Chapter 16: Seizing Feathers · 16

When they returned to Zhejiang, spring seemed to arrive all at once.

Hengdian lay south of Beijing, so its flowers bloomed earlier. Pink and white cherry blossoms spilled from the highways deep into the tourist sites, dusting the palace walls with a snowy glow and flecking the bell towers with crimson.

Min Fan completed his transformation smoothly in the hotel room, then tugged habitually at his neck ring.

No one enjoyed wearing something like that for life—no matter how finely made it was.

Qin Baiyan noticed and handed him a silver-green tie.

“OAC’s people mentioned they’re looking into subcutaneous implants,” he said. “But the problem is figuring out how to tell special humans apart from wild animals.”

Min Fan buttoned his collar and replied calmly, “Yeah. I’d rather not end up as some hotpot ingredient or snake soup before my time.”

Given their current circumstances, the two had to take shifts watching over each other, so they’d decided to share accommodations.

Qin Baiyan set some clothes in Min Fan’s side bedroom. As he turned, he caught the young man eyeing the bird’s nest.

The white falcon had constructed it solidly and attractively. Back in its natural habitat, it would no doubt soon court a mate—a fine little falcon to match—and settle down to incubate eggs.

Min Fan brushed his fingertip over the pale gold bracelet nestled in the small nest.

“Think anyone will ever move in?” he joked. “Leave it empty too long, and it’ll turn into a ghost town.”

Qin Baiyan opened his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzed.

“Brother Qin! You free for an extra night shoot tonight? Group chat says you guys are back.”

“Mm.”

“Weather service says big winds tonight. Director Xiao wants to knock out both dialogue scenes. You in?”

Both men agreed.

Snakes were naturally averse to wind. At levels three or four, they cut back on activity; at five or six, they went fully dormant.

To humans, though, a level-three or four breeze was just a gentle caress across the cheek—pleasant and soft. A five or six felt exhilarating, perfect for flying kites.

As Min Fan stepped outside, a gust made him scowl in silence. He sidestepped instinctively.

Qin Baiyan glanced his way.

“You holding up?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll get used to it.” The young man shrugged. “Besides, down the line, I want to catch your updraft—fly up to the clouds and watch the moon.”

Qin Baiyan chuckled. “Deal.”

They changed into costume and got made up, then stepped onto the set. The director still wasn’t satisfied.

“I figured natural wind would feel more organic—no background noise messing up the audio,” Director Xiao said. “But this isn’t cutting it. Not fierce enough. Fire up the wind machines. We’ll shoot tonight and be done with it.”

Tonight’s scenes were a brutal rooftop chase. The fiercer the wind, the better it ramped up the action’s pace and visual punch.

Qin Baiyan glanced at Min Fan again. He took in the young man’s ashen face, his lips drained of color.

“Gotta adapt sometime,” Min Fan said evenly. “C’mon—places.”

They shot from eight p.m. straight through to one-thirty a.m.

A few times, Min Fan faltered a bit, his delivery off his usual mark.

Everyone chalked it up to the late hour and the cold, or too many retakes. All par for the course.

“That near-final take—the one with the instinctive tears mixed with that raw fury? Nailed the vibe,” the director bellowed through his megaphone. “Heads up, people! One more to wrap it. Let’s go home!”

Qin Baiyan knew exactly the moment Director Xiao Buchuan had latched onto.

Moonlight bathed the night. Min Fan, backlit, whipped his head around. For a split second, his frame thrummed with rage and killing intent—yet he looked frail, shattered.

They were only feet apart. Qin Baiyan saw it all too clearly and lost focus for a beat.

The night shoot wrapped. Crew members paired off, hollering about late-night eats. Min Fan double-checked his performance with the director, then headed back to the hotel to crash.

He had no appetite. Battling his instincts for so long had left him wrung out, words failing him.

Qin Baiyan grabbed a quick bite with the producer and chatted for a bit before returning to the suite. Out of habit, he checked on Min Fan’s safety and rapped twice on the bathroom door, which was locked tight.

“Still in there?”

Water sloshed behind the door.

“Whatever it is, hold that thought.” Min Fan’s voice was thick with congestion, heavy with fatigue. “I’m soaking in the tub.”

Qin Baiyan retreated to his own room, showered, and selected a bottle of aftershave.

The board called, soliciting his input on an acquisition deal. He ended up talking for over forty minutes without realizing.

When he went to check on Min Fan again, the bathroom door stood ajar—but the young man was nowhere in sight.

The man sighed, as if he’d half-expected this day to come. He draped a blanket over his shoulders and shifted into falcon form.

His senses sharpened at once—smell, hearing, every perception honed several times over. Wings beating, he took to the air in search of the little snake.

A damp towel lay abandoned on the bathroom tiles. Faint water trails snaked outward, carrying the chill signature scent of a snake straight to the side bedroom.

The white falcon swooped in. Mid-dive through the doorway, it hesitated, then alighted at a careful distance—not too near, not too far—from its nest.

The flashscale snake lay coiled asleep inside the bird’s nest.

It had gathered every feather it had ever been gifted, layering them into a plush bed, and now slumbered atop them in perfect comfort.

Snow-colored long feathers intertwined and coiled in a tangled weave, wrapping it gently like an inky lotus bloom.

The white falcon leaped lightly forward and let out a call, neither too soft nor too sharp, as if inquiring.

The snake was lost in a dream and had no interest in dealing with it, merely flicking its tail in lazy dismissal.

The white falcon dipped its head and snatched up a feather in its beak, dangling it teasingly before the little snake once more.

The latter hissed and flicked out its tongue, propping itself up to snatch the long feather back. It nudged the feather bed into shape with its head and settled back into peaceful slumber.

Compared to the snake cage, the thermostat box, or even Qin Baiyan’s bed, it found the falcon nest remarkably to its liking.

The white falcon watched for a long while.

At last, it crept slowly toward its own warm nest and pressed itself close to the little snake before drifting off to sleep.

No sooner had it closed its eyes than the snake’s rest was disturbed. With a shrug, it slithered toward the falcon’s long wings.

Qin Baiyan retained his awareness, and in that moment, he sensed something was wrong.

The little snake was far more active than usual, darting about with unusual speed and flicking its tongue incessantly.

And that scent from the bathroom…

Before he could react, the black snake had uncoiled its body. It wrapped itself around the falcon in a gnarled embrace, anxiously probing for the cloaca’s position.

Its hemipenes rubbed restlessly against the feathers, already slick and flushed with arousal.

The white falcon cried out in sharp warning, but the snake ignored it, coiling even tighter.

Like a knot. Like shackles. It steadily stripped away reason and breath alike.

A flash of primal killing instinct surged through the falcon. Its own agitation, fully roused by the relentless entanglement, prompted it to whip its head around and peck at the snake’s neck.

The snake didn’t retreat. It persisted in nuzzling the long feathers at the falcon’s tail until it was suddenly pinned.

The black snake lay rigid like a specimen, its vital seven-inch spot clamped in the falcon’s long beak. As its cloaca was forced open, it paused for a moment before thrashing wildly in a desperate bid to escape.

Then it was pierced deeper, inch by unrelenting inch—like a long-necked wine bottle filled slow and full by a powerful cork.

The black snake arched its body in a frantic bid to flee, fangs bared beyond its control. Yet it never sank them home.

It endured in a daze, flicking its tail now and then with a faint twitch.

The next morning, Min Fan yawned as he burrowed out from under the covers.

He heard the rustle of someone dressing in the side room. He merely shrugged on a robe and headed out for breakfast first.

For some reason, last night’s sleep had been extraordinarily refreshing.

When Min Fan woke, he felt utterly relaxed. His meridians and vital energies flowed freely from head to toe, leaving him thoroughly at ease.

He poured himself a coffee and spotted Qin Baiyan there as well. Grinning, he called out, “Morning.”

The man murmured a warm reply and bent to kiss his cheek.

Min Fan fended him off with his coffee mug. “What’re you doing?”

Who just went in for a kiss like that? At least follow some steps.

Qin Baiyan’s gaze sharpened.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Min Fan wasn’t one for playacting. “Don’t you think that’s a bit forward?”

Qin Baiyan said evenly, “Min Fan, are you even human?”

You don’t remember how you clung to me last night and went at it several times?

Min Fan blinked in genuine confusion. “Obviously not. Neither of us is.”

The man let out a bark of incredulous laughter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Min Fan sipped his iced Americano, wondering what had gotten into the guy.

What was there to remember? That they’d shared a bed in Beijing?

Did that even count??

The young man snorted, finding the whole thing childish.

When he stepped out again, Qin Baiyan was nowhere in sight. Instead, Ayi and Old Xu were deep in conversation about parenting tips.

The two had hit it off like old pals—one with a five-year-old daughter, the other with an eight-year-old—and somehow kept finding common ground.

Both managers did a double take when they saw Min Fan, visibly stunned.

“You… get some cosmetic treatments done?”

“Your complexion is glowing today!”

Min Fan touched his face, equally surprised. “I just slept a night, and my frozen shoulder’s gone.”

“New pillow?” Ayi ventured. “Wasn’t there that medicinal one a partner sent you last time? Works that well?”

The young man paused mid-motion, realizing with a start that yeah, he had switched.

Ever since entering the Transformation Period, he’d grown accustomed to sleeping plastered against Qin Baiyan. But the man was in a mood today—slamming doors first thing in the morning, no less.

“Old Xu, quick question,” Min Fan said. “What’s got Qin Baiyan so fired up today?”

Old Xu looked utterly lost. “Qin Baiyan? Fired up?”

Min Fan chuckled. “Everyone loses it sometimes. I cursed out sasaeng fans chasing my car once.”

“The Qin Family drilled etiquette into him from childhood,” Old Xu explained. “Old Qin wasn’t groomed as heir, but he was still taught to keep his emotions under wraps. Once, a subordinate botched a major European deal after months of talks. Old Qin’s voice went arctic, but he never raised his temper. Me? I’d have smashed a glass at minimum.”

Min Fan listened with interest. “This morning, he slammed the door on his way out. Next room stinks of cigarette smoke now.”

The two managers exchanged a knowing glance but didn’t press on the timing or the dramatics.

Old Xu pondered long and hard before offering, “Jealousy?”

Min Fan was utterly baffled. “I haven’t even started dating him yet.”

Ayi was the one who lost it this time. “That doesn’t count as dating??”

Min Fan: …?

The next time they spotted the man on set, he exuded an intimidating aura, keeping everyone at a frigid distance.

Even the makeup girl was trembling slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Director Xiao wandered over for a casual chat, but got nothing but monosyllabic grunts in response and slunk away awkwardly.

Only then did Old Xu realize things were seriously amiss.

Qin Baiyan had always been a master at concealing his emotions—no one could tell what he was feeling. Over a decade ago, he’d buried his every joy and sorrow deep within the fortress of his heart.

Yet today, he’d unleashed his deadpan face!! The once-in-a-decade killer deadpan!!

“Please,” Old Xu said decisively, rushing off to find Min Fan. “Whoever started the trouble should end it. Why don’t you go and smooth things over with him?”

Min Fan was just as perplexed. “I didn’t do anything to upset him.”

And even if I had, he’d be the one showing up with gifts, sweets, and flowers to coax me.

Old Xu was starting to despair. “There’s an international meeting tonight. If Brother Qin keeps that look on his face, it could tank the stock price.”

Min Fan sighed. “Fine, I’ll give it a shot.”

The young man headed toward Qin Baiyan’s RV, gave the door a perfunctory double knock, and pushed it open.

The man was reading the newspaper, ignoring him completely as if he were invisible.

“Bro, Old Xu sent me to cheer you up,” Min Fan said.

“No need.”

“Got it.” The young man rose briskly to his feet. “Bye-bye.”

He turned on his heel and strode out, his retreating figure dashing and carefree.