The Spirit Snake only had time to say that one sentence before being silenced again.
…
Soon, exams were over and summer vacation arrived.
The marine biology college had a two-and-a-half-month summer break. Ye Yang led an even fuller life than during the school term, spending his days studying at the research institute with Shen Ming as a lab assistant while also taking on YCG assignments.
The only downside was that Dongzhou had been fairly peaceful recently. There were no high-risk missions, just small-scale reconnaissance tasks with relatively low pay.
Of course, Ye Yang thought that was fine. He preferred the quiet, ordinary days. Any extra time could be used for cultivation.
Fu Ye had long returned to Qishan. After all, the group’s headquarters were still there. He often chatted with Ye Yang online, offering plenty of effective advice and help on missions—he’d been a great support.
Ye Yang’s only worry was: What was on Professor Shen’s mind? Why had he been acting so strangely?
Earlier, Ye Yang had been too busy preparing for exams to think much about it. But as time passed, even he—slow as he could be—started to notice.
Sometimes Professor Shen seemed very clingy. Other times, he seemed very distant, even a little guarded.
The Spirit Snake also hadn’t appeared in a long time, for some reason. When Ye Yang asked, Shen Ming avoided the topic. Ye Yang swore he saw Shen Ming’s eyes dart away shiftily—clearly something was up!
But he didn’t know that Shen Ming was equally troubled.
After turning more of his attention to Ye Yang, Shen Ming only grew more frustrated.
He discovered that even though he was supposed to be watching Ye Yang while assuming the worst-case scenario, he found it extremely easy to give in to him.
He easily forgave all kinds of behavior. He easily went soft. For example, when the showerhead in Ye Yang’s apartment broke and he came over to borrow Shen Ming’s, he ended up getting too comfortable, fell asleep in the tub, and flooded the entire floor. Shen Ming couldn’t bring himself to scold him.
Or when Ye Yang secretly got revenge for Little Crow, took him to a park to pick a fight with an invasive national second-class protected bird that had been bullying crows, nearly plucked the thing bald, and then refused to admit it.
Sometimes Shen Ming clearly should have pressed further, but because he could see Ye Yang seemed very unwilling to talk about it, he just let it go.
Looking back now, he had no idea how he’d made that decision.
Lately, whenever he was with Ye Yang, he often felt restless and distracted. Even when he wasn’t with Ye Yang, he’d zone out during work—something that had never happened before.
He often thought about Ye Yang. Ye Yang’s image would flash through his mind from time to time. He’d even spaced out staring at Ye Yang’s face while they were together.
He felt very confused.
“After saying all that, you don’t have any realization at all?” Elder Li had no idea what sin he’d committed to have to deal with a deity’s romantic problems.
Elder Li was normally patient, but usually only when he was tormenting people. In response to Shen Ming’s question, he got straight to the point: “Either Xuanwu has a mating season, or else—you’re in love with him.”
“Some love hits like a flash flood. Other love flows gently like a long stream. Isn’t this just love growing over time?”
“Alright, I have a lot to do. I’m heading off now.”
Elder Li vanished on the spot, leaving Shen Ming alone, sitting in silence for a long time.
Even knowing the Spirit Snake had ulterior motives, Shen Ming couldn’t stop thinking about what it had said.
He was certain that if he ever saw the Vermilion Bird again, after getting some answers, he would kill him. Not just for his own sake, but also for the Azure Dragon and the White Tiger.
He wouldn’t hold back against anyone or anything related to the Vermilion Bird either. If Ye Yang truly had ill intentions, Shen Ming would have to kill him without hesitation.
On that point, there was no doubt.
But what unsettled him most was realizing that whenever he thought about that person being Ye Yang, his heart couldn’t help but tighten.
It seemed he really couldn’t bring himself to harm Ye Yang?
What was going on? Could the Spirit Snake be right? Had he lived such a peaceful human life for too long that he’d completely lost the mettle for battle? Had he gone soft? Or, as Elder Li said… had the one of the Four Symbols, who had never experienced romantic affection, actually fallen for a little sea bunny?
Just a minor yaoguai. Except for being very cute, very hardworking, very kind, very diligent, very eager to learn, very… special.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re doomed.”
“Boom! Crackle-crackle—” In response, the only thing that met the Spirit Snake was a much more energetic and thicker bolt of lightning within his spiritual sense.
—
Shen Ming’s perception of time was a bit dull.
Given his lifespan, three years were but an instant. So while he was still wrestling with his thoughts, deliberating, and failing to reach any conclusion, Ye Yang had already graduated.
By the second and third years of university, Ye Yang’s roommates had all gradually graduated. Ye Yang straightforwardly applied to become a day student. By the second half of senior year, while classmates were scrambling for internships, Ye Yang’s grades were so excellent that even without his connection to Shen Ming, he could easily enter Cuixipeng’s research institute.
The research institute was the best option. Ye Yang didn’t hesitate for a moment and happily went.
Working as an intern at the research institute felt as comfortable as being back home to Ye Yang. He knew everyone there well. Professor Cui was good-natured and a strong manager, so the institute’s atmosphere was great. Even newcomers quickly settled in.
Only one unpleasant thing happened.
An intern from out of town noticed that Ye Yang was allowed to perform operations that other interns weren’t. Shen Ming would answer Ye Yang’s questions but ignore other interns’ queries. To this intern, Ye Yang looked very much like someone getting special treatment. Furious, the intern reported Ye Yang.
When Ye Yang, Shen Ming, and Cui Xipeng were called in for a meeting, all three were completely stunned.
In the end, Professor Cui had to explain things clearly. Shen Ming wasn’t responsible for teaching interns in the first place—he was just an advisor. His willingness to teach Ye Yang was a personal matter, and the institute couldn’t force him to answer other interns’ questions. Moreover, the questions Ye Yang asked were on a completely different level from those of the other interns; some of theirs were even very basic. It was perfectly normal for Shen Ming to not bother with them.
As for Ye Yang, he was an orphan, but he had excellent grades and strong abilities. He had helped out at the institute before, so he knew more and therefore did more.
After the issue was resolved, Professor Cui didn’t really do anything to the intern who filed the report, but during the morning meeting, he couldn’t help making a pointed comment: “Here, we don’t care about anything but ability. If anyone has the confidence to reach the same level as Xiao Ye, you’re welcome to apply to join the core lab.”
The intern’s face turned bright red with embarrassment. Shortly after his report, the institute held internal exams, and everyone quickly understood the gap in ability between themselves and Ye Yang.
Most of them were still at the undergraduate knowledge level. Even the few who’d been guaranteed admission for graduate school weren’t exceptionally advanced. But Ye Yang, under Shen Ming’s long-term guidance and driven by his own interest, had already published in a core journal by his junior year and had his name on institute papers. He was genuinely impressive.
After that, everyone settled down, and things remained peaceful until the internship ended.
In the final phase, Ye Yang’s project under Shen Ming’s guidance was short-handed. Holding no grudges, he invited his fellow interns to join him and gave all of them authorship credit, making their resumes look much better.
After the internship ended, Ye Yang officially graduated.
He didn’t apply for graduate school and even gave up his opportunity for guaranteed admission.
Getting into university had already been a rare opportunity for him. Now that he’d completed his degree, it was time for him to formally start working under the YCG’s supervision.
But before that, he still had some time—time to bid farewell to his college life.
Li Chanyi, being ceremonious, invited Ye Yang on a graduation trip. The only thing was, his choice of destination was somewhat bizarre.
Li Chanyi wanted to go to the Northern Frontier—the production area for a certain medicinal herb—to collect wild specimens in person.
“Do you often go to places like this to collect herbs? It’s very dangerous.”
Ye Yang couldn’t help thinking back to the time Li Chanyi had been herb-gathering on the mountain when Ye Yang’s true form was exposed.
“I go whenever I’m free. No other way—good wild herbs are rare. You have to invest time and effort. That barren mountain where I ran into you last time? I’d already scoped it out, set up protective measures, and was just waiting to harvest that day. Who knew you’d pop up out of nowhere?”
“‘Scoped it out’—is that the right way to use that phrase… Well, I guess it means we’ve got a connection.”
Li Chanyi nodded vigorously. “Exactly, exactly! We do have a connection. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten the job at Suwen Lamp Transmission. It’s a steady gig—way beyond my parents’ expectations, hahahaha.”
Ye Yang’s expression tightened. Li Chanyi quickly explained, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell my parents the truth. My official cover is that I got an administrative job at a field hospital, with internal training to follow. Director Tu arranged everything.”
Ye Yang rubbed his nose. Right—of course it was all arranged. He was worrying over nothing.
Although the reason was a stretch, the Northern Frontier really was a tourist destination with great food and beautiful scenery. The season was perfect, too. Other than being far away, there was nothing wrong with it.
This was Ye Yang’s first long-distance trip. He was excited and thrilled, looking up all kinds of travel guides online.
Li Chanyi was different—he was far too experienced.
Ever since he turned eighteen, he’d been traveling everywhere alone. Scenic spots, remote wilderness—he’d left his footprints all over.
This time, they were going to a city in the Northern Frontier, the far northwest of China. It was extremely far from Dongzhou, with no direct flights. Any flight required a layover, and the shortest option still took seventeen or eighteen hours.
Li Chanyi had never been this far either, but just thinking about collecting those precious herbs with his own hands filled him with motivation.
On the day of departure, Li Chanyi’s mother drove Ye Yang and Li Chanyi to the airport. His father nagged the entire way—from watching their personal safety to absolutely not digging up state-protected plants. He didn’t stop for a full half hour.
Finally, at the airport, Li Chanyi’s father gave a few last reminders. “Anyway, safety comes first. Whatever you do, don’t go off alone. That far northwest is vast and sparsely populated. If you run into some wild animal, you won’t even have time to call for help.”
Li Chanyi wasn’t worried at all. “Don’t worry, Dad. Ye Yang is with me. If you don’t trust me, at least trust him.” He winked at Ye Yang.
Ye Yang understood the unspoken meaning: With a yaoguai around, what were wild animals compared to that?
It might sound a bit arrogant, but Ye Yang thought the same way.
If he couldn’t even protect one Li Chanyi, he might as well quit the YCG Operations Department now.
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