CYCGS 05

How could a single word like “annoying” even cover it? It was endless, with no end in sight.

White Yiyi’s mental state was on the verge of collapse again, and his satisfaction score was plummeting wildly. After thinking it over, wasn’t there that saying—when in trouble, call the police? Trusting in that profession, and in the confidence he’d built up from observing his feeder these past days, he decided to risk everything and ask for help, even if it meant exposing himself.

One rare day when Yan Tuo got off work on time, he grabbed a quick dinner—shallot oil tossed noodles—at the Sha County小吃 place downstairs from his apartment. He walked up the stairs with a light step, opened the door, turned on the lights, and was greeted by Tangyuan’s enthusiastic “chirps.”

Ever since he’d started giving the little guy daily baths, he’d grown noticeably more affectionate. And he was incredibly smart—it almost seemed like he could understand human speech.

When outside the cage, he never crashed around or made a mess, so Yan Tuo had grown more and more comfortable and had developed the habit of letting him out to roam free as soon as he got home.

Today, Little White Tangyuan seemed especially clingy. As soon as the cage door was opened, instead of flying to the desk as usual, he landed straight on Yan Tuo’s shoulder, chirping away about something or other.

Yan Tuo didn’t pay it much mind as he moved around the apartment—putting a few books that had arrived that day onto the bookshelf, going to the balcony to collect dried laundry and stuffing it haphazardly into the wardrobe, then grabbing his laptop and sitting down at the desk to browse the internet.

Time slipped by. Around ten that night, when he went to the bathroom to run water, he caught a glimpse in the mirror and realized—his little pet had stayed perfectly still on his shoulder the entire time, not moving an inch.

Yan Tuo tapped the little bowl-cut head. “So clingy today, huh? Too lazy to even move from here?”

White Yiyi felt a little embarrassed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move—he’d gotten absorbed watching his feeder browse the internet.

He himself usually liked to watch anime and entertainment news when surfing the web. His feeder, probably due to his profession, preferred social news—especially major criminal cases. He’d often track down and read through related content, unwilling to let it go until he’d gotten to the bottom of things.

White Yiyi wasn’t interested in any of that, but he didn’t have a choice. For someone who’d been offline for over ten days, even a sip of soup was better than nothing—who was he to ask for a bicycle?

So when he’d first landed on his shoulder, he’d meant to carry out his distress signal plan. But as soon as the laptop screen lit up, he’d ended up surfing the web alongside him, completely forgetting his original purpose.

Snapping back to reality, White Yiyi finally took the first tentative step. He cleared his throat and began to sing:

*”Spring slumber knows no dawn,*
*Mosquitoes bite everywhere.*
*Come night, the sound of clapping—*
*How many mosquitoes die?”*

The only mosquito-related song he could remember was this one, written by the Heavenly King Ren. Would his feeder pick up on the signal?

Yan Tuo heard Tangyuan let out a long series of “chirp chirp chirp chirp,” with actual rises and falls in the melody. He thought, so his little pet had finally opened his beak and started singing—and the tune was so crisp and pleasant! Definitely worth rewarding.

He pulled out his phone, opened Taobao, and ordered a set of bird chew toys, a cuttlebone wind chime, some premium bird food, and fresh mealworms. Checkout—done.

Sitting back down at the desk, the little guy on his shoulder was still chirping away nonstop. Yan Tuo listened for a while and noticed something a bit odd—it didn’t sound random. It seemed like just three or four short melodic phrases, repeating over and over.

Curious, his investigative nature kicked in. He opened a music recognition app on his phone, activated the melody-identification feature, and recorded Tangyuan’s singing.

Then—search.

The page quickly returned a result: *”Mosquito Song.”*

Huh—it actually found a corresponding song? Had he heard it before at Hongqing’s place and learned it?

Yan Tuo played the original track. After just one listen, he could confirm—Tangyuan’s pitch was absolutely perfect.

That was impressive. He turned the little bird over in his palm, bringing him close for a closer look. He was definitely a crested canary—a “hibiscus bird” in local terms—not a talking parrot or mynah or anything. How could he sing so accurately? It defied logic.

From the moment he’d started playing the original, Tangyuan had stopped singing and was now sitting obediently in his palm, staring back at him with wide eyes.

Looking more closely, Yan Tuo finally noticed something unusual: scattered around Tangyuan’s eye area were little red bumps. Had those always been there? The color and shape—could they be… mosquito bites?

Recalling the little creature’s repeated rendition of the mosquito song, Yan Tuo was stunned by his own wild guess. Had he been driven crazy by mosquito bites and come to him for help?

A moment later, staring at the tiny fluffy ball in his hand, he laughed at himself for his absurd imagination.

How could that be? He was overthinking it. At most, it was just a coincidence.

Still, just in case, he opened Taobao again, selected a local seller, and ordered an electronic mosquito killer. He planned to keep it running 24/7 once it arrived, so his little cutie wouldn’t be troubled by those pests anymore.

White Yiyi watched his feeder go through the whole process—searching, comparing, ordering, paying—and let out a huge sigh of relief. Whether he’d be suspected or not could wait. For now, solving the immediate problem was already a win.

After this incident, Yan Tuo’s stature in White Yiyi’s heart grew even taller—practically reaching savior level.

He’d never met anyone who suited him so perfectly.

The world was full of people who put on a shiny front but had a different face behind closed doors. This man—though he didn’t know how he acted in public—when alone with no one watching, treated even a bird with such sincerity. It showed what a truly gentle person he was inside.

How could anyone be so wonderful?

White Yiyi crouched at the corner of the desk, gazing at him with starry eyes, imprinting that handsome silhouette deep in his memory. A long-dormant urge to draw something surged up again, but as a bird he had no rights—so he could only trace the image over and over in his mind.

Over the next two days, the mosquito killer arrived right on time and completely resolved White Yiyi’s troubles. He slept well, ate well, and his intimate interactions with his feeder gradually earned him a few points here and there. The total score was once again pushing toward positive territory—the outlook was overwhelmingly good.

Because of his exceptionally good behavior, Yan Tuo had permanently left the cage door open. Tangyuan could come and go as he pleased. During the day when no one was home, Yan Tuo would close the windows and doors and let him do whatever he wanted.

White Yiyi quickly explored every inch of the one-bedroom, one-living-room apartment. He took a stroll on the sofa, perched on the wall clock for a panoramic view, drooled a little over the instant noodle cups in the kitchen, and rolled around for a nap on his feeder’s bed…

But as he explored, the increasingly familiar territory started making him feel uneasy—for no other reason than he simply couldn’t stand how messy and dirty the place was.

Where was that cleaning lady that Flower CEO had promised?

Both of them were single and living alone, but White Yiyi’s own 90-square-meter three-room apartment was more than twice this size, and he kept it immaculately organized, tidy, and cozy.

Of course, that was thanks to his mother, Ms. Yao Pei, who had trained him from childhood. “Order” had long become a habit—he’d even been a model of internal discipline during military training in university because of his outstanding housekeeping.

In short, White Yiyi’s hands were itching badly. He wished he could return to human form right now, maybe even use a shadow clone or something, and scrub this place until it sparkled—so it would be worthy of his male god.

But fantasies were just fantasies. With his score still dozens of points away from passing, White Yiyi could only start with whatever changes he could make.

He picked up used tissues from the desk and dropped them in the trash bin, carried stray paperclips from the floor to the stationery box, closed the half-read magazines on the coffee table, and righted the fallen medicine bottles on the cabinet…

After half an afternoon of work, White Yiyi was exhausted—beak weak, feet sore—and collapsed on the sofa to admire his handiwork.

He looked around the room, and tears almost welled up. Because what he’d been able to do was so small and so little—he was worn out like a dead dog, yet the room was basically unchanged.

Sigh. It wasn’t easy being a bird. And being a clean-freak bird was even harder. Bird life was tough.

Around 9 PM, Yan Tuo came home. As he walked in and didn’t get his usual chirpy welcome, he glanced at the birdcage—empty.

He quickly scanned the room but didn’t see the little white ball anywhere.

Wondering where the little guy had hidden, he called out instinctively, “Tangyuan?”

“Chirp—”

From the corner of the sofa, a little black-and-white bowl-cut head popped up.

Yan Tuo hadn’t really expected a response. On a whim, he reached out his hand and said, “Tangyuan, come here.”

Miraculously, the white ball stood up, spread his wings, flew across most of the living room, and landed squarely in his palm.

“Chirp chirp—”

Yan Tuo’s astonishment was almost overflowing, mixed with a deep sense of wonder and satisfaction.

He’d never seen such an intelligent animal. Even the smartest Border Collies, without training, rarely achieved such smooth communication.

No one who hadn’t experienced it could ever imagine the sheer joy of having a little creature trust you so wholeheartedly that it would fly straight to you the moment you called.

Curious, Yan Tuo adopted the approach he used with police dogs and gave a command: “Squat.”

The white ball hesitated for a moment, then slowly squatted down.

???

“Stand up.”

It actually stood up, its little eyes darting around, tilting its head. “Chirp?”

Yan Tuo couldn’t even describe how he felt. After digesting it for a while, he could only breathe out softly, “Tangyuan… are you about to become a spirit or something?”