Chapter 19
That white pearl bird had courted him just like this.
Realizing that, Yan Yan completely froze.
He snuck a glance up at Si Jingce, who, after petting him, lowered his head and resumed crocheting, completely unaware of his twitching tail feather.
Hold it in. He had to hold it in.
The round, fluffy bird tried desperately to control his tail that was moving on its own.
The white pearl bird’s prediction had come true. Yan Yan’s face flushed with shame, and he wished he could burrow straight into a coconut shell.
Si Jingce was still working on the tiny scarf.
Pearl birds were small, and so were their accessories. It didn’t take long to finish a scarf for a bird.
Yan Yan’s gaze drifted to Si Jingce’s long fingers.
Knuckles distinct, faint bluish veins just barely visible.
His tail feather gave another slight twitch.
Sensing something off, Si Jingce paused his hands, tilted his head slightly, and looked at the little bird. “What’s wrong?”
Yan Yan met Si Jingce’s gaze.
Those ink-colored eyes were deep, like the sea.
His tail feather twitched again.
Seeing Yan Yan remain silent, a faint worry appeared on Si Jingce’s face. He reached out and gently tapped the bird’s head.
The warm fingertips brushed over his crown, and Yan Yan felt like his whole body had caught fire. His feathers puffed up uncontrollably, and the fluffed-up bird’s tail feather whipped wildly.
With a loud “plop,” Yan Yan sat down.
Si Jingce: ?
His tail feather, now pinned beneath him, finally stopped moving.
Si Jingce frowned slightly.
Why did it feel like Yan Yan was acting even more dazed and silly than before?
In humans, people close to death often became sluggish. Maybe birds were the same.
Si Jingce gently shook the little bird. “Yan Yan?”
The pearl bird took a long time to slowly turn his head toward him.
Si Jingce’s heart sank heavily.
He quickly finished the last stitches of the little scarf and placed it around Yan Yan.
The beige scarf was still too big for the little bird, covering half of his body.
“Do you want to eat potato chips?” Si Jingce asked softly as he adjusted the scarf. “Human potato chips.”
Wrapped in the scarf, Yan Yan tilted his head. “Chirp?”
For me?
He was really going to give him human chips?!
Crispy chips dusted in salt and pepper—Yan Yan smacked his beak, recalling the flavor he once accidentally got a taste of.
“Chirp chirp chirp!” He called out urgently to Si Jingce.
Bring them over!
Si Jingce forced a faint smile, petted the little bird again, and left to get snacks.
As soon as the man left, the pearl bird finally relaxed, and his tail feather began to sway again.
He crawled out of the scarf, lowered his head, and gently sniffed it.
That was the scent of Cangshan snow—the familiar scent of Si Jingce.
The little bird grinned and rubbed his face against it, mixing in his own scent, then picked up one end of the scarf and dragged it into the bird nest he’d just built.
Perfect!
He admired his handiwork with satisfaction, then poked his head out to take a look.
Si Jingce still hadn’t come back.
So slow.
Yan Yan yawned in boredom, and then a jolt of realization hit him—what if Si Jingce was only giving him chips because he thought he was dying?
Was this his last wish fulfillment?!
The little bird fell into deep thought.
Maybe he should leave a signal—let Si Jingce know he didn’t need to worry so much.
The coconut fibers used to build the nest were tightly packed; pulling out even a few strands would collapse the whole thing.
But they were the best materials for delivering a message.
Yan Yan stared at the nest for a long time and finally forced out a few strands of coconut fiber.
Let’s spell out “I’m okay.”
Not enough for “I’m,” but just “okay” would do.
Yan Yan stared at the remaining fibers and went blank for a few seconds.
Pinyin should work, right?
He arranged the fibers into an “s” and “i.”
If Si Jingce still didn’t get the hint, he was going to peck someone!
Just then, Yan Yan heard footsteps—Si Jingce was coming back.
The bird flapped his wings slightly, and the coconut fibers on the table wobbled, altering the message even further.
He turned his head and saw Si Jingce pushing the entire snack cart into the room!
Was this a dream come true? Like five million dollars falling from the sky?!
Yan Yan soared forward and dove into the mountain of snacks, rolling around comfortably.
He quickly locked onto his target and stood beside the huge cucumber-flavored chip bag.
“Chirp chirp!”
This one!
Si Jingce opened the bag, picked out a chip, and brought it to Yan Yan’s beak.
The little bird opened wide excitedly—
But didn’t bite down.
He held that open-mouth pose and secretly looked at Si Jingce.
The last time the man had teased him with a chip, he struggled forever and only got a tiny piece—then had to watch the rest disappear.
Surely he wouldn’t pull it back this time?
He cautiously bit the chip.
After a long chew, only minor damage was done.
Si Jingce broke the chip into tiny pieces and put them in a dish for easier eating.
Jelly, mini bread, Wang Wang rice crackers—all were given to Yan Yan in the same way.
The little bird munched quickly. In no time, his belly was round, and he rested his head on the dish’s edge.
When full, it was time to move around.
He picked up a chip crumb and placed it in Si Jingce’s hand. “Chirp!”
Si Jingce understood right away and tossed the chip into the air.
Yan Yan shot up like an arrow, landing on Si Jingce’s shoulder, chip clutched in his beak.
He devoured it in a few quick bites and stared up eagerly. “Chirp!”
More, please!
Si Jingce repeated the game, and Yan Yan caught them all.
The game of “you toss, I catch” lasted for half an hour until Yan Yan got tired and landed on the table to rest.
He bent his head down, preening food crumbs off his feathers, tail feather swaying cheerfully again.
The man in front of him reached out and grabbed his tail.
Yan Yan: ?
Then gently rubbed it.
Yan Yan: !
The little bird froze, completely still.
Si Jingce said nothing. He slid his fingers from the tail up the bird’s back, smoothing his feathers.
Having raised the bird this long, he knew what a twitching tail meant.
“Don’t do that to other birds,” Si Jingce said, tapping the little bird’s head. “Got it?”
Yan Yan nodded guiltily.
Getting a response, Si Jingce let out a faint smile—yet his heart felt heavier.
What if this was the last time Yan Yan ever got to feel this way?
After the electrolyte water, Yan Yan was full of energy—he didn’t look sick at all.
If Dr. Chen hadn’t said otherwise, you’d never guess he was seriously ill.
Animals were sensitive. Yan Yan quickly sensed Si Jingce’s emotional shift and gently rubbed his beak against the man’s fingertips.
Oh, right—he forgot to show him something!
Yan Yan bit down on Si Jingce’s finger and gestured toward the desk—
There, coconut fibers were scattered across the tabletop. Whatever he’d spelled was already unrecognizable—except for one piece still spelling “si.”
The little bird fell silent.
Two black dots filled his vision.
Si Jingce quickly cupped his hand over Yan Yan, blocking his view.
He stared at the stringy mess on the table, face serious.
“Si”? As in “Si Jingce”?
Or worse…
Si Jingce didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural. He was immune to horror.
But now, with the tiny creature he loved possibly dying, even his firm beliefs started to waver. He worried that one day the grim reapers—black and white—would come for Yan Yan’s little soul…
It was just the two of them now.
Yet the word “death” had mysteriously appeared.
He held Yan Yan protectively. “Don’t look,” he murmured, kissing the bird’s head. “You’re not going to die.”
Yan Yan: …
This is what happens when you can’t talk to each other.
He shook himself free and jumped onto the desk. With a roll, he got coconut fibers stuck all over himself.
“Si” disappeared.
He shook them off and returned to his nest, leaving Si Jingce with a plump, silent bird back.
Trying to communicate with no shared language was a waste of time. Might as well focus on regulating the energy in his body and figuring out how to turn human.
Si Jingce watched the bird return to the nest and quietly cleaned the table of all the messy fibers.
Dr. Chen had said he’d reach out to his student and pass on contact info once available, so they could build a treatment plan.
But Si Jingce’s brows were furrowed with frustration. A headache throbbed.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He opened Weibo and requested another few days off. Just as he exited the app, his phone rang.
A strange number.
He hesitated but picked up.
Before he could say anything, a slightly upbeat voice came through.
“Hello, may I speak to Mr. Li Bo?”
“Li Bo?” Si Jingce was stunned. “You’ve got the wrong person. My surname isn’t Li.”
He was about to hang up when the other person hurriedly said, “Sorry, sorry! I meant I’m Li—Li… uh, lcberg! Hello, Teacher lcberg!”
The person’s English was awkward. Si Jingce checked again—no scam label.
“Why did you choose the name lcberg?” the man tried to joke. “Shouldn’t it be like Aixi-berg?”
“It’s iceberg,” Si Jingce coldly corrected his pronunciation.
His username brought back awkward memories. He didn’t want to dwell on it. “Who is this?”
“Oh, right! Hello, Teacher! I’m Li—just call me Xiao Li. I work at the Waterfowl World in W City. I recently watched your livestream…”
Waterfowl World?
“Thanks, but Yan Yan’s not taking endorsements right now,” Si Jingce cut him off and hung up.
A few moments later, the phone rang again—it was the same number.
He picked up, and Xiao Li quickly blurted, “Please don’t hang up! I’m not calling about sponsorships or endorsements!”
Fearing the call would be cut off again, he rushed ahead—
“I saw your livestream and noticed something strange about your bird. After researching it, we suspect something unusual might happen in the next few days. We recommend bringing him to Waterfowl World for an examination!”
“Please take this seriously—it’s not a normal situation. To put it simply and directly—!!!”
“Your bird is turning into a spirit—he’s going to become human…”
Before he finished, Si Jingce hit the red button and blocked the number.
Scams these days were getting more and more ridiculous.
