothed out his beard again, and asked, “What do you like?”
Shang Xi thought for a moment. “I used to love singing. Lately, with the Transformations happening so often, I’ve been humming tunes whenever I’m free.”
But singing wasn’t exactly a practical skill, and he had no interest in pursuing a career as a vocalist.
The old man flipped open his roster, scanned it for a bit, and dialed a number.
After confirming the details, he thanked them earnestly and hung up.
“Our school brought back a retired vocal teacher from the Central Conservatory of Music. Go have a chat with her.”
Shang Xi hesitated. “Professor, I don’t really want to make a living off this.”
“Enough,” Professor Zhou said, playing the grump card. “Just go talk to her. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll figure something else out. Treat it like a homework assignment.”
A short while later, Shang Xi found himself on the sixth floor at the Music Classroom. He steeled himself and knocked.
He’d only had a handful of music and art classes back in elementary and middle school—hardly enough to make him more than an amateur. He knew he couldn’t hold a candle to those arts academy hopefuls.
A clear, resonant female voice called from inside.
“Come in.”
Shang Xi pushed open the door and saw an elderly professor with white hair seated at the piano.
She wore a knitted sweater and had a slender build, her eyes sharp and lively.
“Good afternoon, Professor Rong,” Shang Xi said, bowing his head. “Professor Zhou sent me to chat with you.”
Professor Rong’s response was cool and measured.
“You like to sing, do you?”
“Let’s test your vocal range first.”
She played a B3 and gestured for him to follow.
“No worries if you don’t know how—just make a ‘woo’ sound and match the piano.”
Shang Xi wooed along a few times, and Professor Rong stopped.
“No need to push your low register; that’s normal range. Now for the highs.”
She played a note, and he sang it back.
Shang Xi had never studied this stuff, so he just waited for her to play and matched whatever came.
Professor Rong’s expression grew increasingly surprised.
She’d already spanned three octaves, and the young man was still singing effortlessly.
Professor Rong got excited.
Professor Rong was thrilled!
She kept pushing higher on the keys, but the boy matched her steadily, his breath control rock-solid.
“Alright, hold on,” Professor Rong said. She raised her hand and played three notes, feigning calm as she asked, “Can you sing it?”
Shang Xi thought to himself, This is just like reciting a text from class—the teacher reads it once, and I repeat it.
The moment she finished playing, he sang out casually, “Do-fa-si.”
Professor Rong pressed six notes with both hands, and Shang Xi echoed them: “Mi, so, do, sharp fa, flat si, mi, fa.”
The old professor stared at him as if he were reciting some ancient celestial tome.
“Zhou Baofu said you’ve never studied vocal music before?”
Shang Xi nodded.
The old lady asked again, “And he said you’re a Nightingale?”
Shang Xi nodded once more.
Professor Rong sat perfectly still for a full half minute. Then she pulled out her tablet, selected a clip of the Queen of the Night’s aria from The Magic Flute, and played it for him.
When it finished, she said, “Give it a try. Sing along—hit as many notes as you can.”
Shang Xi replied, “Could I hear it one more time?”
After the second listen, he followed the singer’s pitch and sang upward, the melody feeling strangely familiar and dear to him.
It sounded just like Little Bird singing—a single line that leaped higher and higher, spiraling upward like a bird soaring into the sky.
Once he’d sung through a few phrases, Shang Xi gave an embarrassed smile.
“Teacher, that wasn’t very good. Please excuse me.”
The old professor rose slowly to her feet.
She was drowning in a tsunami of shock and wild exhilaration.
Her surging emotions had absolutely nowhere to go!!!
She leaped to her feet and bounced up and down several times, then slammed her fists on the table with resounding bangs that made the floor shake.
“Do you have any idea! What you just! Sang!!!”
This was a miracle. This was pure talent. This was a prodigy. This was a divinely gifted prodigy who had unlocked the secrets of music without a single lesson!!
“F6! Without even warming up, you hit F6 like it was nothing! And coloratura at that!!!”
She was like a different person from the poised and dignified professor of moments before, so overjoyed she was practically dancing a jig.
Shang Xi shrank back into the corner, not daring to make a sound.
Teacher… maybe stop jumping for a second… You’re scaring me.
