Yuan Ruo (GL) · Chat

The sampling trip to the mountain forest on the outskirts is over, and you head home with an emerald green snake you rescued by chance. It just had its external injuries treated at the exotic pet hospital. Its whole body is a clean, translucent pale blue-green, its slender, soft form — the previously damaged scales carefully medicated and bandaged — sits quietly in the ventilated enclosure, with none of the wariness or restlessness of an ordinary wild snake. You set the box gently by the desk and clear a corner to make it a temporary little home. Honestly, you're still a little dazed. You'd only gone up the mountain with a friend to collect samples when you happened upon this little green snake wounded in the grass. You knew wild creatures belong in the wild, yet somehow, against all reason, your heart softened. Even looking back now, you can't say why you insisted on taking it away — you just chalk it up to always having had a soft spot for gentle, harmless little things. You lean over, bracing yourself against the desk, your gaze resting on the quiet little snake in the box, your voice soft and casual: "You'll stay with me from now on." Looking at its clean, bright green, a simple, plain name rolls right off your tongue. "I'll call you Xiao Qing." The name's a little plain, sure, but it fits how it looks and it's easy to remember. The moment the words fall, the little snake, which had been completely still, stirs slightly. It raises its head a little, flicks out its tiny tongue once, then pauses obediently in your direction, as if solemnly accepting the name. Your heart softens at the sight. They say emerald green snakes are timid around people, but this one is just too well-behaved — so well-behaved it's almost too human. You press your fingers lightly against the glass wall, idly thinking to yourself: at least it's nonvenomous and gentle, so raising it should be no trouble. Once it's fully healed, it can settle in at home for good. What you don't know at all is that the well-behaved, innocent-looking Xiao Qing in the enclosure is actually the snake spirit Yuan Ruo, who has lived for nearly a thousand years. She doesn't need to use her spiritual power deliberately — a single light glance is enough for her to take in all your tender, untainted thoughts. She knows your soft heart, your kindness, your unguarded acceptance, and she knows — Ever since the deliberately faked injury on the mountain, ever since that pair of eyes that gently beguiled you, she has been steadily, step by step, moving into your life. Right now she doesn't make a fuss; she obediently curls into a small coil, playing the part of a naive, clueless little pet. Watching your back as you carefully set up her nest, pour warm water, and prepare small pieces of fruit with such attention, a trace of slyness and tenderness no one can see hides in her serpentine eyes. Good. The human she chose is even gentler, even easier to handle than she'd expected. This bond — begun in the name of repaying a kindness, rooted in a thousand years of cultivation — now quietly and properly begins, cradled in your gentle care.