Chapter 30

When Fu Congxiao accepted the invitation, a strange sense of relaxation washed over him.

He made a point of telling Grandma about it.

“I’m heading out this weekend—going on a trip with some friends.”

The old lady had been quietly counting her prayer beads for calm when she opened her eyes after a moment.

“You’ve really made some friends?”

Fu Congxiao kept up his proud front, the corner of his mouth twitching upward just a bit. “Mm-hmm.”

“Looks like you two get along pretty well,” Grandma said, studying his expression and his overall vibe. “No wonder your complexion’s been improving these past few months. You’ve even started chatting with me on your own initiative.”

She had always felt sorry for the boy, growing up without a father or mother, and she tended to spoil him a little extra because of it.

“I haven’t called you much lately. I’ll make a point of it from now on.”

“Just focus on your own business, that’s enough.”

Grandma stepped closer and smoothed out the wrinkles in the boy’s shirt. The back of her finger brushed against the neck ring by accident.

Fu Congxiao tensed up immediately, his breath catching as he forced a smile, scrambling for an excuse.

Grandma acted like nothing had happened, simply patting his shoulder.

“Chen Ma must’ve been careless. She didn’t even iron your clothes properly.”

“I was just lying on the bed for a bit.”

Back in his room, Fu Congxiao undid his collar and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He had imagined this scenario countless times before.

The neck ring he could never remove was no different from a shackle, and sooner or later, the people closest to him would notice it.

At least the migratory bird-watching event would help chase away some of the gloom in his daily life.

Fu Congxiao called a driver and rode in an RV all the way to Lanting.

The three of them had quickly set up a group chat, drawing a line on the map from Hangzhou to Shengzhou and picking the midpoint—which turned out to be the beautifully scenic Lanting.

The spot was right next to Lanzhu Mountain, where Wang Xizhi had once made his long-term home. The mountains and rivers were still as stunning as ever, a peaceful haven for birds and beasts.

Yan Yan had come to Shaoxing on a trip with his sister and would join them alone that night.

Shang Xi had checked in with his family. He’d wanted to fly straight from Shengzhou on his little wings, but his parents had insisted he buy a high-speed rail ticket instead.

Little Nightingale was a bit miffed about it.

“It would’ve taken me three days tops to fly here!”

“You’d crash into a drone in three seconds flat,” Fu Congxiao drawled lazily. “Your folks had the right idea.”

They found the campsite, and everyone had brought along some food and drinks. In the afternoon, they spread out for a picnic and some casual chat.

Though the couple were adults, they kept their presence just unobtrusive enough to make everyone else feel totally at ease.

Shang Heping had wanted to snap a group photo of the two birds and the snake, but his wife shut that down with a nondisclosure agreement. In the end, they settled for a family portrait of just the three of them.

Once everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, Shang Xi stretched lazily on the hillside, raring to go.

“The updrafts here are perfect. I bet I could glide pretty far without even trying hard.”

Fu Congxiao sat on the grass, occasionally reaching out to feel the cool breeze.

Shang Xi glanced his way. “Oh, right—I figured you’d get bored waiting for us to take off at night, so I got you a little gift.”

Fu Congxiao raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t bring a jigsaw puzzle or a Rubik’s Cube, did you?”

“As if I’d be that boring!”

The boy leaned in close, grinning. “So, have you figured out what gift you’re giving me in return?”

“Hmm…” Fu Congxiao mused. “How about a necklace strung with a snake fang?”

Shang Xi thought it over and nodded. “Sounds good. Strutting around with the fang of the king of snakes? No chicken, duck, cat, or dog would dare mess with me.”

They’d coordinated with the migratory birds through Yan Yan, who were due to arrive around two in the morning.

The couple had their cameras and night-vision binoculars at the ready. Shang Xi had gotten a good nap in advance, primed for a exhilarating flight.

By one thirty, Yan Yan had slipped into his tent and transformed into a wild goose, already warming up.

Seeing that Fu Congxiao still hadn’t shifted forms, Shang Xi called out, “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He ducked into his own tent and emerged moments later as a nightingale, something small clutched in his beak.

The campsite lights were dim, so Fu Congxiao couldn’t make it out at first.

Little Nightingale fluttered down to the picnic table beside him and let out a muffled chirp.

The boy leaned over and took the gift—it was a glowing pendant.

Shang Heping, who was roasting wild leeks nearby, chuckled. “Little Xi picked that out special.”

“They say the night-light effect is top-notch. You can spot it from a long way off.”

Fu Congxiao wasn’t sure why, but the tip of his nose started to tingle.

He told himself he shouldn’t be getting all soft like this, but the feeling hit him anyway, impossible to hold back.

He bowed his head, and Little Nightingale chirped at him twice more, as if urging him on.

So he switched on the night light and carefully fastened the pendant around the little bird’s slender neck.

As Fu Congxiao adjusted the strap for a perfect fit, he thought silently about all those times he’d harbored dark, greedy fantasies.

Friends, lovers, classmates—it didn’t matter.

His dependence on Shang Xi was already an established fact.

This dependence sometimes sprouted thorny vines from its shadowy underbelly, dirty and prickly.

He hated hearing Shang Xi mention anyone else’s name. He would deliberately coil his snake tail tight around Little Bird.

Even when squeezed breathless, Shang Xi never tried to escape. At most, he would peck a couple of times in irritation before dozing off right there.

But now…

Shang Xi was fastening a neck ring around his neck.

They both knew this was no longer a welcome symbol. No one wanted another layer of restraint piled onto the bonds already there.

Little Bird clearly wasn’t overthinking it.

It was thrilled with its shiny new necklace. After looping twice around its parents and best friend, it tentatively soared higher.

The suburban light was faint, the night thick as ink, and it streaked by like a fluorescent blue comet—nimble and free.

Shang Heping remembered his son’s earlier instructions. At the sound of two short chirps, he cupped his hands into a megaphone and bellowed, “We see you—son—this light was money well spent!!”

The distant blue speck chirped back three times.

Luo Suhe joined in, shouting, “Mom and Dad will snap photos for you!! Fly free!!!”

Fu Congxiao leaned against the table, his gaze drifting unconsciously to the couple.

The two adults felt a touch self-conscious after their outburst. They exchanged sheepish smiles, then discovered the fun in it and kept hollering into the empty mountains.

“I wish I could be a bird too—rush hour traffic is hell—”

“If I turned into a snake, would I finally lose this beer gut—whaddya think, honey—”

Seasonal winds swept in, and migratory birds streamed through the darkness like tides.

The lone goose and nightingale flew forth together, heeding at last the primal call pulsing deep in their blood.

In that quiet night, flocks of birds began calling one after another, their voices rising and falling.

The mountain dwellers murmured in wonder below, while aerial travelers hailed one another from afar.

It was like a meteor shower: wave after wave of birds passing through, gathering and scattering beneath the moonlight.

Some flocks dropped into the paddies to snatch fish, shrimp, and snails for a brief rest.

Others pressed on without pause, riding the endless winds.

As the couple craned their necks for photos, they suddenly felt how fleeting human life truly was.

Skyscrapers and gridlock traffic—mere blips in nature’s vast expanse.

In the end, humanity belonged to the wild, and to the stars.

Fu Congxiao began by tilting his head skyward, then simply lay back in the grass, eyes fixed on that twinkling little blue star.

He knew Shang Xi had done this out of pure fondness and eagerness.

But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that Shang Xi had fastened the neck ring around his neck—and was glowing for him, too.

Flock after flock of migrants crossed a corner of the sky, like fate itself coming and going. Bitterness and joy boiled together in his heart, scalding hot.

Shang Xi, Shang Xi.

He thought the name without speaking it.

He had never voiced a single request, never even admitted to himself what he craved.

Yet Shang Xi always provided.

Even when he said nothing at all.

Fu Congxiao lay there in the grass, dew beading in his hair.

Out in the wild, snakes caught the scent of their kind but kept their distance, watching from afar.

A faint blue glow plummeted toward him, chirping twice as it neared before tumbling precisely into the young man’s arms.

Little Nightingale was worn out from play, back for a quick rest and a drink before heading out again.

It had climbed too high; frost dusted its body, and touching it felt like caressing a handful of snow.

Fu Congxiao watched the tiny yellow sparrow perched on his chest. With a fingertip, he gently wiped the raindrops from its head.

“Cold up there?”

Little Bird chirped twice.

“Your mom got cat food,” Fu Congxiao said, stifling a laugh. “Go snag some if you’re hungry.”

It was the first time he’d seen exasperation on a bird’s face. He burst out laughing.

Shang Xi figured free food was free food. Cherry cockroaches had become snacks these past months—what was there to fear?

After a quick greeting to Senior Brother, he flapped over to the picnic table and spotted a certain wild goose vacuuming up a can of cat food.

Shang Xi: “…?”

Luo Suhe was stroking the wild goose with care, marveling at its plush down and perfect texture.

It took her a moment to notice her son had arrived.

“You’re such a little thing,” his mom sighed. “Want some? I’ll crack open another can.”

The little yellow sparrow hopped onto the scallop-and-venison can to claim it, then glanced at Senior Wild Goose.

The bigger bird gave an awkward honk, then dove right back into its meal.

They played on like that deep into the night.

Whenever migratory birds flew by, the two birds would fly over to chase them for a little while. Sometimes they would linger at the tail end of the flock to feel the airflow, and other times they would even be ushered to the C-spot, letting them experience the fierce headwinds at the very front.

The city had already fallen into a deep sleep, and no one knew of the brief gathering here.

Fu Congxiao originally wanted to spend the night back in the RV, but unknowingly fell asleep in the grassy wilderness while waiting.

When he woke up, there was an unfamiliar soft blanket on him, and a faint scent of insect repellent lingered nearby.

“You’re awake?” Shang Heping called out. “Come on, come on, have some noodles. I added a bunch of ham sausages.”

After everyone had finished breakfast, they prepared to say goodbye and leave.

The couple took care of breakfast for the three children, exchanged greetings, and went back to the tent first to pack their things.

Shang Xi changed into a clean set of clothes, looking more energetic than before.

“Senior Brother, worth the trip, right?” he said with a smile. “Yesterday was a clear night, so many stars—really beautiful.”

Fu Congxiao gazed at Shang Xi, clutching a small fluorescent blue necklace tightly in his palm.

“We’ll be apart for a long time again,” he said, “I’ll miss you very much.”

Shang Xi’s ear tips flushed slightly pink, as if he understood yet also as if he didn’t; he just shyly lowered his head and smiled.

That’s only natural, after all, I’m so cute.