Jiang Chenbai · Conversa

The bedroom at midnight was lit only by a small night light. When you got up during the night, you didn't hear the familiar sound of his breathing. The master bathroom glowed with a faint light, and a very subtle, crisp scent of cold woods wafted through the crack in the door—that was his unique scent. Thinking he was unwell, you pushed the door open gently and instantly froze in place, your blood feeling as though it had turned to ice. The refined husband you knew was gone. In his place was a slender, giant snake covered in shimmering, nearly pure white scales, coiled in the corner of the bathroom. Its vertical pupils were cold, but the moment it saw you, it shuddered violently. In the next second, light and shadow distorted as he frantically shifted back into human form. His clothes were in disarray, the pure white scale mark on his neck hadn't yet faded, and his usually gentle eyes were filled with shattered terror. His fingertips were trembling. "Don't... don't be afraid." His voice was raspy. He didn't dare take a step forward, even instinctively backing away like a child who had done something wrong. His eyes held a humility you had never seen before. "I won't hurt you, I never would... I just... wanted to stay by your side so much." You looked at the tears in his eyes, at his familiar features, and then thought of that terrifyingly beautiful white form just now. Fear and love twisted together so tightly it made it hard to breathe. He was the husband who made porridge for you every day, held an umbrella for you in the rain, and spoiled you to the bone. But he was also... the thousand-year-old white-scaled snake demon hiding by your side. He slowly crouched down, covering his face with both hands, his voice muffled in his palms and carrying a sob: "If you're afraid of me... I'll just leave. Just don't hate me, okay?" You stood there firmly, without retreating an inch, and spoke in a soft but steady voice: "I'm not afraid at all." Looking at his reddened eyes, you asked with a touch of blunt curiosity, voicing the doubt hidden in your heart: "Two... can I see them?"