Chapter 14: Seizing Feathers · 14

Qin Baiyan clearly remembered those brief seconds when Min Fan lay against his chest.

His skin was smooth, the touch slightly feverish, both their chests slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

It felt like cradling warm jade in his arms. Instinctively, the man wanted only to tighten his hold, to embrace him even harder—as if drawing vital nourishment from that white falcon.

That craving clamored endlessly inside him.

Min Fan was so incensed by his words that he burst out laughing. “What exactly are you so pleased about?”

Qin Baiyan replied, “Call your agent. He’s very worried about you.”

The young man snapped back to reality then, grabbing the phone from the table and scrolling through the avalanche of piled-up messages.

While they waited, Qin Baiyan said calmly, “Pleased to play with your tail.”

Min Fan kicked at him again.

Deep down, though, he was rather pleased.

He’d only just realized it himself: he liked this shameless sort.

It made it so easy for him to play the innocent little white flower—sternly issuing warnings, no hooligan behavior allowed.

Min Fan quickly ran through his script, but the instant the agent picked up, a twinge of guilt hit him.

“I just wrapped up being busy,” Min Fan said, slipping into the role of an ambitious social climber greedy for a foothold among the financial elite. “It was a close call. My assets were barely enough, but my background fell short.”

Ayi sounded stunned. “You really want to do business with that bigwig?”

“If I can’t snag a shareholder spot, I’ll aim lower. Can’t dump all my savings into a house, right?”

Qin Baiyan nodded from the side, signaling his approval of the excuse.

The agent pressed on with concern. “None of that matters. Are you feeling okay? Did you come down with something?”

Min Fan timed it perfectly as Qin Baiyan took a sip of tea. “My hemorrhoids flared up.”

The man barely choked it down. The young man feigned regret.

Ayi thought to himself, with you two going at it night after night, it’s no wonder something acts up.

“Truth be told, I was uneasy about you heading to Beijing alone with him. But Brother Qin’s handled your privacy perfectly. He’s solid.”

Min Fan shot Qin Baiyan another glance. “Like how?”

“Your flight details,” Ayi said. “Those sasaeng fans couldn’t track them at all. Couldn’t find you in Hengdian either—a bunch of them are losing it online.”

Min Fan laughed.

Of course they couldn’t. He hadn’t bought a ticket in the first place.

“Director Zhuang asked me to check if you’re free soon to shoot an animal welfare ad for Beijing TV,” Ayi said, stressing the point. “It’s pro bono, but killer exposure. They’ll run it long-term on several packed subway lines.”

“Animal welfare ad?”

“Yeah, partnering with Beijing Zoo. A few posters calling people not to poach or overhunt—refuse wild game, starting with me.”

“For a gig this good, we’ve got to rope Qin Baiyan in too,” Min Fan said. “Director Zhuang wants free labor? I’ll drag someone else under the bus with me.”

Ayi let out a relieved breath. He’d finally delivered the bonus assignment. “Knew you could wrangle him!”

Min Fan shot back, “What do you know?”

His Transformation Period wasn’t stable yet. After just a few exchanges, exhaustion dragged at Min Fan’s eyelids until he could barely keep them open. He knew he was about to shift back.

He hung up and warned, “No holding me while you sleep.”

“Lock you in the snake box?”

“That’s a no,” Min Fan said. “Who likes cages? Can’t you just free-range me?”

Qin Baiyan thought, you’re the one who crawls into my arms. I’m not about to say no.

The young man was already bundled in a blanket on the sofa, blustering one last time.

“If I wake up on you again, you’d better apologize—profusely.”

Qin Baiyan said nothing, just smiled.

Once Min Fan had shifted back into the little snake, Qin Baiyan pondered for a moment. He locked the door, grabbed a blanket, and transformed into the white falcon.

He didn’t dare leave his bloodline dormant too long. Better to maintain the form consciously for a stretch first.

The haidongqing caught the snake’s scent immediately, and a fierce hunting urge surged through it. Its wings unfurled without control.

The next instant, reason asserted itself.

It sprang onto the sofa, immediately spotting the little snake—arched high, hissing fiercely.

He sensed the danger too, straining to puff himself up, to look massive and menacing.

The haidongqing’s long beak hooked deftly, flipping the little snake onto its back.

He’d half-expected to end up as dinner. Dazed, he adjusted to the new perch.

That familiar heartbeat thrummed once more.

Only softer now—perfect for coiling tight, entwining fully.

Predatory instincts fired in both snake and bird.

Devour the other.

They could do it. Completely.

Rip the throat open, savor the blood, swallow every bit.

His tail could cinch the bird’s throat inch by inch until suffocation claimed it.

Its beak could peck out his heart, talons pinning him helpless.

But they knew each other’s scent too well.

Feathers or scales, claws or fangs—every trait screamed deadly foe.

And yet…

The little snake hissed a warning while nuzzling against the white falcon a couple of times.

Eh, he had feathers now.

The soft downy feathers were perfect for burrowing into and sleeping.

It hissed uncertainly a couple more times and sensed the far larger falcon’s aura growing calm, its gaze gentle.

The little snake gave up on hissing.

It wriggled this way and that across the massive white falcon’s body, drawn equally to the shadow beneath its wings and the neck so ideal for coiling around.

Once he had confirmed that all predatory instinct had utterly vanished, Qin Baiyan relaxed and gently nudged the tip of its drooping tail back into place with his long beak.

The little snake settled comfortably onto the white falcon and drifted off to sleep once more, perfectly content.

Gazing into the mirror at the snake and bird entwined like symbionts, Qin Baiyan suddenly felt far less averse to his transformation into something inhuman.

With a sense of relief, he thought: At least now, he could carry him high into the skies together.

The next day, when Qin Baiyan awoke, the little snake was still hanging off him, showing no sign of climbing down.

He slipped back under the covers with it and, moments later, reverted to human form.

The late spring chill lingered, leaving the flashscale snake perpetually listless.

Snakes lacked eyelids, so in sleep they merely stared vacantly ahead—sometimes Qin Baiyan couldn’t even tell if it was asleep.

He brought the little snake along to company headquarters, arriving right on time for the shareholders’ quarterly meeting.

Along the way, employees who caught a glimpse of his face would flash that wide-eyed surprise unique to fans of film or music, though they always held back and offered distant greetings.

The meeting dragged on in its usual dull, interminable fashion.

Qin Baiyan leafed through the reports without saying a word for ages.

The presenter grew tense, worried that some project’s results had fallen short of expectations.

A short while later, someone with sharp eyes noticed a faint stir.

From beside the aquamarine gem cufflink, a little snake slithered into view, flicking its tongue lightly.

Its long tail remained coiled loosely around its owner’s wrist, as if just peeking out to survey the surroundings.

No one dared blurt out, “Boss, there’s a snake on you!” Instead, they exchanged subtle glances and silently pretended not to notice.

The pets of the truly wealthy were something else—fierce.

Satisfied that all was safe, the little snake uncoiled from the man’s wrist and made its way to the fruit platter beside the teacup.

It stealthily hooked a strawberry with its tail, using the cup to conceal itself and its prize as it circled the berry appreciatively.

Qin Baiyan seemed absorbed in the rundown of the European and American markets, but his attention had been wholly commandeered by it.

With that Stanford-sharpened mind of his, he pondered: Snakes were carnivores, after all.

Though Min Fan certainly loved strawberries.

While stealing glances at the little snake, he texted the housekeeper.

[Y]: Do you have any sterile quail eggs?

[Housekeeper-Meng Cheng]: I’ll find some right away.

[Y]: Need sterile pigeon eggs too.

[Housekeeper-Meng Cheng]: Understood. Shall I send them to the company now?

[Y]: No, select two of each daily and leave them on the bedroom desk.

Primitive snakes devoured their food whole, but the little snake’s awareness teetered on the brink of awakening.

All it recalled was its fondness for this vivid red fruit—and its preference for eating it one bite at a time.

It opened its mouth, testing: no way to gulp the strawberry down whole, nor to crush it utterly with raw force as it might an egg, relying on its ribs.

Having sent off the messages, Qin Baiyan spotted the little snake tucked into the teacup’s shadow, experimentally nibbling away bit by bit, unsure of itself.

Sure enough, it nipped off the strawberry’s tip; its tail tip quivered with delight as it swallowed the morsel.

The man felt a flicker of surprise—and relief on its behalf.

So cute, he thought.

True, Min Fan only warmed to him because of the white falcon, but he had come to adore this little snake all the more for his concern over Min Fan.

It didn’t matter.

Noticing the key figure’s expression ease, the briefer relaxed noticeably and spoke with renewed confidence.

See? Our project team had performed admirably this quarter!

The first session was slated for three hours, but Qin Baiyan intended to slip out fifteen minutes early.

He rapped his knuckles lightly on the table. The little snake, which had been batting at the strawberry stem with its tail, slithered promptly back into position—like a sinuous bracelet of gleaming jewels.

In the break room, the man selected coffee beans while returning the director’s call.

“The script’s solid. I read a few pages the other day.”

“What’s the investment projection?”

They’d barely gotten started when his sleeve abruptly weighed down.

Qin Baiyan’s face shifted; the next instant, the youth crumpled to the floor.

He ended the call with a hasty excuse, shrugged off his jacket, and draped it over him.

“What was that?” Min Fan yelped, wincing from the impact, thoroughly bewildered. “Am I… in your company?”

Qin Baiyan’s first move was to lock the door, followed by checking Min Fan’s spine and wrists for injury.

“How did this happen?” he said with a frown. “I thought only blankets and quilts could trigger transformation.”

“I’ve said it before—anything that can mimic a sealed eggshell will work,” Min Fan said impatiently, hastily draping his jacket over his private parts. “There’s no surveillance here, right?”

“None,” Qin Baiyan replied. “But in ten minutes, a bunch of people will be heading this way.”

“Change back now,” he instructed. “I’ll get you out of here, and you can shift back to human form after.”

“How do you even do this?” Min Fan asked rapidly. “Earlier, I just felt like I’d woken up, and the second I opened my eyes, my whole body dropped.”

“To turn into an animal, relax until you get drowsy and fall asleep,” Qin Baiyan explained. “To keep your human consciousness in animal form, make yourself feel like you’re dreaming—but hold onto that dream state without waking up.”

“To wake up fully, focus hard on remembering you have hands. Try lifting one to grab something, or speak in your human voice. The dream will break.”

In the brief moment Min Fan rubbed his wrists, Qin Baiyan pressed against the door and flagged down a janitor for a blanket.

He carefully draped it over Min Fan’s entire body, coaxing softly, “Relax now. You’re exhausted. You need rest.”

The young man was tall and lean, the graceful curve of his calves plainly visible beneath the long blanket.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in fatigue, annoyed by the unrelenting chill.

Sleep. Just fall asleep right here.

Qin Baiyan watched as the young man slumped against the wall and drifted off into a sound slumber.

He exhaled deeply and dialed his secretary.

“Cancel the tea break. We’ll do an afternoon tea party instead in a bit—push the second half back.”

“Put up caution tape around the tea room area. Claim it’s an electrical hazard—danger, keep out.”

“And grab a set of clothes for me. I’ll text you the size shortly.”

Though surprised, the secretary was thrilled and jumped into action.

Faint shouts drifted in from outside the door.

“Anyone want pizza?!”

“I’ll order some fried chicken and barbecue!!”

Qin Baiyan listened to the distant cheers, then leaned down and gently touched the back of Min Fan’s hand.

“Wake up,” he murmured. “Let’s head home and rest.”

Min Fan had pushed himself too hard lately; even as he stirred awake, his mind remained foggy.

“Qin Baiyan…” he mumbled. “Am I a snake right now?”

Qin Baiyan sighed. “You’re my ancestor.”