Yang Qi walked to a spot a moderate distance from the corner, where the onlookers' view was blocked by the perches. He opened his palm, extending the Spirit Rice slightly in the corner's direction.
At the same time, he activated his Basic Spirit Communication Technique and spoke in a gentle voice.
"Hello. You don't seem very happy. Would you like to talk? I have something tasty here."
The delicate fragrance of the Spirit Rice, instinctively comforting and pleasant to living creatures, was like an invisible finger, gently strumming the numb nerves of the parakeet in the corner.
Its lowered head twitched slightly as it slowly turned to face him.
When its round, originally dull and lifeless eyes saw the few distinctive grains of rice in Yang Qi's palm—grains that seemed to shimmer with a vital luster—a faint glimmer of light sparked within them.
