Rong Sui sat on the sofa in the living room. On the sofa opposite and beside him sat eight people, lined up from oldest to youngest—not a single teacher or student was missing from the neat assembly.

Except for the Principal, who was perpetually out of zone, and the Pixiu, who had been forcibly dragged there, everyone else was waiting in solemn anticipation, watching Rong Sui across from them.

Sitting on the single sofa, Rong Sui had already sorted through his chaotic emotions. At least on the surface, he had calmed down. He looked quietly at his colleagues and students—who now felt both familiar and strange—and spoke slowly, “Who wants to go first?”

For a moment, no one answered.

Sitting on the very edge, the Pixiu looked left and right. Seeing how tense they all looked, he sneered, “Grand divine beasts, yet you’re actually afraid of a mere human.”

“Shut up!” The irritable Bi Fang reached out, pressed the Pixiu’s face-down into the sofa, and said coldly, “Speak again and I’ll kill you to cook in the hotpot.”

Seated one space over, Wen Tun’s neck shot up at the mention of hotpot. Staring at the fluffy ball that was the Pixiu, he very noticeably gulped down his drool.

Pixiu: “………………” Dammit!

A dragon stranded in the shallows, living under someone else’s roof—not wanting to actually be cooked in a hotpot, the Pixiu could only shut his mouth resentfully.

In the end, it was Yin Zhuzhi who spoke first: “I am the ancient Torch Dragon. Teacher has seen my original form.”

Thinking of the dragon cub that had scared him unconscious, Rong Sui’s lips twitched. He nodded at him and naturally shifted his gaze to the person next to him.

“Yazi,” Long Ya said, lifting his eyelids and speaking half-heartedly.

With someone taking the lead, the others relaxed slightly. Bai Ze sat up straight and said obediently, “I am Bai Ze.”

“Bi Fang bird,” Bi Fang raised his chin proudly, nudging the silly Wen Tun next to him to remind him it was his turn.

Wen Tun wrinkled his face and thought for a long time, stammering without being able to say anything. In the end, he had to turn his head to ask Long Ya, “What am I?”

Long Ya: “…………”

Rong Sui: “???”

Beside them, Bi Fang had a look of complete disdain. Pinching Wen Tun’s face with both hands, he said fiercely, “Little dummy, you are a Wonton.”

Wen Tun then said to Rong Sui with great delight, “Teacher, I am a Wonton.”

“???” Rong Sui guessed, “You mean Chaos (Hundun), right?”

Long Ya’s eyes twitched. Looking at the still-giggle-happy Wen Tun, it took him a long while to find his voice. “Yes. Hundun probably slept underground for too long, and his brain went bad from all that sleeping…”

Bi Fang shook his head and sighed with feeling, “He wasn’t smart to begin with, but now he’s just completely stupid.”

Rong Sui didn’t pay attention to their bickering. His gaze drifted over to Bai Tu, secretly guessing what kind of demon he was.

Receiving his gaze, Bai Tu shrank his shoulders sheepishly. Two long, white rabbit ears nervously popped out from the top of his head. “I… I am a rabbit.”

The cubs in this school all had massive backgrounds. Even though they were currently just cubs, the fear of ancient great demons was instinctive. Just being near them made Bai Tu feel extremely restless.

With a normal demon finally in the mix, Rong Sui felt a strange sense of relief in his heart. The moment the cubs spoke, they were all renowned ancient divine beasts, which gave Rong Sui an ethereal, detached feeling—he felt this was entirely because these divine beasts currently looked like highly deceptive, adorable creatures.

After all, who could equate a row of cute little boys with the notoriously fierce divine beasts of legend?

Sure enough, besides the cubs, the cook Aunt Wang was a weasel, and the Principal… the Principal was completely out of it the entire time. He was also hard of hearing, so it was unclear if he even heard what they were saying as he just sat there happily holding his teacup. However, referring to Bai Tu and Aunt Wang, Rong Sui guessed he was likely an older, ordinary demon.

Now that everyone had re-introduced themselves, the slight apprehension in Rong Sui’s heart gradually dissipated. Although they crossed species boundaries, they were still the same familiar people.

Rubbing his face, Rong Sui checked the time. Seeing it was getting late, he smiled and said, “It’s late. Everyone should wash up and go to sleep. We’ll decide where to play tomorrow.”

Seeing his expression look much more natural, Bai Tu figured it was best not to push him right now, so he quickly coaxed the others to return to their respective rooms.

Yin Zhuzhi shared a room with Rong Sui, so he naturally stayed behind.

Rong Sui looked down at him and proactively held his hand, preparing to take him back to the room to sleep. Halfway through, he suddenly remembered that although he looked like a child, he might have lived for thousands or tens of thousands of years, and instinctively let go of his hand.

Yin Zhuzhi turned his head slightly, tightened his fingers, and proactively grabbed Rong Sui’s hand back.

“Teacher?”

Rong Sui froze for a moment, then slowly smiled. Letting the child hold his hand, he said softly, “Let’s go back to the room.”

…

Rong Sui originally thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but after washing up and lying down, he fell into a deep sleep before long.

This time there were no nightmares; he slept very well. But because he had gone to bed so early, he woke up just as dawn was breaking.

Seeing it was still early, Rong Sui looked at Yin Zhuzhi, who was snuggled under the blanket snoring softly beside him. He carefully lifted the covers and stepped out of bed barefoot.

The sky outside was still gray, with only a sliver of pale light showing where the earth met the sky. Rong Sui poured himself a cup of hot water and curled up on the balcony sofa to watch the sunrise.

That sliver of pale light gradually turned crimson, and then the red grew deeper and deeper until a small half of the sun poked its head out.

Rong Sui curled up comfortably, his hair messily sticking up uncombed. Leaning against the sofa, he held his hot cup of tea and let his mind go blank.

He thought that when it got fully light, he would go downstairs and make a hearty breakfast for everyone as an apology for yesterday. Thinking about it calmly, although the shattering of his worldview was terrifying, his fainting spell had probably scared everyone else too. Last night, Bai Tu had spoken to him with extreme caution, so he really ought to show some remorse.

As he was thinking, a soft body suddenly scrambled onto the sofa. Yin Zhuzhi snuggled against his leg and, mimicking his posture, curled up on the other end.

Amused, Rong Sui’s mind acted faster than his body as he reached out to pinch his cheek. “Did I wake you?”

Yin Zhuzhi glanced at him, shook his head, and slowly let out a yawn. Without speaking, he just quietly shared the sofa with him.

He was wearing the green dinosaur pajamas Rong Sui had bought for him, and his shoulder-length hair fell somewhat messily. Although his face was young, his delicate features were still discernible. Rong Sui went to fetch a hair tie and a comb, smoothing his messy hair and tying it behind his head. “Shall I take you to get a haircut after breakfast?”

Yin Zhuzhi’s hair was indeed very long. The first day Rong Sui met him, he had thought about taking him to a barbershop.

Yin Zhuzhi thought about it, then slowly nodded and said yes.

Rong Sui flicked the little ponytail at the back of his head, then suddenly asked out of nowhere, “Can you shift for me to see again?”

“You…” Yin Zhuzhi tilted his head, looking at him with a hint of distrust, “won’t faint again?”

“I won’t. Yesterday was because I was too shocked and couldn’t process it in time, which is why I fainted.” Rong Sui tried to explain to him that fainting yesterday wasn’t because he was a coward, but simply because the sheer volume of information had exceeded his brain’s memory limit, causing a temporary shutdown and reboot.

“Alright then.” Yin Zhuzhi pondered silently for a moment. In the end, he accommodated his request and shifted back into his dragon cub form.

A chubby dragon cub sat on the other end of the sofa. This time, because he was close, Rong Sui could see him much clearer. Crossing his legs, Rong Sui leaned forward slightly to observe him for a bit, then suddenly reached out and pulled the chubby little dragon into a tight embrace.

Even when he first saw him, Rong Sui had felt this chubby little dragon looked far too ridiculously cute.

His jet-black scales were smooth and sleek, feeling slick to the touch, and under the light, they faintly reflected a reddish hue. His head was round, his forehead was wide, and atop it sat a pair of newly branched, brownish dragon horns. The golden dragon pupils beneath the horns were round and large, looking exactly like something out of a chibi manga.

He looked neither terrifying nor like the majestic, fierce image of the creator deity from legends.

Having cast off his psychological baggage, Rong Sui simply couldn’t put him down. Especially when he noticed that this chubby little dragon had been eating so well that his originally snake-like body had become quite round, with a soft, bulging belly that made his four claws look exceptionally short. He loved it even more.

After petting Yin Zhuzhi from head to tail in his arms, Rong Sui finally placed him on his lap with satisfaction and asked curiously, “Why do you look so different from the legends?”

The Classic of Mountains and Seas recorded: “The god of Mount Zhong is named Zhuyin. When he opens his eyes, it is day; when he closes his eyes, it is night. When he blows, it is winter; when he breathes, it is summer. He neither drinks, nor eats, nor rests. His breath is the wind. His body is a thousand miles long… He has a human face and a snake’s body, red in color, and dwells at the foot of Mount Zhong.”

Zhuyin, also known as Zhu Jiuyin or the Torch Dragon, was one of the ancient creator deities with vast divine power, who once held fire in his mouth to guard the netherworld. Even in ancient times, he was a supreme existence that looked down on all.

Looking at the book’s description—”a body a thousand miles long, with a human face and a red snake’s body”—how did any of that correspond to the chubby little dragon in front of him?

Yin Zhuzhi seemed to read the doubt in his eyes. His tail wrapped around Rong Sui’s finger, the tip brushing against his palm as he explained rather reluctantly, “The forms of ancient divine beasts are infinitely varied. What mortals saw wasn’t necessarily our true form.”

Just like Chaos (Hundun); the Classic of Singularities claimed he had “eyes but could not see, ears but could not hear. If he met a virtuous man, he would oppose him; if he met an evil man, he would rely on him.” In reality, it was simply because Hundun was born blind and was so pure and gullible that he was easily tricked by bad people, which led to the rumors that he couldn’t distinguish good from evil and often associated with the wicked.

Rong Sui thought about it and found it made sense. After all, they were creatures of legend; even if the appearance didn’t quite match up, it was just a minor detail. Since he had already petted the real deal, what more could he ask for?

The sun on the horizon had already climbed halfway into the sky. Rong Sui stretched, picked up the chubby little dragon on his lap, and prepared to head downstairs.

Unaccustomed to such intimacy, Yin Zhuzhi gripped Rong Sui’s arm tightly with his short claws, his tail curling awkwardly as he tried to find something to say. “Who left the demon scent mark on you?”

He had wanted to ask yesterday, but because he had made a mistake and was still feeling guilty, he had held back. Now that he saw Rong Sui had completely accepted everything, he finally asked.

Hearing this, Rong Sui paused in his tracks, asking in confusion, “What mark?”

Yin Zhuzhi turned his body, his claws clutching Rong Sui’s arm, his eyes filled with equal confusion. “You have the scent of a powerful demon on you. If it wasn’t because of this, we wouldn’t have mistaken you for a demon.”

Rong Sui: “???”

He fell silent for a moment, and as if realizing something, his face gradually turned grim. Placing Yin Zhuzhi down on the bed, Rong Sui picked up his phone. His expression was even darker than it had been yesterday. “Wait here a moment, I need to make a phone call.”

–

Author’s Note:

Rong Sui: My dad too??? Is there even a single normal person left around me?! (sulking)