Ruan Zhao held up his phone, completely confused. His pretty eyes were wide with surprise, bewilderment, and that blank, dazed look of someone who’d just had the phone hung up on them.
His cousin had said he’d visit this weekend… but visit for what? To check if Ruan Zhao was telling the truth? Or to check out Lu Xingyao? Either way, the thought made his chest feel tight. The pressure was suffocating.
Ever since he’d slipped away from the party with Lu Xingyao, he’d barely kept in touch with his family. Besides a few short messages early on—letting his parents know he was safe and they didn’t need to worry—he’d pretty much ignored every call and text since then.
If his cousin hadn’t been clever enough to call from a number he didn’t know, and if Ruan Zhao hadn’t been desperate just moments ago for anything to break the tense silence with Lu Xingyao, he never would’ve answered.
Damn it! The timing had been too perfect—he’d let his guard down at the worst possible moment. And thinking about it… he hadn’t told anyone where he was staying. Even if his cousin wanted to come find him, would he actually know where to look?
Ruan Zhao’s stomach tightened with worry. Knowing his cousin, he could probably figure it out from the smallest clues. Those so-called “important families” had connections that were as huge as they were scary.
“Finished talking?” Lu Xingyao’s voice suddenly cut through his racing thoughts.
Ruan Zhao startled slightly, realizing Lu Xingyao had come to stand right beside him without him noticing. He gave a tiny nod. “Mm.”
Lu Xingyao raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Oh? Something you didn’t want me to hear, that you had to take the call over there?”
He was smiling, but his eyes were completely cold—like shattered ice, sharp and freezing. The air around them seemed to get several degrees colder, the temperature dropping close to zero. Goosebumps popped up all over Ruan Zhao’s arms, and a cold sweat broke out on his back. Every instinct in his small vampire body was screaming that this was dangerous. It was the unmistakable pressure of a powerful hunter standing over its prey, ready to attack and tear it apart.
“Are you mad?” Ruan Zhao curiously looked at his own arm, watching the tiny goosebumps rise on his pale skin. He gently blew on it, and the little bumps spread out. This kind of automatic reaction fascinated him. He felt like a kid playing with a new toy, his eyes shining with wonder.
Even though his mind was screaming at him—telling him to get away from the obvious danger in front of him, to find somewhere safe, to stay alert—Ruan Zhao looked up, his eyes meeting the man’s strikingly handsome face. Yet, deep down, he didn’t feel afraid.
Simply put, his vampire instincts feared a threatening vampire hunter. But he—the person—felt no fear of Lu Xingyao.
Maybe sensing the change in him, Lu Xingyao backed off a little, letting go of some of the scary pressure around him. The sharp tension eased, and the freezing air gradually warmed up again.
“Why?” Ruan Zhao blinked up at him, looking straight into Lu Xingyao’s eyes, as if determined to find an answer. “Is it because I answered someone else’s call? Or because I avoided you?”
He took a small step forward, closing the space between them—closer than they had ever stood before. So close, he could see the color of Lu Xingyao’s irises. A deep, midnight black, with faint icy blue streaks—like the still surface of a midnight ocean, hiding countless stormy waves underneath.
This time, Lu Xingyao was the first to react. A faint blush spread over the tips of the man’s ears, his lips pressed into a tight line, and his breathing got faster. Clearly not used to this kind of situation, his gaze flickered away, a quick flash of panic and helplessness crossing his face. He quickly composed himself, hiding it all with a calm expression.
But Ruan Zhao had already seen everything. And he’d found the answer he wanted. His lips curved into a quick, triumphant little smile. He stood up straighter, ready to speak—but before he could say anything, Lu Xingyao’s low, slightly rough voice cut him off, sharp with stubborn insistence. “…Who was it?”
“It was my cousin. We haven’t talked in a long time, so he called just to check up on me.” Ruan Zhao added casually, “Even though I’m staying here at your place, I am still allowed to talk to my family, right?”
Lu Xingyao raised an eyebrow. “Cousin? Since when do you have a cousin? I remember you told me before that you were the only one left in your family.”
Ruan Zhao froze for a moment, then it clicked—back when he’d latched onto Lu Xingyao, he had pretended to be a poor, pitiful orphan, starving and desperate, with no one to rely on.
Even when they’d met at that party, he’d made up a story about wanting to change his fate, willingly offering himself as blood fodder to the vampires just for a chance to survive. Anyone who heard that sad story would’ve been moved to tears. Naturally, Lu Xingyao had felt sympathy too, which was how Ruan Zhao had managed to shamelessly move into his home.
But now, because of his own carelessness, that long-spun lie was falling apart. Ruan Zhao decided to play dumb. “Did I? I don’t think so. You must be remembering it wrong. I never said that.”
Lu Xingyao narrowed his eyes. “Never?”
Ruan Zhao met his gaze directly, without a hint of guilt. “Absolutely never.”
They both knew perfectly well that Ruan Zhao was just being stubborn, relying on the fact that Lu Xingyao wouldn’t actually do anything to him, boldly going against his previous claims. But the truth was, Lu Xingyao couldn’t do much about it anyway. In the end, he just pinched Ruan Zhao’s cheek in a playful way, murmuring under his breath, “Little liar.”
Ruan Zhao smiled innocently, his right cheek dimpling sweetly, like it was filled with honey. In the gentlest, most harmless voice, he said something quietly threatening: “If you pinch my face again, I’ll bite you.”
……
Time passed quickly, and before they knew it, the weekend arrived. Instead of just sitting around, nervously waiting for trouble to show up, Ruan Zhao decided it was better to take action and face things head-on.
So, for once, the usually nocturnal Ruan Zhao got up early in the morning. He found an excuse to send Lu Xingyao out of the house, then put on a hat and a mask, and quietly sneaked out the door.
Ruan Zhao pulled out his phone and dialed his cousin’s number, ready to set up a meeting place.
Meanwhile, still sound asleep inside his coffin, waiting for night to fall so he could get up, Ruan Yu was rudely awakened by his specially set ringtone.
“What the hell…” he grumbled sleepily. “In the middle of the day, instead of sleeping like you should, you’re calling people?” Ruan Zhao could hear the sleepiness in his cousin’s voice. And somehow, that drowsiness was contagious—he stifled a yawn himself. He pulled his hat lower, covering the dark circles under his eyes and the slight redness from too little sleep.
“Seriously, it’s already this late in the day, and you’re still sleeping? At your age, how can you even sleep that much?”
Ruan Yu let out a soft, amused snort. “Look at you, barely been out in the world a little while, and already you’re getting bold enough to talk back to your cousin.”
Ruan Zhao felt wrongly accused. “Hey, that’s not fair. I was just joking!2 He switched the phone to his other ear, softening his tone, his voice turning sweet and persuasive, clearly trying to charm his way out of trouble. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see me, cousin? I just… wanted to meet you a little earlier, that’s all.”
Ruan Yu snorted again, clearly not convinced. “If you really missed me, you’d come home earlier. Otherwise, if anyone bullies you, there’s no one there to back you up.”
“Who’s gonna bully me? I’m super tough…” Ruan Zhao raised his voice dramatically, making a show of it, even lifting his fist and punching lightly at the wall. The wall, of course, didn’t budge—not even a speck of paint flaked off. He knew perfectly well how weak he was, so he hadn’t used much strength.
Still, his knuckles turned a little red, a small blotch standing out sharply against his pale skin. Even though there was no one else around, Ruan Zhao felt a little embarrassed. He quickly stuffed his sore hand into his pocket, glancing left and right, pretending like nothing had happened.
Honestly, it was hard to believe that this delicate, fragile-looking body belonged to a pureblood vampire, with no mixed heritage whatsoever. If there were ever a contest to rank the weakest pureblood vampire, Ruan Zhao would win by a landslide, so far ahead the others would only see his dust trail from behind.
Ruan Yu, of course, knew his cousin all too well—knew his bluffing nature, all talk and no action. And since Ruan Zhao was being disobedient, he didn’t bother sugarcoating his words.
Ruan Yu gave a cold laugh. “Oh? How tough are you, exactly? Tough enough to beat a full-grown human? Or just tough enough to not squeal and cling to me, crying like a little kitten, the moment a low-grade hybrid monster shows up?”
Ruan Zhao: “…”
“You can’t even handle the weakest hybrid beasts, your physical strength is worse than a human adult’s, and you still dare to go out alone? You’re getting bolder by the day.”
Ruan Zhao mumbled quietly, “I mean… I might not be that strong, but Lu Xingyao is really strong. He can protect me.”
Ruan Yu: “The family’s still asleep, and you’re relying on outsiders for protection?”
Ruan Zhao: “…”
“Cousin, do you have to be so prickly with every word? You weren’t like this,” Ruan Zhao said, searching through his memories, pictures of his cousin’s old self flashing through his mind. “You used to be so patient and gentle with me, always indulging me, never even raising your voice.” He made a show of accusing, “You’ve changed.”
Clearly the one being bratty and making people worry, yet somehow managing to turn himself into the victim, leaving Ruan Yu speechless: “…”
“Fine, fine, fine. It’s my fault,” Ruan Yu sighed, pushing down his irritation, trying hard to maintain the patient, gentle image his cousin remembered. “Let’s just talk when we meet.”
They settled on a time and place. Since Ruan Yu was still lying in his coffin, he needed a little time to get himself presentable and asked Ruan Zhao to wait an hour.
“You’d better hurry, okay?” Ruan Zhao whispered, urging him, then quickly calculated the time. “I can only stay out until ten-thirty. After that, I have to rush back.”
Ruan Yu fell into an odd silence. When he spoke again, his voice was tight with exasperation. “…You’re sneaking out just to meet me? What, does he control you so tightly he doesn’t even let you leave the house? Don’t tell me he still doesn’t know you have a cousin who’s coming to see you today?”
Ruan Zhao: “Of course not! I just figured, since you two come from different worlds, if you met, there might be… tension. So I didn’t mention it.”
“Since when has my little Zhaozhao become so considerate?” Ruan Yu said dryly.
Ruan Zhao could clearly hear the jealousy and sarcasm in his cousin’s voice, but he also knew he was partly to blame. After all, his cousin was a few centuries old—a real adult. So, Ruan Zhao decided not to argue. He simply said, “See you later,” and hung up.
……
The meeting place they’d agreed on was a small coffee shop at the end of the street. At this hour, the shop wasn’t very busy.
Still, Ruan Zhao felt bad about just taking up a seat, so he ordered a coffee, even if just for show.
As the steam curled up from the cup, the bitter smell of the coffee filled his nose, and he couldn’t help but think of the milk tea Lu Xingyao used to buy him—plain on the outside but surprisingly tasty inside.
Other than Lu Xingyao’s blood, that milk tea was probably the only thing he could somewhat stand. Maybe… this coffee would be just as “magical.”
Eagerly, Ruan Zhao lifted the cup and took a careful sip. The miracle didn’t happen. He immediately spat the coffee into a napkin, then tossed it straight into the trash.
……
Ruan Yu didn’t keep him waiting long. He arrived soon after. The man looked to be in his early twenties, with the exquisitely beautiful features unique to pureblood vampires—skin as pale as porcelain, jet-black hair, lips a vivid crimson. His eyes were a lot like Ruan Zhao’s, though a touch darker, and his features were even sharper and more defined.
The “memories” in Ruan Zhao’s mind and the person standing before him merged into one. Without even thinking about it, Ruan Zhao felt a natural sense of closeness grow inside him. His heart, usually beating slow and lazy, quickened for once, filling with the warmth of seeing him again and a long-missed joy.
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