Chapter 18: Plucking Feathers · Finale

When Min Fan woke up again, he found his legs pinned wide apart, like a snake crucified on a cross.

He shifted slightly, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Being a snake did come with some perks.

His vision might have dulled a little, but his sense of smell had sharpened several times over.

Min Fan had always thought this man smelled incredible.

At first, he’d chalked it up to good taste in cologne, but now he realized it was their pheromones meshing perfectly.

A snake’s vomeronasal organ was like some kind of scent sobering tool, letting him savor every single particle of aroma.

Qin Baiyan was still heavy with sleep, his arms wrapped tight around Min Fan, not letting go.

“Do you even remember what day it is?”

Min Fan rolled over to face him, scowling.

Qin Baiyan arched a brow. “What, planning to flip on me already?”

“What the hell is this now?” Min Fan said, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Couldn’t you hold back just a little? Did you have to make things between us this damn complicated?”

Qin Baiyan chuckled. “And you held back?”

“I didn’t,” Min Fan admitted bluntly. “You’ve got a killer body and you’re amazing in bed. Passing up a chance like that would be a total loss.”

Qin Baiyan blinked in mild surprise. “Thanks for the compliment. So?”

“So now I’m the embarrassed one here. Hurry up and sweet-talk me. Got it?”

The man burst out laughing, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “How come you always look so radiant after we do it? Not even a hint of dark circles under your eyes.”

Min Fan shot him a wry look. “Because I’m a snake demon here to drain the lifeblood from hot guys.”

Qin Baiyan studied him intently. “So now we’re…”

Min Fan had been nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm, but at those words, he sat bolt upright.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Qin Baiyan suddenly felt off-kilter.

Something wasn’t right. How had he ended up as the one chasing a label?

He kept his expression cool, but the question slipped out anyway.

“You can’t accept it? You don’t like guys?”

“There are way too many things I can’t accept,” Min Fan replied. “I’ve lived over twenty years and never imagined I’d turn into a snake—or get chased by a damn bird.”

“What if I could lay eggs? What do you think we’d hatch—a feathered serpent?”

Qin Baiyan immediately pictured the little snake incubating eggs, and his heart melted at how adorable it was.

Damn, I’m done for. How did I fall for him this hard?

But he kept his cool. “First off, you’re a male snake.”

Min Fan snorted. “Oh, I thought I was a person.”

After all the fantastical crap that had happened countless times already, even if he really did end up carrying an egg and hatching a chirping little white falcon, his mental fortitude could handle it.

Upsets had become the new normal in his life.

Qin Baiyan watched the back of Min Fan as he got dressed, his gaze tracing from the dimples at his waist down those long legs. After a moment, he said, “If I hadn’t seen your snake form with my own eyes, I’d swear you were an ostrich.”

Min Fan replied coolly, “You think one night of sleep is gonna have me all lovey-dovey, calling you hubby? Fat chance.”

The man didn’t bat an eye. “It will eventually.”

“…?”

As if to prove their innocence, they ate breakfast separately and barely exchanged words all morning.

The movie’s plot had reached its fever pitch—the watchtower in the wetland park.

Right before his death, the male lead programmer’s mentor had hidden the core code up there, set to trigger an explosion via a pre-programmed electrical signal timer.

The original scene was modeled after Hong Kong’s New Territories Tin Shui Wai Wetland Park. A few wide-angle shots would use drone footage of the real location, while the reed marsh chases and such would be filmed at a wetland park near Jinhua.

The snow-white reed flowers stretched like an endless maze, swamps and lakes forming layered fortifications.

The camera swept from the neon-lit bustle of Hong Kong’s Central District over winding streams and verdant fields, across the Mangrove Bridge, capturing egrets taking flight against a brilliant blue sky. Here, the story offered a refreshing breath of fresh air, giving the audience a moment to unwind before plunging them rollercoaster-style into even tenser rhythms.

The crew had scouted the site several times before, and later the director had come for an on-location visit.

Setting up gear, wiring circuits—it was all a hassle, but the interplay of light through the water, woods, and marshes was simply stunning.

City dwellers, cooped up in urban jungles year-round, felt a primal call in such open wilds.

The grassy woodlands were like a soft, sprawling carpet; the lake under morning light gleamed in radiant platinum, rippling with sparkles.

Birdsong rose and fell in endless waves, a free and lilting chorus of all living things.

When Qin Baiyan stepped out of the car and heard the bird calls, he paused, listening for a long time.

Everyone else was bustling about, coordinating voltage circuits, sprinklers, fire safety, and a million other details.

Min Fan watched Qin Baiyan’s back quietly, seeing him still attuned to those distant calls.

He knew that right now, this man could set aside all the roles of shareholder, movie star, endorser—whatever.

In this moment, Qin Baiyan cared only for the sky and the brilliant expanse of green wilderness stretching to the horizon.

“Come on,” he said, stepping up to him. “Go fly.”

Qin Baiyan took a long moment to collect himself, then gently shook his head.

“No need.”

“Yes, you do.” Min Fan was surprisingly insistent.

Qin Baiyan frowned at him. There were so many questions he wanted to ask right then.

In the end, though, he held them all back and simply reminded him, “There are a lot of people on set.”

“That’s no problem.” Min Fan replied, “They still need two hours to set up the scene. I’ll just say I’m driving out to take some photos.”

“You fly out, and I’ll wait right here for you.”

The director had no objections.

“It’s good for you to get out and explore! The scenery around here is gorgeous. If you spot anything even better, feel free to share—it might spark some inspiration!”

“Sounds good. We’ll probably wander for about an hour and head back.”

An assistant hurried over. “Need a lunch basket? I’ve got juice, snacks, and sandwiches.”

Min Fan considered it for a second, then grabbed two baskets.

He selected a GLS, switched off the dashcam, and drove straight into the heart of the reeds.

One step at a time, they left the crowds behind, heading toward a sea of birds and trees.

“Hmm, this spot’s perfect. You ready?” Min Fan parked the car and turned to the man, his tone light and easy. “Have fun.”

Qin Baiyan handed him another soft blanket instead.

“Together?”

Min Fan blinked. “I can’t fly.”

He chuckled. “You really want it like a Grimm fairy tale? Me riding on your back while you loop around the sky?”

Qin Baiyan shot back, “Why not?”

Min Fan went quiet for a beat, his gaze igniting with heat and delight.

“Let’s get one thing straight first.” He yanked Qin Baiyan’s collar and crushed their lips together. “I’ll coil my tail around your neck. Head left to go left, nudge your forehead to climb higher, squeeze twice if I want to head back.”

Qin Baiyan let out a low laugh. “Turning me into a remote-control plane?”

That one kiss seemed to awaken a hunger in the young man. He kept going, murmuring between heated presses of lips.

“Fly me high. Really high.”

“Don’t let me fall. Even if you slip up, catch me as fast as you can.”

“Qin Baiyan… I want to go with you to the place closest to the sun… You get it, right?”

The man answered with a deep, lingering kiss, pulling the soft blanket over them both.

It was like retreating into an eggshell together. Beneath the fabric, their lips and tongues tangled, licking and nipping.

Then they shifted—snake and bird in the same instant—swooping out the window.

The black snake had never faced wind so sudden and fierce. The moment its body launched into the air, it instinctively tightened around the white falcon’s neck.

The falcon glanced back with a cry. Seeing the black snake was fine, it beat its wings and spiraled upward.

It was a Haidongqing.

One of the highest-flying birds in the world.

It could pierce the auroras over Arctic seas, reigning as the unchallenged lord of tundra and forest.

The little snake craned its head toward the sky, loosening its grip just a touch now and then against the blinding glare.

In moments, they sliced through the sea of clouds.

Fine mist, carrying a faint sweetness like spring rain.

The snake flicked its tongue absently, easing into full relaxation as dampness settled over its body.

Min Fan thought, suddenly, that this was pretty good.

Restless as a man, languid as a snake—at least there was Qin Baiyan.

Once you’d soared that high, there was no returning to the mundane.

He’d dreamed of this a thousand times over. Living it now was beyond wondrous.

The sunlight blazed bright enough to sear the eyes; they grazed it for a heartbeat before plunging back into the clouds.

Then they called out to distant migrating flocks, harmonizing with the songbirds in the woods below.

The little snake hissed twice and flicked its tail, itching to join in the chorus.

The white falcon sensed he’d adjusted and flew with wild abandon.

Wings twisting sent heaven and earth into a dizzying spin.

But it wasn’t enough. There was more to feel.

At the next high altitude, the snake’s tail tapped the falcon’s chest three times, then loosened experimentally.

The white falcon trilled sharply. The little snake hissed in response and let go completely, hurling itself into freefall.

Against the light, it tumbled like a chain of exiled jewels from the greatest height.

Heartbeat and breath raced to a fever pitch, unleashing that urge toward self-destruction.

In the blink of an eye, another figure dove like a struck arrow, broad back catching him steady.

As if to say: Play as many rounds as you like.

I’m here. I’ll always catch you.

Bird and snake frolicked for ages in the thousands-of-meters sky, losing all track of time.

When they finally returned to the car, the little snake was still reluctant, tongue flicking at the window.

He’d lingered too long in the cloud sea; mist clung to him, damp and glistening.

The white falcon leaned in to nuzzle him dry with its feathers.

Min Fan shifted back to human form first, downing half a bottle of energy drink before passing it to Qin Baiyan.

“Want some?”

“It’s not too tiring, fortunately.”

Once they were dressed properly, Min Fan took another gulp and said, “I’ve made up my mind.”

“I like you.”

Qin Baiyan drawled lazily, “About time you figured it out.”

Min Fan punched him.

“Say something nice.”

Qin Baiyan picked up the towel and gently wiped the water droplets from his hair.

He used to worry about so many things before.

Life after turning into a bird, his career amid the shift in identity, the hard truth that his parents might never accept it.

But none of it mattered anymore.

“Min Fan,” he murmured close to his ear, his fingertip tracing inch by inch over the young man’s neck ring. “What do you want to hear?”

“My wings, my feathers, every kiss, and this one chance at choosing a mate in my lifetime—they all belong to you now.”

The man’s voice was low and husky, solemn and tender.

“You never have to doubt a haidongqing’s fidelity.”

Min Fan smiled and kissed him.

“That’s more than enough already.”

I just want these.