The sunlight in the Wei estate didn't just enter a room; it performed. It filtered through UV-protected, floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating the minimalist décor of the master suite in a way that made every piece of furniture look like a museum exhibit.
Luo Feng was awake at 5:30 AM. His internal clock was a precision instrument, unbothered by the luxury of silk sheets or the quiet hum of the climate control. He sat bolt upright, his hair a silver-black halo of sleep-mussed static.
"Step one of the Canary Protocol," he whispered to the empty room. "Environmental stabilization."
According to his research—conducted on a high-speed tablet while Wei Ling slept in the adjacent room—canaries required a sense of security. They built nests. They gathered soft materials to create a sanctuary within their cage.
Luo Feng began to move. He stripped the silk pillowcases from the extra pillows. He gathered three cashmere throws from the lounge chairs. He even found a collection of expensive pashmina scarves in the walk-in closet. With the calculated efficiency of an architect, he began to drag these items toward the center of the walk-in closet, a space he had designated as the "inner sanctum" due to its lack of windows and proximity to the high-end ventilation duct.
By 7:00 AM, the "nest" was complete. It was a circular depression of ivory cashmere and emerald silk, reinforced with rolled-up designer sweaters. Luo Feng sat in the middle of it, cross-legged, holding a physics textbook he had requested from the butler.
This was where Wei Ling found him.
The CEO had entered the bedroom expecting to see a sleeping beauty. Instead, he found an empty bed and a trail of discarded silk leading to the closet. He pushed the door open to find his five-million-yuan "canary" buried up to his waist in several thousand dollars' worth of Italian knitwear.
"Luo Feng," Wei Ling said, leaning against the doorframe, his silk robe hanging open. "What, exactly, is the situation here?"
Luo Feng looked up, his expression one of pure, logical focus. "I am nesting, Mr. Wei Ling. It is a biological imperative for my current designation. The bed was too expansive; it lacked the structural boundaries required for a sense of avian security. I have utilized the surplus textiles to create a more efficient resting pod."
Wei Ling stared at the "nest." He saw a limited-edition vicuña wool sweater being used as a structural base for the left wall.
"You're using a forty-thousand-yuan sweater as a floor mat," Wei Ling remarked, his voice a mix of exasperation and genuine fondness.
"It has a high GSM (grams per square meter) count," Luo Feng explained. "It provides excellent thermal insulation. Would you like to enter? There is a 30% margin of space remaining for a second occupant, though your skeletal mass may require some recalibration of the perimeter."
Wei Ling felt a strange, tight pull in his chest. He was a man who bought companies for breakfast and crushed competitors for lunch. He lived in a world of sharp edges. And here was this beautiful, brilliant, nonsensical boy, offering him a spot in a nest made of cashmere.
"Maybe later," Wei Ling said, reaching down to pull Luo Feng out of the pile of clothes. "Today, you have a different set of duties. We are going to a gala tonight. The Wei Group is announcing a new green-energy initiative, and I want you by my side."
Luo Feng allowed himself to be hauled up. "A gala. Will there be other canaries there?"
Wei Ling's eyes darkened slightly as he adjusted Luo Feng's robe. "No. You're the only one. But there will be vultures. And peacocks. You just stay close to me and don't... well, don't talk about coal mines."
The afternoon was a blur of "grooming." Wei Ling had summoned a team of stylists, tailors, and skincare specialists. Luo Feng sat perfectly still as they poked and prodded him.
"His skin is like milk," the lead stylist whispered in awe. "I don't even want to put foundation on him. It would be like painting over marble."
Luo Feng, meanwhile, was busy counting the number of sequins on a nearby dress to pass the time. "Seven thousand four hundred and twenty-two," he muttered.
"What was that, darling?" the stylist asked.
"The dress in the corner. If each sequin took three seconds to sew, it represents 6.18 hours of manual labor, excluding breaks. It is a highly inefficient use of human capital for a purely aesthetic result."
The stylist blinked, looked at Wei Ling, and then went back to work. Wei Ling just smirked from his armchair, sipping an espresso. He liked that Luo Feng was a puzzle. He liked that no one else understood the frequency the boy operated on.
When they finally finished, Luo Feng was dressed in a suit of deep, iridescent midnight blue. The fabric was so fine it looked like liquid. A small, golden canary brooch—set with tiny yellow diamonds—was pinned to his lapel.
"You look..." Wei Ling started, then stopped. He walked over and stood behind Luo Feng, looking at their reflection in the mirror. "You look like you own the world, and I'm just the man lucky enough to hold the leash."
Luo Feng looked at the brooch. "The diamond clarity is impressive. Is this my identification tag? In case I get lost and need to be returned to the Wei Estate?"
Wei Ling chuckled, a dark, low sound.
"Something like that. It tells everyone you belong to me."
"Understood," Luo Feng said, straightening his cuffs. "I shall represent the Wei Group with 99% accuracy. I have memorized your top three quarterly earnings reports and the chemical formula for the new lithium-sulfur batteries you are promoting."
"Just... try to smile, Feng. Even if it's just a 10% smile."
The Grand Ballroom of the Peninsula Hotel was a sea of black ties and shimmering gowns. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and the quiet clinking of crystal.
As Wei Ling entered, the room seemed to tilt toward him. He was the sun of this particular solar system. But tonight, all eyes were on the moon at his side.
Luo Feng walked with his head high, his eyes scanning the room like a radar. He was looking for threats. He was also looking for the buffet, as he had calculated that he needed 2,000 calories to maintain his metabolic rate for the evening.
"Wei Ling!" A shrill, polished voice pierced the air.
A woman in a dress that looked like it was made of glass shards approached. This was Lin Xinyi, daughter of a rival tech mogul. She had been trying to secure a "strategic alliance" with Wei Ling for years.
"Xinyi," Wei Ling said, his voice dropping into a cold, professional tone.
"And who is this... delightful creature?" she asked, her eyes raking over Luo Feng with the predatory precision of a hawk. "I didn't know you were into 'charity work' with the younger crowd, Wei."
Luo Feng blinked. He recognized the tone. It was a verbal aggression pattern.
"I am not a charity," Luo Feng stated clearly. "I am a canary. My market value was recently assessed at five million yuan."
The silence that followed was so profound you could hear the bubbles popping in the champagne nearby.
Wei Ling coughed into his hand, trying to hide a smile. Xinyi's jaw practically hit the marble floor.
"A... five million yuan... what?" she stammered.
"A canary," Luo Feng repeated, pointing to his brooch. "I provide companionship and aesthetic value. In return, Mr. Wei Ling provides resources for my mother's gastric surgery. It is a mutually beneficial trade agreement with a high ROI for both parties."
Wei Ling decided it was time to intervene before Luo Feng started explaining the surgical procedure for stage 3 cancer. He wrapped an arm firmly around Luo Feng's waist, pulling him flush against his side.
"He's very honest," Wei Ling told the stunned crowd. "It's his most expensive trait."
As they moved away, Wei Ling whispered in Luo Feng's ear,
"Maybe don't mention the price tag to everyone, Feng. It makes them think I'm a kidnapper."
"But transparency is a pillar of good business," Luo Feng argued.
"In this room, honey, the pillars are all made of lies. Just be pretty and keep your mouth shut for ten minutes while I talk to the Minister of Energy."
Wei Ling was pulled into a circle of politicians. Luo Feng stood a few feet away, nursing a glass of sparkling water. He was busy observing a fly on the ceiling when a hand gripped his shoulder.
It was a man in his fifties, red-faced and smelling of expensive brandy. He was a minor board member of a subsidiary company, a man who felt powerful because of the name on his business card.
"So, you're the new pet, eh?" the man sneered, his grip tightening. "Wei Ling always did have expensive taste. But you look a bit... fragile. Does he let anyone else play with his bird?"
Luo Feng looked at the man's hand on his shoulder. Then he looked at the man's face.
"Your grip is applying approximately 15 newtons of force to my deltoid muscle," Luo Feng said calmly. "Based on the dilation of your pupils and the erratic capillaries on your nose, you are suffering from chronic hypertension. If you continue to exert yourself, there is a 4% chance you will suffer a minor cardiac event before the hors d'oeuvres are served."
The man turned a darker shade of purple. "You little—"
He raised a hand, but he never finished the motion.
A hand, twice as strong and infinitely more dangerous, caught his wrist. Wei Ling had appeared out of the shadows like a vengeful god. The coldness radiating from him was enough to drop the room's temperature by ten degrees.
"Director Chen," Wei Ling said, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "I believe you were just leaving."
"Wei! I was just... the boy was being insolent!"
"The boy," Wei Ling said, his eyes narrow and lethal, "is mine. If you touch him again, I will dismantle your company until there isn't enough left to pay for your funeral. Am I clear?"
Director Chen paled, muttered an apology, and vanished into the crowd.
Wei Ling turned to Luo Feng, his face softening instantly. He checked Luo Feng's shoulder for marks.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
Luo Feng tilted his head.
"No. I was merely informing him of his health risks. Why are you angry? Your heart rate has increased to 110 beats per minute."
Wei Ling sighed, leaning his forehead against Luo Feng's. In the middle of the crowded gala, with hundreds of people watching, the CEO of Wei Group looked vulnerable.
"I'm angry because you're precious, Feng. And because I don't want anyone else touching what's mine."
Luo Feng looked at Wei Ling's eyes. For the first time, he didn't see a "contract holder" or a "predator." He saw a man who looked... lonely. A man who had everything but possessed nothing.
"I am a very high-quality canary," Luo Feng said softly, reaching up to awkwardly pat Wei Ling's cheek. "I will not let the hypertensive man touch me again. I will use my knowledge of pressure points to incapacitate him if necessary."
Wei Ling laughed, a sound of pure relief.
"Please don't. I don't want to have to bail a canary out of jail on the first night."
When they returned to the villa, the moon was high. Luo Feng was exhausted. The social stimulation had drained his battery.
As they walked into the master suite, Luo Feng immediately headed for the walk-in closet.
"Wait," Wei Ling called out.
Luo Feng turned.
"The nest," Wei Ling said, gesturing to the pile of cashmere. "Is there... truly room for two?"
Luo Feng considered this. He did the spatial geometry in his head. "If we utilize a 'spooning' configuration—a common biological heat-saving measure—we can fit with a 5% margin of error."
Wei Ling didn't say a word. He stripped off his jacket and shoes, loosened his tie, and followed Luo Feng into the closet.
They lay down in the pile of designer wool and silk. It was warm, quiet, and smelled of lavender and money. Luo Feng curled into Wei Ling's side, his head resting on the CEO's chest.
"Mr. Wei Ling?"
"Hmm?"
"My mother. The surgery is tomorrow."
"I know, Feng. The surgeons are the best in the country. I've already sent the deposit. She's going to be fine."
Luo Feng let out a long, shaky breath. For the first time in months, the weight on his chest—the one he'd been calculating and managing—began to lift.
"Thank you for buying me," Luo Feng whispered.
Wei Ling closed his eyes, holding the boy closer. "I didn't buy you, Feng. I just... provided the cage you needed to finally feel safe."
"I shall chirp for you in the morning," Luo Feng promised, his voice thick with sleep.
"I look forward to it, little bird."
As the genius boy fell asleep in his nest of gold, the young CEO realized that he was the one who was truly trapped. He had built a cage for a beautiful boy, only to realize he never wanted to leave it himself.