Chapter 2 — The Serpent Raising a Little Bird

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He seemed to understand my eyes. In his golden pupils suddenly flashed an extremely faint, difficult to grasp emotion; like... in a look of disgust mixed with something else? Then, he did something that completely shattered my concept of bird life. He did not throw me into his mouth, nor did he use his poisonous fangs to give me a definitive death. His wrist turned slightly, and my little body, wet and dirty, still smelling of burning, was stuffed directly into his arms. Close to his warm chest, even through the soft fabric, you can still feel the solid contours. Me: “!!!” Ignorant. Completely dumbfounded. What… what happened? The cold Serpent King, using his noble hands - it is said that one touch is enough to make a low-level monk freeze - to tuck me, this fallen confrontational bird, into his arms??? I stiffly pressed against him, not daring to move. His cold breath mixed with an extremely faint scent, like deep snow in a cold swamp, enveloped me. In contrast to the miserable cold wetness on my body, his arms were unusually warm, even hot. Incorrect. Very incorrect. Is he going to change the way he eats? For example, keep warm before eating? Or do you criticize me for being dirty and want me to dry before closing my mouth? I imagine countless ways to die tragically, but my body unconsciously stops shaking because of this warmth, and even falls asleep. Serious injuries combined with exhaustion, my consciousness gradually became blurred. Before losing consciousness, it seemed like he heard a very soft hum from the top of his head, and a mumbled sentence:

“Troublesome.”

I woke up in a warm, dry, soft place. The bottom of the body is lined with a fabric of unknown material, carrying a pleasant scent of sunlight and lingonberry. I blinked, looking around. This is an extremely simple room, the furniture is mostly dark, giving off a cold look. But the "nest" under the body is extremely comfortable. My wound... seems to have been taken care of. The blackened fur was cleaned up, and the wound was applied with cool medicine. Although spiritual energy is weak, it is slowly recovering. I'm not dead yet?

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Not only is he not dead, but he is also arranged in... the side hall of the Snake Lord's palace? The door was pushed open, Huyen Minh walked in, still wearing a black shirt, with an indifferent expression. In his hand he held a small, delicate jade vase. I immediately shrank my neck cautiously. He placed the jade bottle on the small table next to me: "Stop, drink." The voice was still cold, but it didn't seem as heavy with disgust as before. I looked at the jade vase and then at him, not moving. Who knows if it's poison or not? He frowned: "Afraid I'll poison you?" he seemed to find it funny:

“If I want to kill you, do I need to bother so much?”

It seems... makes sense. I slowly moved over, used my claw to pick up the stopper of the bottle, and carefully took a sip. The sweet spiritual liquid slid down my throat, quickly turning into gentle spiritual energy that nourished my dry meridians. So comfortable that I almost groaned out loud. Read full at Nguyet Hoa Cac page Okay, I believe he doesn't plan to eat me right away.

"That... thank you Snake Lord... for saving my life?"

I try to ask, speak softly. Although his motives are very suspicious. Huyen Minh glanced at me, sat down on the chair next to him, his long legs crossed:

"Save you? This soldier just picked up a pet that was still clean."

Pets?? My fur wanted to stand up again: "I am a spirit bird! A spirit bird has practiced for three hundred years! Not a pet!"

“Oh.” He responded calmly, “Three hundred years of spirit birds, three attacks The lightning turns into a grilled bird.”

Ta: “…” I can't talk anymore!

“Before you heal completely, stay here.” He ordered, not allowed to argue: "Dare to fly wildly,"
\he paused for a moment, his yellow pupils narrowed: "I will pluck your feathers to make a stone bridge." I trembled in fear, instinctively using my wings to cover my pitiful tail. So I began a life of "residence" in Black Thuy Trach. Huyen Minh, this person, no, this snake, are truly a collection of contradictions. His mouth has never spared the bird. I choked on the water, he said: "Stupid bird." I tried brushing his hair, he said:

“Don't brush anymore, if you brush anymore, you'll just be a bald bird.”

I absorbed the spiritual energy a bit more slowly, he said: "Three hundred years of food will be wasted." I was often so angry that he jumped up and down in the nest, but I didn't dare to really argue back.

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But about actions... Every day he brings me different spirit paths and immortal fruits on time, some of which I clearly feel are extremely valuable. In the "bird's nest" we live in (the name was given by him, I firmly refused to accept it) the mattress is changed every day to make it softer. The night of Black Thuy Trach was so cold that I shrank into a lump. The next morning, when I woke up, I always discovered that my body was covered with a piece of gauze that was as light and warm as a cloud. There was a time in the middle of the night when my wound hurt, I groaned softly. Soon he appeared in the next hall, without saying a word to check my wound. I applied the medicine again, my fingers were cold, my movements were very light. Before you leave, you can also cover it up for me. I watched his back disappear outside the door, the fear and frustration in my heart I don't know when, mixed with something else, confused. He seems... not that bad?