Chapter 15: Seizing Feathers · 15

Min Fan woke up in the middle of the night, feeling so warm and cozy that he had no desire to move.

The spot where he lay was soft and comfortable, wrapped in a reassuring sense of being held close.

The young man jerked his head up.

He was just about to let loose a string of curses at Qin Baiyan—hadn’t even managed to scramble off the man’s chest—when a firm hand clamped down on the back of his neck, brooking no resistance.

“Min Fan,” Qin Baiyan murmured, his voice thick with sleep, “it’s been four days now. You still can’t control it?”

Min Fan snapped irritably, “Let go! What the hell are you doing!”

The man showed no sign of releasing him.

Their bodies were pressed together from shared warmth to utter closeness, an intimacy beyond words, yet he refused to let go.

If anything, he pulled Min Fan even tighter against his chest.

“Didn’t you want an apology?” His voice, husky with drowsiness, rumbled deeper still. “See for yourself.”

The phone screen flared to life, bright enough that Min Fan flinched and threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

Qin Baiyan dimmed it with a single finger and played the video for him.

In the footage, the man gently placed the little snake into its nest on the bedside table by the pillow.

The half-open nest was fitted with a smart heating rod and featured a hidden secure compartment.

Once the snake was settled, he returned to bed to read, though the camera stayed trained on that spot.

The little snake flicked out its crimson tongue, rearing up to peer around for a moment before slithering over at its leisure.

He offered no room for discussion; he simply wanted to stick close.

The man shifted his arm out of the way, indulging the snake as it crawled onto him, nosed aside the collar of his pajamas, and coiled comfortably against his chest.

At last, the camera panned to his face, where his thin lips mouthed a single phrase.

“You did this yourself.”

Min Fan watched, utterly absorbed.

“Play it again. From the start.”

Qin Baiyan couldn’t quite read his mood.

He rewound the video, and when it hit a particular moment, Min Fan shot out a hand and hit pause.

Even with the young man still cradled in the man’s arms—even with all the tangled mess between them left unresolved—something far more pressing had clearly taken priority.

“Is this me?” Min Fan looked up at him.

“Mm-hmm.”

The young man practically preened.

“…Even as a snake, I’m this gorgeous?”

Qin Baiyan: “…Mm-hmm.”

In the frozen frame, the little snake slithered past the bedside lamp on its own. Every scale gleamed as if bathed in spiritual energy.

Silver-green, deep purple, vivid red, sea blue.

Its pure black scales refracted the light into endless hues, lending the creature an ethereal, otherworldly grace.

Qin Baiyan thought to himself that if he kept holding on like this, he’d end up with a raging hard-on. He cleared his throat to cut short the young man’s admiration.

“Don’t you think our position right now is a little… intimate?” he asked softly.

“So?” Min Fan didn’t budge. He dragged the progress bar back and watched the vibrant iridescence of his new form for the third time.

Last year, when his debut album dropped, he’d looped through every music video at least five times apiece.

Lying there so comfortably in the dead of night, he couldn’t be bothered to keep up the act.

The young man thought he was taunting him, oblivious to the soft, husky allure lacing his own words.

“You’re the one pinning me down. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

Qin Baiyan drew a deep breath, lifted Min Fan off his chest, and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, signaling they should sleep apart.

Min Fan thought it was hilarious. He burrowed into the blanket, too lazy to shift. “Not crashing on the sofa?”

The man shot him a flat look.

“This is my bed.”

With the lights off, they shared the bed in silence, each attuned to the other’s faint, steady breaths.

Min Fan was already drowsy. He fiddled with his phone for a bit before settling in to sleep.

It was a long while before Qin Baiyan finally spoke.

He had no idea how much of his halting, blunt confession to Min Fan—spilled out on that highway—had actually gotten through.

Perhaps the other had turned into a snake after the first sentence, oblivious to the rest.

But he hadn’t said enough, either.

“What do you think of me now?” he asked into the darkness.

Min Fan stirred slightly. “You’re an excellent teacher,” he said mildly. “I have a lot of respect for you.”

Qin Baiyan fell silent.

His thoughts were crystal clear, and by now he knew Min Fan’s temperament inside out. How could he miss that the young man was toying with him?

The trap was riddled with obvious flaws, yet he’d walked right into it anyway.

Min Fan loved playing the aloof innocent. “Does Teacher Qin have something on his mind?”

The next instant, the blanket beside him rustled. A white falcon tumbled straight into his arms.

Min Fan hugged it on reflex. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Snow Fluff!”

The haidongqing thrashed about in his embrace, heedless, its fluffy down drifting up to tickle the young man’s nose.

He laughed in helpless surrender, giving its head a gentle rub or two—indulging its tantrum, really.

“Cut it out—that tickles—”

The next day, once Qin Baiyan confirmed Min Fan had a decent handle on his transformation technique, they headed to the TV station’s studio to settle the rest of their debt to Director Zhuang.

The director himself wasn’t there, but he’d sent peach pastries and imperial meat pies via the on-site staff—for them included.

Min Fan shot Qin Baiyan a sour glare.

“I usually charge a pretty penny, but now I’ve gotten it all for free.”

Qin Baiyan said nothing, just gestured for him to look at the posters from past charity events on the wall nearby.

In the bottom right corner, amid the various logos, were ones for the TV station, the zoo, the Nature Foundation, and OAC.

Min Fan’s brow furrowed as he stared at the logo of a snake entwined with a bird, falling silent for a moment.

He recalled someone mentioning that awakening rates had been steadily climbing in recent years, and that the veil of secrecy around it all was slowly lifting.

“Coming through, coming through—don’t be scared!” someone called from outside the door. “These are little critters we rescued from poachers. They’re still recovering, but we figured we’d bring them in today for some photos. Aren’t they majestic?”

Both men froze in surprise.

Two animal trainers entered, one with a golden python draped over their shoulders, the other holding a red gyrfalcon.

The golden python had been playing half-dead in a lazy coil, but upon catching a scent, it first hissed a warning at Qin Baiyan before turning with clear confusion toward Min Fan.

The red gyrfalcon let out a shy cry at first, but its demeanor quickly brightened.

The trainers lit up with excitement at the sight of the celebrities.

He looks even more handsome in person! They thought it was all post-production magic—the nose bridge is really that sharp and striking!

Qin Baiyan could sense the golden python’s clear hostility toward him, so he kept his distance. “I’ll pose with the falcon.”

The trainer grinned. “Lots of folks mistake it for an eagle. You really know your stuff!”

Each man struck poses with his assigned animal, shifting carefully to hold steady positions while delivering their lines with precision.

They shot the video ad first, then the print version. The slogans were all familiar ones, like “Refuse to eat wild animals—start with me.”

The golden python showed no aggression toward Min Fan, but it spent the entire time utterly baffled.

With its keen sense of smell, it caught whiffs of human flesh and cologne one moment, then faint traces of a kindred scent the next.

Is this a person?

It smells like a snake.

What kind of snake walks upright on legs?

Min Fan tried hissing a couple of times, but no Slytherin serpent-tongue talent awakened. He shrugged it off with mild regret.

The other man watched quietly for a moment before speaking. “Snakes don’t have language or vocabulary like humans do. They communicate mainly through pheromones.”

Min Fan replied, “Oh, you get it. I don’t.”

Qin Baiyan stifled a laugh. “Fine, you’re a real competitor.”

The hour-long shoot wrapped up quickly. Throughout, the golden python had slithered this way and that, sniffing Min Fan’s arms, legs, and even his head.

Finally, the trainer pried the snake away. “You’ve got some guts. Most people won’t even touch it.”

Min Fan smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

Though I’m the most beautiful.

The other trainer tried to return the red gyrfalcon to its carrying case.

But the little falcon clung to Qin Baiyan, refusing to let go. It cooed affectionately and nuzzled against the man’s cheek.

It was obvious to everyone that the bird just really liked him.

Someone laughed. “You two have some real chemistry. It’s so fond of you!”

Before Qin Baiyan could respond, Min Fan spoke up with a beaming smile.

“I haven’t gotten a photo with it yet. Mind if I give it a try?”

The trainer wasted no time, handing over the leather glove with the gyrfalcon perched on it and helping Min Fan get settled.

He lifted it lightly, barely giving the bird a chance to react before handing it right back.

“Oh, it’s heavy. Never mind.”

The others: “…?”

The little falcon didn’t look that big.

Didn’t you just hold the golden python for over an hour…?

Even as they were leaving, the little red gyrfalcon gazed after Qin Baiyan with clear reluctance, letting out one last call that sounded almost like a kin’s cry.

Min Fan said coolly, “Let’s go.”

Qin Baiyan merely gave him a long, meaningful look.

When they returned to Hengdian, Min Fan shifted back into his little snake form with ease this time, curling up near Qin Baiyan’s collar.

Qin Baiyan figured his transformations weren’t fully stable yet. They’d flown to Beijing on a private jet, and they did the same on the way back.

As usual, they had to pass through the VIP lounge and walk a short stretch at the airport to board.

Fans had already gathered along the departure channel, waving banners and holding up posters.

“He’s here, he’s here!!”

“Aaah, he’s so handsome in person—Brother Qin! Look at me! I wrote you a letter!”

“He’s looking at us—holy crap, that smile is killer!”

Qin Baiyan approached the crowd as always, signing autographs and posing for photos through the barriers, making sure to acknowledge as many as he could.

His assistant swiftly collected the letters while politely declining gifts and reminding everyone to travel safely.

Everyone treasured the encounter, peppering him with questions nonstop.

“Ge! Any spoilers on the new movie?”

“I’d kill to see you as a Republic-era warlord—can I dream of that?!”

“DADDY—”

“Can I have a hug? I like you so much, I really, really like you!!”

The two assistants struggled to keep order.

“Sorry, folks, we have to board soon. Thanks for all the love.”

Little Snake abruptly caught the scent of unfamiliar, muddled pheromones and swiftly burrowed into the inner pocket of Qin Baiyan’s shirt, refusing to poke his head out again.

Qin Baiyan quickened the pace of his signings, thanking the fans and bidding them farewell.

The moment he turned away, a long feather speckled with ink quietly drifted to the ground.

The fans assumed it had fluttered loose from some accessory or gift, and even more hands shot out to snatch it.

“It’s Brother Qin’s feather!”

“So pretty! I’m taking it home to use as a bookmark!”

“No stealing it—I want it so bad!!”

Qin Baiyan had only taken two steps when his sharp hearing picked up the commotion. He turned back to look.

A petite girl cradled the feather, waving it boastfully for all to see.

He approached her and, with mild determination, reclaimed the feather.

“I’m sorry, but this feather is very important to me.”

“To express my gratitude, my assistant will take your contact information and send you an exclusive signed merchandise set from my new movie. Would that be acceptable?”

The man’s tone remained polite and gracious, as if they were simply having a friendly discussion.

Yet the feather was already tucked securely into his palm, brooking no argument.

The girl lit up with delight. “Of course! The full set?!”

Qin Baiyan smiled and posed for another photo with her, leaving the others green with envy.

Only once he was aboard the plane and the cruising altitude had stabilized did he finally retrieve the feather he had taken back.

Little Snake lay peacefully in the palm of his hand, his breathing even in slumber.

The long feather brushed gently over the little snake’s neck and tail, the gesture restrained yet profoundly solemn.

The man thought in silence.

My feather belongs to you alone.

Only you may have it.