Chapter 1 Rose

A month ago, Han Qi got a tattoo.

The shop was called “Floral Banquet.” Painted in black and gold, with oval-shaped doors and windows, it was small in size yet decorated with an old-world elegance, like a miniature Baroque chapel from the Middle Ages. Although it was located near the university, its flow of customers was scant. Every time Han Qi passed by, he never saw anyone enter or leave. The tea-colored glass doors prevented any glimpse of the interior.

Mysterious and classical things always caught Han Qi’s attention. After lingering outside several times, he finally decided to step inside one evening.

A wind chime rang softly as the shop owner turned to look at him. Despite the dim lighting, it was still possible to discern that the proprietor was a strikingly handsome man.

Crimson lips curved into a beguiling smile. “Here for a tattoo?”

Han Qi nodded and sat down openly on the elegant black wooden sofa.

The owner went to fetch his tools. As Han Qi glanced around, he asked, “Are you here alone?”

“I’m more than enough on my own,” the owner replied, returning with his instruments.

Han Qi was about to tease, “No wonder business isn’t great,” but paused abruptly, for just then, he caught a flash of deep red in the man’s eyes.

—He must have been seeing things, or perhaps the man wore colored contacts.

The owner leaned close and asked, “What would you like?”

Han Qi considered the question. “I’m not sure. I’ll leave it to you.”

The man suddenly laughed, his lips upturned with an almost hypnotic charm. “I understand.”

That mysterious smile made Han Qi uneasy. Curious, he asked, “What are you planning to tattoo?”

“A red rose.”

Perhaps it was the enigmatic gleam in the man’s eyes, or perhaps just a whim, but after a few seconds’ hesitation, Han Qi agreed.

He lay down on the sofa. The owner’s fingertips brushed his neck, the icy touch sending a shiver through Han Qi.

The buzzing of the machine began. Han Qi tensed instinctively, but the owner soothed him, “Relax. It won’t hurt.”

At first, Han Qi was nervous, but soon he relaxed. A faint scent of unknown flowers drifted through the air, subtle and intoxicating, the atmosphere so tranquil it made him want to doze off.

Sensing his fatigue, the owner said, “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

Han Qi nodded. Having stayed up late writing a paper the night before, he was exhausted, so he closed his eyes.

Several hours later, Han Qi woke to find the owner tending flowers at the windowsill—a vision of deep red roses against immaculate white garments, an exquisite scene.

The owner turned and smiled gently. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.”

Han Qi stood up, yawning. “I must have troubled you. How much do I owe you?”

The owner’s smile grew ambiguous. “There’s no hurry. You’ll be back.”

The shop was close to Han Qi’s university, so coming again would be easy. Han Qi nodded, slipping the money back into his pocket.

Just then, the owner said, “It’s getting dark. You’d better hurry home.”

Han Qi shrugged indifferently. “I’m a guy. Am I supposed to be afraid to walk home at night?”

The owner merely smiled. “Best to head back, all the same.”

Before leaving, Han Qi learned the owner’s name—Li Ye. In the language of the bloodkin, it meant “the firelight of the night.” But that, of course, mattered later.

Back at his place, Han Qi examined himself in the mirror.

The tattoo was at the junction of his neck and collarbone—a blooming rose, inked in fine lines of black and red. Hidden beneath his clothing, only a small part was visible, which somehow added to its allure.

Han Qi was quite satisfied.

But a few days later, he noticed something amiss.

He found himself the focus of increasing attention. In class, especially large lecture halls, Han Qi always chose a secluded seat by the window, with only a few scattered students nearby. Lately, he found himself surrounded.

And all of them were male.

On the street, the glances grew more frequent. Not the exaggerated reaction reserved for a great beauty or a striking man, but furtive, lingering stares. People have a sixth sense for such things—when you are being watched, you sense it.

The strangest incident occurred recently. After class, returning home, Han Qi realized he was being followed—not by one person, but several. Alarmed, he prepared himself for a confrontation, only to discover his pursuers were young men about his own age, likely fellow students. Regaining his composure, he circled a few blocks and lost them.

Whether in the classroom, the cafeteria, the supermarket, on the street, or even behind the locked door of his own apartment, Han Qi couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched—an overwhelming, uncomfortable sensation.

He was not so vain as to believe everyone had suddenly noticed his charm. No, not everyone—just men.

Gazing into the mirror, Han Qi rubbed the red rose at his neck.

He attended an arts college, a place teeming with beautiful people. His own looks were not the most outstanding. He didn’t think he looked effeminate—could a tattoo really make him appear that way? Why did it seem that so many men were watching him? As a straight man (or so Han Qi believed), he felt enormous pressure.

Sighing deeply, Han Qi left the restroom, only to turn and find a very handsome man standing at the door.

He was certain no one had been behind him a moment before—when had this man appeared?

Han Qi frowned slightly. Was this guy trying to play the ghost?

He kept his composure and walked past, but the other man blocked his path. Han Qi looked up, alert.

The stranger simply smiled amicably and extended a hand. “Hello.”

Han Qi replied blandly, “Hello,” ignoring the handshake and walking straight out.

If all this really was because of the tattoo, Han Qi thought, he should get rid of it as soon as possible.

He didn’t notice that behind him, the young man’s eyes were turning redder and redder.

Muttering to himself, “Such a sweet scent...”

Only the blood of a pureblood noble was so tantalizing.

The second strange thing was that Han Qi began to fear sunlight.

It was May, the season of blossoming flowers, the sun warm and gentle. Yet Han Qi often felt dizzy and faint. The longer he stood in sunlight, the more his vision blurred, his body growing weak.

Had he developed a sun allergy? It had never been a problem before.

Most recently, his photography professor took the class outside to shoot a short film. The gentle sunlight should have been pleasant, but Han Qi felt scorched, feverish, his vision swimming. He shook his head, trying to focus through the camera.

He meant to change his angle, but found himself too weak to move the tripod. Gritting his teeth, he gave it a push—only to trip himself and fall.

The commotion drew the bewildered eyes of his classmates.

A tall male student hurried over to help him up. Unconcerned by the attention, the student slung an arm around Han Qi’s shoulder and led him aside.

But Han Qi, now uncomfortable with such contact, broke free.

The other student took no offense, simply stood nearby with a gentle smile. “I’m Mu Chuan.”

As a fifth-rank Sandalwood-blood noble, Mu Chuan was typically proud and disdainful of mingling with lesser vampires. Yet now he gazed at Han Qi as if beholding a rare, precious creature.

Han Qi felt uneasy under his stare and looked away, frowning.

After that morning’s incident, Han Qi’s sense of crisis heightened. Unfortunately, he still had a movement class that night. By the time he left for home, it was already past nine.

He glanced up at the dark sky and quickened his pace.

The streets grew emptier. Odd—usually, at this hour, the night market would just be starting. Where had everyone gone?

Just then, several shadows emerged from the alleys ahead, moving toward him.

Han Qi instinctively turned to run, only to find another group behind him.

They slowly closed in, surrounding him.

As they drew nearer, Han Qi could finally make out their faces: exquisite features, blood-red eyes, and sharp fangs peeking past crimson lips.

Han Qi’s heart thudded—someone, please tell him this was just a prank!

The vampires pressed closer, enclosing Han Qi completely.

At their center stood Mu Chuan, face cold and unsmiling.

He crouched down, staring at Han Qi. Those blood-red eyes seemed to wield a strange power; under that gaze, Han Qi’s head throbbed painfully, and he collapsed onto the ground, clutching his temples, a sharp pain stabbing at his skull.

A mocking smile played at Mu Chuan’s lips. He reached a clawed hand toward Han Qi’s neck.

With a dull thud, Han Qi fell to the ground—fainted dead away.

Not only Mu Chuan, but the other vampires were left speechless.

He’d fainted before they even touched him—how fragile! Only humans were so delicate.

Could this boy be human, not a vampire?

The vampires exchanged glances, all frowning, silently dismissing the idea.

Such a tempting scent could not come from a human; only pureblood nobles possessed such intoxicating blood.

And the rose tattoo at the boy’s neck marked him as a Crimson-blood noble, rare and coveted, able to bear heirs.

As they debated what to do, a tall figure drifted into view, approaching with elegant steps.

Recognizing a fifth-rank Sandalwood-blood, the vampires all retreated a few steps, distancing themselves from the unconscious Han Qi.

Li Ye approached, a graceful smile on his lips. “He’s already claimed. Go find someone else.”

Among the bloodkin, status was determined by lineage. Since Mu Chuan and Li Ye were both fifth-rank Sandalwood-bloods, the others dared not intervene, but Mu Chuan met Li Ye’s gaze with open challenge. “Oh? Military doctor, is he your companion? If so, let’s fight for him.”

The more powerful the bloodkin, the fiercer their possessiveness—a high-born noble would never accept sharing a mate.

With that, Mu Chuan unleashed his power, a fierce energy stirring his dark purple hair and cloaking his face in an icy aura.

Li Ye, however, did not reveal his vampire form. He merely sneered. “I have no wish to quarrel with you. A word of warning,”—he paused, lifting Han Qi into his arms—“you’d best not touch him.”

With that, he turned and vanished into the darkness in the blink of an eye.

Mu Chuan withdrew his vampire form, his demeanor reverting to cold indifference. A sly, mocking smile curled his lips as he gazed after Li Ye’s departing figure.