Seven-Headed Whale
Just past eight o’clock, the breakfast shop was bustling with the morning rush. Ruan Mianmian’s heartfelt declaration, “I really want to be Sister Yun Yun’s pet,” seemed to be drowned out by the clamor of voices around them.
Jing Chengyun was gulping down her porridge, apparently oblivious to the scalding heat as if she hadn’t heard a word of Ruan Mianmian’s earnest confession.
Feeling deeply disappointed, Ruan Mianmian cautiously called out, “Sister Yun Yun...?”
“Huh?” Beads of sweat clung to Jing Chengyun’s temple, slightly dampening her silvery hair. She wiped the moisture from the corner of her lips and slowly lifted her gaze, immediately meeting Ruan Mianmian’s moist, endearing eyes. The calm and composed facade she had been maintaining began to crumble, and the sweat on her forehead grew more unruly. “What is it?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“What did you say?”
With unwavering determination, Ruan Mianmian repeated solemnly, “I said I want to be your little pet, forever letting you stroke my tail.”
Such a ridiculous notion! Ridiculous enough that Jing Chengyun didn’t take it seriously at all—who in the world would want to be someone’s pet? She wasn’t buying it!
Yet, she truly longed to stroke a rabbit’s tail!
“Let’s talk about it later, let’s eat first,” Jing Chengyun controlled her urge and expertly brushed it off. “No talking while eating or sleeping.”
Ruan Mianmian was a little disheartened. Previously on the yacht, Jing Chengyun had refused to touch his tail, citing “not the right time.” Now she said, “later.” Was his tail really so unappealing to whales?
No, absolutely not. He had to offer his tail to his owner!
Setting down his spoon, Ruan Mianmian quietly watched Jing Chengyun eat breakfast. The way she ate was utterly captivating—focused, bold, and evidently relishing every bite.
He didn’t have to wait long. Seizing the moment when Jing Chengyun wiped her mouth with a napkin, he quickly proposed, “Can I come over to your place to play? I’m very well-behaved and won’t trouble you.”
Jing Chengyun glanced down inadvertently and caught sight of Ruan Mianmian’s tail wagging wildly... Help! Was he a dog? His tail was wagging like crazy!
In a flash, Jing Chengyun’s mind spun wildly, and without thinking further, she agreed, “Sure.”
Before her words had fully fallen, regret crept in. She realized she truly needed to address the lingering effects of the charm spell; otherwise, who knew what other impulsive things might happen.
Despite the aftereffects of the charm spell, Jing Chengyun kept her word and brought Ruan Mianmian back to her home.
The Jing residence was bright and airy, the living room well-lit, and the balcony nearly filled with various plants—mostly white roses, simply because Jing Chengyun favored them.
Ruan Mianmian exclaimed in a voice fitting his name, “Wow! The house is almost the same as it was five years ago!”
He dashed toward the sunlit balcony, looking for something he had longed for day and night.
The rabbit cage—his rabbit cage! He remembered that during the three months after his owner had taken him in, his cage had been on the balcony... Huh? Where was his spacious, comfortable cage?
He circled the balcony in disbelief and had to accept a harsh truth—his favorite and most relied-upon cage had very likely been thrown away.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but Ruan Mianmian was a good little rabbit who wouldn’t cause trouble for his owner. He deflated, shifting back from human form to rabbit form, quietly wiping his tears with his long ears before resting his head on Jing Chengyun’s foot. “...Where’s my cage? Was it thrown away?”
Looking down, Jing Chengyun saw two fist-sized rabbits lying on her foot—fluffy, soft, with glossy black eyes glistening with tears, their ears drooping in sorrow. Her breath caught; help, the rabbit-form Ruan Mianmian looked like a rabbit slipper!
Suppressing the urge to react, Jing Chengyun said, “We don’t keep rabbits at home anymore. It’s normal to throw it away. Besides, you can turn into a human now; does a little cage really matter?”
“Mianmian cares!” Ruan Mianmian pleaded, trying to hold on to a sweet memory. “Before, Mianmian would sleep in the cage when tired, eat inside when hungry, and when my owner wanted to pet me, they’d reach in from the top of the cage...”
Jing Chengyun was growing a little annoyed. “So do I have to find you a new cage now?”
“I can buy one myself!” Ruan Mianmian reverted to human form, transforming from the drooping-eared rabbit sprawled on her foot to a young man clinging to her calf like a spoiled child. “What color cage do you like, Master? Black and white? Blue? Or maybe I’ll buy one of every color...”
Feeling the warmth and weight on her leg, Jing Chengyun gritted her teeth. If this continued, things would go terribly wrong!
She was a whale with normal desires—a whale still suffering from charm spell aftereffects!
“No more talking about this!” Jing Chengyun bent down and harshly pried Ruan Mianmian’s arms apart.
Ruan Mianmian nearly burst into tears, his tears falling like raindrops. Obediently, he stepped away from Jing Chengyun and stood quietly, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
Jing Chengyun took a deep breath and looked away. “Just pick a random one on the shopping app. I’ll use local express delivery. But why do you want to live in a cage anyway?”
This was a quirk Jing Chengyun couldn’t fathom. She loved water and oversized bathtubs because she was born in the ocean, where water was both the beginning and the end. The sea was vast and boundless, offering her supreme freedom.
But who was born in a cage and died in one, confined their whole life?
Jing Chengyun’s mind wandered wildly. Perhaps she would find a heavy truth—that Ruan Mianmian had suffered a tragic past, leaving an indelible psychological scar that explained this strange preference.
“Because Mianmian is the little rabbit raised by her owner! Little rabbits all live in cages!”
Jing Chengyun: “?”
She was utterly shocked—unable to understand, nor willing to.
After a moment, she asked, “What about your mother? Your siblings? Do they have ‘owners’ and like living in cages too?”
This was a question she had to clarify.
It wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that Ruan Hui owed Jing Chengyun a debt of gratitude. Jing Chengyun couldn’t be colleagues with someone and at the same time let their precious child live in a tiny cage.
“They don’t have owners, so they don’t live in cages!”
Jing Chengyun understood at last—Ruan Mianmian’s self-identification was “her exclusive pet.”
She pondered whether to inform Ruan Hui of Ruan Mianmian’s thoughts, believing the mother might be more rational to reason with the troubled youth than an outsider like herself.
While thinking, her fingers aimlessly swiped through the shopping app, which promptly displayed one pet cage after another.
The sofa was very soft, and Ruan Mianmian knelt nearby, quietly suggesting, “Master, aren’t these cages too small? Is there one big enough for both Big Mianmian and Little Mianmian to fit inside?”
“Big Mianmian? Little Mianmian?”
“This is Big Mianmian.” Ruan Mianmian pointed to himself.
“This is Little Mianmian.” With a quick incantation, Ruan Mianmian transformed into a small, droopy-eared rabbit.
A mental image flashed—human-form Ruan Mianmian crawling into a cage, while his mother Ruan Hui screamed in anger nearby.
Jing Chengyun’s expression darkened as she snapped, “What do you need Big Mianmian crawling in there for? That’s crazy.”
Ignoring the low whimper from the rabbit spirit, Jing Chengyun didn’t even lift her eyes and growled irritably, “No crying, no whining, and no more talk about living in cages! I’m not buying you a cage!”
Ruan Mianmian was full of grievance but wasn’t allowed to cry, so he covered his mouth and lowered his head in confusion.
No cage to buy, no crying rabbit—finally, peace at last.
Taking a deep breath, Jing Chengyun resolved to tackle the charm spell aftereffects first. If she didn’t, who knew when she might stray down the wrong path? What would she do then?
She sent messages to several close friends and, before receiving any replies, got a greeting from a contact labeled “Florist Owner”:
“Miss Yun Yun, I’ve prepared this month’s white roses and will deliver them to your doorstep shortly. We’ve also received a new batch of pink roses. Would you like some?”
White roses were Jing Chengyun’s favorite bouquet. She usually ordered a large bunch from the florist outside the Splendid Garden every month, then distributed them into vases throughout her home.
She replied, “Yes, thank you. I’m off work today, resting at home. Please just knock on the door when you arrive.”
The florist asked again, “Resting? Are you unwell?”
Jing Chengyun’s answer was brief and deceptive—no need to explain in detail to a stranger: “Just a headache, nothing serious.”
Because of work, Jing Chengyun never muted her phone’s message alerts. Ruan Mianmian, guessing she was chatting with someone, asked curiously, “Master, who are you talking to?”
“None of your business.”
Now, Jing Chengyun’s impression of Ruan Mianmian boiled down to a few things: cute, innocent, furry, bizarre, and sometimes really annoying.
Her attitude wasn’t great, and Ruan Mianmian could only reply weakly, “Oh,” and fell silent.
*
The florist was punctual. His name was Hua Luo, and by coincidence, as a flower demon, his true form was Jing Chengyun’s beloved white rose.
Though he had come to deliver the roses ordered by a customer, Hua Luo carried an extra bunch of lisianthus in his arms.
He offered a spring breeze-like smile and spoke in a gentle, watery voice: “Good morning, Miss Yun Yun. These lisianthus are a gift for you. Wishing you a speedy recovery.”
“Thank you, but I can’t accept gifts,” Jing Chengyun said but took the flowers without hesitation. “I’ll pay you the price later.”
“No need. You usually support my business, so I should be the one thanking you... Are you expecting guests at home?” Hua Luo’s gentle floral tone suddenly faltered, touched by a faint chill and disdain.
His gaze passed over Jing Chengyun’s shoulder and landed on another young man in the room. Even his slight frown was beautiful, but the subtle expression was fleeting and unnoticed by anyone.
Jing Chengyun said, “He’s a new friend I made.”
Hua Luo said, “Heh, I wonder if my pink roses might come in handy?”
Pink roses—the flower of love and confession.
Jing Chengyun was displeased by his insinuation and wasted no time telling him off, “You’re imagining things. The shop is busy; you should go now. I’ll transfer the payment later.”
Hua Luo’s expression stiffened, then he smiled again like a warm spring breeze. “I apologize if I offended you. Please believe I mean no harm... Goodbye, and best wishes for your recovery.”
His eyes glanced once more at Ruan Mianmian. Only someone particularly perceptive could detect the subtle resentment hidden in his gaze. Even Jing Chengyun’s usually keen intuition failed to catch it.
One white rose was missing from the vase on the coffee table.
Shifting her gaze, she saw human-form Ruan Mianmian sprawled on the sofa, his head buried in his arms, a soft pillow under his belly. His butt and tail, adorned with a white rose tied around his rabbit tail, were raised high.
Jing Chengyun: “!!!”
She was utterly defeated by this little, perky rabbit.