Chapter 123
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, the young man transformed before Wen Xin and Yuan Yanzhong’s eyes.
Soft, fluffy fur sprouted from under his skin as his lean body shrank. His hands and feet curled naturally, morphing into sharp animal claws.
In no time, a cute little pink-furred fox appeared before them.
The little fox lifted its head, its sharp ears perked proudly as it locked gazes with Wen Xin. Yet, its claws remained tucked in its paw pads, exuding a sense of restraint.
Wen Xin stared silently for several seconds, his gaze fixed intently on the fox. The once proud creature wilted under his scrutiny, its ears drooping back against its head guiltily.
“Yip.” The fox whimpered at Wen Xin, as if pleading for mercy.
Only then did Wen Xin approach, lightly flicking its forehead with a chuckle tugging at his lips. “Not pretending anymore, huh?”
Seeing that Wen Xin wasn’t angry, the little fox immediately puffed up with confidence and indignantly wagged its tail. “But you’ve been pretending all along too!”
Always watching them with amusement. Hmph.
Wen Xin smiled. “You’re right, my bad. Let’s call it even.”
The fox was about to respond but froze when the young man raised an eyebrow, his teasing gaze intensifying. “One more thing—where exactly were you just now?”
“…” The little fox averted its eyes. “We’ve been home this whole time. Didn’t go anywhere.”
“Really?” Wen Xin’s skeptical look lingered before he turned to Yuan Yanzhong. “But Xiao Hei said you…”
The fox caved instantly, confessing with a pitiful squeak. “Sorry! We were eavesdropping on your meeting earlier. I even used illusions to confuse everyone, so you wouldn’t notice us.”
The fox waited anxiously for Wen Xin’s reaction, but instead of anger, he simply pinched its trembling ear tip with a grin. “I guessed as much.”
The fox twitched its ears and suddenly grew very quiet, gazing at Wen Xin in a daze.
Its obsidian eyes shimmered like ripples on a lake as it leaped forward without warning, throwing itself into Wen Xin’s arms and rubbing its face fervently against his neck and cheeks.
“Yip! Yip!”
It realized just how much it liked Wen Xin—his looks, his touch, the gentle tone of his voice, and his calm yet tender manner of speaking.
It adored how he could see through lies but still met its gaze with a soft smile.
“Alright, alright. Why are you suddenly so clingy? Be good, I can’t breathe,” Wen Xin scolded playfully, his face buried in the fluffy fur. His voice softened as he hugged the little creature.
But just as the fox stuck out its tongue to lick his chin, a broad hand intervened, blocking its way.
“Yip?”
The fox looked up, confused, meeting Yuan Yanzhong’s stoic face. A moment later, it felt its scruff tighten as the man unceremoniously plucked it out of Wen Xin’s arms.
“Yip! Yip!”
Wen Xin glanced questioningly at Yuan Yanzhong as his arms were suddenly empty.
“You’ve been busy these past few days without proper rest. Don’t let it cause any more trouble,” Yuan Yanzhong said, calmly casting a binding spell over the fox, rendering it completely immobile.
The fox froze stiffly in Yuan Yanzhong’s grasp as he said, “Look behind you.”
Following Yuan Yanzhong’s gaze, Wen Xin turned to look.
It was still daytime, and soft sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the empty hallway. The stillness was broken only by a small, round head peeking out from around the corner.
Its scales gleamed with a jewel-like hue, resembling dragon horns. Its venomous fangs were entirely hidden, not even a sliver visible.
The serpent watched Wen Xin intently, its wide, innocent snake eyes filled with curiosity and wonder.
Wen Xin’s mind immediately supplied a word: “Sneaky snake.”
He admitted he found it strangely adorable.
Hidden behind the wall out of Wen Xin’s view, the serpent’s large tail swayed nervously, betraying its tension. But Wen Xin strode forward without hesitation, scooping up its fierce head before it could retreat.
No matter how absurd it seemed, the serpent had to admit the truth: Wen Xin wasn’t afraid of me.
Stroking the serpent’s smooth, cool scales, Wen Xin chuckled. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
The serpent realized it had accidentally spoken its thoughts aloud and stumbled over its words to explain. “But many humans are terrified of me.”
“Is that why you’ve been hiding your true form from me?” Wen Xin sighed, his gaze softening. “Why do you think people are afraid of you?”
The serpent, caught off guard by Wen Xin’s expected kindness, felt a wave of bliss. “I’m too big…”
“That’s called majestic. Very impressive. Besides, you can change your size.”
“But I’m a snake…”
“Not everyone is liked by everyone. Some people fear snakes, and some people love them. There’s even a group called ‘reptile enthusiasts,’” Wen Xin teased as he patted the serpent’s formidable head, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. “You’re one of the most beautiful snakes I’ve ever seen. Among your kind, you’re sure to captivate any admirer.”
The serpent’s heart gave a sudden tremor.
Slowly, it maneuvered its massive body out of the cramped corner, exposing itself fully to Wen Xin.
“Do you really mean that?” it asked hesitantly.
“I do. I’ve never seen scales as beautiful as yours,” Wen Xin replied earnestly.
“And… my size doesn’t bother you?”
“I’ll say it again—it’s majestic, awe-inspiring.”
“…But what about my venom? It could kill you with one mistake.”
“Your fangs have never been pointed at me, nor have you ever harmed me. On the contrary, I’ve always been under your protection.”
Wen Xin embraced the serpent’s head and gently tapped its scales, his voice tinged with a sighing laugh. “Silly Ah Lü, I like you as you are. How could I possibly fear you?”
“And I remember you can become as big as Xiao Hei—that’s your true size, isn’t it? This room’s still a bit cramped. Tomorrow, I’ll try to secure an open training ground so all of you can move around freely.”
The serpent stared at Wen Xin, falling into a quiet stillness, much like the little fox earlier.
Then, all of a sudden, its massive tail moved, whipping forward like a rope to encircle Wen Xin.
However, before it could entangle him, Yuan Yanzhong’s quick reflexes sent a decisive kick its way, knocking the serpent aside.
Yuan Yanzhong felt he had grown much more patient over time. Back when the serpent had just hatched, not a single scale on its head would have been spared if it tried such antics.
Now, he held Wen Xin protectively in one arm, his golden eyes narrowing into sharp slits, a silent warning emanating from him.
—Mine.
The serpent wasn’t sure what had come over it. Perhaps it was the primal possessiveness of a beast, compelling it to drag what it liked back to its lair.
Unwillingly, it shifted its gaze away from Wen Xin under Yuan Yanzhong’s increasingly frosty glare.
“Such a petty bastard,” it grumbled.
Yuan Yanzhong squinted, sensing the serpent’s restless defiance. He silently added a “friendly spar” with the snake to his mental agenda.
Wen Xin, who had suddenly been pulled into Yuan Yanzhong’s embrace, tilted his head to see the displeasure clouding the man’s eyes. He froze briefly.
During his tenure as the governor of City G, Wen Xin had his share of admirers approach him, but he always assumed they were spies from rival factions and declined them cautiously.
Even if someone genuinely liked him, Wen Xin felt he had no time or energy for relationships. His days were consumed by unending tasks and a mountain of paperwork requiring his seal. He spent most of his time with subordinates, negotiators, or legislators, rarely managing more than ten minutes for meals or breaks. Love simply didn’t fit into his schedule.
Could he ever find time for a partner? Could he be there for them when they needed him? Was he even the type to fall in love?
Pondering such questions, Wen Xin always concluded that he should avoid dragging anyone into his chaotic life.
Thus, he’d always been oblivious to matters of affection—because he’d never seriously considered spending a lifetime in love with someone.
That didn’t mean he was blind to the possessiveness Yuan Yanzhong was now openly displaying.
Perhaps he had overlooked it before. But when Yuan Yanzhong once asked what having a wife meant, it had flicked a dormant switch in Wen Xin’s mind.
He began to notice the subtle emotions laced in Yuan Yanzhong’s gestures and actions.
Could Xiao Hei… have feelings for him?
The thought was absurd. After all, would a person fall in love with the chicken or pork listed in their recipe book?
As if sensing Wen Xin’s thoughts, Yuan Yanzhong glanced over. Wen Xin’s hand trembled slightly before he averted his gaze.
“…What’s wrong?” Yuan Yanzhong asked, pausing.
Wen Xin’s thoughts were in disarray. Had he misinterpreted? Perhaps Xiao Hei merely saw him as family in need of protection, with no ulterior motives.
Composing himself, Wen Xin gently pushed Yuan Yanzhong aside and smiled casually. “It’s nothing. I was just wondering if there are more little cowards in this house waiting to confess to me.”
The hidden eavesdroppers froze, caught red-handed.
Yuan Yanzhong felt something off about Wen Xin’s smile—a formulaic, almost unnatural quality. But before he could decipher it, Wen Xin had already stepped away, leaving the room.
Watching his now-empty hands, Yuan Yanzhong clenched his jaw and let his arm fall to his side. His eyes followed Wen Xin’s retreating figure, a flicker of frustration and restraint darkening his gaze.
Behind him, those intense eyes never wavered. As Wen Xin hesitated briefly at a corner, his fists tightened and then slowly relaxed.
With his mind a tangled mess of emotions, Wen Xin entered a guest room and immediately spotted a tall figure standing by the window, back turned to the door. He couldn’t help but quip, “Is the city lord planning to talk to me with the back of his head?”
The canary’s lips twitched before it turned around to face him. Seeing Wen Xin’s impassive expression, it lowered its gaze in defeat. “I just haven’t figured out how to explain it to you.”
Though still youthful in his appearance, Wen Xin exuded a natural air of authority. Now grown, his sharp brows, starlit eyes, and striking features made him appear unapproachable.
Sitting down, Wen Xin adopted the demeanor of someone ready for a heart-to-heart. “Whatever your explanation, I’ll listen. But no more lies.”
The canary muttered softly before reverting from its adult form to its youthful one.
The reverse transformation took a toll on its body, leaving it drenched in sweat. It offered Wen Xin an unexpectedly boyish grin. “It’s easier to talk to you like this.”
Before Wen Xin could respond, the boy knelt beside him, resting against the chair with an eager gaze.
Golden hair clung damply to his temples, his youthful face glowing with sincerity and the quiet dependence of one seeking reassurance.
Wen Xin felt a sudden urge to ruffle his hair. Without realizing it, he did exactly that.
As Wen Xin continued ruffling the canary’s soft golden hair, a fleeting thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
—If I were really with Xiao Hei, I wouldn’t even have to worry about children. After all, we already have a house full of them.
Smack!
The canary, obediently allowing Wen Xin to pet his head, was internally deliberating how best to explain himself. The unexpected sound made him jolt, lifting his head in alarm.
He looked up to see Wen Xin, his face a mixture of mortification and frustration, slapping his own forehead as he ground out through gritted teeth, “I’m not even close to that point! What on earth am I thinking about?!”
The next moment, an even more horrifying realization struck him: Wait. Why am I seriously considering being with Xiao Hei? And why did I think about children?!
The canary observed Wen Xin’s rapidly shifting expressions with a growing sense of unease. Tentatively, he asked, “Wen Xin, are you okay?”
Wen Xin inhaled sharply, while the canary’s heart sank. The young man looked genuinely upset. Could it have been something he did?
But… he hadn’t even had the chance to say anything yet!
