Qiu Lu woke up.
In his current state, he might have remained unconscious for several more days. But as his vision cleared now, his body throbbed with intense soreness from the prolonged fever.
He jolted in shock when he opened his eyes—the colors of the world had exploded into a dazzling kaleidoscope, almost too vibrant to bear.
Tilting his head up, a slender beak filled his view, and his arms had transformed into wings. Every joint moved in a completely alien way.
Qiu Lu struggled to keep his balance as he tried to stand. He realized he was trapped inside a massive glass enclosure.
The enclosure stood flush against the wall, part of a vast circular structure lined with countless identical tanks. In the center, four screens looped educational videos.
He cried out in stunned alarm, but his reshaped vocal cords could no longer form human speech.
The scene was so surreal it felt like a nightmarish hallucination. Yet he was fully alert, and he could clearly spot his parents in the distance.
The middle-aged couple stood with their backs to him, locked in a heated argument.
Qiu Lu called out several times, but his faint peeps were swallowed by the frantic squawks of the other birds. No one noticed.
Calming himself bit by bit, he focused on the information scrolling across the large screens.
Comet Night. Genetic mutation. Transformation Period. Feather Descendants. Snake Descendants.
It might as well have been the premise of some trippy sci-fi flick.
Following the on-screen guide, he soon spotted a row of buttons on the right side of his enclosure.
Blue to request exit. Green for medical attention. White to ask visitors to leave. Red for emergencies.
Qiu Lu moved to tap the blue button with his long beak, desperate to revert to human form and reunite with his parents. But just then, the voices from across the room spiked.
“Qiu Lu’s already sixteen! Have you even thought about what having another kid would mean to him? Anyone with eyes can see it—his mom and dad don’t want him anymore, so they’re starting over!”
“Who cares what other people think?” Qiu Junwei snapped, irritation boiling over. “Even a daughter would be better than this—not human, not anything. Let’s get out of here. It reeks, just like a damn flower-and-bird market. Can you picture our son like this?”
The egret’s beak hovered motionless in the air. Incredulous, it slowly craned its neck toward the parents’ backs.
“I’m hurting even more than you,” Qiu Junwei said. He grabbed his wife’s arm and spun her around to face the white bird again. “I knocked on that glass tank earlier, but it didn’t even know who I was! This is our son—can you accept it? This is our son!”
“I’m barely in my early forties. Sure, having a baby at our age comes with risks, but it’s better than counting on a bird to take care of us in old age!”
The egret stared at them, dazed.
Silent tears began streaming from its eyes.
“Can we just focus on what’s happening now?” Cui Mengmei said, her eyes red-rimmed. “Doctor Shao said it’ll only be another two or three days before he regains awareness. He’ll shift back into human form bit by bit and get on with life like before. That new school’s one of the top provincial ones. We’ll move there with him—a place full of kids like him. No one will look down on him!”
“Move?” Qiu Junwei echoed. “What do you think the old neighbors will say? Our former coworkers and folks on the block?”
“Suddenly switching schools and relocating—did we hit the jackpot, or did Qiu Lu’s grades skyrocket overnight so the fancy provincial school came knocking?”
“Listen to me. We go home first. Whether this bird turns back into our son is up in the air. The priority right now is you getting that checkup and us getting ready.” Qiu Junwei drew her into his arms, his tone firm yet tender. “Any other guy might’ve just shacked up with some young thing on the side and started fresh. But not me—I only want you.”
Cui Mengmei kept gazing toward the egret, but she nodded, ever so slowly.
No one could tell which words had swayed her.
They started heading back over, as if to inspect their bird-turned son one more time.
The long beak jabbed the white button.
He refused—absolutely refused—to be ogled like some zoo specimen by his own parents.
The smart wall panel lit up at once with the matching code.
A staff member nearby blinked in surprise and hurried over to intercept them.
“Sorry, folks. Visiting hours are up. You’ll have to head out.”
Cui Mengmei’s feet halted even quicker than her husband’s.
“I can’t even bear to look,” she murmured, voice choked. “A living, breathing kid—almost six feet tall, healthy, full of life… How could he… turn into…”
Qiu Junwei, on the other hand, coaxed her along, urging one last glance to help her face facts.
“Not sure about tomorrow—want to take another peek at him?”
They left soon after.
Once the visitors were gone, the staff member approached the enclosure right away.
“You’re awake?”
The egret nodded slowly.
The staff member smiled gently. “Would you like to come out for some fresh air? Shift back to human for a while?”
Unexpectedly, the egret fell silent for a long time before shaking his head.
His body was in agony, enduring every moment.
The overwhelming drowsiness of the Transformation Period left him with only brief windows of clarity.
And once he turned human, the truths he had to face were sharp enough to cut like knives—cruel in their clarity.
His parents had taken just two days to conclude they should simply have another child.
Curled slowly in his nest, the egret let the fever creep through every joint in his body, his thoughts a muddled haze.
His parents could even replace their child.
If this one wasn’t good enough, they could just try the next.
But a child could never do the same. A child would never even consider swapping out their parents.
The caretaker hurried over, replacing his water and setting down a dish of meat.
The cod was like pristine blocks of snow, the shrimp plump and vividly red—both looked perfectly fresh.
The egret glanced over numbly. He touched the water first, but when he lifted his head again, his gaze lingered on the meat for a long while.
Certain tenets forged by familial love—even if irrational, harsh, and outdated—he had clung to them for seventeen years.
They all felt like a joke now.
Awkwardly, the egret parted his long beak, picked up a piece of the soft fish meat, and swallowed it down.
As the meat, slick with blood, slid down his throat, some deep-seated obsession shattered within him.
He began devouring the meat without restraint.
Just like that chaotic bird he had been right after his first transformation.
He ate hungrily, desperately, frantically—as if he could stuff the void in his heart full with it—gulping down huge mouthfuls.
There were no barriers at all.
Eating meat wouldn’t send him to hell. It wouldn’t infect him with some vile disease. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.
He wanted to live. He just wanted to live.
The caretaker had no choice but to open the side door of the glass enclosure, trying to soothe him. “Slow down a little. Don’t eat so fast—your stomach isn’t ready for it yet. You’ll only hurt yourself…”
The egret dipped his head to snatch the last piece. Water droplets splashed onto his long feathers, like tears no one could see.
Qiu Lu slept for another day and a half before his body fully recovered.
He quickly mastered the knack of transforming, and when he shifted back to human form, his complexion was even better than before.
Doctor Shao suggested he take more time to recuperate.
“Most adult Feather Descendants need seven to ten days for their Transformation Period. Don’t push yourself too hard—your studies aren’t that urgent right now.”
“No need, thank you,” Qiu Lu said. “I want to get used to this as quickly as possible and go home.”
His face held no smile when he mentioned home.
Doctor Shao didn’t pry. He arranged for someone else to handle the registration and checkup.
The boy spoke little, reserved and quiet. He didn’t even flinch when they drew his blood.
“How was I rescued?”
“You flew out unexpectedly during that stormy night. OAC detected the anomaly and got you out as quickly as possible.”
“Your parents aren’t handling your changes well,” Shao Shi said, producing photocopies of the relevant regulations. “To protect a minor’s life and safety, once we’ve verified that your guardians can’t properly care for you—and if you’re willing to sever ties—OAC can cover your tuition and basic living expenses until you graduate college, along with all the necessary documents to start your adult life.”
“Once you sign, there’s no going back, so think it over carefully.”
Qiu Lu read through every document quietly but didn’t sign.
“Does this offer stay open forever?”
“Yes—even in your final year of college, you can contact us anytime.”
“I just want to go home and see.”
“Of course,” Doctor Shao said. “Your vitals are stable now. The anemia and malnutrition can be addressed gradually.”
“Qiu Lu, from here on out, any problems stemming from your identity—you can come to us.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t choose to have his parents come pick him up.
He even took the subway alone from the New District to the Old City District, walking the familiar road home on his own.
He was no longer purely human.
He was something else—not human, not bird.
If Brother Yuxiao found out, would he choose a different friend?
Qiu Lu glanced down at his wrist and found that the feather stubs had vanished.
The strangeness at his ankle shadowed him everywhere.
When he got home, the iron gate hung open, and the smell of cooking oil and smoke wafted through the screen door.
Cui Mengmei was focused on stir-frying vegetables, while Qiu Junwei stood nearby with a beer, chuckling.
“Then Old Qian’s third son went off to the United States for his PhD!”
“He was already fifty when the kid was born!”
Cui Mengmei laughed helplessly. “Old Qian sure knows how to keep things lively.”
Qiu Junwei’s beer was nearly empty. He shuffled toward the fridge for another when he suddenly spotted someone standing outside the screen door.
Qiu Lu stood there in the gloom of the hallway, his silhouette blending into the darkness, his presence almost illusory.
“Little Lu?!” He nearly dropped the bottle. “You… you’re back? Are you better now?!”
Cui Mengmei heard the commotion and rushed over with a spatula in hand, her voice filled with disbelief. “Lulu!!”
“You’ve changed—” She cut herself off mid-sentence, flung the door open, yanked the boy inside, and slammed both doors shut. Only then did she run her hands up and down his arms and legs, checking him over.
He was human, with arms and legs intact—nothing missing.
Qiu Lu said, “I was discharged from the hospital.”
Qiu Junwei gazed at him with a complicated expression. A moment later, his face softened into a kindly smile. “We called your mom and dad over there. The moment we heard you were coming home, we whipped up a bunch of your favorite dishes!”
Qiu Lu didn’t call out any of the lies. He quietly changed out of his shoes and washed his hands, just like he always did coming home from school.
He was still slowly adjusting to the proliferation of four-color cone cells brought on by the egret.
The world had turned garish and bizarre, every trace of ultraviolet light now visible.
The boy said nothing, so Qiu Junwei followed behind him. “We’ve been so worried about you these past couple days. Your mom’s been crying nonstop, and I kept saying we’d spend whatever it took to get you better. If we have to, we’ll head to Beijing, check out a top hospital!”
“Baby, no rush to go to school tomorrow. Dad’ll take you out for a stroll, okay?”
Qiu Lu turned around, and Qiu Junwei instinctively took half a step back.
Qiu Lu reached out, as if to touch his father’s face.
Qiu Junwei spun on his heel and headed for the kitchen with a laugh. “Dinner’s ready. Dad’ll dish it up for you—go on and sit down.”
The boy smiled slowly.
His eyes were crystalline and clear, but they held a chill.
