Chapter 3: Thirst for Blood

In his sleep, Han Qi felt as if his entire body were being pricked by needles, a faint, stinging pain creeping over his skin. Slowly, he awoke, and the glaring sunlight instinctively filled him with dread. Those slivers of light pierced his body like sharp blades. He hurriedly rose and drew the heavy curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness; only then did he feel some relief.

His steps unsteady, Han Qi made his way to the bedside, only to discover upon the nightstand the glass vial he had thrown away the previous evening, its contents—the black, light-devouring pellets—untouched. Startled at first, he quickly understood, assuming Li Ye had returned it to him.

A wry, complicated smile tugged at Han Qi's lips. Was this meant as some kind of concern? Yet it was Li Ye who had turned him into a vampire.

Han Qi let out a low sigh. He no longer threw the vial away but instead took out one of the light-devouring pellets and swallowed it.

In just a few days, he had been reborn as a vampire—a nightmare made real.

After ingesting the pellet, Han Qi felt much improved; he no longer suffered weakness or the searing pain of sunlight on his skin.

Returning to school, Han Qi felt as though he had crossed into another world. Now, by the scent of blood, he could distinguish between humans and vampires. The blood of the vampire race—especially that of pure-blooded nobles—was always intoxicatingly alluring.

Having only recently become a vampire, Han Qi had no idea how to restrain his thirst for blood, nor did he know where to obtain it appropriately. He certainly had no wish to bite the necks of humans or vampires alike. From morning until now, his mouth and throat were parched with longing.

He drank water incessantly, though it brought no relief. Still, it gave him a measure of psychological comfort. Deep down, he resisted accepting his transformation; in some way, Han Qi still considered himself human.

By the time he reached for the eighth bottle of mineral water, his friend Long He regarded him in surprise and asked, “Are you suffering from heatstroke?”

He placed a hand on Han Qi’s forehead, only to find it icy cold, and his expression turned to confusion. “Are you sick?”

Han Qi stepped back, avoiding his friend’s hand. “I’m fine,” he replied.

Long He was human—and Han Qi’s longtime friend. There was no way he wanted his friend to know he had become a bloodthirsty vampire.

Since vampires had integrated into human society, they could be found in every profession, but art schools were filled with them, likely because the blood race possessed such exceptional beauty that the artistic path came more easily to them. Only now did Han Qi realize just how many vampires walked the campus, some even of noble lineage. Resisting the temptation of their blood was pure torment, especially since he was surrounded by vampires in class.

Han Qi genuinely feared losing control and sinking his fangs into a vampire’s neck. To avoid such a disaster, as soon as class ended—his thirst nearly unbearable—he hurried to the restroom, hoping to hide from the blood’s enticement.

Long He caught his arm as he stood up, concern in his voice. “Are you alright, Qi? You look so pale.”

Han Qi shook his head weakly. “I’m just going to the restroom…”

Long He nodded, watching him go with worry.

What Han Qi did not know was that ever since the vampire military had enacted this new breeding program, the blood of all Scarlet Nobles carried hormones that incited desire—whether for procreation or for sex, both were primal and uncontrollable instincts.

Unaware, Han Qi had become a walking hormone diffuser, regarded by vampires as the perfect breeding vessel, one worth fighting for.

As Han Qi entered the restroom, Mu Chuan followed him in, after which no other vampires dared to enter. The vampire hierarchy was rigid, bloodline dictating status and strength. As a member of the Sandalwood Blood Nobility, Mu Chuan’s exalted lineage was shield enough to keep rivals at bay.

Han Qi turned on the faucet and pressed his lips to the stream, letting the cold water pour down his throat.

Mu Chuan approached, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a wicked arc. “That won’t help. You need blood.”

Han Qi ignored him, gulping down water, breath ragged, his thirst growing ever more intense. Unable to watch his self-torment any longer, Mu Chuan dragged Han Qi away from the sink. Water dripped from Han Qi’s cheeks and hair, droplets clinging to the ends before tracing down his face.

Though weakened, his expression remained cold and indifferent, as if Mu Chuan were beneath his notice. Yet that very gaze only provoked the wildness and aggression innate to their kind. Among vampires, power and the urge to conquer were core instincts. Under Han Qi’s stimulus, Mu Chuan’s eyes reddened, his fangs emerging, the urge to devour Han Qi overwhelming.

The unique metallic sweetness of Scarlet Blood filled the air, an irresistible aphrodisiac.

Mu Chuan bit into the back of his own hand, letting the rich, fragrant blood well up.

Han Qi’s breathing grew heavier. He turned away, bracing his hands on the sink.

Mu Chuan’s smile grew more wicked as he offered his bleeding hand. Pure lineage, deep purple blood—the mark of the Sandalwood Blood.

Few vampires could resist such temptation.

Han Qi’s Adam’s apple bobbed with difficulty; he was losing control. Trembling, he lowered his head, opened his mouth, and his fangs slid forth, driven by the primal urge for blood...

But before the fevered ritual could begin, a violent pounding at the door interrupted them. Long He’s voice rang out, “Qi, are you alright? Why did you lock the door?”

The sound jolted Han Qi awake. The blood-red faded swiftly from his eyes, his fangs retracted, and he shoved Mu Chuan aside to open the door.

Seeing Long He’s worried face, Han Qi forced a smile. “I’m fine...”

Mu Chuan suddenly seized Han Qi’s hand, commanding, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Han Qi pulled free, his expression frosty.

Long He eyed Mu Chuan warily, well aware of this troublesome presence who so often harassed Han Qi. He suspected Mu Chuan of ill intent in the restroom.

Han Qi pulled Long He away, but before they could leave, Mu Chuan caught his hand again. Before Han Qi could react, Long He swung a hard punch at Mu Chuan.

Loyal to a fault, Long He could never tolerate his friends being bullied.

A murderous gleam flickered in Mu Chuan’s eyes as he raised his fist toward Long He’s face. As a powerful vampire, one blow could end half of Long He’s life.

But Han Qi managed to block him just in time, placing himself in front of Long He and meeting Mu Chuan’s gaze without fear.

Mu Chuan halted, rubbing his bruised lip, and sneered, “Get this clear: I’m your true companion.”

Han Qi remained unmoved, standing between Long He and Mu Chuan, refusing to yield an inch.

After a tense moment, Mu Chuan relented first, a mocking smile on his lips as he leaned close to Han Qi’s ear and murmured, “I tolerate you only because you’re the vessel I’ve chosen.”

Han Qi pressed his lips tight, emotions churning violently within, though his face betrayed nothing.

With a disdainful snort, Mu Chuan turned and strode away.

Long He glanced anxiously at Han Qi, whose body was rigid. “Did he threaten you?” he asked.

Han Qi shook his head, lowering his long lashes, his face clouded as he walked away.

Long He watched his friend’s retreating figure, a frown of confusion furrowing his brow. He could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with Han Qi lately.

What on earth had happened?