Wang Runfa spoke in a straightforward, no-nonsense tone. “I’m not joking. If it gets really attached, it’ll stick to you like glue and peck anyone who comes near.”
“If you don’t want that kind of hassle, just keep it in a pure cage setup. Tease it now and then, that’s all.”
He pointed ahead, drawing Min Fan’s gaze to a massive wall of birdcages where crowds were snapping photos and checking in.
The afternoon sun blazed fiercely, bathing the stacked cages—which rose like little mountains—in a warm tan glow.
Orioles, tiny as sesame seeds, lived inside. They hopped about occasionally, their calls sharp and bright.
The young man stared for a long while before shaking his head in refusal.
He had no desire to cage it up.
Wang Runfa figured his buddy must be into hand-tamed birds like budgerigars or the like. He led the way to the cages and bird perches.
He picked out a standard apricot-colored cage first, but Min Fan shook his head. “Too small.”
Wang Runfa grabbed a nearly meter-tall standing cage next and struck up a chat with the shop owner.
“This one’s got a warming light?”
“You know it—it’s basically got everything but a mini air conditioner!”
“Nice cage, fair price. I gave it a shake; solid materials, won’t come apart when you move.” Wang Runfa geared up to haggle some more, grinning smugly. “Trust your bro Wang on this. Let’s snag it?”
“Not big enough,” Min Fan replied. “No room for it to move. Just get a bird perch instead.”
Wang Runfa blinked in confusion and steered Min Fan toward a quieter corner of the shop.
What was the guy raising these days—a Sun Conure?
“How big’s your bird?” Wang Runfa asked. “Show me with your hands.”
Min Fan uttered three words.
“Haidongqing.”
Wang Runfa let loose a sharp curse.
“Get rid of it now, or donate it to the zoo. That thing’s illegal to keep—the permit’s a nightmare to get!”
Min Fan tossed out a casual fib.
“It’s a bigwig’s keepsake. Can’t just hand it off.”
Wang Runfa thought to himself, was this the wild world of celebrities? Jumping straight into the deep end?
“Is it bonded to you? You planning to tame it yourself or what?”
Min Fan paused to think it over, then said earnestly, “It’s really well-behaved. Lets me hold it most days.”
Wang Runfa felt like he was listening to a Grimm fairy tale.
A Haidongqing that let people cuddle it?
He mulled it over for a moment before nodding. “Alright, let’s head deeper in. I’ll help you pick some thick branches to rig up a perch, plus gear and treats.”
Min Fan’s gut told him one wouldn’t cut it.
Bedroom, study, living room, even the set trailer—he’d need one for each.
“Money’s no object,” he said. “Can you wholesale them?”
“Branches are dirt cheap—you could forage them from the park.” Wang Runfa kept his tone even. “Bro, how many birds you got? At least let me confess everything before the cops haul me off.”
It wasn’t until Min Fan mentioned the whole thing was registered with the police that his old pal finally eased up, slipping back into his usual motormouth mode.
The first few shops specialized in Parrots and Finches. They had to venture deeper into 109th Street.
Along the way, kids rattled diabolos by the roadside while beauties in cheongsams squatted amid clusters of roses, posing for shots.
The aquarium section shimmered with neon lights. Schools of Guppies swayed their long tails, their eyes vacant and glassy.
The deep-sea fish looked even more listless, like hollow shells adrift in massive tanks.
Min Fan didn’t care for the sight.
“They sell sharks here too. Didn’t peg you for hating this stuff.” Wang Runfa glanced over. “Couple shops up ahead do snakes—try not to stare. Gives me the creeps.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Mid-sentence, Wang Runfa twisted his head and spotted a Corn Snake flicking its tongue inside a glass tank.
He jolted back, a shiver running down his spine.
They were passing a reptile shop stocked to the gills.
A Bearded Dragon sprawled on a perch like a discarded old boot. A Wolf Spider curled in the owner’s palm, mobbed by a gaggle of middle schoolers snapping pics.
Wang Runfa picked up the pace to push on, only to realize Min Fan had halted in his tracks.
Neither of them noticed how nearly every snake—lounging in lazy slumber—had just snapped its eyes open.
“Hold up,” Min Fan said, hands in his pockets as he stepped inside. “Mind if I look around?”
The owner called out cheerfully. “Hey, handsome! Like what you see? Browse away. Wanna touch something, just holler!”
Min Fan scanned the place and murmured on instinct, “…They’re gorgeous.”
They were snakes, yet they gleamed like strings of living jewels.
Yellow-and-white bands evoked pure gold pearls, deep crimson shone translucent like pigeon-blood rubies, and even the soft pinks resembled delicate cherry-blossom bracelets.
“Snakes your thing, huh? Great taste,” the owner said, launching into his pitch. “That’s an Original Bull. You’re eyeing the Salmon over there, plus Blood Red, Milkshake, Blizzard.”
“See a morph you love? We can pull it from another branch. Name it, we’ve got it. Price is flexible.”
“Any chance I could handle one?”
“No worries if you’re not scared—all our snakes are non-venomous.”
The owner selected a Milkshake and slid back the acrylic lid.
He meant to lift the snake out, letting the customer soak in the full allure of an exotic pet.
When the restraint was lifted, the lazily sleeping snake flicked out its tongue and propped itself up, slowly inching forward along Min Fan’s dangling fingertip.
The boss’s face lit up with delight.
“This one’s really taken to you. You’ve got a real connection.”
“Snakes are timid creatures by nature. They usually shrink back from strangers. It’s rare to see one rubbing up against someone it doesn’t know like this.”
Wang Runfa didn’t dare get too close. He watched with his mouth agape.
“You’re not afraid of snakes?”
Min Fan replied, “I just have a feeling it won’t hurt me.”
More precisely, in the instant their gazes met, he sensed its affection.
The Milkshake snake crawled into his palm, sniffing at his scent.
It had felt like a cool raindrop at first, but his warm skin heated it up, giving it a body temperature of its own.
Min Fan smiled and praised it. “You’re adorable.”
When the boss picked it up, the little snake tried to wrap its tail tip around his pinky finger, reluctant to let go.
“If you’re interested, you could try this Black King here. It’s got real style—young folks love keeping them.”
The exact same thing happened again.
Every snake seemed eager for his touch. Even when the boss just unscrewed the lid, they would crane forward, eyes gleaming, begging for Min Fan to pet them.
They were as drawn to him as people to a stunning beauty, brimming with enthusiasm, almost like they were grinning.
While the boss chatted idly with the junior high kid, Min Fan petted every one of them, welcoming each in turn.
“I’m too busy with work to care for a pet,” he said. “But how about this: today, I’ll treat every little snake in your shop to a pinky rat. It’s on me.”
The boss waved him off. “I couldn’t possibly!”
“And have a coffee on me too.” Min Fan scanned the code and sent over a generous red envelope. “Happy New Year. Business booming.”
“—Deal! I’ll go fetch ten boxes of pinky rats right now!”
When they got back home, the temp worker helped haul up several large tree branches and assembled the enclosure in no time flat.
The base was framed with wood and lined with bedding, with some odor-absorbing cat litter tucked into the gaps.
The wild pear branches were spaced just right, with a swing and little wooden bridge hanging in the middle, plus a woven yarn nest.
Wang Runfa peered in curiously. “Where’s the bird? I wanted a pic with the Haidongqing.”
“It’s shy. Maybe next time,” Min Fan said. “Dinner’s on me tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Weather’s turning cold—let’s hit up some old-school Beijing explosive tripe!”
After seeing everyone off, Min Fan opened the bedroom door again, bracing for a mess.
Instead, a breath of clean air greeted him, and the White Falcon gave a gentle cry.
The room was just as he’d left it, except the food bowl was empty.
Min Fan was a bit surprised. He tested the waters with a call.
“Qin Baiyan?”
“If you can understand me, give a cry.”
The White Falcon preened its feathers but stayed silent.
Min Fan relaxed a little and went over to refill its water.
“You’re a good boy. No messes this time,” he said warmly. “Sweet Little Bird, beef strips coming up soon.”
Even knowing he might get pecked again, the young man reached out and stroked its soft plumage.
The White Falcon caught the scents of other birds and snakes on him and looked displeased, but it allowed the touch.
“Let’s make a deal,” Min Fan cooed, as if soothing a baby bird. “I’ll take off the ankle chain so you can fly a bit, but no knocking things over, okay?”
He smoothed a couple of its feathers, then carefully unfastened the ankle chain.
The White Falcon hopped tentatively onto the desk, flapping its wings before darting out of the bedroom. It circled the much roomier living room once.
Its flight was unsteady, occasionally brushing the chandelier and making it sway.
But every moment with wings spread, it was like a vibrant sprite, free and ethereal.
A Haidongqing belonged to vast skies, not cooped up in a place like this.
The company-sent hourly cleaner had left the apartment spotless, stashing the code-locked case in the cabinet before leaving.
Min Fan opened the case and pulled out the contract and the White Ink script. A rush of wind hit him from behind.
The Haidongqing braked sharply on his shoulder, folding its wings neatly—but its talons tore right through his thin jacket.
Min Fan flinched in pain. The White Falcon sensed something wrong at once and landed on the desk like a scolded child.
It hung its head, bracing for the chain again.
“Not your fault,” he soothed. “Give me a sec.”
The young man ducked into the bedroom to change into a fleece-lined leather jacket and turned off the central AC.
“Come here.” He called out.
The White Falcon trilled crisply and beat its wings toward him, landing steadily once more.
It perched on his shoulder, nestling close.
Sleek feathers draped along his cheek, tickling faintly.
Min Fan tested it by stepping out to the balcony for something, and it stayed balanced perfectly on his shoulder. The only sign of attachment was the warmth of its body pressed against him.
Having a pet felt surprisingly nice.
The White Falcon was toasty warm.
If you brush aside the feathers and touch its chest, you can feel the blazing body heat and the deep, slow, powerful heartbeat.
Min Fan turned his face to the side and reached out to stroke its petite head.
“Good little bird,” he said softly, “I like you.”
It couldn’t hold back and nuzzled his palm in response.
