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Chapter Text

Huaxia University

The lecture hall was dim, its old wooden shutters casting stripes of shadow across rows of restless students. Yet, when Pei Sijing spoke, the air stilled. Her voice was low, deliberate, each word curling like incense smoke-both soothing and unsettling.

"In the twenty-first century, vampires are dismissed as superstition, stitched together from Slavic folklore, English ghost tales, Serbian legends... But tell me-how does a shadow that haunts Mesopotamia in 3000 BC reappear in the lamia of Greece, in the jiangshi of the East, and again in the whispers of Eastern Europe? A myth does not migrate so faithfully unless it carries truth in its marrow."

A faint smile touched her lips as a few students shifted uneasily. She leaned forward, her dark hair falling like a veil.

"Garlic? Sunlight? Folklore exaggerations, born from the needs of farmers and the fears of peasants. They say garlic smell alone can keep a vampire at bay. A clove hanging above the door, a necklace pressed to the throat. A notion popularized by Bram Stoker's novel Dracula in 1897. May be because of the antibacterial and antifungal property of garlic caused the belief that it can ward of evil.

Some students chuckled nervously. She let the sound hang before continuing.

"And sunlight... ah, that old cruelty." Her tone deepened, velvet wrapped around steel. "Popular legend immortalized by Nosferatu movie in 1922, creature burning in daylight-but that is cinema, not history. Perhaps the night creatures are not destroyed by light, only revealed-forced out of their shadows, where they can no longer hide what they are."

A ripple of unease ran through the hall. Outside the hall, Gong Yuanzhi stood with his hands in his pockets, the faintest crease between his brows. He had come to fetch her home, yet found himself rooted in place, listening.

"And then," she said, lowering her voice until the students leaned forward to hear, "there is the grain myth. Scatter rice, or millet, or poppy seed at the threshold, and the creature will kneel to count them, grain by grain, trapped by a compulsion stronger than hunger. Some scoff-'Are they cats? Are they children?'-but obsession is the cruelest prison. Have you not lost hours, days, chained to the weight of one thought, one desire you could not let go? Would it be so strange, then, if a vampire too was cursed to count endlessly what could never be finished?"

A hush blanketed the room. Yuanzhi shifted his weight at the door, irritation sparking through him, though he didn't know if it was at her theatrics-or at the odd shiver along his own spine.

When her voice dropped, he almost held his breath.
"Perhaps... they are here, with us. The girl who sat beside you on the train this morning. The boy you fell in love with in college. Immortal, unnoticed. Waiting."

Pei Sijing let the thought linger, then finally, with that same elusive smile, dismissed them. Students left with quick steps, whispering. The door creaked open, and there was Gong Yuanzhi-leaning there as though he had always been, the hallway lights framing him in pale gold.

"You," he said simply, his voice even but his gaze sharp, "enjoy scaring people far too much."

"And yet," she replied, gathering her notes with unhurried grace, "you waited."

"I don't understand you, A'Jing," he said, falling into step beside her. "You chose to master in cultural studies, and fine, that's your business. But scaring people with myths made up by dead people as if they were true? That's-" he shrugged, "-a bit too much."

She tilted her head, smiling like she knew a secret. "Deep words, especially from someone of demon-hunter blood. The young master of Zhuo... Zhuo Shen."

His expression hardened; he pushed her lightly away. "Not that again. How many times do I have to tell you? Those are just stories passed down by my father's ancestors. Curses, tragic loves, endless wars-half poetry, half nonsense."

Sijing nodded, lips curved with a suppressed smile, her eyes glinting in the corridor bathed in afternoon sun.

Yuanzhi added, his voice firm, almost clipped, "And for the record-I am not Zhuo Shen. That was just a name my grandmother gave me before she died. I am Yuanzhi. Gong. Yuanzhi."

"Alright, alright," she said, lifting her hands in surrender, her grin refusing to fade. "Gong Yuanzhi it is."

🦇🦇🦇

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and the clinking of trays, but Yuanzhi and Sijing had carved out a quiet corner for themselves. He leaned back in his chair, stirring his drink idly, before breaking the silence.

"So," Yuanzhi began, his tone light but his eyes curious, "how was your trip to Xindu? Homeland nostalgic?"

Sijing's face brightened. "Wonderful," she replied. "I visited a few old temples and met some monks and locals to collect details about the prominent urban legends. You know the best part? They worship a fallen dragon lord-Ying Long- tales have that his beloved Bingyi, forged a sword out of Ying Long's horn to kill demons. That's said to be the beginning of the Demon Hunter clan, Zhuo of Tiandu."

She was smiling as she spoke, but Yuanzhi's silence grew heavier. His gaze sharpened, fixed on her with a weight that made her blink.

"Sorry," Sijing muttered, her voice soft.

Yuanzhi shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I told you not to pull them in. My dad left that house twenty-five years ago, and I don't wish to keep any ties with them, let alone hear about them. Them and their superstition-can you believe they still follow that ridiculous pure-blood theory? Marrying only the firstborn from Chinese families, at least for four generations, without mixing." His lips twisted in disdain. "Shamans and demon hunters."

Sijing leaned closer, resting her chin on her hand. "Wow. I never thought that was still followed."

A mocking smile tugged at Yuanzhi's mouth. "Now you know one."

She nodded, sipping her coffee. "Interesting."

After a beat, her expression softened. "They all asked for you, you know-Nai nai, uncles, aunts. You were the only grandson who missed Nai Nai's birthday (Yuanzhi's mom's mother, Sijing's grandfather's sister). Even my brother, who never show up in family functions, Siheng was there."

Yuanzhi sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"I didn't mean it wrong," Sijing added quickly. "Usually it's you who steps in first for all this, but they all missed you."

"I know," Yuanzhi said quietly, his eyes fixed on the table. "But I never expected that interview to mess up like that."

Sijing set her coffee cup down with a soft clink, tilting her head.
"Yeah, I almost forgot to ask-how was your interview? And why did you really apply for a personal secretary job?"

Yuanzhi leaned back, thoughtful for a moment, before answering.
"You know how I'm crazed about the Eterna Group. Not just me-most youngsters in business management dream of getting into that giant monster. They've got footprints everywhere-pharmaceuticals, skincare, even sponsoring sports teams. You name it, they're in it."

Sijing chuckled. "I know. Heng'er is obsessed with them the same way you are."

"Exactly!" Yuanzhi said, leaning forward with sudden energy. "So imagine the value of the experience, even if it's just an internship. You don't know what that paper is worth. And it wasn't just a PS position-it was for the CEO of the company himself. The new generation tycoon of the Li family-Li Jie." His eyes lit up briefly. "I'm not after the title, A'Jing. I just want the exposure, the experience."

"And what about the rest of your semester?" she asked.

"Basically internship time," he shrugged. "If I could get in, exams wouldn't be a big deal."

But suddenly, the brightness on his face dimmed. His shoulders slumped as if strings had been cut, and he let his head drop heavily.

Sijing frowned. "What now?"

"I messed it up," Yuanzhi muttered, banging his forehead lightly against the table.

Sijing blinked in surprise, then reached out and patted his head. "What do you mean, you messed it up?"

Yuanzhi rubbed his temples, still half-laughing at his own misery.
"Do you remember the heavy rain two days before Nai nai's birthday?"

Sijing let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. It was like the ocean itself was falling down from the sky. Almost flooded the whole place. More like a jinx."

Yuanzhi sighed. "Yeah, you can says that too."

Sijing tilted her head.

"The city went dark the night before, so of course my alarm didn't work. The heater broke, and if Mom hadn't called me that morning, I wouldn't have even gone to the interview." Yuanzhi said, sipping his coffee.

Sijing kept her gaze fixed on him, serious now. "That really sounds like something was stopping you."

Yuanzhi smirked. "But I, Yuanzhi, wasn't about to yield. You know who my dad is-he fought an entire bloodline to marry my mom. You think I'd give up on my dream over a broken heater and a little rain?"

"You're not someone who gives up easily. And then," she admitted.

"Exactly. So I tried to take the car-it wouldn't start. Called a cab-it got stuck in traffic after some car skidded off the road in the rain. So I jumped out and took the metro."

Sijing leaned in, curiosity glimmering. "And?"

Yuanzhi sighed dramatically. "When I reached there, I was already two hours late. Everyone else had already gone. And I was soaked through-looked like I'd swum my way to the place."

Sijing leaned back with a low whistle. "Wow."

"You know what was even more terrifying?"

"There's more?"

"Of course." Yuanzhi dropped his voice. "The interviewer wasn't some HR clerk or board member. It was Zhao Yuanzhou. The partner of Li Jie. The god that rule of the pharma division. Pale face, lips like a rose petal, eyes sharp enough to cut glass."

Sijing blinked. "And what happened?"

Yuanzhi rolled his eyes.
"What do you think? I was drenched and shivering under the air conditioner. He just... made me sit, glanced at my resume, gave me a cup of coffee, and had a chat. Then let me go."

Sijing tilted her head. "Chat? About what?"

"Cars," Yuanzhi muttered.

"Cars?" she echoed, baffled.

He nodded. "Mmm. He asked me if I could drive. I said yes. I've heard Zhao Yuan Zhou has this craze for cars-his entire ground floor is a garage, filled with his collection. And Li Jie... almost the same. Only, from what I've researched, he's obsessed with black and red models."

"Strange enough," Sijing murmured, brow furrowing. "Coffee, a chat, and cars... What were you there for, a date?"

Yuanzhi leaned back, groaning. "It was his good heart, Sijing. That's all. He was being polite to an applicant who arrived two hours late. But you know what, punctuality is the most sacred virtue in Eterna, and I broke it right at the start. Do you really think they'd hire someone like me? Especially for Li Jie-the CEO who barely smiles and demands perfection in everything?"

Sijing nodded slowly. "No... I don't."

Yuanzhi gave a dry laugh, hollow. "After the interview, I got out late. Missed my bus. Even if I rode all night, I wouldn't have made it to Xindu on time. Mom called-told me to rest instead." He slumped further into his seat. "So yeah... that was my day."

Sijing exhaled, half a sigh, half a chuckle. "That was a long day."

"Yeah," Yuanzhi said, rubbing his temples. And just then, the phone on the table began to ring. He picked it up, distracted. "Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Wen Xiao from Eterna Group," said a crisp voice on the other end.

Yuanzhi froze. Sijing's brows shot up. He mouthed to her: Eterna Group.

"We are delighted to inform you," the voice continued, "that you've been selected for the position you interviewed for."

Yuanzhi's eyes widened. "I-I got selected?"

"Yes. We've sent your appointment letter by email. Please report Monday morning to assume your post. Congratulations, and welcome to Eterna Group."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Yuanzhi burst out, half-standing in his chair.

"Once again, welcome," the voice said, before the call ended.

He lowered the phone, dazed. "I got selected..."

Sijing clapped her hands over her mouth. "What?!"

"They chose me!" Yuanzhi laughed, still not believing it. "If Mom and Dad were here already. God! they'd only be back tomorrow."

"They'll be so happy for you," Sijing said warmly, squeezing his hand. "Let's celebrate tomorrow."

Yuanzhi nodded, still grinning. "I'll call them", then glanced at her slyly. "So... what's the plan for tonight? If you're free, maybe we can drag Heng'er out and catch a movie."

Sijing arched a brow. "Which one?"

"The Conjuring: The Last Rites," he said with a smirk.

Her eyes widened. She grabbed his hand. "Leave Heng'er if he doesn't want to come. Just the two of us can go."

Yuanzhi chuckled. "Sure."

Sijing hopped up, gathering her things. "I'll sort my stuff, you get the tickets." She ran a few steps, then spun back, darted to his side, and hugged him tight.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Only you understand me. Be ready at five-I'll bring Siheng."

Yuanzhi nodded, still smiling as she dashed off.

🦇🦇🦇

Theatre

Sijing came out of the theater with her face lit up, clutching the half-finished tub of popcorn like treasure. She ate as if it was the best meal of her life.

"That was awesome," she declared.

Yuanzhi slipped his hands into his pockets, a smile tugging at his lips. "So-what should we have for dinner?"

Siheng dragged his feet on the other side, his expression hollow, like his soul had left and reentered his body multiple times during the film. He jabbed a finger at them both.

"Jiejie, you're crazy. And gege-" he turned to Yuanzhi with deep betrayal, "-you're mad for supporting her."

Yuanzhi bit down his laugh, his mouth twitching.

Sijing flicked her hair back, unimpressed. "You don't have taste, Heng'er. Come, Yuanzhi-it's your treat for the new job." She paused, tilting her chin at her brother. "And you-steak or not?"

Siheng stared at her like he'd been cheated by the world itself. "I endured this torture for that? I want two servings."

Their laughter rang out in the night. Even Siheng couldn't hold back the smile tugging at his lips.

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Home

The streets gleamed under the rain, reflections of neon signs rippling across the wet asphalt. Yuanzhi's footsteps echoed softly as he passed shuttered shops, their windows dark except for one-the Magic Shop. Its golden sign flickered faintly, casting a warm, almost otherworldly glow. He paused, watching the light dance, then continued up the steps to his home.

The house was modest yet inviting-a two-story structure painted in muted cream with dark wooden trim. The upper windows caught the streetlights, casting long, watchful shadows. Tonight, the home was empty, the warm hum of family life absent. His parents were out, leaving only memories behind.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of polished wood and rain-soaked earth. Yuanzhi glanced out toward the café next door, its lights dimmed for the night. His mother, Shangguan Qian, had once been a doctor, having met his father, Gong Shang Jue, at medical school where both shared long hours and whispered debates over cases.

She was part Japanese, and when his family found it they made it a big fuse- half blood, impure. Zhuo Shang Jue was always been the rebel in his family, rewriting superstitions with science. In the end he left his family and became Gong Shang Jue to marry Shangguan Qian. And Yuanzhi is their only child.

Later she chose to leave the medical field, trading the hospital for her own cafe-a place of warmth, comfort, and aromatic coffee that brought life to the street. His father had supported her, never questioning her decision, proud of her for following her own path while continuing his own medical practice.

Yuanzhi shook his head, smiling faintly at the memory. Tonight, however, the storm pressed close, and the comfort of memory was a fragile shield against the rain-lashed world outside

The night had deepened. Yuanzhi drew the curtains wide, the city drowned in sheets of rain. He stood for a moment, listening to it, then muttered, "Why is it raining like this?"

On the desk, the calendar stared back at him. Blood Moon. Once in a century.

His grandmother's voice (dad's mather) slipped into memory: On Blood Moon night, evil holds dominion. Demons, ghosts, vampires-every shadow will walk free. The century moon darkens even the day; the sun cowers, hidden by storms. But you... your bloodline is the blade meant to cut them down.

Yuanzhi exhaled, a short laugh under his breath.
"Blood moon, demons... sure. Probably just cloudbursts and gravity. I'd sooner believe the universe's sitting inside a black hole than demons and vampires lurking in my neighborhood." He tugged the curtains closed, muttering at the rain, "Whatever you do, just don't ruin my first day at work."

🦇🦇🦇

Li Jie's Mansion

The mansion breathed shadows. Black curtains hung heavy against tall windows, their folds swallowing the faint light of the night. A garden stretched below, drenched in silence, its roses dark as spilled ink.

Li Jie stood near the window, a silhouette against the storm-tossed sky. His posture was still, commanding, but the hollowness around him was impossible to ignore. The room itself mirrored him-walls veined with deep crimson patterns, dark oak furniture carved sharp and unyielding, a single chandelier casting fractured light like broken glass.

Zhao Yuanzhou's footsteps broke the silence. He approached with two glasses of wine, the ruby liquid glowing like blood in crystal. He held one out.
"The blood moon is arriving, isn't it her-" Yuanzhou said, eyes flicking toward the storm-lit horizon.

Li Jie accepted the glass, his fingers brushing the cold stem before he turned away, sinking into the shadows of the room. His reflection in the window looked less like a man, more like a ghost bound to the frame.

Yuanzhou turned fully toward him, voice quiet but steady.
"Li Jie... how long do you plan to live like this, chained to her memory?"

Li Jie lowered himself into a velvet chair, the wine untouched. His fingers drummed absently along the rim of the glass, each tap echoing in the cavernous silence. His voice, when it came, was low, almost broken.
"As long as this heart keeps beating."

Yuanzhou joined him, sitting close. His words cut with care and exasperation both.
"The dead should be let go. Do you know how long it's been since I last saw you smile? People fear you, Li Jie. They see only a shadow, a man with a face the world has forgotten how to soften. That graven look of yours... nothing can break it."

Li Jie's eyes flickered, his voice a rasp.
"Zhao Yuan Zhou. How do you suppose I forget? After everything-she died in my arms. Only because of me."

For a moment, thunder swallowed the room. Yuanzhou rose sharply, pacing, his tone edged with both anger and sorrow.
"Yes, she did. But how many years have passed, Li Jie? How many nights drowned in silence-and still you-"

He stopped. His eyes locked on Li Jie, who had stiffened, his grip tightening on his chest. The glass trembled in his hand. His breathing grew ragged.

Yuanzhou's voice faltered into alarm. He rushed forward, pressing his fingers against Li Jie's neck, feeling the wild, frantic rhythm beneath his skin. His eyes widened.
"Why is your heart beating like this?"

Li Jie tried to speak, his voice hoarse.
"I... don't know."

The storm outside wailed against the windows. Yuanzhou gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let him slip further. "Wen Xiao! Wen Xiao, come here!"

Li Jie shook his head faintly, lips forming broken words. "I'm... I'm fine..."

But Zhao Yuanzhou seized his hand, firm, unrelenting. "No-you're not fine." His voice broke into a shout

The doors flew open as Wen Xiao entered, his words colliding with the thunder, the rain hammering down in relentless sheets. The world outside drowned in storm, while inside, the mansion seemed to close its jaws tighter around its master.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Li Jie's Bedroom 

The room was dim, shadows climbing the walls like restless ghosts. Li Jie leaned back against the carved black headboard, his body half-covered in a blanket. His hand pressed absently to his chest, the dull ache refusing to leave.

Zhao Yuan Zhou sat at his side, fingers resting on Li Jie's wrist, counting the faltering rhythm of his pulse. His brow furrowed, but before he could speak, the heavy door opened. The butler entered with a tray, Wen Xiao following close behind.

Without a word, Wen Xiao relieved the butler of the soup and dismissed him with a nod. She carried it forward, placing the bowl gently into Zhao Yuan Zhou's hands, "This will help him relax," she said, before turning her sharp gaze on Li Jie.

"You need to stop this," Wen Xiao said quietly, though her voice carried the weight of years. "We don't even understand what's happening to you. You're growing weaker every day. This grieving is killing you."

Li Jie exhaled heavily, lowering his head. His silence was as bleak as the chamber itself.

Wen Xiao's expression softened, though her words did not. "You should return, Li Jie. You've mourned for her long enough. She would never want you to ruin yourself for her. Li Chun... let her soul rest in peace."

The name hung in the air, raw and heavy. For a moment, Li Jie's lashes flickered, but he did not speak. Wen Xiao lingered, then turned to Zhao Yuan Zhou. "Do you want me to stay?"

Yuan Zhou shook his head firmly. "No. I can handle this stubborn child tonight."

Wen Xiao gave a faint smile and inclined his head, one last look lingering on Li Jie before she departed. The door closed behind her with a muted thud.

Zhao Yuan Zhou pressed the warm bowl into Li Jie's hands. He took it, stirring the soup once, twice, as if lost in thought before finally drinking it down. When the last drop was gone, Yuan Zhou took the empty bowl away.

"I found you a new secretary," Yuan Zhou said casually.

Li Jie raised his eyes, unreadable.

"What's with that look?" Yuan Zhou asked, arching a brow. "I can't leave you unattended like this."

At first, Li Jie said nothing. Then a faint, tired smirk curved his lips. "Fine. But if this one is like that girl who pried into my space-"

"Not like her," Yuan Zhou cut him off, his tone firm. "He's different. What was his name... Gong. Gong Yuanzhi. He's in his final year of an MBA in Human Resources. Consistently at the top of his class, good performance history, adaptable. The kind of discipline you need around you right now."

Li Jie gave a short laugh. "The one who came in two hours late for the interview, drenched like a stray dog? Discipline? Seriously?

Yuanzhou clicked his tongue. "Li Jie, you need to stop filtering people based on trivial conditions. And as for why I chose him-you wouldn't understand even if I explained. 

A low snicker escaped Li Jie. "Fair enough. But if he shows up late again, he's out."

Yuan Zhou's lips curled, amusement sparking in his eyes. "Mark my words, he won't. For your current condition, he's the best one to stay by your side. Honestly, I don't think there are many who could withstand your temper."

Li Jie gave no reply, his silence its own acknowledgment.

Yuan Zhou stood, setting the bowl aside. "Now move. Lie down properly."

Li Jie blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I said lie down," Yuan Zhou repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "I can't leave you alone tonight. I won't feel at ease. It's not as if we haven't shared a bed before. Now shut that mouth and sleep."

The lamp dimmed with a soft click, plunging the room into shadow. For the first time in long time, the silence felt less suffocating.

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Home

Morning light barely filtered through the heavy clouds outside, the rain having softened to a steady drizzle. Yuanzhi stirred in his bed, groaning softly, when a familiar voice floated up the stairs.

"Yuanzhi! Wake up, my baby!"

He shot upright, heart leaping, and bolted toward the source. "Maaa!" he called, throwing himself into his mother's arms as she caressed his hair gently.

"Did you sleep well, my baby?" Shangguan Qian whispered, warmth radiating through her touch.

Yuanzhi nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. From the hallway, his father cleared his throat, mock complaint in his tone. "Now, nobody wants me, hm?"

Yuanzhi laughed and scooped him into a hug. "Congratulations, my boy." Shang Jue said patting on his back.

Qian chuckled, stepping lightly into the kitchen. "Let's give the cafe one more day off," she said, glancing at her husband. "Jue, do you have any emergency cases at the hospital today?"

Shang Jue shook his head, a rare smile breaking his usually composed demeanor. "Nothing. I'm on leave. Let's celebrate."

Yuanzhi couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath, marveling at the way his father, usually so stoic, deferred to his mother so easily. "Dadaa... Maa... stop it, you two. You're just back from a long journey," he said, gently pulling them both toward the living room.

He guided them to the couch, seating them carefully, and took their hands in his own. "Let's take a moment to rest. We can go out to eat later. A'jing and Heng'er are eager to join us." Yuanzhi's parents exchanged glances before nodding, sharing a quiet understanding.

Qian tried to rise, but Yuanzhi held on firmly. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for trusting me and letting me follow my dream."

His mother cupped his face, eyes glistening. His father ran a hand over his hair, their touches full of pride and love. "My baby has grown so much," they murmured in unison, tears of joy welling in their eyes.

In that embrace, Yuanzhi felt a momentary peace, a fragile bubble of warmth amidst the storm raging outside and the darker currents of fate that were already beginning to stir.

🦇

The dinner was quiet but full of laughter. Shang Jue and Qian sat close, watching their sons with that soft look parents reserve for moments when pride outweighs words. The table wasn't anything extravagant-just warm food, clinking chopsticks, and the easy rhythm of family.

Halfway through, Si Jing reached into her bag and slid a small box across to Yuanzhi.

"Mom and dad asked me to give this to you." He opened it to reveal a fine black pen, its surface shining under the lamplight. "Congratulations." she added.

Yuanzhi's lips curved in surprise, then softened when Si Heng leaned over and added with a pout, "They were a little unhappy you didn't invite them for your celebration."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "It's just the beginning, Heng'er. When I get a proper job, we'll make it big. Promise."

They exchanged a look, half exasperation, half pride. "Okay," Si Jing said at last.

Outside, the rain had finally settled. Drops slid lazily from tree leaves and rooftops, tapping the earth like a lingering applause.

🦇🦇🦇

Monday Morning 

The soft tapping of keys filled Sijing's room. She leaned over her laptop, eyes narrowing in concentration as her fingers moved quickly.

Her voice drifted low, half to herself, half to the silence:

"According to lores, vampires are of two types. One with black blood, one with red. Both carry unique abilities. The black-blooded dwell still in the dark; they do not bleed as humans do. The red-blooded... they evolved. Some learned to live among men, not as predators, but as shadows beside them. But still blood loss can weaken both groups powers.

🦇

"Mom! Where's my tie?" Yuanzhi's muffled voice echoed from upstairs.

"Check the drawer, third one on the right," Qian called back from the kitchen.

Shangjue, already dressed and sipping tea, chuckled when his son ran down half-buttoned, hair in disarray. "You're going to your first day of work, not a street fight. Stand still."

Yuanzhi grumbled, "I can do it myself."

His father ignored him, looping the tie and tightening it with the ease of a man used to precision. "In a workplace like this, manners are armor. Listen more than you speak. And don't argue with your supervisor on the first day."

"Yeah, yeah," Yuanzhi muttered, but he smiled faintly, the nervous energy buzzing through him too strong to hide.

🦇

In the mansion, the alarm chimed sharply. Li Jie stirred, his thick lashes flickering before his hand shut it off. On the screen, a reminder glowed: 

"Chun-ah is waiting."

He rose with unhurried grace, steps muffled on the marble floor, and let the morning unfold with practiced ease. Moments later, the shower ran, steam curling around the glass door as water cascaded over him. In the dressing room, black fabrics lay neatly folded on the bed; he picked the suit with precision, straightened the tie, and checked the cuffs. Every movement was measured, practiced - a ritual as exacting as the ticking of a clock.

His footsteps echoing faintly as he passed through the long corridors draped in black and crimson. A portrait watched from the wall-a young woman in white, holding a red rose, her gaze soft, tender, yet impossibly sad.

In the dining hall, the butler had laid out a table heavy with silverware and dishes, but Li Jie's eyes found only the small pear at the center. He sat, lifted it, and turned it in his palm as though it were an artifact instead of fruit.

When his knife cut into it, the memory came unbidden.

The orchard was washed in a pale, early light, the leaves whispering with the morning breeze. Chun walked slowly between the rows, her white dress brushing against the tall grass. The fabric caught the sunlight, almost glowing, and in her hand she carried the basket she had woven herself, empty and waiting to be filled.

Li Jie was already there, leaning against the trunk of a pear tree. He wore a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled carelessly to the elbows, and cream-colored trousers that had already picked up a touch of orchard dust. The simplicity of it made him look unguarded, softer than the man people usually saw in all black.

"You're early," Chun teased, setting her basket down.

"You're late," Li Jie countered, straightening. "Or maybe I've just been waiting too long."

Chun smiled faintly and shook her head, "Always dramatic". She reached up and plucked a pear, its skin still cool with dew. 

"Here. Try it."

He hesitated, then bit into it. The taste flooded him, too sweet, almost cloying.

"It's good, isn't it?" she teased.

"Too sweet." He swallowed, gaze on her rather than the fruit. "Chun-ah... why do you even like these things? I do not find them that very remarkable."

She clicked her tongue. "You and your extravagance - you cannot abide anything plain and honest. Give it back." She reached for it, lips in a playful pout.

He took another bite, lips curling faintly. "You gave it to me. It's mine now."

Her laughter rang, warm and alive. The orchard faded.

Li Jie opened his eyes to the crimson-lit hall. He sliced the pear into neat pieces and ate in silence, the flavor hollow, the sweetness long gone with her.

🦇

"When the dark blood prey on humans for blood," Sijing typed, "the red have found other means to quench their thirst. But whether black or red, none hunger for food, nor for sleep... but for the emotions they lost or never had. Popular lore insists red-bloods feel as humans do more than black... but not completely."

🦇

Breakfast clattered in the Gong household. Qian poured coffee, sliding toast onto plates. Yuanzhi wolfed his down while his father's voice continued with calm authority.

"Don't slouch. Keep your answers concise. Never act as if you're too eager. Eagerness is weakness in their eyes."

"Yes, Dada," Yuanzhi mumbled through a mouthful.

"Don't speak with your mouth full," Shangjue shot back, frowning-but there was warmth in his eyes.

Moments later, Yuanzhi grabbed his bag, Yuanzhi kissed his mother's cheek "Bye, Maa! Bye, Dadaa!" and bolted out the door, the sound of rain dripping from the eaves greeting him as he slid into his car. "I'll call if I'm late!" he shouted, rolling down the window before hitting the road, nerves buried under determination.

🦇

In the underground garage, Li Jie's steps echoed. A fleet of cars gleamed under the cold light-each painted in variations of red and black. He crossed to a deep crimson one, the raven-black of his suit catching the light like midnight. Sliding into the seat, he lingered for a moment, gazing into the rain-washed world beyond.

The engine roared to life. The car pulled out, not toward the city but into the countryside, cutting a dark line through the wet roads.

And over all of it, Sijing's voice lingered:

"Love between a vampire and a human is rare, but not impossible. Yet every tale ends the same. Either the human dies... or becomes one of them. And if death comes first, the immortal is bound forever to that memory. A curse of eternity tied not to hunger-but to love itself."

And above, beyond the gray veil of the morning sky, the blood moon waited.

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Group 

Yuanzhi stepped through the glass doors of Eterna with a quiet confidence. He checked his watch-ten minutes to nine. A small smile touched his lips as he straightened his blazer and made for the elevator.

"Fifteenth floor," the machine announced as the doors slid open.

At the reception, he presented his appointment letter. "I'm here as the new secretary for CEO Li Jie."

The receptionist gave him a polite look, then made a quick call. "Please have a seat." Moments later, she gestured him forward. "You may go in."

Yuanzhi knocked.

"Enter," came the voice from within.

To his mild surprise, it wasn't Li Jie but Zhao Yuanzhou behind the desk.

Yuanzhi blinked. "Good morning, Mr. Zhao."

Yuan Zhou glanced at his watch, lips tugging at a smile. "Good morning, Yuanzhi. You're early. Sit."

Yuanzhi obeyed, though his gaze drifted toward the nameplate gleaming on the desk-CEO, Eterna: Li Jie. 

"Mr. Zhao," he asked carefully, "I didn't see Mr. Li here."

"He's out of the city," Yuan Zhou replied smoothly, "back in two days- probably."

Yuanzhi gave a small nod, the faintest flicker of disappointment tucked neatly behind his expression.

"You'll have time to learn the rhythm of this place," Yuan Zhou continued. "Following Li Jie requires more than memorizing his habits. You'll need to keep pace with his world. Oh, and-" his tone lightened, "I'd like you to fetch him from Spring Mansion in the mornings."

Yuanzhi's eyes widened before he masked it. "His... mansion?"

Yuan Zhou nodded as the office door opened. Wen Xiao stepped in, clipboard in hand. "You called for me?"

"Yes." Zhao Yuan Zhou gestured. "Wen Xiao, this is Gong Yuanzhi, Li Jie's new secretary. Yuanzhi-Wen Xiao, head of Human Resources."

Yuanzhi rose slightly, offering a polite nod. "Happy to meet you."

Wen Xiao returned the smile. "We've been expecting you."

"Go with her," Yuan Zhou instructed, "she'll acquaint you with the workings here-and with Li Jie's routine."

"Yes, Mr. Zhao. Thank you." Yuanzhi turned toward the door but paused, hesitation drawing him back.

"One question, if I may."

Zhao Yuan Zhou arched a brow. "Go on."

"I was late for the interview," Yuanzhi admitted. "We only had a casual talk. Why choose me?"

A smile flickered across Yuan Zhou's lips as he rose from behind the desk, adjusting his blazer. "Because you fit the job."

Yuanzhi frowned lightly. "But punctuality is a sacred virtue at Eterna. I broke it on the very day of my interview."

"That's Li Jie's domain," Yuan Zhou countered, voice calm. "What caught my attention was not the clock, but you. Your academic record and ability, yes. But more than that, your determination. You fought through that storm to get here. That effort spoke louder than excuses."

Yuanzhi held his gaze, then inclined his head. "So... it wasn't only academics?"

"Not really." Yuan Zhou leaned against the desk edge, arms crossed. "It was your refusal to let your dream wash away in the rain. I expect the same sincerity now that you're here."

Yuanzhi bowed slightly. "I will not disappoint you." He turned, hand on the door.

"Yuanzhi."

He stopped, glanced back.

Yuan Zhou's expression softened, though his voice held weight. "Li Jie is important to me. He's... not been well. Keep a close watch on him."

Yuanzhi blinked, uncertain. "Health issues?"

Yuan Zhou rubbed his palms together. "You might say that."

"Mental troubles? Depression, perhaps?"

Yuan Zhou didn't answer, only regarded him steadily.

Yuanzhi gave a small, reassuring nod. "You may rest assured, Mr. Zhao. I'll keep him in check."

As he left with Wen Xiao, Yuan Zhou lingered in the silence, watching the closed door.

A faint smirk curved his lips.

"Interesting."

🦇🦇🦇

Somewhere Away from the City

The evening sun spilled fire across the horizon, turning the vast green fields into molten gold. A streak of red cut through the brilliance-Li Jie's car, its polished body gleaming like fresh blood.

The engine softened to a hum as it slowed before a towering iron gate, its black bars curling into ornate patterns that spelled House of Li. The gate creaked open without a command, as though it knew who approached.

The butler and two attendants stood waiting at the front steps, their posture perfectly straight against the setting sun.

Li Jie stepped out, the door swinging closed behind him with a muted thud. From the seat beside him, he drew a bouquet of red roses wrapped in black paper. The colors clashed-like passion draped in mourning.

"Master Li," the butler bowed, hands folded respectfully. "How was your journey?"

Li Jie's gaze lingered on the fading horizon for a moment before he answered, clipped and soft.

"Good."

Another servant moved silently to the trunk, lifting out his luggage. Li Jie's eyes shifted past them, to the orchard that stretched in soft rows behind the mansion. Pear trees, their leaves trembling in the evening breeze, whispered like ghosts of memory.

"Preparations?" His voice, low and steady, carried no emotion, yet it made the butler stiffen slightly.

"All is arranged for Madam Li's remembrance day," the butler said, bowing his head.

Li Jie inhaled deeply, as though steadying something unspoken inside him, then began walking toward the orchard. His shoes crunched softly against the gravel path until the world narrowed into the quiet of the trees.

At the heart of the orchard, surrounded by young pear trees and beds of delicate blossoms, stood what remained of an old pear tree-its trunk hollowed by time, yet still upright, like a sentinel. Beside it lay a tombstone, weathered but clean, its engraved letters sharp against the marble.

He sank to a crouch before it, placing the roses gently at its base. His fingers brushed the carved name, lingering on the words as though they alone tethered him to this world:

In Memory of Beloved Wife

Li Chun

Born Jan 25, 1730 - Died June 19, 1750**

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. His thumb wiped across the etched characters tenderly, almost reverently.

"Chun-ah..." his voice softened into something human, something fragile. "I'm back."

His gaze lingered there, the faintest smile breaking through the stillness before fading again. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cold stone as though it could return the warmth he once knew.

"I'm sorry, Chun-ah. Again" his voice dropped to a whisper, "for not marrying you your way. But I couldn't let that cursed name follow you into the afterlife. You are Li Chun now... and always."

The orchard fell still, the wind dying for a heartbeat. And in that silence, time itself seemed to bend. His figure-unchanged across centuries-stood as the only proof of the impossible.

🦇🦇🦇 

Chapter Text

Li Jie lay sprawled across the wooden swing in the Li family’s garden, the late morning sun spilling over his pale face. A half-read book rested loosely on his chest, his breathing deep and even, as though he had dozed off in the middle of a page.

Soft footsteps approached. Chun came into view, a wicker basket hanging from her arm, a single red rose twirled between her fingers. She slowed when she saw him, the faintest smile curling her lips. Leaning close, she whispered near his ear, her voice a playful murmur:

“Li Lun, wake up.”

His lashes fluttered. He blinked himself awake, sitting up with unhurried grace and setting the book aside. Chun lowered herself onto the swing beside him, tucking the basket onto her lap. Without a word, she slipped the rose behind his ear.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” she teased, tilting her head.

He gave her a sidelong glance, lips quirking. “A bad habit. Picked up from you.”

Her eyes widened as she turned fully toward him. “A bad habit? How dare you say that!”

She pressed her palm over his chest, where no heartbeat stirred. “You may not have all emotions like us… or a heart that beats like ours…” Her voice softened, her gaze steady on his.

He looked down at her hand, then up into her eyes. She smiled and leaned in, wrapping her arms around him.

“…but that doesn’t mean you can’t pick up some habits from us,” she whispered against his shoulder. “Sleep is rest. No book ever said vampires mustn’t sleep, even if you don’t need it.”

For a moment, silence lingered, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. Li Lun’s arms closed around her in return, his chin resting lightly atop her head. The rose still clung to his ear, a foolish little adornment he made no effort to remove.

After a while, he murmured, “Then, why did you come so early?”

Chun raised her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ah—I almost forgot. I came for flowers.”

Soon the two of them wandered deeper into the garden, the air rich with fragrance. Li Lun clipped soft pink and white roses, careful with each stem, while Chun plucked only the red ones.

As he slipped one of his cut roses into her basket, he paused, frowning faintly. “Strange. I thought you disliked red roses. Why pick them now?”

Chun lingered over a bloom, her fingers brushing its velvet petals. “You’re right. I never liked them… they reminded me of my father.”

Li Lun stilled, silent for a moment before asking quietly, “Then why today?”

She smiled faintly, looking at him as if the answer was simple. “Because now, they remind me of you.”

He tilted his head, puzzled. “Me? How so?”

She rose from where she had been kneeling, stepped closer, and slipped the rose between his fingers. Her voice dropped into something almost wistful.

“That day, I followed a path of white roses—painted red with blood. I walked it, and it led me to you. Since then, red roses remind me of you.”

Their gazes met. For a heartbeat, the garden seemed to hold its breath. The silence stretched, warm and unspoken.

Then a voice shattered it. A strong male voice rang across the grounds:

“Zhuo Yi Chun!”

The roses in her hand trembled.

Li Jie jolted awake, chest heaving, his breath ragged as though he had run a mile. He sat up slowly, one hand dragging over his face, the remnants of the dream clinging stubbornly to him. For a long moment he sat still, shoulders hunched, before finally rising to dress for the day.

🦇🦇🦇

Spring Mansion 

That morning, Gong Yuanzhi’s car rolled to a stop before a grand gate buried deep in greenery. He checked the location on his phone twice to be sure. From the outside, it looked less like a mansion and more like a forest carved into the city’s heart. Even at the entrance, the garden stretched endlessly, a riot of flowering trees and plants.

He leaned out the window and pressed the bell. The intercom crackled, the butler’s voice clipped and formal.

“Who is it?”

Yuanzhi straightened. “I’m Gong Yuanzhi, Mr. Li’s new secretary.”

A metallic click, and the iron gate swung open.

As the car crawled forward through the long path, Yuanzhi’s eyes widened. “Woah… no wonder this place is called Spring.” His gaze roamed over the blooming gardens. But then he frowned. “But… why only red roses?”

The car came to a halt before the mansion porch. The butler was already waiting, stepping forward to open the door for him. Yuanzhi climbed out, still craning his neck at the towering house.

“Master Zhao informed me of your arrival,” the butler said smoothly. “You are still a student, correct?”

"Yes, I am." He nodded.

"I am Mo Yu. You can call me Mr. Mo." The butler said leading a head.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Mo." Yuanzhi replied distractedly, his eyes drinking in every detail. This house… he thought, like it walked straight out of a gothic novel. Red and black dominated the halls, every corner heavy with old-world solemnity.

And then something pulled his gaze taut.

A portrait hung against the wall, oddly misplaced amidst the mansion’s aesthetic. A girl in white, a red rose in her hand. She didn’t belong to this somber palette. She was light, alive.

Yuanzhi stopped walking, his eyes fixed on her.

The butler noticed, turning back. His steps slowed as he tapped lightly on Yuanzhi’s shoulder.

“Who is she?” Yuanzhi asked quietly.

The butler’s expression shifted, the faintest heaviness entering his voice. “…Madam Li.”

Yuanzhi’s brows lifted. He repeated softly, “Madam Li… Mr. Li’s—?”

Before the question could finish, a calm but firm voice descended from the stairway.

“You came early.”

Both turned.

Li Jie was descending, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced elegance. His gaze flicked over Yuanzhi, studying him with unsettling precision.

Yuanzhi quickly bowed. “Good morning, Mr. Li.”

Li Jie stepped down the last stair, his expression unreadable. “…Morning.”

The butler broke the silence. “I’ll see to your table, Master Li.”

Li Jie gave a brief nod, and Yuanzhi dipped politely to the butler before following his employer into the dining hall.

“You were told by Zhao Yuanzhou to pick me from here?” Li Jie asked, settling into his chair.

“Yes,” Yuanzhi replied.

“Daily.” Li Jie turned to look at Yuanzhi.

"Yes." He tilted his head a little.

Li Jie’s gaze lingered on him a second longer. Yuanzhi only smiled, blinking back as though it were nothing.

“Have you had breakfast?” Li Jie asked, gesturing toward the table. “You may join.”

Yuanzhi shook his head lightly. “No, thank you, Mr. Li. I already ate.”

The butler interjected smoothly, “If you’re to fetch Master Li daily, it would be proper to take your breakfast here as well. Right, Master Li?”

Li Jie took a bite of his food, giving a small nod.

Yuanzhi bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

He turned to excuse himself—then froze. His eyes had snagged on a basket of pears resting on the table.

Li Jie noticed. “Do you like those?”

Yuanzhi turned, startled. He nodded with a smile. “Yes.”

The fork paused halfway to Li Jie’s lips. His eyes narrowed, voice low. “Why?”

Yuanzhi turned to Li Jie, "What?"

"Why do you like those?" He repeated.

Yuanzhi hesitated, fingers tightening on the strap of his sling bag. “Ah… I don’t like all pears, just the sweet ones. My dad said… my mom used to eat sweet pears a lot when she was carrying me. Maybe that’s why I like them.”

For the first time, Li Jie’s lips softened into a smile. It was fleeting, but Butler Mo caught it. At once, Li Jie straightened.

“Mr. Mo. Let him take that basket.”

Yuanzhi panicked slightly, waving his hands. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”

“They’re sweet,” the butler said kindly, already moving.

“I—really—” Yuanzhi’s protest collapsed into a helpless expression.

Li Jie’s gaze sharpened. “Are you planning to disobey your boss on your first day?”

Yuanzhi stiffened. “…I’ll take them with me. This evening.”

Li Jie inclined his head. “Good.”

Butler Mo placed a pear in Yuanzhi’s hands anyway. “At least taste one.”

Caught, Yuanzhi bit into it. Sweet juice flooded his mouth, and despite himself, he smiled. He looked at Li Jie and said softly, “I’ll wait in the living room.” Then, clutching the pear, he hurried out.

Once outside, he muttered under his breath, “Great, Yuanzhi. You’ve managed to ruin your first impressions. With both your bosses." 

Back in the dining hall, Li Jie’s eyes lingered on the direction Yuanzhi had gone. The faintest curve touched his lips.

“…Interesting.”

🦇🦇🦇

Spring Garage

Yuanzhi followed Butler Mo’s instructions, the car key cold in his palm. He stepped into the dim garage, the automatic lights flickering on one by one. His jaw dropped as row after row of gleaming silhouettes came into view.

“Woahhh…” he let out, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy shop. “What is this place? Heaven for cars?”

On the left, resting under a glass canopy, stood something that hardly looked like a car at all. Three wheels, spindly like a carriage, with brass fittings catching the dim light. Yuanzhi's mouth opened like he was in a daze, "Benz Motorwagen, 1886. The first of its kind,” he murmured, almost reverently.

A few steps later—

“Mercedes 300SL Gullwing, 1957! Are you kidding me?”

Then another—

“Jaguar E-Type, 1963. The most beautiful car ever made… damn, Li Jie.”

His awe was interrupted by a soft crackle from the speaker on the wall.

“Mr. Gong, are you alright in there?” Butler Mo’s voice echoed gently.

Yuanzhi blinked, looking around like he’d been caught sneaking snacks.

“A-ah, yeah, yeah, office. I should leave before I faint from envy. God! Being rich itself is a flex..."

He clicked the key fob in his hand. A sleek black Lamborghini Temerario beeped and its headlights flashed alive. Yuanzhi grinned.

“Ahh, you are mine for today."

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he whispered dramatically into the mirror:

“What’s your superpower, Mr. Li?”

He smirked, answering himself in a gravelly Batman voice:

“…I’m rich.”

The engine roared to life, smooth and thunderous. As the garage doors lifted, Yuanzhi eased the car out with a flourish. Butler Mo stood by, Li Jie at the porch steps.

Li Jie slid in without a word, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, cream pants neat as ever. He glanced once at Yuanzhi, who still clutched the wheel like he’d been caught stealing it.

“Don’t stall it,” Li Jie said coolly, fastening his seatbelt.

Yuanzhi blinked. “I won't Mr. Li.?!” he said covering his excitement.

Butler Mo stood there with hands folded neatly, watching them. Yuanzhi, give him a deep bow, as if he were some dashing nobleman.

Butler Mo gave a tiny, approving nod in return.

Then Yuanzhi revved the engine, grinning again. “Alright, buckle up, Bruce Wayne. Gotham awaits.”

The car purred out through the Spring's gate, its black frame gleaming like a shadow.

🦇🦇🦇

The city stretched wide under the morning haze, the car slicing through its veins of steel and glass.

Li Jie sat back, one hand against his chin. His voice broke the silence.

“Did you chart today’s program?”

“Yes, sir.” Yuanzhi pulled the tablet from his bag and handed it across. His tone was brisk, professional. “By eleven you have a meeting with Eterna’s hospital board. Mr. Zhao said he’ll meet you there directly. At one, an invitation-only luncheon with Councilman Fang…”

Li Jie’s brow flickered. “Fang Shuren?”

“Yes, sir.”

Yuanzhi scrolled further. “And by three, the discussion on the new apartment complex project in Shanghai. That concludes today’s official events.”

Li Jie nodded once. “Okay.”

Yuanzhi hesitated, lips parting, then pressing back together.

Li Jie glanced sideways. “And?”

“Miss Wen Xiao asked me to remind you,” Yuanzhi said carefully, “that if you plan to cancel any of these, she needs a heads-up. So she can prepare the apology—and the excuse.”

Li Jie didn’t respond. 

Yuanzhi raised a brow at the lack of reply, then pressed his lips together and faced the road again.

The car hummed in silence, broken only by the soft voice of the radio that cut in mid-broadcast:

“—the Blood Moon of the century is approaching. Astronomers confirm the lunar eclipse will be visible across most of Asia this Friday night. Traditionally, blood moons are said to be nights when evil gains its strongest power…”

Li Jie’s gaze drifted sharply toward the speaker. Yuanzhi muttered, half to himself, “This again…”

The voice continued: “But the chronicles of the old hunters tell another story—once every hundred years, the century Blood Moon weakens their strength. On this night, their defenses falter, their blood thins, and they can be hunted.”

Li Jie lowered his head, shadows of memory pressing on him.

“…Creatures of the night—vampires, demons, revenants—”

The word stuck like glass in the air.

With a quick flick, Yuanzhi snapped the radio off. The sudden silence rang louder than the voice had.

Li Jie froze, staring ahead for a beat. Then, softly: “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Yuanzhi said too quickly, shifting in his seat.

But Li Jie’s eyes lingered on him through the rearview mirror. Yuanzhi shifted in his seat, then forced a light chuckle. “It’s just… I’ve heard a lot about it.”

“How?” Li Jie asked.

“My cousin,” Yuanzhi replied, forcing a chuckle. “She’s doing her master’s in cultural studies—folklore. She’s obsessed with this stuff. Blood moons, vampires, old prophecies, all that gothic nonsense.”

Li Jie gave a faint nod. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that.” Yuanzhi’s fingers drummed absently on the steering wheel. “As stories, sure. But when people start twisting natural phenomena into proof of monsters…” He shook his head. “It feels… lazy. Unscientific.”

Li Jie’s gaze stayed steady. “You’re right.”

Yuanzhi went on, words tumbling now that he’d started: “And these hunters they glorify? Even if any of this were true—killing something just because they say it's evil? That’s not protection. That’s murder.”

Li Jie’s silence deepened, his expression unreadable.

Yuanzhi went on, voice firmer now. “If you kill something unarmed, something that hasn’t attacked you, just because a story says it’s evil—then you’re the evil one. Not the protector. And I won’t say all, but most hunters people glorify through stories? They’re like that.”

The car filled with quiet.

Li Jie’s gaze soft

ened, eyes on the young man reflected in the mirror. For a heartbeat, the weight of centuries pressed against his chest.

Then he looked away. 

Yuanzhi, oblivious to the silence he’d stirred, began humming a half-forgotten tune as the car rolled past the gates of Eterna.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Eterna Office

The office was quiet except for the scratch of papers. Yuanzhi moved methodically, preparing files and cross-checking details for the upcoming meeting. Across the room, Li Jie sat in his cabin, his gaze fixed not on the documents but on the window, where heavy clouds gathered over the city sky-threatening rain but holding it back.

His vision blurred. The clouds seemed to bleed red.

🦇

1749 Tiandu

The woods stretched deep and dark, shadows tangled between the trunks. Li Lun staggered, blood soaking through his clothes, hunter's arrows jutting from his body.

With a sharp breath, he snapped the shaft lodged in his chest, the crack echoing through the trees. His fingers trembled as he wrenched the other from his thigh, his breath hitching. Pain dragged him down-he collapsed against the ground, eyes fluttering shut.

The silence pressed heavy. Then-soft steps. Leaves crunching. Someone approaching.

In an instant, Li Lun slipped into the shadows, breath shallow.

A young woman entered the clearing, carrying a bag, her gaze tracing the trail of blood. She stopped where he had lain, tilted her head, and placed a finger thoughtfully against her chin.

"Did he vanish into the air from here?" she murmured to herself.

A blur. Li Lun seized her from behind, the broken arrow pressed to her neck.

She shrieked, "Ahhh-!" trying to twist free.

"Don't move," he hissed, his grip tightening.

Her hands shot up in surrender. Then, with a breathless laugh of recognition, she blurted, "Ah-it's you."

Li Lun's brows knitted. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Confident, almost careless, she answered, "I am Zhuo Yi Chun. My gege asked me to check on you."

Li Lun's lip curled in bitter amusement despite the pain. "How wicked the Zhuos are-attack me when I'm defenseless, then send the young lady to make sure I'm dead." He chuckled darkly.

Her gaze dropped, unamused. "Don't run your mouth. My gege asked me to help you."

"Help me?" His smirk deepened, though his eyes burned. "How kind. But tell me-how did you get here? Humans can't pass this threshold."

Without warning, she reached for the broken arrow lodged in his chest. "May be I am not one," she yanked it free.

Li Jie screamed, voice ragged, "Ahh-have you lost your mind?!"

She only studied the arrow, then his blood. "So. You do feel pain... and bleed." Her tone was almost amused.

He clutched his chest, swaying. His vision dimmed, his body threatening to fold. Chun caught his hand quickly, steadying him down onto the earth.

"Oh-oh, sit, don't fall."

Through the haze of agony, Li Lun managed a crooked smile. "My first time... seeing a hunter helping its prey. Tell me-why?"

She pressed a white cloth firmly against his wound. His breath hitched hard at the contact.

"My gege says hunters are protectors," she said softly. "Ones who stand against evil. To hunt an innocent who has caused no harm-that isn't protecting. That's murder. And..." her voice lowered, almost teasing, "he said you're a bookworm who loves running around in the wild. Hunting you wouldn't leave a good mark on us."

Li Lun closed his eyes, a faint smile ghosting his lips despite the pain. "Only because of your gege, then? But tell me... do you think it's okay?"

She sighed, meeting his gaze. For a long moment, she didn't look away. "I did. Until I reached here."

His head tilted faintly. "And now?"

Her eyes held his, unflinching. Then, gently, she laid one hand over his wound and with the other, covered his eyes.

He tried to push her hand away, but she whispered, "Don't. Don't move."

And the world began to fade-until a knock shattered the memory.

🦇

Li Jie jolted upright, breath heavy. The room was gray again, only clouds, only the office.

Yuanzhi stepped in with a stack of files. "Mr. Li, this is the report from Eterna Hospital. Mr. Zhao asked you to check it before the meeting." He stopped mid-sentence, staring at Li Jie.

Li Jie raised his eyes slowly. "And?"

"Are you... okay, Mr. Li? You look pale. Sweating. Should I bring you something to drink?"

Silence stretched. Finally, Li Jie murmured, "Get me something cold."

"On it." Yuanzhi left and returned with a glass of fresh juice. He stayed at Li Jie's side until the man had drained it.

"Sir," Yuanzhi ventured, "if you're not well, we can request the meeting online. You don't look good enough to take the ride."

Li Jie smiled faintly, a practiced smile. "I'm good enough. Is everything ready?"

Yuanzhi nodded. "Yes, sir."

Li Jie stood, collected his things, and walked out. Yuanzhi followed him, silent but watchful.

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Hospital - Noon

The hospital courtyard was quiet except for the muffled hum of traffic beyond its gates. Noon sunlight, under the dark cloud felt like the morning sunrise, against the tall windows, drawing reflections across the tiled floor where Li Jie stood with Zhao Yuanzhou.

"It's been almost two decades," Zhao Yuanzhou said, his tone low but steady, "since Fang Shuren asked us both to meet him together."

Li Jie gave a dry laugh, eyes narrowing slightly. "I could say something unpleasant is stirring the moment I heard his name."

Yuanzhou's gaze shifted toward the light outside. "The Black Bloods are stirring trouble across the country. Hunters are subduing more than usual. Zhuo's are keeping it straight not going for the reds, who are safe with human. But the new groups across are not keeping that ethics."

Li Jie turned to the tall window, watching the bustling street below. His reflection stared back at him faintly in the glass. "Never thought Zhuo still produced decent hunters. Looks like Zhuo Yi Xuan give them some good guidance before he passed." he muttered, the corner of his mouth lifting in a visible snicker.

Yuanzhou didn't return the smile. "If hunters and Black Bloods were the real problem, Shuren wouldn't have summoned us. It's more than that."

Just then, the sharp honk of a car horn carried in from the hospital gates. Yuanzhi had brought the vehicle around.

The two of them stepped out of the hospital's glass doors, sunlight spilling warm across the white pavement. Yuanzhi lowered glass on the driver's side window, half-humming under his breath, when suddenly he lifted his hand high in a cheerful wave.

Across the driveway stood a man in a white coat, middle-aged yet strikingly sharp, his hair untouched with silver. The man's eyes lit up the moment he spotted Yuanzhi, and he returned the wave with boyish enthusiasm.

Li Jie and Yuanzhou exchanged a glance before sliding into the car.

"You let him drive this?" Yuanzhou teased as he slid into the backseat, running his hand appreciatively over the leather interior. "So you are fine with my choice after all."

Li Jie gave him a side glance, his voice even. "I'm still testing him. It's only been three hours into his job."

Yuanzhou's nod was half smug, half knowing - as if he'd expected that answer all along.

Yuanzhi caught Li Jie's reflection in the rearview mirror, holding it for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then, without a word, he turned the ignition and guided the car smoothly into the noon traffic.

For a while, only silence stretched between them.

At last, Li Jie spoke, his tone carefully casual.
"Who was that?"

Yuanzhi blinked. "Who, sir?"

"That doctor," Li Jie clarified, eyes forward. "The one who waved at you."

"Oh." Yuanzhi brightened. "That's my Dad. He works here. Cardiology department."

Yuanzhou's tilted his head slightly at Yuanzhi's words. "Gong Shangjue," he said slowly. "Surgeon in cardiology?"

"Yes, Mr. Zhao." Yuanzhi nodded quickly.

"Ah," Yuanzhou gave a small laugh, almost to himself. "Right. It was in your resume. No wonder your name sounded familiar."

Yuanzhi only hummed in reply.

Li Jie's eyes flickered toward Yuanzhou, as though searching his face for something unspoken, before settling back on Yuanzhi. After a beat, he asked quietly,
"And your family? What about them?"

"My family?" Yuanzhi tilted his head, then gave a soft smile. "It's just me, Dada, and Maa. Maa is from Xindu."

He paused. His fingers drummed over the stearing. "And Dada... he's an orphan. Graduated on a scholarship. They met each other at the Uni."

For a moment, the car was still. Neither Li Jie nor Yuanzhou spoke, though something wordless passed between their eyes.

Yuanzhi caught their silence in the rearview mirror and gave a faint smile, as if trying to lighten the weight pressing in.

🦇🦇🦇

Jade Moon Teahouse

The car rolled to a halt before a quiet, old-style restaurant tucked between modern glass towers. Its wooden beams, lantern-lit eaves, and carved sliding doors carried a timeless air.

Yuanzhou pushed open the door and said lightly, "Get out."

Yuanzhi hesitated, his eyes sweeping over the elegant facade. "Mr. Zhao... this place looks too expensive. I'll grab something outside."

Before Yuanzhou could reply, Li Jie's voice cut in, flat and cold from the backseat. "I reserved you a table here. Have your lunch... or hand me your resignation."

Yuanzhi turned, staring at him in disbelief. His mouth opened as if to argue, then shut again. Slowly, he glanced toward Yuanzhou, searching for backup.

Yuanzhou bit down on a laugh, raising his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug that said plainly: Don't look at me, I know nothing.

Li Jie opened the door without another glance. "Zhao Yuanzhou. Come."

The two men stepped into the restaurant, the soft chime of wind-bells greeting them. Behind them, Yuanzhi followed reluctantly, guided by a hostess to a side table prepared for him alone.

The lunch table stretched longer than Yuanzhi's patience. Plate after plate had been placed before him-steamed fish, duck braised in soy, bowls of greens gleaming with sesame oil, and more varieties of dumplings than one man could name. He had taken only a few polite bites before leaning his cheek against his palm, eyes half-lidded, elbow propped like he was holding up the entire room.

When the hostess appeared, asking softly if everything was to his taste, Yuanzhi straightened, almost embarrassed by his own lethargy.

"Could you... perhaps wrap the rest for me?" His voice was careful, polite but edged with the exhaustion of someone who hadn't asked for this banquet.

The woman blinked, then smiled and inclined her head. "Of course."

He watched as she began wrapping the untouched dishes, her hands deft and practiced. For a moment, Yuanzhi allowed his gaze to linger on the rhythm of the work-the quiet swish of paper, the faint knotting of string. When she was done, the table looked suddenly bare, as if the feast had been a trick of the eye all along.

With a small bow of thanks, he rose, bags in hand, and slipped out. Outside, the sun was high-bright. He exhaled, squared his shoulders, and made his way toward the parking where the car waited.

🦇🦇🦇

Inside a private tatami room at the back, Fang Shuren rose from his seat the moment Li Jie and Zhoa Yuan Zhou entered. He wore a dark, understated changshan, his demeanor respectful. "Master Li. Master Zhao. Please, sit."

They took their places across from him, the lacquered table already set with porcelain cups. Shuren himself poured the tea, offering it with both hands.

Li Jie set the cup untouched on the table, his eyes steady. "What's the matter, Shuren? Why call us so urgently?"

Shuren hesitated, his hand lingering over the teapot before withdrawing. His voice was measured but tight. "Master... the Hunter blood has resurfaced."

Yuanzhou's eyes widened. "What?"

Li Jie did not move, though his silence pressed heavily into the room.

"Are you sure it's the Hunter blood?" Yuanzhou pressed.

"Yes, Master Zhao," Shuren replied, bowing his head. "We have verified its presence. But..."

"You couldn't find who that person is," Li Jie finished for him, voice cutting clean.

Shuren inclined his head, shame shadowing his face.

Yuanzhou frowned, incredulous. "How is that possible?"

Shuren's hands tightened on the papers before him. "The Zhuo family had many mixed children in the past two or three decades. After the death of Zhuo Yichun-"

Li Jie's gaze sharpened, icy enough to freeze the words in Shuren's throat.

"...forgive me, Master Li," he murmured quickly, before continuing. "After the last Hunter blood, Madam Li, Li Chu, the then-head Zhuo Yixuan, enforced a rule: pure lineage only, forbidding successors from marrying outside. But the new generation strayed. Many broke ties, many had mixed-blood children."

Yuanzhou exhaled sharply. "So one of them is the Hunter blood."

"Yes, Master," Shuren confirmed, sliding a folder across the table. Inside was a list of names. "We are tracing them, but many have cut themselves off completely. Some are scattered abroad."

Li Jie's fingers brushed the paper, scanning the names. His tone was low. "The blood moon is close. More like in eight days."

Yuanzhou's jaw tightened. "And a mature Hunter blood awakens under blood moons. Tracking with this many possibilities-"

"-is nearly impossible," Li Jie said, his voice flat. "A mature Hunter blood can be both cure and curse to vampires. If we fail to find them, they will either die in the hands of Black Bloods... or be turned into a weapon by hunters."

Yuanzhou nodded grimly. "Then the Zhuo must already be on alert. Other hunters would have definitely layed their net."

Li Jie's gaze froze on one name: Zhuo Shangjue. His finger tapped the red mark beside it. "Why is this name highlighted?"

Yuanzhou leaned forward as well.

Shuren lowered his head. "Zhuo Shangjue... I asked those who once knew the Zhuos. They say he died at twenty. Records confirm his death. The red mark is just to signify-there's nothing more to pursue."

For a moment, silence hung in the room. Then Li Jie rose smoothly to his feet, his face unreadable. Yuanzhou followed without hesitation.

"Find the one, Shuren," Li Jie said quietly, his tone carrying more weight than any order. "I will not allow what happened to Chun to repeat."

Shuren bowed deeply, fists clenched. "I will do everything to uncover them before the blood moon."

Yuanzhou added, "You'll have all the support you need. Whatever it takes."

Shuren remained kneeling as the two men left the room, the quiet clink of porcelain settling into the heavy air.

🦇🦇🦇

They stepped out of the restaurant, the late noon sun glinting off the parked cars. In the driver's seat, Yuanzhi sat slumped against the wheel, fast asleep.

Li Jie leaned in through the open window, his eyes fixed on the young man's face, but he said nothing.

Zhao Yuanzhou glanced at him. "What did you feed him?"

He tapped Yuanzhi's shoulder. The boy stirred, mumbling in a drowsy voice, "Hunter blood... mixed with wolfsbane... can kill vampires."

Both men froze. Their eyes flicked toward each other, silent alarm passing between them. Yuanzhou's hand lingered on Yuanzhi's shoulder.

A second later, Yuanzhi blinked awake, rubbing his temple. "Ah-Mr. Zhao, sorry. The meal was too heavy."

Neither Li Jie nor Yuanzhou replied. They simply got into the back seat. Without comment, the car slipped into the thickening traffic.

For a while, only the hum of engines filled the air. Then Yuanzhou cleared his throat. "Yuanzhi."

"Yes, Mr. Zhao? Should I stop somewhere?"

Yuanzhou shook his head. "No. Just now-you mentioned something about hunter blood and vampires. What was that?"

"Oh..." Yuanzhi hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "That must've been me half-asleep. I was reading my cousin's project, probably slipped into my dreams. Nothing serious."

Li Jie's eyes flicked to him in the rearview mirror. "The same cousin you mentioned this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

Yuanzhou leaned back, studying the passing skyline. "Seems she knows quite a lot. Not many people are aware of hunter blood... or wolfsbane."

Yuanzhi gave a nervous laugh. "She's a little obsessed. Once dragged me into a cemetery at midnight, saying if we were lucky, we'd find ghosts or vampires."

For the first time, Yuanzhou smiled faintly. "And? Did you?"

"Of course not." Yuanzhi shrugged, then chuckled. "But it looks like you two are into these things, too."

Li Jie nodes quite. "Yeah. We do have... a certain interest."

"No wonder your house looks like Wednesday Addams' place," Yuanzhi said without thinking.

The words left his mouth and he froze, breath hitching. His lips pressed shut as he sank lower into his seat.

Yuanzhou stifled a laugh, looking out the window.

Li Jie's expression didn't waver, his voice calm but edged. "Is it that bad?"

Yuanzhi swallowed hard. "No, sir."

Li Jie turned to Yuanzhou. "It's called aesthetic, Addams home or not." His gaze snapped back to Yuanzhi.

"Yes sir." Yuanzhi gulped.

"Now drive. Eyes on the road."

"Yes, sir." Yuanzhi's hands tightened on the wheel.

Beside him, Yuanzhou coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking as he tried to smother his laughter.

Li Jie's eyes remained on the rearview mirror, his face unreadable. The boy's careless words echoed longer than they should have. An Addams home. Darkness. Aesthetic.

Once, those things had nothing to do with him.

The thought slipped past his guard before he could stop it, and suddenly the glass of the window was no longer reflecting the crowded city streets, but the pale shimmer of another world.

White blossoms drifted across an open field, their petals catching in his hair. He remembered sitting beneath a sycamore tree, a book balanced on his knees, his attire a shade of cream that caught the sun like water. Chun had laughed at him that day, teasing that he looked more like a scholar lost in poems than the heir of a great house.

And he had laughed too-freely, without the weight that now pressed on his chest.

🦇🦇🦇

1749 Tiandu Countryside

For three days, Chun had walked the narrow dirt path cutting through the wild fields. And for three days, a single white rose lay waiting for her, always fresh, always placed with deliberate care. At first she thought it coincidence - perhaps the wind had carried it from some hidden garden. But when the third bloom appeared in the exact same spot, her steps slowed.

This time, she bent down, lifted the rose gently, and held it to her nose. The faint sweetness lingered on her breath, drawing an unguarded smile to her lips. "Li Lun?" she called softly.

The next day, instead of walking past, she left a slip of folded paper tucked beneath the bloom: "If you wish to keep leaving these, then meet me by the stream."

When Li Lun came later, he saw the note, and for the first time in many long weeks, a smile broke across his usually solemn face.

That afternoon, Chun waited by the running stream, toes brushing the cool water. When he appeared, carrying not another rose but a few worn books under his arm, she lifted a brow.

"You're the culprit," she said, half a laugh in her voice.

"And you accepted the crime," Li Lun replied, holding up one of the books. "My punishment is to read to you, it seems."

She shook her head, amused. "White roses and books? You're not very subtle."

"I wasn't trying to be," he admitted, settling beside her on the grass. "I only hoped you'd notice."

From then on, the roses became a promise. Some days, she found them waiting still, even when they had already agreed to meet.

🦇

On another morning, Chun's laughter floated down from the branches of an old mulberry tree. She sat cross-legged on a thick bough, her skirt brushing against the leaves as she leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"You'll fall," Li Lun called up, his arms folded but the corner of his lips betraying a smile.

"I won't," Chun teased, plucking a leaf and letting it drift down toward him. "You're the one who's always afraid."

"Not afraid," he answered, stepping closer until the shadow of the tree covered him, "just cautious. If you break a bone, who will read with me by the stream?"

At that, she giggled and climbed down lightly, landing in front of him with the elegance of someone who had grown up with the fields

Chapter Text

Eterna Boardroom 

The boardroom at Eterna was silent except for the soft shuffle of papers. Yuanzhou and Li Jie sat across the long glass table, their discussion clipped and efficient, while Yuanzhi lingered near the end-quiet, watchful. After a while, Yuanzhi excused himself, slipping out into the corridor.

He sank onto the narrow table just outside the boardroom, his gaze inevitably drawn back through the glass wall. Li Jie sat composed, shoulders squared, every gesture neat and measured. His face was unreadable, the sort of stillness that felt more like stone than man. Yuanzhi found himself staring longer than he should.

"Yuanzhi."

The sound of his name startled him. Wen Xiao stood nearby, a folder in her hands. He straightened, meeting her eyes.

"One of our overseas client requested to meet Mr. Li," she said lightly. "Check if his schedule for next week allows it."

Yuanzhi nodded. "I'll look into it."

She was about to walk away when he called after her. "Miss Wen-"

She paused, tilting her head.

"Is Mr. Li always this... indifferent?" Yuanzhi asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. "Hard to talk to? The whole day, I think I only saw him smile once."

Something flickered across Wen Xiao's face. She studied him for a moment, then asked softly, "You saw him smile?"

Yuanzhi frowned, not sure what kind of question that was. "Yes."

Her gaze softened, though the curve of her mouth carried a trace of sadness. "He wasn't like this before. He was always cheerful. Books and flowers-those were his world once."

Yuanzhi blinked at her words, then let out a low breath. "Books and flowers, huh? For flowers, I've seen Spring. And the red rose garden."

Wen Xiao's lips curved, though her smile never reached her eyes.

He hesitated, then asked, "By the way... do you know who is in the portrait in his house? Mr. Mo said it was Madam Li."

That question drew a deep breath from her. She turned back to him, her smile faint, deliberate. "Do you know why Mr. Li's last secretary was fired?"

Yuanzhi shook his head.

"For prying into his private matters," Wen Xiao said evenly. Her eyes held his for a moment. "If you don't want to repeat the mistake..."

Yuanzhi glanced away, swallowing the weight of her warning. He turned toward the computer at his side. "I'll get you the schedule within an hour."

Her smile softened. "Good." And she walked away.

Left alone again, Yuanzhi swiveled his chair slightly, letting his gaze slip back to the man inside the boardroom. Li Jie was still speaking, still composed, a figure sealed away behind glass.

"But who is she, really..." Yuanzhi murmured under his breath. The question sat heavy for a moment, before he shook his head. "No. It doesn't matter. For me, this job is what's important."

He turned back to his work, forcing his eyes away from the man behind the glass.

🦇🦇🦇

Spring l Evening 

The office hours wound down with the sky outside painted in soft lilac. Yuanzhi gathered his things and escorted Li Jie to Spring. At the entrance, he politely greeted butler Mo. Behind them, Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao followed at a leisurely pace.

When they reached the steps, Yuanzhi turned, gave a polite bow, and said his goodbyes to both Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao. He had just started walking toward his car when a voice called out.

"Yuanzhi."

He turned. "What is it, Mr. Li?"

Li Jie tilted his head slightly, his expression calm yet faintly teasing. "I think you forgot something."

Yuanzhi blinked. "Did I?" He stepped closer, curious.

Li Jie's gaze flickered toward butler Mo. "Pears."

There was the faintest hitch in Yuanzhi's breath as he exhaled, "Ah... pears."

From the side, Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao exchanged a look. A ghost of a smile tugged at Li Jie's lips, while Wen Xiao's brows arched in faint surprise.

Butler Mo quietly emerged with a neat basket. Yuanzhi accepted it with both hands, stepping back respectfully. "Then I'll take my leave." He hesitated, then added carefully, "Do you have any plans for weakened, Mr. Li. Shall I drive you somewhere tomorrow?"

Li Jie gave him a sideways glance. "Yuanzhi, you're my secretary, not a chauffeur."

"I don't mind," Yuanzhi said lightly, his eyes drifting toward the path that led to Li Jie's private garage.

Yuanzhou chose that moment to cut in, his tone half-playful, half-probing. "Why? Do you like Spring that much?"

Li Jie's gaze sharpened ever so slightly. "Zhao Yuanzhou, what do you mean? Isn't this Addams' home? How would he even like it?"

"Addams' home?" Wen Xiao echoed, brows furrowed.

Yuanzhi stepped in quickly, his voice composed. "I mean the aesthetic, Miss Wen. Mr. Li's aesthetic-it's striking. The interior, the color palette, the garden... especially the red roses. Those roses really remind me of your dominant, unyielding aura, Mr. Li."

Silence dropped like a stone. The three of them-Li Jie, Yuanzhou, Wen Xiao-stood very still, eyes fixed on Yuanzhi.

"...Mr. Li?" Yuanzhi prompted softly.

Li Jie took in a quiet breath, then, to their surprise, his lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then you can come tomorrow."

"Hah?" Yuanzhi blinked, caught off guard.

"Come," Li Jie repeated smoothly, "and keep Mr. Mo company. He'll teach you how to make dumplings."

Yuanzhi's awkward smile slipped out before he could hide it. "Ah... it's fine. I'll pass." Just then, his phone buzzed. He picked it up quickly. "Yes, Maa, I'm leaving now."

He lowered the call, bowed politely to them all, gave Mr. Mo a small wave, and slipped into his car, the tail lights disappearing into the lavender dusk.

🦇

The three of them stepped inside. Wen Xiao's eyes lingered on Li Jie for a moment too long, a shadow of something unspoken flickering across her gaze. The thought of the dumplings pulled her back-reminding her of another time, another beginning.

It was the day she first met Zhuo Yi Chun.

Back then, at the House of Li, Li Lun had come to the front door with a carefully wrapped bamboo basket in his hands. At his side, Chun clung lightly to his sleeve, half-doubtful, half-determined.

On the threshold, they were met by Chu Zhao (Wen Xiao). Her eyes moved from Li Lun to the girl beside him, curious and guarded.

Li Lun, with his usual easy brightness, introduced them. "This is Zhuo Yi Chun," he said, his voice full of warmth. "And this-" he turned to Chun, "-is Chu Zhao."

Then, without hesitation, he held out the bamboo basket. "Chun-ah made these for us."

Chu Zhao accepted it, her lips curving into a polite smile as she glanced at the bundle and then at them. Li Lun, already brimming with restless energy, added, "We're going to the fields to read."

Chun bowed slightly, her voice soft but sincere. "Bye, Zhao jiejie." And she followed after Li Lun, her steps quick to match his.

Chu Zhao stood there a moment longer, the weight of the basket in her hands somehow heavier than it should be. Then, wordless, she turned and carried it upstairs.

There, behind the curtain of the upper window, Zhu Yan was watching. Below, Chun and Li Lun walked side by side, careless of the world that watched them. She leaned into him with the unguarded ease of someone who had found her place; he, with a rare softness in his gaze, let her laughter tug him away from the solitude that once defined him.

Zhu Yan stood by the window, watching the pair with a faint, knowing smile. He did not stir until Chu Zhao's footsteps sounded beside him. She the set basket on the near table.

"Zhu Yan," Chu Zhao said, her voice low but edged with unease, "do you really think it's wise to let Li Lun get attached to her?"

Zhu Yan did not turn at once. His eyes lingered on the two below, the fragile moment painted across the fields. At last, he murmured, "Why not?"

Her brows knit. "You really don't know?" She gestured toward the grassland where the couple stood. "Li Lun has never cared for anything beyond books and the quiet of nature. I thought that keeping him to himself would end him alone-but this... this is different. What happens when it ends?"

At that, Zhu Yan left the window and moved with unhurried grace to a nearby chair. He sat as though the matter bore no weight at all. "I understand your worry," he said calmly. "But I see no harm in him loving her."

Chu Zhao followed, sinking into the seat opposite him with a sigh. Her gaze was sharp, insistent. "Zhu Yan, she is one of the Zhuo's. If they discover this, what then? Yes, we are strong enough to fight-but she is still human. How long could she possibly stay with him? Forty years, perhaps fifty, while he has eternity. And you know well-turning a human into one of us is forbidden in our kin."

Her last words carried both fear and reproach.

Zhu Yan chuckled softly, the sound startling in the quiet chamber. Chu Zhao's irritation flared, but before she could speak, he answered:

"It is forbidden, yes," he said, eyes glinting. "But it will not be necessary. Because she is not wholly human."

Chu Zhao stilled, her breath caught. "...What do you mean?"

Zhu Yan leaned back, watching her with deliberate calm. "Her mother was Zhuo. Her father, one of us. She is not a pure Zhuo, nor an ordinary mortal."

The silence deepened, heavy with the weight of revelation.

"A dhampir*," Chu Zhao whispered.

Zhu Yan inclined his head. "Exactly."

Chu Zhao leaned back against the chair, her gaze steady on Zhu Yan. "If Zhuo Yi Chun is really a dhampir," she asked, voice edged with suspicion, "why would the Zhuo family let her live this long?"

For a moment, the only sound was the faint rustle of the curtains by the window. Zhu Yan drew in a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly. "Probably because a dhampir can be turned into an efficient hunter," he murmured. His eyes flickered, shadowed with a thought he didn't speak at once. Then, after a pause, he added, "Or maybe... because of the power she carries."

Chu Zhao's head tilted. "Power?"

Zhu Yan nodded, rising from his chair. He paced to the window, hands clasped behind his back, his posture taut. Down below, Li Lun and Yi Chun were still visible in the field, their figures small against the sweep of green. He spoke without turning. "She has healing ability. Must've been passed down from her father."

The words hung between them, weighty and unsettling, until Chu Zhao broke her gaze from Zhu Yan and looked away, silent.

The memory blurred at its edges-Li Lun's smile lingering in Wen Xiao's mind longer than it should, the bamboo basket, the soft voice of Chun calling jiejie...

Yuanzhou's voice cut through the haze, steady and clipped. Wen Xiao blinked, the past retreating, replaced by the sober quiet of Spring Mansion's study.

"Fang Shuren called," Yuanzhou said, hands folded neatly in his lap. "Most of those who left the Zhuo family maintain some contact with the main house. But there are others..." He paused, his tone hardening. "Others who have gone so far as to change their names, their very identities-completely severing ties. Shuren is using his political reach to trace them."

Li Jie tapped a finger against the armrest, his gaze unreadable. "Not a plausible solution-not with the time we have."

Wen Xiao exhaled slowly, her brows knitting. "Have you considered... the hunterblood might be a dhampir?"

That word froze the air. Yuanzhou and Li Jie exchanged a sharp glance.

Li Jie rose, his movements deliberate. "For now," he said, pacing toward the window, "none from Zhuo's main bloodline have ever... connected with one of ours."

His steps slowed near a table where a vase of roses stood, their petals sagging, edges browned. His gaze lingered on them. He raised a hand, palm hovering. In silence, the withered blooms stirred, color seeping back into their veins until they unfurled anew, breathing life where there had been only decay.

"But," Li Jie said quietly, eyes still on the roses, "we cannot dismiss the possibility."

Yuanzhou adjusted his vest with a snap of his cuff. "Then it's even worse. If it's a dhampir and doesn't understand their own origin-if their hunterblood awakens alongside dhampir power-" His jaw tightened. "I cannot begin to imagine what will follow."

Silence fell heavy. Li Jie's expression had turned distant, shadowed.

"Li Jie."

Wen Xiao's voice was firm but gentle. He turned, and she stepped closer, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder with quiet weight.

"We will find them. Our kin-and that innocent child. We will not fail them." Her eyes searched his. "What happened to Chun will not be repeated."

Li Jie held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded, a faint steadiness returning to him.

🦇🦇🦇

Tiandu 1749

In the garden, the air was drowsy with the hum of summer insects. Yi Chun crouched beside a withering rose, their petals crumpled and dry. Li Lun lowered himself next to her, curious eyes following her hands.

"When did you first realize you had this power to heal?" he asked, his tone unusually thoughtful.

Yi Chun thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. "When I was five. I came across a vase of drooping flowers my mother had arranged. It was withered, nearly gone. I touched it and... this happened."

Her fingertips brushed the brittle stalk. Slowly, impossibly, the color returned-green bleeding back into the stem, petals lifting as though exhaling after a long sleep.

Li Lun's eyes widened, a grin tugging at his lips. "Wow. That's... impressive."

Chun stood, dusting her skirt lightly and took her fruit basket. "And you? What powers do you have?"

He rose with her, slipping his hands around hers. "Close your eyes."

She hesitated, brows furrowing, but obeyed. The next moment, the world shifted. When she opened her eyes, the walls of the garden were gone-the two of them now stood in the wide, sunlit field where they often met.

Her balance faltered at the sudden change, and Li Lun's arm shot around her waist, steadying her before she could stumble.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You should have told me before doing that!"

He smirked, refusing to let go just yet. "What's the fun in that?"

Her cheeks flushed as she straightened, stepping away from his hold, though her heartbeat betrayed her. She began walking again, the basket shifting against her hip. "So... anything else you can do?"

He fell into step behind her, "Teleportation's only the start. I can hear things... farther than you'd think possible. And when I want to, I can move faster than the eye can follow."

Chun shot him a glance over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. "Show-off."

Li Lun gave a faint smile. "Then how do you think I escaped your shushus and geges when they rounded me up to chop my head off?"

As if on cue, a bird fluttered down and perched lightly on his shoulder. Yi Chun's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her face. "Don't tell me you can summon animals too."

He chuckled, tilting his head toward the bird. "Why do you think I wander the wilds so often?"

She let out a slow sigh, shaking her head. "Wow..." With that, she stepped past him, walking ahead on the path. He only chuckled, warm and careless."

🦇

Down in the field, the mood was softer. Yi Chun carried the basket brimming with freshly picked fruit, the sunlight catching in her dark hair as she walked. Behind her, Li Lun trailed lazily, swinging a long blade of grass between his fingers.

He was the one to break the quiet. "So... your mother was a renowned hunter?"

"Mm," Yi Chun hummed, her tone light, not turning back.

"And your father," Li Lun continued, a playful lilt slipping into his voice, "was the vampire she was hunting?"

This time she gave an emphatic nod, lips pursing as she made a muffled, "Mm!"

Li Lun laughed under his breath. "And then... she fell in love with him, once she realized he wasn't like the others. That he was actually a good guy?"

"Yeah," Yi Chun admitted softly, her smile faint but unhidden.

His grin sharpened. "Like how you fell for me?"

She stopped mid-step, freezing on the path. For a second, the basket seemed heavier in her hands. Slowly, she turned, eyes wide. "Wh-who... who said I fell for you?"

Li Lun tilted his head, not looking away. A smile tugged at his lips, daring and certain. "So you didn't fall for me?"

His question lingered, his gaze never wavering. Yi Chun turned back around in a fluster, her voice quieter but steady. "You're the one who fell for me first. Following me around with roses... and books."

He chuckled, low and warm. "I did fall for you first. But didn't you fall for me after that?"

He hadn't moved from where he stood, waiting. Yi Chun glanced back once, then with a sudden boldness, reached out her hand. She hooked her pinky finger around his, tugging him gently forward. Without another word, she pulled him along the path behind her, the grass swaying around their steps.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Yuanzhi's Home

The sun slipped gently through the curtains, filling the dining room with a soft warmth. The house was alive with the morning bustle-Shangjue adjusting his tie, Qian pouring tea into two cups, the quiet rhythm of a family starting their day.

The door opened and in came Sijing, her usual bright smile lighting the air before her words even arrived.
"Good morning, Uncle! Good morning, Aunty!" she chirped, her voice as sunny as her grin.

"Good morning, A'jing," Shangjue replied warmly while checking his watch.

Shangguan Qian, already halfway into her workday mood, turned with a plate in hand. "Did you eat? I made some pear-stewed porridge for breakfast. Want some?"

Sijing's eyes sparkled. "Do I want some? Is that even a question?" She reached toward the fruit bowl instead, plucking a round pear and biting into it with a crisp snap. Her brows lifted in surprise. "This one is sweet-different from the usual."

Qian smiled, wiping her hands on a cloth. "A'yuan's boss gave them. Said they're from his family's orchard out of town."

"Boss?" Sijing tilted her head, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Oh... so he's already found his footing there."

Shangjue stepped toward the dining table and called up the stairs, "A'yuan! Come down. It's getting late for me."

Moments later, Yuanzhi appeared, still in his night wear, hair slightly tousled from sleep. His steps slowed when he noticed Sijing perched at the table as if she belonged there.

"Good morning," she greeted brightly, pear still in hand.

He paused, glanced at the sunlight pouring outside the window, then at her, before pulling out a chair. "Good morning," he echoed. Sitting down, his tone slipped into dry humor. "So what's on the agenda today-ghost hunting or ghost summoning?"

Sijing tapped her chin theatrically. "Haven't decided yet."

Yuanzhi shook his head, lips tugging at the corner, while his parents exchanged amused smiles over their breakfast.

By the time the dishes were cleared, Shangjue and Qian were already gathering their things for work. A few more reminders and see-you-laters, and the door clicked shut behind them-leaving the house quieter, emptier, with only Yuanzhi and Sijing remaining.

🦇

Yuanzhi had sprawled across the couch, remote in hand, absently flipping through channels. The TV flickered noisily in front of him, though his attention seemed elsewhere.

Sijing padded over, glass of juice in hand, and settled beside him. For a moment she just watched him, her chin tilted slightly. Then, with a light tone, she asked, "So... how's it going at the office?"

He flicked his gaze sideways at her, caught the innocent look, and straightened up. "I know you're not here to check on my wellbeing."

Her lips curved into a small smile. "You caught me."

He gave a half-smile back, dry but not unkind.

She shifted closer, voice softening. "I need your help."

"No way," Yuanzhi said immediately, leaning back into the couch cushions.

"Please, A'yuan. Please." She clasped her hands together in mock pleading.

He shook his head, unpersuaded. "I won't. I know exactly why you're here-to ask me about the Zhuos and the vampires. Nai Nai told me things when I was younger behind Dada's back, if he finds out I even breathe a word of that? Let alone I know all the family history. I'm done."

She reached forward and held his hands, her eyes earnest. "He won't know. Please, Yuanzhi."

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a long second. Finally, he exhaled. "You can do one thing. Come with me to work. I'll introduce you to Mr. Li and Mr. Zhao."

Her brows knit instantly, and she released his hands. "Why?"

"Because both of them," Yuanzhi said, tilting his head toward her with mock seriousness, "have your exact kind of obsession. Vampires, blood moons, gothic aesthetics. You'd love it. Mr. Li named his mansion Spring-and designed it like something straight out of a gothic novel. Raven-black walls, blood-red roses climbing all over the garden..." He gave an exaggerated shiver and rubbed his arms. "Goosebumps."

Sijing's eyes widened. "Wooow." The amusement in her tone made him chuckle.

"But," he continued, leaning forward a little, "there's something in that mansion that really stood out."

She tilted her head. "What? Some godly painting or weird shrine?"

He shook his head. "No. A portrait. Of a young woman in white. I don't know why, but... I felt a pull toward it."

Her eyes rounded, blinking quickly. "Who is she?"

Yuanzhi sighed. "I don't know. Mr. Mo, Mr. Li's butler, just said it was 'Madam Li.' No name, nothing more. I even asked Miss Wen Xiao."

"And what did she say?"

"She told me Mr. Li's last secretary got fired for poking into his private life."

Sijing leaned back with a straight face, tone turning dry. "That's deep, man. Mysterious."

"Exactly." Yuanzhi nodded hard, then suddenly sat up straighter, eyes widening. "Oh. My. God."

"What?" she asked quickly.

"I saw a wedding ring on his hand." Yuanzhi turned fully toward her, his expression a mix of revelation and disbelief. "That could be his wife."

Then he hesitated, thinking it over, lips pressing thin. "No... that doesn't make sense."

Sijing tilted her head, waiting.

"There's no record of Mr. Li being married. Officially, he's single."

"Could be a girlfriend?"

He frowned. "Maybe, but... he doesn't look like a man with a girlfriend. His whole demeanor, his attitude... he barely even uses his phone. If she were important enough to have her portrait on his wall, wouldn't he call her at least once a day?"

Sijing's voice dropped lower, almost cautious. "Is there a possibility that she's... no longer alive?"

Yuanzhi finally looked at her fully, his earlier levity gone. After a moment, he nodded once. "There is. Miss Wen said Mr. Li used to be cheerful. Her absence must have turned him into... this."

Sijing sank back into the couch, slowly nodding as she absorbed his words. The television hummed on in the background, but neither of them noticed.

The two of them lingered on the couch, their earlier words about Li Jie's portrait slipping into silence. Sijing clicked her tongue, leaning back.
"Life and death are not in our hands," she muttered, then straightened with a determined look. "Can we now focus on my problem?"

Yuanzhi shook his head, sat up straighter, and eyed her. "What do you want?"

"Hunterblood." Sijing leaned closer, her tone hopeful. "I couldn't find much outside. Only that it's Zhuo bloodline born from their so-called not-pure unions. Mixed children."

Yuanzhi gave her a look sharp enough to make her pause. "Never, ever let my parents know I know things like this."

She raised her hand, pinching her throat in a mock oath. "Promise."

He exhaled, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Hunterbloods are just Zhuos upgraded. Those with their demon fragments awakened."

Sijing blinked, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Go on."

"You heard from Xindu, right?" Yuanzhi made air quotes. "The so-called 'Zhuos' are the descendants of Lord Bingyi - the first demon hunter. The guy who turned against his own kind. His bloodline carried fragments of demonic essence. Dormant. Passed down."

Sijing leaned in closer, rapt.

"Generation by generation the family grew into a hunter clan. Back then, they didn't have many mixed marriages, so the 'Hunterblood' thing wasn't even possible."

"So... what changed?" she asked.

Yuanzhi tilted his head, thinking. "The tales say Zhuos are demons by blood, but the fragment inside is asleep - like a dormant DNA. What shows on the surface are little things. Heightened senses. Faster reflexes. Being able to feel demonic energy. That's what made them hunters."

"Wow, that's-"

He shot her a flat look. "If you practice meditation and martial arts with the right teacher, you can learn half of that yourself."

Her mouth snapped shut. "Oh. ...So, what then?"

He pushed himself off the couch, wandering to the kitchen. Sijing trailed after him, padding lightly across the floor. He grabbed a pack of snacks, tore it open, and handed her a piece before continuing.

"Hunterbloods are the unlucky ones whose demon fragments actually wake up. That puts them a step ahead of regular Zhuos. Like... superhuman. But still human." He popped a cracker into his mouth, smirking. "More like mutated Zhuos."

Sijing let out a laugh at his phrasing.

"They say it's more likely in mixed kids. Because Chinese bloodlines have similar ancestry, it stays... quiet. But when you add something different? The fragment stirs. And usually, it hits the eldest child first."

Sijing's laughter faded. She stared at him, lips pressed thin.

"Hunterblood comes out different in every person,” he said, his voice quieter than before, almost thoughtful. “Some may end up sharper in senses, some carry a resistance to poisons, some… well, even stranger things like those demon powers we hear in stories. In short it’s powers are unpredictable.”

Sijing tilted her head, recalling. “Then what about what you said the other day—that if hunterblood mixed with wolfsbane, it could kill a vampire?”

He gave a short laugh. “Ah, that one’s another story. There’s an old belief: if a vampire drinks hunterblood, it doesn’t harm them—it actually gives them a rush of power. Give them other abilities. But if that same blood is used against them with wolfsbane, it turns venomous, stripping away their strength. Sometimes it’s enough to kill them outright.”

Her eyes narrowed, not quite sure if he was teasing or serious. “That sounds… terrifying. Almost like hunterblood is both a gift and a curse.”

Yuanzhi’s smile was crooked, without warmth. “That’s exactly what it is. A blade with two edges—one that cuts the enemy, and one that keeps cutting the one who carries it.”

Sijing leaned in slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Son of the Zhuo main line. Mixed origin. Mom's part Japanese, Only child. Eldest son- Zhuo Shen." She paused just inches from his face, her voice dropping. "...What does that mean, A'yuan?"

For a long second, he didn't move, didn't speak - only stared back at her with steady eyes. Then, with a firm shove, he pushed her forehead away.

"It means," he said dryly, "that all this is just stories spread by patriarchs to keep the family under control."

Sijing clicked her tongue, half-smiling. "Tch. Coward."

Yuanzhi leaned back on the couch, eyes flicking toward Sijing.
"A'jing," he said in a measured tone, "these are all stories. Good to hear, maybe even entertaining, but don't get too obsessed with them."

He shifted slightly, stretching his arms behind his head. "Zhuo has plenty of descendants who not-pure bloods. Some from direct blood line-like me, and distance bloodline too. If you start counting, it's more than a hundred in my generation alone. Even if we aren't close, I still know a few of them- who belongs to the completely left family type. None of them have so-called 'superpowers.' Most don't even know these tales exist."

Sijing gave a small nod. "Fine... I'll get back to work then."

Yuanzhi only answered with a low hum, already reclining again as she returned to her keyboard.

A while later, she closed her laptop and walked over to him. Sitting down beside him, she tilted her head.
"A'yuan, have you ever heard any stories about the hunterblood in your family?"

Yuanzhi glanced at her, expression flat with that familiar 'when will this end' look. "Mm. I heard one."

Her eyes lit up. "Who?"

"I don't know that much details," he said, voice even. "It's at least three centuries old. I only know she was a dhampir."

Sijing blinked, surprised. "Dhampir? Half vampire? That's fresh."

"You could say that," Yuanzhi murmured.

"And then?" she pressed, leaning closer.

"She had some kind of healing ability," he continued, tone casual, as though recounting a bedtime story. "She was tricked into loving a vampire. But later, her family warned her-told her he was using her for her blood, for her powers. So on the century's blood moon, she joined the family hunters to kill him."

Sijing's eyes were wide, too attentive. "And?"

"He killed her. Along with the hunters who went with her."

"What?" Her voice was sharp with disbelief.

He nodded. "The story says he did it to cure the venom in his body-the hunterblood and wolfbane that weakened him."

Sijing fell silent, her excitement dampened.

Yuanzhi turned his head toward her, gaze steady. "But that's just how the story goes. It's also possible Zhuo themselves killed her, just to capture him."

"You think so?" she asked softly.

"Why not?" His tone carried a quiet edge. "If they hadn't seen her as useful, do you think they would have spared her-knowing she was a dhampir?"

Sijing exhaled slowly, her voice almost a whisper. "You... have a point. The hunterblood and a cursed love story."

Yuanzhi nodded accepting her remark. Sijing turned to him, "Shall we go grab a coffee?"

"That's a good idea. Let's go."

🦇🦇🦇

Zhao Yuanzhou's Home l Ravenhurst

Yuanzhou’s house carried the essence of history, the air carried the faint scent of polished wood and old books, the kind of classical richness that spoke of generations of money and restraint. The curtains were drawn halfway, spilling in pale daylight across dark leather chairs and a carved oak table where papers had been spread in quiet disarray.

On the chair Li Jie sat still, a black cat lay curled in Li Jie’s lap, its sleek back rising and falling as his fingers traced an absent-minded path down its spine. The creature purred low, a sound more like a hum of warning than comfort.

Wen Xiao was hunched over the table, her pen tapping lightly as she crossed out another name.
“Zhuo Liang,” she murmured, dragging a line cleanly through the page. “That makes him the twenty-first. Confirmed not hunterblood.”

She leaned back with a sigh, tossing the pen aside.

Li Jie’s hand stilled on the cat’s back. His gaze stayed on the paper, though his voice was low, even. "How many more?"

“We still have more than a hundred left.”

Li Jie lifted his gaze from the list, “And six days to narrow it down,” he said flatly. The weight of the countdown pressed sharp against every word.

The creak of the floorboard announced Zhao Yuanzhou’s entrance. His presence quiet yet absolute, phone still in hand, his expression unreadable. The air in the room shifted; Wen Xiao straightened instinctively.

“Li Lun,” Zhao Yuanzhou said.

The name hung heavy in the room. He never used it casually—the name bound to past, power and responsibility. Li Jie’s hand did not pause on the cat’s spine, but his eyes lifted, meeting Yuanzhou’s with that sharp, steady glint that never gave away more than it chose to; reading the unspoken depth in that single address.

Yuanzhou slipped the phone into his pocket. His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the tension beneath.
“We have got a problem.”

The black cat’s tail flicked once, a single restless motion, before the quiet swallowed everything whole.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Pears Orchid l House of Li

Beneath the old pear tree, spring sunlight filtered through branches heavy with blossoms, their petals scattering like pale snow across the grass. Yi Chun leaned back against the trunk, her shoulder warm beneath Li Lun's cheek, he stirred awake. For a moment, he lingered in that warmth, the soft rhythm of her breathing lulling him back toward sleep, until her gentle voice tugged him out.

"You're awake," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

He blinked slowly, disoriented. "I don't know why... lately, whenever I'm with you, I feel so drowsy."

She laughed softly, a sound like bells carried by the spring wind.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowing faintly.

"You know what they say? People get sleepy around the one they love most-the one they feel safest with."

His brows lifted as he turned fully to look at her. "Is that even a real thing?"

"It is," she teased, her smile full of quiet mischief.

He studied her a moment, then shook his head. "But that's for people. I'm not..." His words lingered, unfinished. "How could something like that apply to me? Unless..." He paused, eyes narrowing as the thought struck. "If I remember right, it was after you healed me back then I started feeling different."

Her eyes flickered, but she only rolled them lightly, dismissive-as though she didn't quite want to answer. But Li Lun caught her face gently, cupping it with both hands, pulling her gaze back to his. His tone lowered, insistent.

"What did you do to me, Chun-ah?"

Her lashes fluttered. "What do you mean?"

"Chun-ah," he pressed, his voice softer but unyielding.

She sighed, the memory weighing her. "That day-you passed out midway, remember?"

He nodded once.

"The Zhuo's weapons aren't ordinary. Even with my healing powers, it's hard to heal such wounds in one go. And you... you were wounded too badly."

His eyes sharpened. "So?"

Her lashes fluttered once. "So... your body was craving blood."

The look he gave her was a warning, sharp as a blade. Be careful with the next word.

She said it anyway, innocent but firm. "I fed you a little of mine. Maybe it stirred something in you."

"WHAT?!" His voice broke sharp with disbelief.

Yi Chun startled and clapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him frantically. "Not so loud! Haven't you fed on human blood before?"

He pulled back just enough to answer through her palm. "I have-but never from a dhampir."

Her frown deepened, worry flickering in her gaze. "Do you... feel anything wrong?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he caught her hand, guiding it to his chest, pressing it flat against him.

"This," he whispered.

She tilted her head, brow furrowed-until her eyes widened.

"I have a heartbeat now," he said, voice trembling between wonder and fear. "And the more I stay with you... the steadier it grows." His eyes searched hers, desperate for an answer he couldn't give himself. "What should I do, Chun-ah?"

She leaned closer, resting her ear over his chest. The faint rhythm pulsed steady beneath her cheek, fragile and alive. Her lips curved in the barest smile.

"Then you shouldn't leave me," she whispered.

Li Lun exhaled a laugh, half relief, half disbelief, and wrapped his arms around her. She melted into his embrace, and for a while, silence cloaked them both like safety.

A pause lingered there, quiet except for the heartbeat between them. When he finally spoke again, his voice was gentler. "Chun-ah... can I ask you something?."

She give a short hum.

"The other day... you said you hated red roses. Because of your father. But the way you spoke... he didn't sound like a bad man to me."

Yi Chun's lips curved, wistful, touched with ache. "I thought he was, once."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Her gaze drifted upward, to the drifting white petals. "In the Zhuo family, I grew up hearing the same thing: demons, vampires, anything not human-they're evil. We're supposed to be the protectors of mankind. That was all I was ever told. Everyone but my gege believed it."

"Zhuo Yi Xuan," Li Lun murmured.

She nodded. "The others said my father lured my mother out of vengeance, then abandoned her. But Gege told me it wasn't true. And if I think about it... if he were truly that kind of man, my mother would never have loved him so fiercely. Never held me so close, even as she gave her last breath."

Her voice trembled. Li Lun's hand caressed her head, steady, grounding her. She glanced up at him, and her smile softened, the pain eased by the warmth of his presence.

"Even though Gege is only my cousin," she whispered, "he's the only one who makes me feel like I belong, that I am and I too have feelings. To everyone else, I'm nothing more than a beast-hunter waiting to be sharpened into a weapon."

Li Lun's jaw tightened. His touch lingered, protective. "If they find out you're with me... they will hurt you."

Chun smiled, her voice quiet but sure. "As long as we're together, I don't fear anything."

He brushing his hand against her cheek. His eyes, deep and solemn, held a promise older than the roots of the tree.

"The century blood moon is nearing. After that night, I will come for you. I'll take you with me."

Her answer was a small nod-simple, trusting, sealing their fates beneath the blossoms without another word.

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Hospital

The hour was caught between night and dawn—around six, when the sky still clung to its shadows and the first pale threads of light had yet to unravel. The city outside lay hushed, its streets washed in a dim, bluish haze, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

The corridors of Eterna Hospital carried a muted chill, the sterile white light pooling faintly along the tiled floor. Dr. Mo Yin walked ahead with brisk, economical steps, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as if to guard against the cold of what he was about to reveal. Behind him, Li Jie, Zhao Yuanzhou, and Wen Xiao followed in a silence that felt heavy with expectation.

They stopped before a steel door. Mo Yin swiped his card, the lock hissed open, and he led them into the mortuary. The air inside was sharper, tinged with disinfectant and something more metallic beneath.

On the central slab lay a body beneath a white sheet. Mo Yin grasped the edge, drew it down, and revealed the pale, lifeless face.

“He Shao,” he said quietly. “You must know him. Famous on the circuits, and… Red Blood.”

The three of them nodded, wordlessly recognizing the name.

“Officially,” Mo Yin continued, “911 logged it as an accident. But here’s the problem.” He looked at them, his voice tightening. “The boys who placed that call? Minutes later, they crashed—at the same spot.”

The words hung in the cold room.

Li Jie’s lips moved before he could restrain himself. “Hunter.”

Mo Yin inclined his head. “Yes. And they didn’t just kill him.” His gaze lingered on the corpse’s wounds. “They bled him out. Deliberately. And-"

All three turned to him sharply. Yuanzhou’s voice cut through the silence. “And what?”

Mo Yin hesitated. For a moment, his eyes flickered with something unspoken. Then, with a sigh, he motioned to another body by the wall. Pulling the sheet back, he revealed the face of a young woman.

“She’s Mei Lin. Twenty-seven. Model. He Shao’s girlfriend.” His tone was clinical, but low, as if speaking too loudly would disturb her. “They killed her too.”

Li Jie’s eyes fixed on her still features. His voice was quiet, almost detached. “It’s not Zhuo.”

Beside him, Wen Xiao shook her head. “Zhuos don’t harm humans. Even if it costs them the prey.”

Mo Yin’s gaze moved between them, unreadable. “Dad told me you’re searching for Hunterblood. Could this be… related to it.?”

The three said nothing. Silence pressed down heavier than before.

Yuanzhou turned to Wen Xiao. “Can You?”

She only gave a single nod. Then, stepping closer, she lowered her hand gently over Mei Lin’s closed eyes. The room seemed to contract around her touch, the air bending with the stillness of a gift only she carried.

🦇

Wen Xiao’s eyes flutter shut. The room seemed to sink into silence, only the faint hum of the mortuary’s lights filling the space. A ripple passed through her—like the tug of an unseen thread—and suddenly her breath hitched.

“I see… lights,” she whispered. “Loud music, flashing colors… a pub. Crowds pressed close, clapping, laughing. Celebration…” Her brows furrowed as if trying to grasp more. “It’s for him—He Shao. They’re chanting his name. ‘Congratulations, He Shao!’ Drinks in the air, cameras flashing.”

Her voice grew unsteady. Yuanzhou instinctively stepped closer, his tone calm, “Take it slow, Wen Xiao. Don’t force it.”

She nodded faintly, sinking deeper. “He’s leaving now. Mei Lin by his side. The parking lot… cold, damp concrete. The echo of footsteps. Someone… someone is watching. I can feel the eyes on him.”

Her face twisted as if the sensation of being stalked was cutting through her.

“Time—” she murmured, “—it’s 4:10. The roads are almost empty, city lights blurring past the windows. They’re in his car… and behind them—another. Black. Silent, waiting.”

Wen Xiao groaned, clutching her temple as though the impact was hers. Li Jie’s hand steadied her shoulder. Yuanzhou’s voice was low, grounding, “Easy. You’re not there. Just let it pass through you.”

She gasped, then flinched. “The crash—!” Her whole body jolted, a shiver crawling up her spine. “Glass… twisting metal… and then…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Two figures. They climb out of the black car. They… walk slowly, no rush. Like they knew this would happen.”

Her breaths came shallow, trembling. “It's a... it's a Tank, 500. There’s something painted… on the side of their car in silver. Letters. T…E…R…” She swallowed hard. “…Terminus.”

Her eyes opened at last, pupils dilated, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. The mortuary’s cold seemed to bite harder now.

“Terminus,” Li Jie repeated, his voice flat, heavy. “The end of the line. Absolute. Final.”

The weight of the word seemed to settle over them like a curtain. Yuanzhou shifted his weight, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What about the boys who called in the accident?” he asked, his tone even.

Mo Yin, who had been quiet at the edge of the group, stepped forward. “They’re in the ER. No serious injuries.”

Yuanzhou’s gaze slid to Li Jie, wordless but expectant.

“Have the cops spoken to them?” Li Jie asked.

Mo Yin shook his head. “Not yet. They’re still sedated. I was waiting for you before allowing anyone near them.” A pause, then his voice dropped a shade lower. “And there’s one more thing.”

He reached into his coat pocket and produced a card, holding it between two fingers as if reluctant to touch it too long.

Li Jie took it, eyes skimming over the stark letters scrawled in blood: MOARTE.

“Death,” Yuanzhou said flatly.

Li Jie handed the card to Wen Xiao. She held it gingerly, fingers trembling just slightly. “It’s his blood,” she murmured. “He Shao’s. Nothing else is in it.”

Yuanzhou clicked his tongue, a sharp, dismissive sound. “So they thought they could frighten us with these theatrics.” His gaze shifted back to Mo Yin. “Can we see the boys? If they know anything, we need to get it out of them.”

Li Jie’s eyes met his in a silent exchange of caution and consent.

Before either man could speak, Wen Xiao broke in softly. “Or.. remove, if they saw something they shouldn’t have."

Mo Yin’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded once. “This way.”

He turned, leading them down the stark corridor toward the ward where the boys were kept, the echo of their footsteps following like a second shadow.

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Home

Yuanzhi’s room was still cloaked in the faint gray of dawn, the alarm clock on his nightstand blinking 6:20. He was buried beneath the covers, lost in shallow sleep, when his phone buzzed across the table. The screen flashed with a single word: Trouble.

He groaned, fumbling for it, pressing accept on the third ring.
“Not this early, A’Jing…” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

But the sound that came through snapped him awake. Panicked, breathless—
“A'Yuan!”

He sat upright instantly, all traces of drowsiness gone. “What happened? Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“It’s not me,” she choked out, voice trembling. “It’s Heng’er.”

His blood ran cold. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know—I just got a call from the hospital. They said he… he got into an accident. Mom and Dad aren’t here, I—I don’t know what to do!”

Yuanzhi was already out of bed, dragging on the nearest jacket, his keys clattering from the nightstand into his hand. “Which hospital?”

“Eterna.”

“Are you home now?”

“Mm,” she hummed, a broken confirmation.

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll come pick you up, okay? Don’t panic—he’ll be okay.” His voice steadied, though his own heart was racing.

He ended the call, bolted down the stairs two at a time, and typed out a quick message to his mom as he ran:

Going out with A’Jing.

🦇

The car sped through the thinning morning mist, headlights carving pale paths on the still-sleepy streets. Sijing sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands clenched tight in her lap.

Yuanzhi glanced at her and reached over, tapping lightly on her shoulder.
“He’ll be okay,” he said, his voice firm but gentler than usual.

She nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave the windshield.

Yuanzhi let a beat pass before asking, “Where did Heng’er even go this early?”

Sijing pressed her lips together. “He didn’t come home last night.”

Yuanzhi’s brows knitted. His eyes flicked briefly toward her before returning to the road.
“Didn’t come home?”

She swallowed. “He said he was staying over at Ying Lei’s.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t know how he ended up in the hospital.”

“Ying Lei…” Yuanzhi muttered, the name dragging an old thread of memory. “Heng’er’s childhood friend? Ying Zhao grandpa's—that kid?”

Sijing gave a small nod.

Yuanzhi’s grip on the wheel tightened, a shadow passing over his expression. “Perfect,” he said flatly.

The silence stretched until he asked again, “I thought he's with his parents. Aren’t they abroad?”

“They are. But he came back last month,” Sijing explained quickly. “He said he missed Heng’er too much. Said he couldn’t find a friend like him over there… so he transferred here. Same school, same class.”

Yuanzhi sighed, eyes narrowing on the road ahead. “I can see that.”

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Hospital

Yuanzhi and Pei Sijing hurried into the hospital, asking for information at the front desk. As they turned the corner toward the emergency ward, they spotted familiar figures—Li Jie, Zhao Yuanzhou—standing not far from where Heng’er and Ying Lei were being treated.

Yuanzhi froze for a moment, his voice steady but respectful.
“Mr. Li. Mr. Zhao.”

Wen Xiao stepped out off through ER, and Yuanzhi inclined his head.
“Miss Wen.”

"Yuanzhi," Wen Xiao said a little surprised.

Li Jie turned to him. “What happened?" He asked reading the strong panic in Yuanzhi's and Sijing's face.

“Ah,” Yuanzhi answered, a little awkwardly, “we got a call that my cousin was in an accident.”

Yuanzhou’s gaze shifted toward the ER, sharp and direct. “Those two boys?”

Across the hall, two policemen were finishing their questions with Siheng and Ying Lei.

“Yes,” Yuanzhi said quietly. “The one on the right—Pei Siheng, her brother.” He placed a hand on Sijing’s shoulder.

Wen Xiao glance back at the boys and turned to Yuanzhi, "They are okay, only a little shaken by the incident."

Yuanzhi nodes and says, “This is my cousin, Pei Sijing. A’jing, this is—”

Li Jie cut in before he could finish. “The ghost hunter?”

Yuanzhi cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Li Jie offered a curt nod. “Hello.” Sijing have a simple bow to him.

Yuanzhi blinked, sensing something heavier in the air. “Is something wrong, sir?”

Yuanzhou’s voice was calm, but his words carried weight. “Someone we knew met with an accident. He didn’t make it. Your cousin was the first to see it and call the emergency team. That’s why we came. How’s it looking here?”

Li Jie straightened his coat. “Then you two carry on. We’re leaving.” He gave a soft bow and Yuanzhi stepped aside.

The trio walked away, leaving Yuanzhi and Sijing to step closer to the boys.

Ying Lei was speaking with a frown. “It was a white 2023 Great Wall Steed-.”

Siheng added, “Yeah. It was.”
(Neither realized their memories had been bent—Wen Xiao’s handiwork.)

The police left, and Yuanzhi and Sijing finally reached them. Sijing crouched beside her brother, checking him over quickly. Yuanzhi sat on the edge of Ying Lei’s bed, his voice softer.
“You okay?”

Ying Lei nodded.

The next moment, when Sijing saw her brother was only shaken and not broken, her palm landed hard against his back.

Siheng shot upright. “Jiejie!”

Her voice snapped like a whip. “I told you not to cause trouble! What do you want me to tell Mom and Dad?”

Yuanzhi swallowed, caught off guard by her sudden fury. Ying Lei’s eyes went wide, then he muttered under his breath, “Thank god I don’t have a sister.”

Sijing turned her glare on him so fast he stiffened in place. Yuanzhi adjusted himself, trying to smooth things over.

“Did you inform your family?” Sijing asked sharply.

Ying Lei nodded frantically. “Y-yes.”

"Good" she sat down hard on Siheng's bed.
Yuanzhi and Ying Lei shared a silent glance.

🦇

Meanwhile, in the hospital’s underground parking lot, Zhao Yuanzhou stepped out of the elevator, eyes on his phone as he walked toward his car. The place was quiet, empty.

Something prickled at the back of his neck. He paused, glancing behind him.

Before he could react, a needle struck his skin. His vision blurred—then went black.

A black Tank with the silver Terminus emblem screeched to a halt. Masked men in dark gear emerged, hauling his unconscious body inside. The doors slammed shut, and the car sped into the night.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

City Roads

The black Tank 500 cut through the morning light falling between city buildings. To passersby it was just another armored car, its sides matte and unmarked. But only when the vehicle slipped under a row of sodium street lamps, faint letters shimmered across the metal, visible only under artificial glare—TERMINUS. In daylight, it would be invisible.

Beyond the city limits the car veered into a lonely road flanked by endless fields. No houses, no villages. Only a solitary farmhouse, its silhouette crouched in the center of a sprawling farm. The tank rolled to a halt.

An eagle wheeled overhead, a silent shadow against buried mysteries, as masked men carried the unconscious Zhao Yuanzhou into the compound. Inside, the farmhouse unfolded not into rustic wood but a fortified sub-lair: steel walls, locked corridors, humming surveillance systems, and rooms lined with advanced equipment.

Yuanzhou was strapped onto a containment table inside a sterile lab chamber, chains fastening his wrists and ankles. Electrodes traced along his pale skin, feeding signals into a monitor where his heartbeat fluttered weakly—three, maybe four beats per minute. A glass containment wall sealed him in, fog rising faintly from vents around the base.

One of the handlers flicked through a digital file projected on the wall. His voice was flat, clinical.
“Subject name: Zhu Yan. Bloodline: Zhu family of the Northern Red Blood. Alias: Zhou Yuanzhou, Tian Yao. Does not carry family name. Known among his kind as the Devil’s Child. Reports indicate he has only taken orders from his companion Li Lun— who go by the name Li Jie—founder of the Eterna Group, their official Lair.”

The man paused, eyes flicking to the still figure inside the glass chamber.
“Human identity: Doctor. Publicly worshipped as the 'God of Eterna’s Pharma.’ Holds twenty degrees, mastery across nearly every branch of medicine.”

A low scoff came from the leader, a sharp-faced man in black.
“God? They call this thing a god?” He tapped the glass, knuckles ringing against the surface like a taunt. “Look at it. Shackled, weak, unconscious. Some god.”

Another operative asked, “And its powers?”

The handler stiffened. “…Unknown.”

“What do you mean ‘unknown’?”

“Exactly that. Nobody has ever recorded what abilities it possesses.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Perhaps,” the handler replied slowly, “it has no power of its own. Perhaps it has survived only under the protection of others.”

The leader sneered, turning away. “Then this god is nothing but—”

A sudden click of a tongue silenced the room.
“—Or,” a familiar voice cut in, lazy and dangerous, “perhaps the ones who saw it never survived to tell the tale."

The eagle swooped down, perching neatly on the shoulder of a man now walking casually into the chamber—Li Jie. "I had some expectation about you- card with blood, Moarte, a well executed abduction." His eyes glimmered cold amusement as he strolled forward, talons sprouting as claws from his hand. "But it all shattered the moment you went after him."

In the next instant, he blurred, vanishing from the doorway and reappearing before the containment wall. His claws tore through reinforced glass as though it were rice paper, shards sliding to the floor in silence.

He leaned in, voice dripping with mockery.
“Zhao Yuanzhou. Are you enjoying their little biography recital?”

Inside the chamber, Yuanzhou stirred. His eyes remained closed, lips curling faintly into a smile. Then, with deliberate slowness, his lids lifted, revealing irises like still water reflecting something unfathomable.

“…Why did you only come now?”

A hunter shouted and lunged forward, blade raised. But the weapon froze mid-air, locked in place as if gripped by invisible chains. The man strained, veins bulging, but the steel would not move.

Yuanzhou pushed himself free of the restraints with ease, rising from the table. He stretched languidly, as though waking from a nap.
“It was amusing, though,” he said lightly, eyes flicking toward the trembling hunter. “Listening to people go wide-eyed and clueless about me while I lay here.”

He tilted his head, smile sharpening. The hunter’s arm trembled violently—and then, as if guided by a hand not his own, the knife twisted in his grip and drove itself sideways into the chest of the man beside him.

The room erupted in gasps and shouts. Yuanzhou only exhaled softly, as if bored.

And then Zhao Yuanzhou stepped out of the chamber.

Chains that once bound him trailed like fallen vines, snapping free with a metallic shriek. Each fragment hovered for a breathless second, suspended in the air—then twisted into jagged points, circling him like a crown of iron teeth. His eyes glinted faintly in the sterile light.

The leader who mocked him earlier stumbled back, throat dry. For the first time, the weight of the epithet sank in.
The Devil’s Child. Not just a name. A statement.

Li Jie’s voice came sharp and amused, cutting through the tension.
“Well, you’ve heard what they said, Zhao Yuanzhou. No power, no strength, hiding behind others… sounds insulting, doesn’t it?”

Yuanzhou’s faint smile curved crueler. “Let’s correct their records.”

The first hunter screamed and fired a bolt-gun. The projectile never landed—it froze mid-air, the steel bolt quivering before turning smoothly, its head facing the shooter. With a flick of Yuanzhou’s fingers, the bolt pierced clean through the man’s own visor.

“Too slow,” Li Jie muttered, already moving. In the blink of an eye, he blurred into a streak of motion, claws tearing across another operative before the man even raised his gun. The body split open, collapsing in two halves as Li Jie appeared again beside Yuanzhou, barely winded.

“Try to keep up,” Yuanzhou teased.

Li Jie smirked, talons dripping, and vanished once more.

The lab exploded into chaos. Shouts, gunfire, the screech of steel. But the weapons betrayed their masters—guns locked, knives bent, bullets suspended in shimmering orbits around Yuanzhou before spiraling back at the ones who fired them. Every clang of metal bent to his will, every ricochet became a weapon of precision.

Hunters fell one by one, some cut down in streaks of motion they never saw coming, others choking on their own blades twisted into their throats.

“Zhoa Yuanzhou,” Li Jie’s voice cut through the storm, sharp. “We need one alive.”

Yuanzhou didn’t look up from the carnage. His voice was flat, cold.
“Then you’d better heal one.”

Li Jie narrowed his eyes but said nothing, darting off again.

The leader scrambled toward the exit, panting, reaching for the alarm. He never made it. The steel floor rippled beneath his feet like liquid, chains slithering up to bind him in place.

Yuanzhou’s steps were unhurried as he approached, iron floating lazily at his side like obedient hounds. He stopped just close enough for the leader to see his reflection in those unfathomable eyes.

“Human's called me a god and my kind, the Devil's Child” Yuanzhou murmured, voice soft as silk. “And you. You called me a thing. Tell me—”

A blade floated to hover an inch from the man’s throat.

“—which version do you think you’ll remember?”

Before the leader could answer, the knife slid clean through. His body crumpled soundlessly.

Silence fell. The stench of blood thickened the sterile air. Only the faint buzz of equipment remained.

When silence finally settled, Li Jie crouched by one of the hunters—his chest still rising shallowly, though torn and broken. His hands hovered above his chest, blood sealed, breath steadied. The man lived, barely.

Later, as consciousness flickered back into the survivor’s eyes, Yuanzhou crouched down, shadows of iron circling lazily around him. His voice was almost kind, almost gentle.

“Now you understand,” he whispered, leaning close, “why my abilities were never written in your records.”

The man’s eyes widened in horror.

Yuanzhou flicked his wrist, and the metal fragments rained harmlessly to the floor, their work done. He stretched languidly, turning to Li Jie, who stood amid corpses, claws glinting.

“Well?” Yuanzhou asked, voice almost playful. “Are you satisfied now?”

Li Jie wiped a smear of blood from his cheek, eyes glinting like his eagle above.
“No,” he said. “You were slower than usual." Yuanzhou arched a bow in amusement and chuckled.

🦇

The last echoes of steel and screams faded, leaving only the hum of the fluorescent lights. The surviving hunter lay slumped against the wall, curled in on himself. His body trembled—not from wounds, but from the memory of what he had just witnessed. He did not need chains; fear bound him tighter than iron ever could.

Yuanzhou ignored him at first, brushing dust from his sleeves as he and Li Jie moved deeper into the chamber. Their steps echoed over the blood-slick floor until they stopped before a wide control board.

Screens glowed. Files scrolled. A board stretched across the wall, lined with photographs and names. Famous faces—actors, scholars, politicians—all marked with subtle sigils. Vampires in disguise. Their details catalogued like trophies.

Beside it hung another board, colder still: a family tree sprawling across generations. The Zhuo line.

Yuanzhou’s gaze skimmed it, his expression tightening. His fingers hovered over the screen, tracing symbols, names. Then his shoulders lifted with a quiet, uneasy breath.

“They’re not just hunting vampires,” he said at last. “They’re after hunterblood, too.”

His tone held a note of disturbance rare for him.

Li Jie’s sharp eyes slid sideways, catching the flicker of unease. He turned back to the board, his voice flat, unreadable.
“Tempted?”

Yuanzhou let out a short chuckle, lids lowering as if to hide the strain. “Well… my half-ancestors had a thirst more heightened than most. Black-bloods are greedy.”

Li Jie's mouth curved with the barest ghost of a smile, but his eyes never left the board.

Yuanzhou finally turned, steps soundless as he approached the survivor. The man flinched when shadow fell over him. Yuanzhou crouched, his voice soft, almost conversational.
“Open the system.”

The man’s throat worked, dry and desperate. “I… I don’t know how.”

Yuanzhou’s blink was slow, and when his smile returned it was stripped of warmth. The man folded into himself, arms shielding his head. “I really don’t know! The files— they’re locked. If you try to force them, they’ll burn out, crash themselves.”

Yuanzhou stilled, expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate calm, he tapped his hand against the man’s head.
“Looks like we’ll need someone who could.”

He rose in a fluid motion.

Behind him, Li Jie shifted, a step toward Yuanzhou—then froze. His gaze had snagged on the family tree.

“What?” Yuanzhou asked, turning at the change in his tone.

Li Jie didn’t answer at first. His hand lifted, pointing to a name etched in neat script.

Zhuo Shangjue.
Image: unavailable.
Status: alive.
Spouse: unknown.
Children: one.
Status: unknown.

Li Jie’s voice was flat, but its weight sank heavy in the sterile air.
“We missed one.”

Yuanzhou’s eyes followed the line. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then slowly, he turned, meeting Li Jie’s gaze.

“I’ll contact Wen Xiao,” he said, voice steady. “We’ll need someone to crack this.”

Li Jie gave a single, silent nod.

"Give me your phone." Yuanzhou said, after checking his own pocket and remembering he left it in the parking lot. Li Lun handed the phone without turning his gaze away from the board.

The board’s pale glow cast their shadows long across the bloodstained floor, the survivor still curled in the corner, too afraid even to breathe.

🦇

The tang of blood lingered in the air, metallic and heavy. Yuanzhou slipped Li Jie’s phone into his coat pocket and stepped out into the open field, dialing with unhurried precision. Cold wind moved across the farm, ruffling the feathers of the eagle that circled above.

By the time he returned, his expression unreadable, the surviving hunter lay curled near the wall, now asleep. Yuanzhou’s eyes flicked toward him, then to Li Jie.
“You put him to sleep?”

Li Jie didn’t turn, still staring at the board of names and faces.
“He’s had enough. Besides, he was only doing the task he was given.”

Yuanzhou arched a brow, handing the phone back.
“How generous.”

“Found one?” Li Jie asked, voice flat.

Yuanzhou leaned against the table, arms folding. “Yeah. A part dhampir.”

Li Jie’s head turned slightly. “Part dhampir?”

“His mother,” Yuanzhou said, tone clipped, “was one.”

The silence stretched, heavy with implications neither voiced.

🦇

It was well past noon when the rumble of a vehicle announced Wen Xiao’s arrival. She burst through the door, breathless. The two men barely looked up from the files spread across the table.

“You came,” Yuanzhou said mildly. “That was fast.”

Her eyes swept the room, catching the stench, the blood, the trembling figure slumped in the corner. Her face tightened. “Zhu Yan—did you drink?”

Yuanzhou straightened, gaze cutting to her sharp with offense. “How dare you? You know I don’t feed on humans anymore.”

Wen Xiao exhaled through her nose, relief mixing with annoyance. “Just making sure.” She crouched beside the sleeping survivor, then turned her glare to Li Jie. “You almost killed him and then brought him back.”

“I told him to spare one,” Li Jie said simply, “he didn’t listen.”

She studied the trembling body, even in sleep, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Killing him was better. This is worse.”

Yuanzhou waved her words aside, calm but pointed. “Keep that lecture for later. Did you bring the guy?”

Wen Xiao nodded, motioning toward the door. “Come in.”

A boy, barely past twenty-two, stepped inside. His wide eyes froze on the scene—the bloodstains, the corpses, the two figures standing like death’s own sentinels before the glowing board.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Li Jie and Yuanzhou both turned, blank stares narrowing slightly.

The boy hurried forward, extending a hand with too much enthusiasm. “I’m Bai Jiu. I’ve heard about you two a lot. About you too, Miss." He said turning to Wen Xiao. "It’s an honor—really, I’m so happy to meet you!”

Both Yuanzhou and Li Jie slowly raised their hands, showing the dark stains still drying on their palms.

Bai Jiu hesitated. For a moment, his smile faltered. Then, with a sheepish grin, he reached forward anyway. “Never mind.” He clasped both their hands firmly, shaking. “Nice to meet you.”

Silence. Yuanzhou and Li Jie exchanged a long look. Then both turned that same look on Wen Xiao—an unspoken question: Where on earth did you find this one?

Wen Xiao opened her mouth, closed it again, then muttered, “He’s good. Trust me.”

Yuanzhou sighed softly, shaking his head. “Bai Jiu—we need you to—”

“Ah! Of course!” Bai Jiu cut in, already moving. He swung his laptop out of his backpack, humming under his breath as if oblivious to the room’s tension. He strode toward the system, cracking his knuckles with glee. “Let me get to work.”

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Hospital

The sterile quiet of the ward softened as evening light filtered through the blinds. Machines hummed low, keeping watch over the two boys in observation.

The duty doctor returned with a clipboard, offering a small smile.
“They’re stable now. You can take them home.”

Relief passed through the room. Yuanzhi rose from his chair, smoothing the creases from his shirt.
“I’ll go settle the discharge papers,” he said, his voice even, calm as always.

Sijing nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Mn. I’ll stay here with them.”

Yuanzhi turned toward the counter at the far end of the corridor—the place where payments and files changed hands. But halfway there, a sudden jolt ripped through his skull. His steps faltered.

He pressed his temple, trying to steady himself, but the corridor seemed to tilt sideways, vision smearing into streaks of color. A dull throb built into a wave, hot and relentless.

What the. He forced himself forward. One step. Two—

The world collapsed out from under him.

“A’Yuan!” Sijing’s voice cracked sharp as she leapt to her feet. Chairs screeched against the floor as she ran, catching him just as his body hit the cold tiles. Nurses rushed in, shouting, wheels clattering.

Minutes blurred. And then—

He was on a bed again, IV lines slipping cold medicine into his veins, sweat beading across his brow. His breathing hitched, his fingers clenched tight into the sheets as if bracing against something unseen.

Darkness pressed against him.

And then—

A garden under the blood moon. The air thick, metallic, drenched in silence too loud to bear.

A woman’s voice tore through it, raw and breaking.
“LI LUN… NOOO!”

Yuanzhi’s body arched against the bed, his hands clutching at the mattress, veins straining in his neck.

The same voice again, but different this time—lower, bitter, her words dripping with rage.
“I believed you… I trusted your words…”

The words echoed, heavy and raw, until Yuanzhi’s eyes snapped open. He sat up with a gasp, clutching the sheets.

“A'Yuan!” Sijing caught his hands at once, her own trembling as she pressed her palm to his damp forehead. “Are you okay?”

He blinked at her, confused, noticing the IV in his arm. “What… what happened to me?”

“You passed out, you idiot,” she scolded, her voice unsteady. “You were burning just now. You should have told me you weren’t well.”

“I was okay,” he murmured, still dazed.

Sijing shook her head, a bitter little laugh slipping through. “Yeah. I saw that.”

He looked around—it was nearly night, shadows stretching long against the hospital walls. “Where are they—Heng’er and Ying Lei?”

“They went to get food,” she said softly, pushing him back onto the bed. “You lay down a little longer.”

The room grew quiet again, the IV drip ticking steadily, as the day gave way to night.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Terminus's Farmhouse

The farmhouse smelled faintly of bleach and smoke. Outside, Eterna’s disposal team moved like shadows, dragging wrapped corpses to vans, washing away the blood that stained the gravel. The low hum of generators and the occasional scrape of metal were the only reminders of the slaughter hours earlier.

Inside, the lights were dimmed low. Zhao Yuanzhou leaned against the wall, arms folded, while Li Jie crouched near Bai Jiu, who had made himself comfortable on the long table with his laptop open. The boy’s fingers moved across the keys in a rhythm that made it sound almost like play.

“Alright…” Bai Jiu muttered, eyes narrowing as lines of code scrolled past. “…and we’re in.”

The system dashboard flickered to life. A scrape of boots drew their attention. The cleanup men set down a metal chest, snapping it open without a word.

Dozens of pendants gleamed within. Some cracked, some bloodstained, some still faintly pulsing with the marks of those who once bore them.

Bai Jiu tilted his head. “You know what this is?”

Yuanzhou stepped closer. His tone sharpened. “It’s an insignia."

Li Jie’s lips thinned. “Every red-blood under Eterna carries one. Name, number, bloodline etched into the core.”

"Can I get one?" Bai Jiu's eyes lit up with an unnatural glow. Yuanzhou and Li Jie glances at him.

"Okay," Bai Jiu turned to the screen his lips sealed in line.

Yuanzhou’s voice dropped, flat. “They were collecting them. Like souvenirs.”

Li Jie’s gaze hardened. “Signatures. They’re hunting—and whoever they’re after, He Shao’s death was staged to draw it out.”

Bai Jiu leaned back in his chair. “Hunting, yeah. And if you want the trail—look here.”

His fingers danced. A list unfurled across the screen—columns of dates, locations, names, and tags. The glow of it washed their faces pale.

Bai Jiu said, tapping the screen. “Kills. Verified. Red-bloods, black-bloods, dhampirs, demons. Even some things I don’t recognize. All within the past six months. Terminus isn’t just hunting vampires—they’re cleansing everything they consider ‘unnatural.’”

Li Jie’s jaw tightened. “Something triggered it.”

Bai Jiu nodded grimly. “Exactly. They came out of nowhere, but they’re spreading fast. The catch is—” he flicked to another file, grimacing. “—no name for their leader. No coordinates for a main base. It’s like a ghost organization. But…” His fingers drummed the table.

Yuanzhou tilted his head. “But?”

Bai Jiu's hands blurred across the keys. “Terminus surfaced barely a year ago, then started making waves. But their real hunting records? Six months back. Thousands dead since. And two months ago—” he tapped the screen, pulling up a list “—their kill count doubled overnight.”

Yuanzhou’s brow furrowed. “What changed?”

Bai Jiu opened a hidden file. The first image to load wasn’t footage, but a still. A pendant—like the ones in the chest, but older. Its etched lines faintly matched an insignia. But this one gleamed with ancient precision, etched with lines too fine for modern craft.

Then Bai Jiu froze. “Hnh.”

“This one’s different. No name. No number. Looks like a prototype.”

Yuanzhou’s eyes snapped open. He straightened at once.

Li Jie’s voice was quieter, but it carried weight. “Where did you get this?”

Bai Jiu glanced at them. “Straight out of Terminus’s system. First thing they filed under their classified archive.”

Yuanzhou’s posture shifted immediately, gaze cut to Li Jie. His voice was low, sharp. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Li Jie’s eyes narrowed. His silence stretched long, heavy. Then—ever so slightly—he inclined his head.
“How is that even possible?”

For a moment, neither man spoke. Bai Jiu’s grin faltered, sensing the shift in air.

Li Jie’s mind had already drifted—

🦇🦇🦇

The House of Li, 1750.

The afternoon light poured gold over the stream, the surface broken by lazy ripples where fallen leaves drifted. Under the shade of an old elm, Li Lun sat with Chun, the two of them half-hidden in the long grass. For a while, they simply listened to the water move, cicadas humming in the distance.

Chun broke the silence first.
“Your house feels… empty sometimes. Just you, Zhu Yan, Zhao Jie, and Mister Mo. What about the others? That portrait in your living room—so many faces.”

Li Lun sighed, tilting his head back against the trunk. “Do you really want to know?”

Chun nodded.

His gaze turned away, voice quiet. “They’re gone. All of them. Killed.”

Chun’s face darkened. “…By the Zhuo?”

He nodded once.

“And Zhu Yan’s? Zhao Jie’s?”

Another nod.

The words sank into her chest, heavy as stone. Chun lowered her head, whispering, “But… they’re still good to me.”

Li Lun glanced at her, puzzled. “Why shouldn’t they be? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Still,” Chun murmured, fingers plucking at the grass.

His tone softened. “Chun-ah, you don’t have to bear the weight of what your ancestors did. That’s not your burden. Everyone has the right to choose how they live, who they forgive.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Then how are you together, after all that blood?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “We grew up side by side. My family was respected among ours, and theirs too. When our parents were killed, the rest wanted to ruin the Zhuo bloodline completely. But my father once told me—passing down virtues is not the same as passing down hatred. We are different people; we should live our own lives.”

He plucked a pebble and tossed it into the stream, watching the ripples spread. “Besides, the ones who carried out the attack were already taken. What’s left to gain by killing and burning their successors? Only more ashes, more hate.”

Chun looked at him, eyes softening.

Li Lun’s voice gentled. “Zhu Yan and Chu Zhao felt the same. So we stood together. That’s how it’s been ever since.”

A silence lingered between them, not heavy this time, but fragile, like glass in sunlight.

Then Li Lun added quietly, almost like remembering aloud:
“The barrier… the illusion that keeps us hidden—it was made by Zhu Yan’s father. Before he was taken.”

The breeze stirred, carrying the scent of pine and water. Chun lowered her gaze, pressing her hand into the grass, her heart caught between grief and relief, voice small. “So… you all basically grew up alone. Because of my people.”

Li Lun shook his head gently. “We never felt alone. Not really.” A faint grin tugged his lips. “Sometimes when I’m with Zhu Yan, I think it would’ve been better if I was alone.”

Chun blinked. “Why?”

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “He’s the rebel of the league. Truly his father’s son.”

“Why do you say that?”

Li Lun tilted his head at her. “Ah—you don’t know, do you? His mother was black-blood. His father… sort of abducted her from her kin.”

Chun’s eyes widened. “What?”

“They have a truly horrific love story,” Li Lun said with a laugh, shaking his head. “He fell for her the moment she tried to kill him.”

Chun’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“No,” Li Lun said, still smiling. “Zhu Yan’s father was a big deal back then. She was sent against him on what was basically a suicidal mission. I still remember him boasting in the parties, ‘I’ve never seen a woman as strong as her in my life.’ Said it with that ridiculous proud face of his.”

Li Lun leaned back, softer now. “To be frank, he loved her. Respected her. Wouldn’t even move if she told him not to. And Zhu Yan—” he exhaled a quiet laugh— “Zhu Yan has both their fire in his veins. That rebel streak from each of them.”

Chun listened in silence, the story painting color over shadows she hadn’t known. For the first time since their talk began, the heaviness between them thinned, replaced by the faintest trace of wonder.

🦇

The stream faded behind them, its murmur replaced by the crunch of gravel underfoot. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as they made their way back toward the Li estate.

Chun glanced sideways. “What about Mr. Mo? Isn’t he… human?”

Li Lun nodded. “It’s an old oath. Or a pact, if you want to call it that. Centuries ago, one of my great-grandfathers saved Mr. Mo’s family from something… deadly. Protected them when no one else would. His ancestors promised their service in return. And so it’s carried on.”

Chun lowered her head with a quiet sigh.

“What now?” Li Lun asked, glancing at her.

She forced a small smile. “Nothing. Just... I’m not exactly welcome among your kin, am I?”

He stopped walking. She halted too, turning to face him under the shadow of a willow.

“Hey,” he said after a pause. He thought for a moment, then reached into his shirt. A thin chain glinted in his hand as he pulled it free—a silver pendant, rendered in crisp lines. Without hesitation, he unclasped it and looped it around her neck.

Chun’s brows drew together. “What is this?”

“It’s… a family heirloom,” Li Lun said. “Passed down through my predecessors. If you carry this, you’re part of the Li. No one of our kind will harm you.”

Her fingers brushed over the pendant, a small smile curving her lips. But it quickly faltered. “Wait…”

Li Lun blinked. “What?”

“It’s silver,” she said.

“Yeah, so?”

“Doesn’t it burn you? Weaken you?”

For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then his mouth curved into a crooked grin. “Ah. That.” He shrugged. “There are… exceptions. It doesn’t work on everyone.”

“Oh.” She looked down again, the pendant catching the sun rays.

They started walking once more, side by side. Li Lun’s voice was casual, almost teasing. “Besides, you know—even if it’s silver, you’d still have to stab it through a vampire’s heart to kill one. Otherwise, it’s just an inconvenience."

Chun stopped mid-step, thoughtful.

He caught the look on her face and stepped in front of her. Taking her hand, he pressed her rolled fist gently against his chest. His smile was faint but steady. “If you ever want to kill a vampire—strike here. Don't miss it like your Shushu."

Her eyes narrowed, but there was no fear in them. Only something sharper. “I will,” she said, pointing a finger up at his face, “if you ever dare to leave me. I’ll be the one hunting you down.”

Li Lun chuckled, and she broke into laughter with him. The tension melted into the twilight as they fell into step together, the path ahead lit by the golden Sun.

🦇🦇🦇

Night Before the Century Blood Moon, 1750.

The night was thick with silence when Zhuo Yi Chun felt her brother’s hand seize hers. Zhuo Yi Xuan didn’t speak, only pulled her out of their ancestral home with a swiftness that made her stumble after him.

“Gege—what’s going on?” she whispered, breath catching.

“Don’t make a sound,” Yi Xuan murmured, eyes fixed ahead. His grip on her hand was unyielding.

They crossed the courtyard, the tiled roofs fading into shadow, until they reached the edge of the Li estate. Before them lay a wall of mist and forest, though Chun knew better—it was the veil, the illusion that hid the Li boundary from the world. Her heart hammered.

“Gege… what are we doing here?” she asked, voice trembling.

Yi Xuan stopped, turned to her. His gaze was heavy, determined. “Call him. Tell Li Lun to come out.”

Chun froze. “What—?”

“I know,” Yi Xuan said quietly, but firmly. “Everything. Just call him.”

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Slowly, she lifted a hand and pressed it against the misty barrier. “Li Lun…” Her voice cracked. “Come out.”

The air stirred. A sudden gust swept from behind, and with it came the low, steady voice she had called for.

“What happened?”

Both siblings turned. Li Lun stood a few paces away, eyes sharp, his expression unreadable as he fixed them on Yi Xuan.

Yi Xuan released Chun’s hand. “Go. Leave with him.”

Chun’s eyes widened. “Gege—?”

“Leave,” Yi Xuan said again, his voice shaking but resolute. “Don’t go back home. You’re not safe there.”

Li Lun stepped forward, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you to take her,” Yi Xuan said, meeting his eyes. “Tomorrow is the century blood moon. None of you will be safe. It’s better if she’s with you.”

Chun’s voice trembled. “What about you?”

Yi Xuan’s gaze flickered, the weight of unspoken grief tightening his jaw. “I’m leaving too. I can’t carry the burden of this house anymore. I couldn't even—” He broke off, unable to finish. Instead, he glanced at Li Lun. “Be careful.”

Li Lun gave a single, grave nod and moved to Chun’s side.

Yi Xuan turned to go, but Chun’s voice cut through the night. “Wait!”

Li Lun glanced at her as she reached for the pendant at her neck. She slipped it off, holding it in her palm for a heartbeat, before running to her brother.

She pressed it into his hand. “Even if you run, you can’t erase the fact you’re Zhuo. There are people who will want your life for that alone. Keep this. At least with it… you’ll be safer with one like us.”

Yi Xuan stared at the pendant glowing faintly in the moonlight, then at his sister. His throat tightened, but no words came.

Behind her, Li Lun lowered his gaze, silent.

Chun curled Yi Xuan’s fingers over the pendant, then stepped back, her eyes shimmering. She returned to Li Lun’s side, lacing her hand with his.

She gave her brother one last look. He stood alone beneath the moon, the pendant gleaming like a fragile promise in his palm.

Then Chun and Li Lun disappeared into the mist, leaving Yi Xuan in the quiet, silver-lit night.

🦇🦇🦇

Terminus's Farmhouse

The present snapped back as Bai Jiu’s voice broke in. “Look at this. They logged an ‘anomaly’ in one of their dens outside the country- Korea. Two months go one of their wairhouse got wiped out overnight.” He paused. His cursor hovered over a folder.

He opened it.

Grainy CCTV footage filled the screen. A warehouse lit by harsh fluorescent strips. Bodies of hunters lay scattered across the floor. The only sound was the faint static of the recording.

Yuanzhou’s eyes narrowed. “Play it.”

The footage ran. At first, nothing but smoke. Then—a blur. A sweep of movement so fast the camera almost failed to capture it. Hunters crumpled one after another, blood spraying across the concrete. The blur reappeared at intervals, like a shadow cutting down men before they could fire.

“Stop. Rewind,” Li Jie said sharply.

Bai Jiu scrubbed the footage back. This time both Li Jie and Yuanzhou leaned in, watching intently.

A figure flickered into partial focus. A man. Jet-black hair that brushed his shoulders, blades strapped across his body—knives at his waist, a long sword on his back. His face was obscured by a scarf, the rest blurred by speed.

Bai Jiu scrubbed forward to the next clip.

This time, the figure wasn’t just cutting men down with speed. He had drawn a sword.

A blade glowing blue, light rippling like water under moonlight.

“Hold up, let me clean this up.” Bai Jiu's fingers flew, reconstructing the blurred figure frame by frame. Slowly, the image sharpened—long hair, black-clad form, weapons strapped across his body.

Yuanzhou froze. His gaze locked on the screen, his hand lifting unconsciously to point.
“That’s…”

Li Jie’s breath left him in a slow exhale.
“…Great Lord Bingyi’s Cloud Light Sword.”

Bai Jiu’s eyes widened, almost comically. “Zhuo’s legendary sword.” He leaned closer, pupils dilated. “No way. The hunter is hunting hunters… and he’s wearing the insignia of his natural prey—what the hell is happening here?”

The room hung heavy in silence.

Then Yuanzhou’s voice, quieter now:
“You gave that pendant to Li Chun.”

Li Jie’s jaw tightened. He nodded once.
“She… passed it to Zhuo Yi Xuan.”

A rare sigh slipped through him, the weight of years clinging to it. “I was there for Zhuo Yi Xuan’s funeral. And that pendant… it wasn’t on him that day.”

Yuanzhou’s gaze sharpened, the lines of his face hardening. “He used to wield the Cloud Light Sword. It went missing after his-” His eyes flicked back to the frozen frame. “So who is this in here?”

Li Jie didn’t answer immediately. His stare lingered on the blue blade, his silence its own gravity. Finally, he spoke.
“For now… he’s not a direct threat. But we need to be careful until we find the Hunterblood.”

Bai Jiu’s chair creaked as he leaned back, muttering, “He could be after that too.”

“Possible,” Yuanzhou conceded, “but for the time being, we can’t let him divert us.” He turned fully to Li Jie, voice sharpened to a single edge. “What are you thinking?”

Li Jie’s fingers curled into a fist at his side. "Nothing", His gaze never left the glowing sword on the screen.

The air turned heavy again—until a sudden trill shattered it. Bai Jiu’s phone lit up. Miss Wen Xiao.

He frowned, then answered. “Hello?”

“Is Li Jie there?”

Bai Jiu glanced at Li Jie, then wordlessly held the phone out.

Li Jie took it. “What happened?”

Wen Xiao’s voice came calm, but clipped. “Sixty out. Sixty to go.”

Li Jie hummed softly.

She continued, “Pei Sijing called. Yuanzhi’s cousin. She said she tried to reach you, but you didn’t pick up.”

“I didn’t notice,” Li Jie said flatly. “What is it?”

“Yuanzhi collapsed with a fever. Passed out at the hospital after we left. She asked if he could get a few days off.”

Silence. Only the faint buzz of static carried between them.

“…Li Jie?” Wen Xiao’s voice pressed.

Li Jie’s reply came low. “Tell him I asked him to rest. It’s better he isn’t caught in this mess.”

A pause, then her quiet acknowledgement. “Okay. And… did you find anything?”

“More than we can say on the phone.”

“Mn. Then take care. I’ll wait.”

The call cut.

The farmhouse returned to its silence—the pendant still glowing on the screen, the sword’s blue light frozen mid-swing. Shadows pressed against the windows as if the night itself was listening.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

House Of Li l Bloodmoon Night

The night of the century blood moon had fallen, draping the world in a dark crimson hue. The House of Li stood silent beneath its glow, shadows long and heavy, the air hushed as though holding its breath.

On the balcony, Chun sat curled against Li Lun's shoulder, the faint creak of the swing their only music. Her fingers slipped into his, and with a small smile, she raised their entwined hands toward the moon.

Li Lun tilted his head, watching her. His lips curved into a smile he couldn't suppress.

"What?" Chun turned, catching the expression.

"Nothing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

She chuckled softly and slipped off the swing. He stayed where he was, still watching her with the kind of gaze that lingered even when she wasn't looking.

Her eyes wandered to the garden, its blossoms painted in shades of black and red under the strange moonlight. She turned back, her voice light with mischief. "Should we go? The garden looks beautiful tonight."

Li Lun rose, joining her at the railing, his gaze sweeping over the darkened expanse. "Chun-ah... you know-"

"I know you're weak now," she cut in gently, tapping her own bicep with a little grin. "Don't worry. I'm strong enough to protect you."

A chuckle escaped him, warm and low. He reached out, cupping her cheeks, squeezing them playfully until she pouted. "You're so cute... I just want to bite you."

She laughed and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

"You better protect me then," he murmured into her hair, a rare thread of honesty in his tone. "My senses already doesn't work when you're around me. Tonight they're even weaker."

"Of course," she mumbled into his chest.

He pulled back just enough to take her hand, clasping it firmly. "But don't make any noise. If Zhu Yan finds out we left, he'll lock us in here for a century."

Chun's lips curved into a teasing smile. "I don't mind."

🦇

The garden glowed under the blood moon, every petal, every shadow tinged in red. Chun walked beside Li Lun, her fingers curled tightly around his.

He glanced down at their joined hands, a quiet smile ghosting his lips. "This is not like you. You never walk hand in hand-you always say you want to walk free."

Chun tilted her head, the moonlight catching in her eyes. "This is the freest I've ever felt in my life."

"Really?" His voice softened, almost disbelieving.

She nodded, and they strolled deeper into the garden, silence stretching between them in a comfortable hush.

After a long while, Li Lun broke it with a playful sigh. "Are you planning to stand here like this all night?"

Chun glanced up at him. "Why? Don't you like it?"

"No." He smiled, shaking his head. "Say something."

"What?"

"I don't know," he teased. "Maybe about the wedding. How do you want it to be?"

Her eyes sparkled, and she thought for a moment before answering. "Traditional. Red everywhere-the whole house in red. Dragon and phoenix lanterns. We bow to the heavens, then to the ancestors, and finally to each other."

She demonstrated the motions with her hands, and he followed, the two of them bowing with a solemnity that turned into laughter when they met each other's eyes.

"And you?" she asked.

Li Lun grew quiet, his gaze lifted to the looming blood moon above them. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a weight that made Chun's heart still. "You know... our kind once had weddings like that. Before the hunts began."

Chun tilted her head, curiosity sparking. "Before the hunts?"

He nodded. "When hunters came for us, we had no time for ceremonies or feasts. Lovers were torn apart overnight. So we made another way-a ritual to bind souls. Simple. Dangerous. Eternal."

Her lips parted in surprise. "Eternal?"

Li Lun's expression shifted-childish mischief flickered back. He turned suddenly, "Chun-ah," he said without looking at her, "will you do something if I ask you to?"

She blinked, then nodded slowly.

A smile bloomed across his face, bright and almost boyish. "Stay here. Two minutes."

Before she could question him, he dashed into the manor. Chun's brows furrowed, startled. What just... happened? She glanced up at the swollen moon. The shadows of the roses swayed.

Minutes later, he returned, arms full-basket bumping against his hip. He placed it on the tea table and revealed its contents one by one: a bottle of red wine, two glasses, a white cloth folded square, a candle, a bundle of red string, and a small dagger.

Chun's brow arched. "This looks... suspicious."

"Not suspicious," he corrected, straightening the cloth with deliberate care. "Important. Now go get me some flowers. Red roses."

She narrowed her eyes. "Flowers? Now?"

"Yes. Hurry."

Rolling her eyes, Chun plucked a bunch of roses from the side of the path. When she returned, Li Lun was pouring wine into both glasses, the flame casting his face in flickering shadows. He took the roses from her, plucked their petals one by one, and scattered them across the table until it looked like an altar.

"Li Lun," she asked warily, "what exactly is going on?"

He checked his pocket watch. The hands pointed close to midnight. His expression settled into a rare seriousness. "It's almost time."

Chun crossed her arms. "You're making this look suspiciously like a ritual."

He glanced at her, "Because it is."

Her breath caught. "A ritual?"

He nodded, "A ritual of union",then extended his hand. "Are you ready?"

She hesitated, then blinked and nodded.

He lifted the red string, tying one end around her right pinky, the other around his own. The thread glowed faintly in the candlelight, a fragile but unbreakable tether. He then reached for her hands, his eyes locking on hers. "Sorry," he whispered.

Before she could ask, the dagger pricked her fingertip. Chun jolted but swallowed the sound of pain.

He caught the droplet, three drops of her blood falling into the first glass of wine. Then, almost tenderly, he raised her hand and blew across the small wound.

She nudged his shoulder lightly, half-laughing at the gesture, though her heart raced.

"It's okay," she whispered when she saw his guilt.

He smiled faintly, then pricked his own finger, letting three drops of his own blood slip into the other glass. Handing her the glass with his blood, he raised his own.

Chun stared at the liquid, then at him. "You... want me to drink this?"

His gaze lowered briefly to the wine, then back to her. He gave a firm nod.

Her throat tightened. She drew in a deep breath, lifting the glass. But just as the rim brushed her lips, his hand stopped hers.

"Wait."

Her brows knit. "Why?"

"Because there's one more thing."

Both turned instinctively toward the moon. His voice deepened, carrying the rhythm of old vows:
"I, Li Lun, son of the Li, vow beneath this blood moon to bind my soul with Zhuo Yi Chun. To be her shield, to stand even when the world falls, to guard her until my last breath, and to carry her memory beyond death itself. Until the stars are cold and the rivers dry, this bond will not break."

Chun's lips parted in surprise at his solemnity, then curved into a small, crooked smile. "You're dramatic."

But she straightened her back, and in her own voice she gave her vow: "Then I, Zhuo Yi Chun, daughter of Zhuo, promise under this Blood Moon to bind my soul to Li Lun. I'll walk beside him, fight beside him... scold him when he's foolish, laugh with him when the night is long. And even if the sky crumbles, I will not turn away."

Their arms locked at the elbow. They drank the bloodwine, its metallic tang sliding down like fire and iron.

When the last drop touched her tongue, warmth spread through her chest, strange and heavy. She looked at him, unsettled.
"So... that's it? Wedding over?"

He placed her glass down carefully. "You really don't know?"

She shook her head.

"You hunters only ever studied how to kill us. Not how we lived. Not how we loved." His tone carried no accusation, only quiet truth.

Chun frowned, stung.

Li Lun softened. "This ritual began when lovers couldn't be sure they'd survive another night. When one gets hunted, the other never knew if they'd return. So... the blood vow bound them. Distance, time, nothing mattered. You could feel if your beloved still lived. Or if they didn't."

Her breath trembled. "Which means... I could feel your presence from now on."

He nodded. "But there is one problem."

Her eyes narrowed. "What problem?"

"Not much. Just... if something happens to me, don't bury me. Burn what remains. Let the ashes return to the wind. Don't keep them."

Her hand shot up, covering his mouth. "Don't jinx yourself, Li Lun. Not tonight."

He took her hand gently away, eyes heavy. "I don't want you to suffer, Chun. This ritual-it works on balance. If one of us dies, the other carries the weight of the loss. On ordinary nights, it won't be felt. On Blood Moons... the pain is unbearable. On a Century Blood Moon, it could drive you to death."

Her heart squeezed. "Then... those who did this ritual before-"

"The hunters burned their prey's bodies. That's how the bond broke." His voice was flat.

Silence fell, broken only by the flutter of candlelight.

Finally, she whispered, "So... what now? The wedding really ends here?"

He blinked, then gave a sheepish smile. "Not quite."

From his pocket, he drew out a small velvet box. Inside-two simple rings. They slid them onto each other's fingers, and for a heartbeat, the world felt still.

"When did you arranged all this, Li Lun?"

"The day I promised you, I'll take you with me after the blood moon."

But when Chun looked back at him, she caught something else-his gaze darted away, a faint color rising on his face.

"Strange," she murmured. "It's not like you to avoid my eyes."

He didn't answer.

"Did we miss something?" she teased.

He tapped his lips lightly. Her eyes widened.

"I didn't mean we have to," he said quickly. "It's just how it's usually done. The ceremony ends with a kiss." He busied himself with the table. "If you're done watching the moon, let's head back."

Chun blinked at him, then smirked. "Don't you want to?"

He froze. "...What do you mean?"

"You've lived centuries and look at you blushing over the thought of a kiss?" She sighed, tugging him by the collar. Their lips drew close, breath mingling, the world narrowing to the red glow between them-

-when a sharp hiss split the night.

The arrow struck Li Lun's shoulder with brutal force, the sound of tearing flesh sharp in the stillness. He gasped, stumbling back as blood spattered across the roses and soaked the white cloth red.

"Li Lun!" Chun's cry split the night. She caught him as he faltered, her voice shaking. "No no no no... Li Lun... Look at me!"

Crimson poured from his wound, down his arm, dripping onto his legs and pooling across the stone floor like a second ritual gone wrong. Above them, the blood moon glared down, merciless, a witness to both vow and violation.

🦇🦇🦇

Terminus's Farmhouse l Present

The farmhouse sat like a carcass at the edge of the field, stripped bare after Eterna's disposal team had left. The air still carried faint traces of bleach and smoke, the silence so heavy it seemed to listen. Sixty more to go in five days.
The countdown coiled in like a blade being twisted.

Li Jie stepped back into the room after Wen Xiao's call. His voice was low, controlled.

"Anything new?"

Yuanzhou glanced up from his seat, the lamplight cutting harsh lines across his face. "Yes." He tapped the table, beckoning Bai Jiu forward.

Bai Jiu, hunched over his laptop, spun the screen toward them. "The rabbit hole keeps getting deeper. They're everywhere. Spread across South Asia, Southeast Asia... branches in almost every country. They've built themselves like a plague."

Li Jie's brows knit. "And their base?"

"That's the thing." Bai Jiu snorted. "The locations aren't public record. Even hacked files scrubbed clean. But-" he leaned closer, excitement bright in his eyes, "that guy who attacked the Korean branch? He went straight into the head center. No hesitation. I'd call it suicide, but he made it back out alive. Bold doesn't even cover it. More like insane."

Yuanzhou's jaw tightened. "Anything more?"

Bai Jiu's fingers flicked across the keys. "Plenty. There are over a thousand hunters in some countries alone. But here's the kicker-they don't know each other. Identities are compartmentalized. And this-" he pulled up another file, tapping the screen, "-is why."

The image made both men still.

A dagger, black and cruel, pierced a heart from above. The tattoo bled across the image in stark ink, paired with a number stamped beneath it.

"This," Bai Jiu said with mock flourish, "is the official mark of Terminus. Every hunter gets branded. A dagger through a heart, number below. No names, no photographs, no IDs. Just nicknames. Anonymous soldiers. Clean, terrifying, efficient. Chef's kiss."

Li Jie's hand moved without thought, drawing the file closer. His gaze caught on another folder tucked at the bottom.

"Open this one," he ordered.

Bai Jiu raised a brow. "The Fallen file? Probably hunters who died in the field." Still, he clicked it open.

The first entry blinked onto the screen.

Spring - 7

The room seemed to tilt, sound pulling away. Li Jie's eyes fixed on the name, unblinking, his breath barely moving in his chest.

Bai Jiu chuckled under his breath, oblivious. "Spring? Who names a hunter that? Doesn't even sound like a killer's name." He scrolled lazily. "Now this one-look."

The next name filled the screen in sharp, bold letters, the number written in Roman numerals: - Wraith -CL
The codename itself radiated power, an eerie confidence that lingered even on the flat glow of a monitor.

Yuanzhou rose from his chair at the sound of the first name. "Spring..." His voice broke quiet, heavy. He turned his head toward Li Jie, who hadn't moved, still staring as though the screen might burn him.

Bai Jiu shrugged, clicking idly. "Must've been one of the earliest members. They probably number them based on entry. Spring-7-that's practically a founding spot."

The silence that followed was thick. Too thick.

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Home

The front door creaked open, and Pei Sijing guided Yuanzhi carefully inside. He was pale but standing, his steps steadier than they had been in the hospital.

"A'Yuan!" Shangguan Qian all but ran from the dining hall, her apron still dusted with flour. She cupped his face between both palms as if to make sure he was real. "My baby, what happened to you?"

Yuanzhi chuckled softly, though his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, leaning into her warmth. "I'm okay, maa. Just a fever. Nothing serious."

Her brows drew tight. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He smiled faintly. "Because in the morning, I really was okay."

Pei Sijing, standing loyally at his side, added gently, "Auntie, he's fine now. The doctor just asked him to rest a little. Here-" She placed the white pharmacy bag into Qian's hands. "His medicines are inside."

Qian exhaled, relief softening her face. She brushed a thumb over Yuanzhi's temple before glancing at the girl. "A'Jing, thank you. Truly."

Sijing shook her head with a small smile. "Then I'll head back. Heng'er's waiting for me."

"At least stay for dinner," Qian urged, already half-turning toward the kitchen.

"No, Auntie. Really." Sijing lifted her hand in a polite refusal. And turned to Yuanzhi, "You needs to rest. I've already informed your boss-you have a few days off. Okay?."

Yuanzhi rolled his eyes at her tone. "Okay, grandma. I'll rest. Now go."

The two girls laughed softly, and Sijing waved, slipping out the door.

Qian turned back to her son, her voice dropping into the familiar cadence of command. "Go freshen up. I'll make you porridge."

Yuanzhi nodded. "Mm", he trudged up the stairs.

🦇

The bathroom filled with steam as the shower ran. He lingered under the hot water longer than necessary, trying to ease the tight coil in his chest. When he finally stepped out, he wiped the fog from the mirror.

The glass cleared enough to show his reflection: damp hair clinging to his forehead, water trailing down the sharp lines of his collarbone. His gaze dropped lower, on the pale skin of his chest-the ink was stark and unforgiving.

A dagger piercing through a heart. Beneath it, the number etched deep into flesh.
7

He stared at it in silence, his pulse loud in his ears. His lids fluttered shut, and memory broke open inside him-fragments sharp as glass.

🦇

Chun's voice first-hoarse, breaking.

"I believed you. I trusted your words and followed you... How could you do this to me? Shūshu."

Zhuo Guo's reply was ice, his voice ringing like a curse:
"Shūshu? You were never one of us. I kept you alive to turn you into my weapon. Your mother-she tried to run with you. I had to send her first because of that. And you... you thought you could live with him. Betraying us for him."

The memory fractured, twisting, and his gaze turned-Li Lun on his knees, poison spreading black through his veins, breath shuddering.

Zhuo Guo's shadow loomed, his words dripping venom:
"Li Lun, son of Li, one of the strongest of your kind. Hear me well-if you want to live, you must kill her. Drain her to the last drop. Only then will you survive."

Yuanzhi's chest tightened as the scene lurched-flashes of teeth, blood, broken hands clasped together. Chun's blurred eyes locking on Li Lun's face as his mouth pressed against her skin. Her hands slackening, slipping from his. His lips stained red. Her breath faltering, her body weakening in Li Lun's arms.

The image burned, searing his skull, and Yuanzhi's eyes snapped open.

He gripped the sink, water dripping from his chin, his reflection smeared by steam. His eyes were red-not just from the shower's heat.

A laugh broke out of him, jagged, cruel at the edges. "It's my time to pay back your betrayal. Lucky you Shūshu... you died before I came back."

As he dried his face and dressed slowly, every movement controlled, fragments of years past unfolded like a reel he could never escape. Thirteen years old. The Blood Moon burning crimson over the horizon. That was the night everything began-his senses had sharpened, sound and scent flaring painfully bright; strength had surged through his body like wildfire. And then the visions-memories that weren't his, yet felt carved into his bones.

He remembered betrayal. Family blood turning on their own. Chun's voice trembling as she begged her uncle. Zhuo Guo's laughter, cruel and cold. And then Li Lun-eyes that once looked at her with love shifting into something monstrous, something hungry, as blood stained his mouth. The image always fractured there, blurred at the edges. But the anguish, the helplessness-that never faded.

Every Blood Moon after, more fragments returned. He endured it, the memories the pain that ripping him apart. And with each vision, the pain cut deeper, hardening him.

It was not long after that he found the letter. Folded between the brittle pages of a library book he had borrowed, signed- Terminus. Come find us.

At nineteen he joined them, to ease the pain of betrayal. Terminus sharpened his instincts into weapons, taught him how to stalk, how to kill. At first, he thought it was salvation. But then the hunts grew reckless. The beings who had never harmed humans, who lived quietly, were dragged into the open and slaughtered. Yuanzhi had left before his conscience drowned with theirs. He walked away, but he carried everything they gave him. And he kept one target, one obsession: Li Lun.

His lips curled faintly as dried his hair. Getting close and striking at once was suicide-Li Lun was too strong, too careful. No, he needed to weave himself into their circle, let them lower their guard. Let them believe he was harmless. That was the only way.

The interviews. The way he had walked into Eterna knowing every corridor, every guard's routine, every blind spot-informations he slept on from he turned eighteen.

Everyone at the company thought he'd stumbled into the job, an ordinary college student with a curious personality and calm eyes. Even Zhuo Yuanzhou, who watched everyone too closely, had relaxed around him. Ofcourse he did. Yuanzhi had learned early that trust wasn't earned with words, but with silences-knowing when to nod, when to drop his gaze, when to smile just enough.

He smirked faintly at the thought, remembering how his expression shifted like water when no one was watching. One heartbeat he could be empty-eyed, jaw clenched, the next he would soften, brows raised in practiced worry, lips curved playful. A mirror for whatever they wanted to see.

And when footsteps came down the hall, he always knew before the sound reached the door. He could taste their presence in the air-breath, sweat, the subtle drag of clothing against skin. By the time they appeared, his face was already set, the perfect mask for whoever opened the door.

None of them ever wondered what lay beneath it.

He crossed to his desk, flicked on his laptop, and the grainy footage of Terminus's ruined farmhouse filled the screen, Li Jie's feral precision, Zhuo Yuanzhou's ruthless efficiency. He almost admired it, but only almost. Then a window blinked open, text spilling across the monitor:

[Join us again. We need you back in the field.]

Yuanzhi leaned back, expression unreadable. Fingers hovered over the keys, then typed:

You couldn't even find the one who attacked you. Instead, you chased after the bigger fish and left the wound festering.

A pause. Then the reply blinked across the screen.

[That's why I'm asking you to return. They're taking us down piece by piece.]

Yuanzhi's lips curved into something colder than a smile.

You lost my trust the moment you went after those innocent ones, who never harmed anyone.

The answer came sharp.

[Innocent? You call those things innocent? Don't forget who you are, Spring.]

His eyes narrowed, the reflection of the glowing screen painting his face in pale blue. He typed slowly, each word deliberate.

You know who I am. And you know how much I hate that. Don't try to drag me back. "Spring" has fallen for Terminus. Anyone who tries to pull me in again will fall the same.

The cursor blinked. Then a new line appeared.

[Then, what about him? Li Lun.]

Yuanzhi stilled. Then his reply came like a blade drawn across stone:

That's my personal mission. Mine alone. Don't interfere. Whoever crosses that path will meet the same end.

The chat window flickered once, then vanished, leaving only the frozen frame of Li Jie and Yuanzhou-two ghosts bound to the same storm Yuanzhi was walking into.

He shut the laptop with a snap, shoving it aside. Then he turned to the closet. Clothes swayed on their hangers as he pushed them aside, revealing the secret board hidden in the shadows.

Photographs, clippings, coded scraps-all tethered by crimson thread. And at the center, Li Lun's image stared back at him.

Yuanzhi crouched, pulling a box from the stack of shoeboxes. The emblem of Terminus gleamed on the lid like a brand. Inside lay a dagger of pure silver, its blade catching the dim light with a cold, lethal shimmer.

"Putting up a portrait in the living room won't wash away your sins, Li Lun," Yuanzhi whispered, breath uneven. "And you don't deserve forgiveness. You should die with the guilt of killing the one who loved you to death."

Yuanzhi crouched, pulling a box from the stack of shoeboxes. The emblem of Terminus gleamed on the lid like a brand. Inside lay a dagger of pure silver, its blade catching the dim light with a cold, lethal shimmer.

He cradled the dagger for a moment, almost reverently, then raised it. Li Lun's voice slipped through his memory, faint but steady, Chun's rolled fist against his chest.: "If you ever want to kill a vampire-strike here. Don't miss it like your Shushu."

The blade pierced the board with a hard thud, pinning Li Lun's image to the center.

Yuanzhi leaned close, lips twisting into a smile both pained and merciless. "Wait for me. This time, I won't miss."

The dagger quivered in the board, and Yuanzhi's smirk deepened. "Just five more days."

Yuanzhi's smirk lingered as he stepped back from the board. The dagger still quivered faintly in Li Lun's image, the silver blade gleaming under the dim light.

Then-he tilted his head, almost idly, like a predator scenting the air. His eyes narrowed, focusing on something beyond the walls. He could hear it-the faint shuffle of footsteps on the wooden floor outside, the heartbeat steady but unguarded. He even caught the low murmur of breath, familiar, paternal.

A second later- knock knock.

"A'Yuan, dinner's ready. Come down." His father's voice carried through the door.

Yuanzhi straightened, expression smoothing into calm, the sinister curl of his lips erased in an instant. "I'm coming, Dada," he answered, voice warm.

He cast one last glance at Li Lun's image on the board, the dagger still pinning it in place, before turning away.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Yuanzhi's Bedroom

The room was dim, only a faint ribbon of moonlight seeping through the window. Yuanzhi tossed in his sleep, sweat rolling down his temple. His hands clutched the mattress as though holding on for dear life. His breath came shallow, broken.

And in the dream—

The sky burned red. The century blood moon hung low, spilling its curse upon the earth. The garden ruined and reeked of blood.

Chun stood in the middle of it, bruised and trembling, her robes torn and streaked with dirt. Her lips parted, chest heaving as though every breath hurt.

In front of her, Chu Zhao stood firm, shielding her with her own body.

A few steps ahead, Li Lun knelt on the ground. His head hung low, blood dripping from wounds that painted the soil black-red. His fingers dug into the earth as though clawing for strength.

Then the moon’s glow slithered across his body. His veins bulged, turning dark and black beneath his skin. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed scarlet, fangs bared. His veins blackened, spreading across his face like cracks, eyes burning a violent red.

“Ahhhhhh!” His scream ripped through the night like a beast breaking free of its chains.

Chun staggered back. Chu Zhao caught her wrist, whispering urgently, “Stay behind me. Don’t move.”

Zhu Yan appeared in a blur, seizing Li Lun by the shoulder. His voice cracked with warning, “Li Lun, don’t lose it! Not now!”

But Li Lun’s burning eyes never left Chun. His claws spread, shaking, fighting against restraint—then gave way. He lunged.

Zhu Yan locked his arms around him, straining to hold him down. “Chu Zhao! Take her away!” he roared.

“Go!” Chu Zhao hissed, tugging Chun’s wrist.

But Li Lun’s strength under the venom and his thirst was monstrous. With a guttural snarl, he overpowered Zhu Yan, hurling him aside like a ragdoll. His shadow streaked forward.

In an instant, he was in front of Chun. His hand clamped around her wrist, his other palm seizing her neck. He yanked her against his chest, her body rigid with terror.

“Li Lun…” Chun’s voice broke, soft and pleading, eyes glistening.

Her words were cut as his jaws opened wide, fangs gleaming in the crimson light.

“NOOO!” Zhu Yan and Chu Zhao’s voices split the air behind him.

But Li Lun did not stop. The last thing Yuanzhi saw was Chun closing her eyes, tears slipping down her face as Li Lun's fangs touched her throat.

Yuanzhi jolted upright with a strangled cry, knocking the crystal night lamp off the bedside table. The crash shattered the silence. His chest heaved, breath coming in frantic bursts, sweat soaking his hair and brow.

His heart thundered like it might burst. The image of Chun in Li Lun’s grip burned behind his eyes, unbearable, undeniable. To him—it wasn’t a dream. It was truth. Li Lun had chosen survival over Chun’s life.

A frantic knock rattled the door.

“A’yuan! What happened?” Shangguan Qian’s worried voice quivered from outside.

“A’yuan, open the door,” Gong Shangjue added firmly.

Yuanzhi forced himself to breathe, steadying his shaking hands. He opened the door. His parents’ faces appeared, alarm etched deep.

Qian cupped his damp face, eyes glistening with worry. “What happened to you?”

Yuanzhi bit his lip. “Just… a bad dream.”

Shangjue patted his head gently, but his eyes flicked past him, catching the broken shards of glass on the floor.

“You’ll sleep in our room tonight,” Qian said firmly.

“Maaa, it’s okay,” Yuanzhi mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

“No, it’s not,” she said, pulling him along.

Yuanzhi looked helplessly at his father. “Dada…” He shook his head like a sulky child.

Shangjue shrugged helplessly, palms raised. “Don’t look at me. She’s the general in this house.”

So it was decided.

A few minutes later, Yuanzhi lay wedged between them, his parents flanking him on either side. Qian’s hand stroked through his damp hair, Shangjue’s palm resting heavy and warm against his arm. The glow of the bedside lamp painted the room golden.

Yuanzhi cracked one eye open, muttering, “You two are being so dramatic.”

Shangjue chuckled, voice deep and steady. “What’s wrong with that? You’re our only child. Who else should we dote on?”

Yuanzhi sat up abruptly, glaring at him. “I never asked you not to have another one!”

Qian swatted his back, half exasperated, half laughing. Shangjue burst into a low laugh at his son’s sulking.

Yuanzhi groaned, flopping back down. “God, this is so embarrassing.” He turned and buried himself against his father’s shoulder, curling up with a muffled, “Turn the lights off.”

His parents shared a glance above his head—Qian’s soft with worry, Shangjue’s amused. Then the lamp clicked off, leaving them in the quiet, safe dark.

🦇

The room fell into darkness, quiet save for the rhythm of three breaths.

Yuanzhi lay wedged between them, stiff at first, until his father’s steady heartbeat lulled him, the warmth of his mother’s hand smoothing his hair like when he was a boy. He exhaled, curling closer to Shangjue’s chest, pretending sleep had taken him.

But when his parents’ breathing steadied, Yuanzhi opened his eyes.

The ceiling above blurred, fading into flashes of faces and moments he could never erase.

Chun’s tear-streaked face. Li Lun’s fangs. That single moment of betrayal.

But before that vision, before nineteen—there had been admiration.

He remembered himself at sixteen, slipping into the dusty corners of libraries and newspaper archives, fingers blackened by ink as he scoured old clippings. Searching for any trace of the Li family of Tiandu—the business clan who had built an empire but remained ghosts in public memory. But his search ended up at painter Yuan Wuhuo, whose works from decades ago he’d found buried in archives. With the exact same signature board on the portrait of Chun in Li Jie's Spring Mansion. And he disappeared.

After that a void. No photographs, no interviews. Only one name repeated: Li Yan, the reclusive founder of Eterna. A man who never showed his face, who lived abroad while everything under the company was managed by the Mo family, his stewards, for thirty years.

And then, when Yuanzhi was seventeen, Eterna announced a successor. Li Jie. The son of Li Yan. Young. Sharp. Taking his place as CEO with a composure far beyond his years. Elders whispered how Li Jie resembled that long-forgotten artist, Yuan Wuhuo. Yuanzhi knew—it wasn’t resemblance. It was him.

The first time Yuanzhi saw him in person—he was with his father at the hospital. Li Jie had passed through the lobby, flanked by bodyguards, his expression unreadable.

From then on, Yuanzhi clung to every scrap of detail he could gather. Li Jie’s cars—always red or black. His distaste for sweets nothing but pears. The cufflinks he wore, each one carrying a quiet story. His habit of ordering tea, never coffee. His bookshelf in the CEO’s lounge, arranged by theme, not author. His rare smile that lit his whole face, a smile Yuanzhi thought should be shown more often.

Sometimes, when his mother worked shifts at Eterna’s hospital, Yuanzhi would slip in too, pretending to wait for her, just to catch a glimpse of him.

He even tailored his own studies toward business, half-dreaming that one day he could stand at Li Jie’s side—not as a subordinate, but as someone who could understand that lonely figure.

Chun’s memories bleeding into him. Her warmth, her laughter. Her trust in Li Lun. the admiration deepened into something warmer, heavier. He wasn’t just shadowing Li Lun anymore. He was falling with him — with Chun’s love braided into his own.

And then at nineteen—the vision of her death. Chun’s tears. Li Lun’s fangs at her throat. How Li Lun choose survival over her life. Betrayal, twice over — of Chun, and of himself.

That night had changed everything. His admiration had twisted into obsession, then curdled into vengeance. The boy who once dreamed of standing beside Li Jie now dreamed only of ending him.

That day something in Yuanzhi cracked open. His blood roared, the walls vibrated around him, objects lifting, quivering in mid-air. For the first time, his telekinesis power burst fully awake. His rage lit it like a torch.

Soon after, the letter arrived. From Terminus.

They trained him in secret, under the cover of his university dorm. He didn’t even need to sneak out—his mind control was precise enough to slip past notice. They shaped him into one of their best. He trained others, too, all under his calm, disarming smile.

But on one mission, when the order came to eliminate a target’s family, Yuanzhi couldn’t do it, which his squad did. He twisted his ability on his own squad, made them believe he’d died, and vanished. Only the head of Terminus knew the truth. And even he did not know the reason for Yuanzhi’s obsession: Li Lun.

His lips curled into a broken smile in the dark.
You ruined two lives that day, Li Lun. Hers and mine. You won’t do it again.

He shut his eyes again, forcing his breathing even, pretending once more to sleep between the two people who still thought he was whole.

🦇🦇🦇

Spring Mansion

The Spring Mansion lay wrapped in silence, its corridors breathing with the faint fragrance of plum blossoms. Outside, the night sky was cloud-heavy, veiling the stars, the moon’s pale glow barely able to seep through. The world seemed hushed, as though waiting for something it could not name.

Li Jie climbed the stairs with measured steps, but each one sent a jolt through his body. His lungs stuttered; his vision blurred. It was as though chains wound tighter around his chest, pulling with invisible hooks.

The bond.
The oath.
The price of still keeping it.

His breath hitched sharply. The walls seemed to tilt, the faint silver of moonlight bleeding into haze. His knees buckled. He gripped the railing, knuckles white, but his strength faltered. He collapsed to the steps, gasping, a cry tearing from his throat as a stabbing pain lanced through his ribs.

He felt it—burning, crawling—like molten iron poured into his veins. His heart slammed erratically against his ribs, each beat echoing with an alien rhythm not entirely his own. Somewhere deep, at the tether’s end, he could feel her. Not her presence, but the hollow ache of distance, the dangerous silence of the bond stretching taut.

Tears slid hot and unbidden down his pale cheeks.

“Li Jie!”

Zhuo Yuanzhou’s voice cut through, steady and urgent. In a rush of movement, he was at Li Jie’s side, arms strong around him before the he crumpled fully.

Li Jie’s body trembled violently, breaths coming shallow. His skin felt frozen on the outside, but his veins boiled from within. Words clawed at his throat, but he could only choke out a sound between a sob and a gasp.

Yuanzhou pulled him close, murmuring low but desperate, “Hold on.”

Half-lifting, half-carrying him, Yuanzhou brought him into his room and settled him against the carved headboard. Li Jie pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, trying to hold himself together.

Every nerve screamed. He felt as though his blood itself was trying to tear free of his body, seeking the one it was bound to. This is the balance. This is the curse of the oath. He could almost hear phantom whispers in his ears, heartbeats not his own, the echo of another life pulsing faintly somewhere far away.

He shut his eyes tight, but the tears still leaked through.

Yuanzhou’s gaze lingered on him, a raw helplessness clouding his usually composed face. With a sharp exhale, he turned and left—only to return with a lacquered box.

Li Jie’s head lolled weakly against the headboard. He barely noticed until a prick touched his arm. His eyes opened, dazed. “Zhao Yuanzhou?”

Yuanzhou’s brows furrowed as he steadied the syringe. “I made this myself. Enough to numb the pain, it'll let you sleep for a day.”

Li Jie’s trembling hand lifted, weak fingers wrapping around Yuanzhou’s wrist. His eyes—red at the edges, lashes wet—blinked slowly, heavy with exhaustion yet softened with a rare vulnerability.

“It’s… okay,” he whispered, voice broken, almost childlike.

Yuanzhou’s throat worked. His eyes, dark with pain and fury, burned down into him. “For you, it's okay. But I can’t watch this, not again. I should have—” His voice cracked, words spilling with guilt. “I should have broken your oath that night.”

Li Jie managed the faintest curl of a smile, lips dry, voice nearly gone. “You think you could?”

Yuanzhou stilled. His gaze dropped, helplessness folding into silence.

With surprising strength, Li Jie reached and drew him close, arms looping weakly around him. Yuanzhou froze, then returned the embrace fiercely, crushing him against his chest as if holding him together by sheer will.

Li Jie’s chest shuddered with every inhale. The fire in his veins dulled slowly under the medicine, like waves retreating but leaving salt to burn the wound. His breaths softened, longer, slower. His head sagged onto Yuanzhou’s shoulder, his weight surrendering.

Yuanzhou cupped the back of Li Jie’s head gently, fingers threading through his hair, he tightened his hold, then carefully laid Li Jie back against the pillows. Yuanzhou brushed damp strands of hair from Li Jie’s forehead, fingers lingering as if memorizing the warmth.

His whisper trembled but was laced with fierce tenderness:
“Foolish child.”

He sat by the bedside, stroking once more over Li Jie’s temple, watching the tension finally ease from his face.

“Rest, Li Jie. Take your time to recover,” Yuanzhou vowed softly. His eyes hardened with quiet fury. “I’ll bring the hunter blood to you myself. I swear it.”

And there he remained, a sentinel in the dim moonlight, guarding the fragile peace of Li Jie’s sleep against the storm that crept ever closer.

🦇🦇🦇

Morning l Yuanzhi's Home

Sunlight crept across the room. Yuanzhi sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes, found both his parents left the bed already. He walked into his room, shards from the broken lamp still littered the floor. Qian already cleaning the mess. Yuanzhi tried to join.

“Don’t touch that,” his mother, scolded, kneeling with a rag.

“I’ll clean it myself maa, you go” Yuanzhi muttered. "Aren't you opening the cafe today?"

“What if you cut your hand?” she said sharply.

“I’m not a baby, Maa.”

“Then go get ready for work and let me do my job.”

Yuanzhi rolled his eyes and turned to his closet—just in time to see her tugging a small wooden box from under his bed.

“What’s this?” she said, frowning at the pile of torn papers inside. “A’yuan, why are you hiding trash under your bed? Are you raising rats?”

Yuanzhi’s eyes went wide. He darted from the closet, leaping over the bed. “Not that!” He snatched the box from her hands, and tossed it under the bed.

“That's personal,” he muttered without thinking.

Qian’s eyes widened. “Personal? Wait—did you get dumped and hide it from me?”

“Maaa! It's not that. You leave now!” Yuanzhi’s ears burned. He pushed her toward the door, whining like a teenager. “Go. I can handle it!”

“Tell me, A’yuan!" she insisted.

“You’re overthinking!” he snapped, shutting the door on her protests.

He slumped against it, breath uneven, staring at the box half under the bed. Slowly, he crouched beside it and lifted the lid.

Inside lay sketches—dozens of them. Li Jie smiling, dressed in pale clothes, caught in half-remembered moments from Chun’s memories. Notes scrawled in the margins about his habits, his preferences, his smile.

Yuanzhi’s throat tightened. He whispered to himself, voice shaking:

“Don’t get drawn in again, Yuanzhi. He killed her. He won’t spare you either. Don’t lose your focus. Your only aim… is to take him down.”

He sat for a long moment, then carefully packed the papers back into the box, mixed them with the carefully wrapped shards of glass, and carried them outside. He dropped both into the garbage.

The sun caught his face as he straightened. He closed his eyes, breathing deep.

“Three more days,” he whispered. “And this burden will end.”

Behind the window, his parents watched.

“Shangjue,” Qian murmured, “did he really get dumped?”

Her husband tilted his head, thoughtful. “If I think about it… maybe. Remember when he moved to the dorm in second year? He looked just like this. Like he’d had a breakup.”

“You’re right,” Qian sighed. “But he kept all those things for four years…”

The front door creaked open. Yuanzhi stepped inside. His parents scrambled—Shangjue grabbed a medical magazine, Qian leaned close as if in deep study.

Yuanzhi stopped, glanced at them, then walked over. He pulled the magazine from his father’s hands, turned it the right way up, and handed it back.

“Mandarin can be read top to bottom,” he said flatly, “but not upside down.”

He turned toward the stairs. “And I’m not heartbroken. You two, stop overthinking everything.”

Shangjue and Qian exchanged a look, then whispered to each other once his back was turned.

Upstairs, Yuanzhi’s voice drifted faintly: “It’s getting late, guys!”

They scrambled to their chores, pretending nothing had happened, while their son carried the weight of two lives—Chun’s memory and his own twisted love and vengeance—toward the blood moon.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Eterna Office

The morning at Eterna unfolded in its usual rhythm: clipped heels on polished floors, the hum of printers, the soft greetings traded between staff. Yuanzhi moved through it with his practiced ease, answering every "Morning, Mr. Gong" with a pleasant nod and that gentle smile that disarmed suspicion.

But beneath the calm surface, his senses worked restlessly. He never needed to look to know who approached - footsteps told him weight and height, perfumes carried moods, even the rhythm of a breath revealed nerves or ease. It was how he kept control.

Today, though, something was off.

By the time the lift chimed on fifteenth floor, he already felt it - another presence where there shouldn't be one. A lightness in the air, careless, almost playful. Wrong. Li Jie was supposed to be alone in that office, always alone. Yuanzhi had grown used to the thought, even pleased by it. A man locked in solitude - wasn't that what he deserved?

But now, as Yuanzhi walked the corridor, voices drifted through the half-closed door.

"...you've read all these?" A boy's voice, bright with amusement.

Yuanzhi stilled mid-step.

"Yes," came Li Jie's low answer. A page rustled.

The boyish voice again, incredulous: "And this one-what is it even mean? Resonant Dualism: Echoes of the Soul?"

Yuanzhi's brow furrowed.

Li Jie's voice answered, softer, indulgent. "Resonant Dualism is a parapsychology theory a soul transcending after death." There was the faintest smile under the words - the kind that made Yuanzhi pause.

"Something like soul fragments?." A page rustled.

A beat of silence - then Bai Jiu's voice, a touch uneasy, cut in.
"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

Li Jie exhaled, low. "Nothing. Just... with your techy image it's hard to believe that you are interest in parapsychology."

The boy-Bai Jiu, Yuanzhi had learned the name already-flicked an incredulous question. "Talking to a centuries old vampire about hacking and stoke market at nine in the morning? That sounds perfect for my techy image though, right?"

That drew a quiet chuckle from Li Jie. "Fair point."

"We all have our curiosities," Bai Jiu went on, tone lighter now, "So... what is this Resonance Dualism anyway?"

A pause. Then Li Jie's voice, calm but patient, almost indulgent. "When a soul fades, sometimes fragments remain - like dying embers carried on the wind. They may catch in another vessel, spark into life again... but it won't ever be the same fire. The shape, the warmth, the glow will differ, yet a trace of the old flame lingers in the new. That's resonance."

There was a pause. Bai Jiu, quieter than before, asked, "So... echoes of someone can live on in another? Something like reincarnation?"

"Not exactly." Li Jie's reply carried the weight of centuries. "Habits, memories, even affections can carry across fragments. They are not the same person twice, but they carry parts of the same root. That's resonance."

Yuanzhi's fingers clenched into fist. Embers. A fire not the same, yet born from the same root. Chun's laughter, Chun's touch - all of it pressing against him like a ghost he could never shake.

Just then Lady Duan intercepted him in the hall, handing him a slim file. "Mr. Gong-please have this cross-checked before Mr. Li signs. Could you cross-verify it before handing it on?"

Yuanzhi tilted his head, masking the prickle in his chest with his usual calm. "Of course. Mr. Li's in?"

"Yes. With a guest."

"A guest?" His smile didn't move, but something behind it sharpened.

"CEO Li's cousin." She was already walking off. "Make sure it's back before noon."

"Mm. No problem," Yuanzhi murmured. When her footsteps faded, his expression flattened, the file creasing faintly in his grip.

A cousin? Impossible. You don't have anyone left, Li Lun. So who exactly have you brought into your office?

He moved down the corridor, steps soft, senses reaching forward. Voices filtered through the door long before he reached it.

Bai Jiu's voice carried clear, brimming with boyish excitement. "So you're saying-hypothetically-if I made a soul-binding oath with you, and I died... then that oath could pass on to my resonant fragment? And it could lead me to you again?"

Yuanzhi's lips twitched into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Try it. I'll send you both off and see if it works.

Li Jie's voice, steady but softer than Yuanzhi had ever heard it, answered: "Not always. Soul resonance alone is only fragments. But a binding oath..." He exhaled slowly. "...that requires a will powerful enough to cross death itself. It is rare. But if the bond is strong enough, it endures."

"Which means," Bai Jiu breathed, leaning forward, "if the love is strong enough, it can transcend death. That's... incredible."

A low chuckle slipped from Li Jie, quiet but real.

It was at that moment Yuanzhi opened the door. "Mr. Li-"

He froze.

Bai Jiu was leaning beside Li Jie's chair, holding the book on the table with one hand. One arm rested on the back of Li Jie's chair, their faces close, the atmosphere light. And Li Jie-Li Jie was smiling, unguarded, his eyes lowered as though he'd forgotten the world.

The sight cleaved through Yuanzhi like glass.

Bai Jiu startled at the interruption, glancing up. "Ah-hi."

Li Jie looked too, the smile lingering faintly on his lips. A smile so terribly familiar it stole the air from Yuanzhi's lungs.

"Yuanzhi," Li Jie said warmly, "I think I told you to rest."

Yuanzhi stepped forward, clutching the file like a shield, his own smile stretched thin and brittle. "I'm fine now, Mr. Li. Thank you for your concern." His gaze flicked toward Bai Jiu, sharpened for a fraction of a second before smoothing over.

Li Jie gestured between them. "This is Bai Jiu, my cousin. And this is Gong Yuanzhi, my secretary."

"Nice to meet you," Bai Jiu said cheerfully, offering his hand.

Yuanzhi shook it. His voice came out calm, even - but hollow. "Pleasure."

He turned to Li Jie. "I'll review this before bringing it back for signature. Please... continue."

Then he excused himself, retreat too quick, too neat.

The corridor air felt colder than before. He leaned against the glass wall, folder clutched until the edges bent. His reflection stared back - the smile stripped away, his jaw tight with something raw and unwanted.

Why does it matter? If he laughs with someone else, if he smiles like that-why does it matter?

But the echo of Li Jie's low chuckle, soft and unguarded, refused to leave him.

🦇

Yuanzhi stood by the door with the slim file balanced against his palm, the smile he wore practiced and pleasant - the exact kind that put most people at ease.

Before he could move, Zhao Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao arrived together. Yuanzhou's footsteps were brisk, efficient; Wen Xiao's eyes swept the room as if cataloguing everything for threats.

"Mr. Zhao. Miss. Wen. Good morning."

"Good morning, Yuanzhi." Wen Xiao give him a nod.

"You okay, Yuanzhi?" Yuanzhou asked as he stepped in. "I heard you were on leave for a few days."

"I'm fine, Mr. Zhao," Yuanzhi replied without losing the smile. "I have files to verify - I'll go do that. You carry on."

Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao entered the office, where Bai Jiu immediately greeted them. Wen Xiao's eyes flicked toward the files spread across the desk. "Have you finished what I asked you to?" he asked.

"Of course," Bai Jiu said, pulling out his laptop. He placed a book on the table and opened it. "One of the final two possible Hunterblood-Zhuo Shen. I searched all legally accessible files with the Eterna's team."

Yuanzhi sat at his desk, fingers drumming lightly on the folder in front of him. The office hummed with the usual morning rhythm, but his senses were sharper than ever.

So they've finally narrowed it down. Eterna bled its networks dry - hospitals, campaigns, even trusted staff to collect samples - all to sift through the Zhuo bloodline. A hundred names cut down to two. But you were late. Terminus had its own hunters in the code... and better hackers too.

Yuanzhou's tone was clipped. "I don't remember that legally accessible files in your case?"

Bai Jiu gave a sharp grin. "I got into official systems, if the goal is right then I consider everything legal."

A faint shuffle, then the click of a laptop being set down. Bai Jiu threw up the first profile. A face appeared: a careful, ordinary headshot captioned with student info. "Zhuo Zihan, twenty-two. Studying photography. Currently at Wong Tai Sin Temple- Hong Kong. For Mid-autumn festival, which coincide this time with the bloodmoon, last listed contact there. Phone tower location still shows the place."

Li Jie's voice cut in. "And the other?"

Bai Jiu exhaled, fingers drumming the table. "He pushed another tab into view. "Zhuo Shen is more complicated. I only pulled a childhood photo - school registrar from Tokyo International. No passport records, no travel logs, no recent social presence. Looks like he's been intentionally scrubbed from anything that ties him to a modern life."

Li Jie watched the screen, "Tokyo?" he asked. "Do we have an address?"

Bai Jiu clicked, then scrolled. "There's an alumni listing that references a dorm on the Minami district - not precise, but it's enough to start. I can ping more once I'm on a line. But I swear, someone's been thorough about hiding him."

Outside, Yuanzhi's mouth curved faintly. Good. Just where I left the trail.

Li Jie's tone was measured. "We need to be careful. Either of them could be the one we're looking for."

Yuanzhou didn't hesitate. "Then We split," folding his hands as if closing a case file. "I'll fly to Tokyo - take whatever we can on Zhuo Shen. Wen Xiao, you take Zhuo Zihan in Hong Kong."

Bai Jiu looked up from the screen. "What about me?"

Li Jie did not hesitate. "You dig into the man with Cloud Light Sword."

"Oh. Okay"

Wen Xiao nodded, already braced in the way of someone with a map in her head. "I would need to leave soon, it's already a crowded place along with a festival. Bai Jiu can you get me a flight ticket sooner the bette." Bai Jiu give a thumbs-up with a grin.

"I'll go with you, Wen Xiao." Li Jie turned to Bai Jiu. "Bai Jiu-"

Wen Xiao bristled. "I can take care of this alone Li Jie."

Li Jie shook his head. "It's not about whether you can. We don't have time to waste, more hands easier the work."

A short silence. Then Yuanzhou's voice, steady but firm: "Let me speak with him alone."

Inside, chairs scraped as Bai Jiu pushed his laptop shut. He smirked, lifting the book off the desk. "I'll borrow this for a while," he said lightly, striding toward the door. Wen Xiao followed him out, exchanging a quick glance with Yuanzhou before leaving the two men behind.

They've settled their plan already, Yuanzhi thought, pen still tapping. Tokyo, Hong Kong... they're chasing shadows. But only one of us knows the truth of those records. It'll be too late when you find its not Zihan. That's enough for me.

Yuanzhou's voice softened behind the door. "How do you feel?"

Li Jie gave a faint laugh. "I'm fine. Why?"

A weary sigh followed. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

No answer. Just silence.

Yuanzhou waited, then said quietly, "Whatever it is... don't hurt yourself again. The wound you carry hasn't healed - and I doubt it ever will."

"I won't," Li Jie replied at last, low but resolute.

"Stay here."

Li Jie turned toward him, frowning. "But-"

Yuanzhou cut him off. "The bloodmoon is close, and this time... I feel something different in you. And you won't say what it is. Stay here." He forced a small smile. "I'll be less at ease if you run off."

Li Jie's reply was a tilt of the head, the same quiet assent he gave to all reasonable commands. "All right."

A hand pressed lightly to Li Jie's shoulder before Yuanzhou pulled away.

Moments later, Yuanzhou stepped out into the hall, his expression unreadable as he walked to Yuanzhi's desk.

Yuanzhi straightened politely. "What is it, Mr. Zhao?"

"I won't be here for a few days," Yuanzhou said. "Li Jie isn't well. While you're here, keep an eye on him for me."

Yuanzhi looked back at him with the exact face he used for obedience. "Of course, Mr. Zhao. I'll make sure he-" he paused, and the line between the words thinned. "-stays safe."

Yuanzhou's eyes held for a second longer than etiquette required. "I'm counting on you," he said, then left.

When the door had closed, Yuanzhi slid down in his chair, the smile folding into something sharper. His face smoothed back into courteous composure; his hands folded around the file. He let his thoughts go to the places he'd already prepared - routes, contacts, an arrangement that would put Li Jie alone when the time came.

Yuanzhi let the office settle around him. Thoughts churned beneath the surface. What's happened to him... It's not like him to keep secrets from Zhao Yuanzhou. Old wounds.

He paused, pen tapping against the folder, a cold smile forming. Whatever it is, better I finish him if he's alone.

"Don't worry, Mr. Zhao," he thought to himself. I'll send him to the best place.

🦇🦇🦇

House Of Li

The elm tree cast a dappled shade across the stream's edge, its branches swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze. Chun set down a small bundle and carefully opened the bamboo container she had carried all the way.

Li Lun lifted the lid of the bamboo container. Steam curled up, carrying the scent of dumplings. He looked at them for a long moment, then glanced at Chun.
"Chun-ah," he asked quietly, "why do you always bring these? You like them that much?"

Chun smiled faintly. "I suppose so. Dumplings are the one thing I make best."

Li Lun tilted his head. "And why's that?"

Her gaze lowered to her hands. "Because... Yichen liked them. I thought, if I made them well, it might cheer Gege a little."

"Yichen?" Li Lun echoed, brows drawing together. "Who's that? I've never heard you mention him."

Chun's smile dimmed. She nodded slowly. "Gege's brother. He's gone now."

Li Lun watched her carefully, doubt flickering in his eyes. Chun's voice grew softer, steadier, as if speaking to herself.
"Yichen was the one who named me Yichun. I was born in spring, and no one in the family cared much to give me a name. But he did. He was gifted, you know-so gifted he even touched the true essence of water. Lord Bing Yi's sword was meant for him."

Her lips trembled before she forced a small laugh. "But Gege and Yichen never wanted the Hunter's title. Gege only wanted to take him away, far from all that."

"What happened to him?" Li Lun asked gently.

Chun's fingers tightened around the bamboo lid. "One day, Shushu took Yichen with him-after some of your kind. Yichen could sense them too well and when they returned..." Her voice broke, the rest swallowed by silence.

Li Lun said nothing. The stream's murmur filled the pause.

After a moment, Chun straightened, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. "Gege always said dumplings reminded him of the times they were happy. So I kept making them. Until I got good at it."

Li Lun finally chuckled, the sound low and warm. "And still, your Gege chose to help me."

"Of course," Chun replied softly. She lifted the pendant around her neck, the one he had given her. "Do you remember what you said when you gave me this? That holding a grudge against the innocent isn't right. If those who hurt Yichen were guilty, what about the one who went after them in the first place."

Li Lun's expression eased, his nod slow and thoughtful.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Eterna Office

The scent of salt and butter filled the office as Yuanzhi set the takeout boxes on the desk. Steamed grouper with ginger, clams in black bean sauce, soft-shell crab, sea urchin sashimi.

Li Jie looked at the spread. "You really like seafood that much?"

"Mm." Yuanzhi was already lifting chopsticks.

"Same here," Bai Jiu said eagerly. "So what's your favorite?"

"Tendon."

Bai Jiu blinked. "Isn't that... meat... Beef?"

Yuanzhi shook his head, chewing. "Not that kind. Japanese. Tempura and rice-crispy prawns, veggies, soy glaze. Simple, perfect."

His voice softened just slightly, the kind of warmth that slipped past his usual mask.

Li Jie tapped his chopsticks against the box. "It does taste good."

Yuanzhi looked up, eyes narrowing faintly. "You've had it?"

"Once. In Tokyo."

"Oh?" Yuanzhi gave a small, surprised laugh. "Same. Last had it three months ago. Funny-" he leaned back, swallowing, "-I can still taste it if I talk about it."

His lips stayed neutral, but his eyes curved in a quiet smile.

Bai Jiu leaned forward, curious. "Why were you in Tokyo?"

"Family," Yuanzhi said. "Mom's cousin lives there. She's part Japanese."

The words fell easily, but Li Jie's gaze lingered too long, watching the faint curve of Yuanzhi's mouth as he spoke.

🦇🦇🦇

Wong Tai Sin Temple l Midnight

By the time Wen Xiao's plane touched down, Hong Kong was already alive with lanterns and smoke. The Mid-Autumn festival had turned the monastery hill into a river of bodies.

She fought her way through the crowd until nearly dawn, scanning faces, brushing against strangers, her gift sparking. Again and again she pressed into the minds of passersby-fragments of food stalls, temple prayers, mooncakes-none of them Zihan.

By morning her temples pounded, her limbs heavy. Still she pressed on, searching through hostels, old guesthouses, even the temple dorms. Nothing.

By nightfall exhaustion dragged at her. She sank onto the low steps of the monastery's side courtyard, where the crowd thinned. Her breathing was shallow, her power scraped raw.

A small hand tugged at her sleeve.
"Jiejie, want candy?"

Wen Xiao blinked at the little girl holding out a wrapped sweet. Despite herself, she smiled and accepted it. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Mei." The child beamed, rocking on her heels.

A woman's voice cut across the courtyard. "Mei! Come here."

The girl waved, already backing away. "Bye, Jiejie!"

"Bye," Wen Xiao said softly, ruffling her hair once before she darted off.

And then-like the whisper of a door swinging open-her gift flared. The girl's memory brushed against hers: Zihan's face. Zihan stepping through the monastery gates, bowing his head as he entered the temple lodging.

Her breath caught. She rose slowly, steadying herself on the railing. Almost midnight. Too late to act now-midnight clung heavy over the hill. She stayed in the shadows just beyond the gates, her eyes fixed on the monastery walls, waiting for him to emerge.

She would not leave until she found him.

🦇

Zhao Yuanzhou - Tokyo

Tokyo's streets glistened with rain under the midnight glow, every neon reflection stretching thin across the slick asphalt. By morning, Yuanzhou had already set his course, mapping the Minami districts moving through the city with the patience of a hunter.

His first stop was Minami Azabu. The dormitory was quiet, its courtyard lined with persimmon trees heavy with fruit. Yuanzhou asked his questions with clipped precision. Blank stares, polite apologies. The name meant nothing here.

From there, he drove roads weaving through narrow lanes until Minami Shinagawa unfolded-busier, sharper, alive with the hum of morning trains. The administrator there flipped through old ledgers, fingers pausing, frowning. "No. I would remember."

Yuanzhou thanked him, his face unreadable, though his jaw had tightened slightly as he stepped out.

By afternoon, the trail led him to Minami Ikebukuro-a sprawl of gray buildings against the sky. Here, the dorm master's eyes lit the moment he heard the name.

"Zhuo-san? Yes. He stayed here."

The words struck with quiet force. Yuanzhou leaned in, his voice even. "You're certain?"

"Without a doubt," the man said, nodding quickly. "People like him-you don't forget. Even in a crowd, he smiled at you like you were the only one there."

"And where did he go?"

The man's expression softened. "Oku-Izumo. He said his grandfather was ill. Chose to leave and study from home. There is no one to take care of him. Zhuo-san's parents are not in good terms so-"

"Thank You. Then I won't trouble you anymore." Yuanzhou bowed to the man.

"Zhao-san, it's a very far from here. At this hour, you won't catch a train."

Yuanzhou inclined his head, already turning to leave. "I'll find my way."

But before he reached the door, the man hurried after him, "Zhao-san, please wait." He pressing a folded slip of paper into Yuanzhou's hand. "He left this behind. In case something important came."

Yuanzhou unfolded it under the dim hallway light.
〒699-9966
Shimane-ken, Nita-gun, Okuizumo-chō, Sakaizawa-hata 23

Later, in his car, the GPS droned in a flat voice:
Estimated travel time: nine hours thirty seven minutes.

He gripped the wheel, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of highway ahead. The city lights fell away behind him.

Whatever waited in that mountain village, he would reach it.
He had no other choice.

🦇🦇🦇

D-Day l Morning of Century Bloodmoon

The morning felt heavier than the air itself.
Li Jie woke to the ache thrumming through his body, a hand pressed instinctively over his chest. Each breath dragged, slow and deliberate. He sat there on the edge of the bed for a long while, staring at the pale wash of light sneaking past the curtains.

Chun's face slipped into his mind unbidden. He shut his eyes, exhaling.

The shower steamed, but when he wiped the mirror clear, his reflection hit him harder than the fatigue. A silver chain hung over his damp chest, the wedding ring gleaming faintly against his skin. His fingers brushed it; his gaze lingered on the mirror image.

"I hope you won't hesitate..." he murmured.

He dressed-black tux, red shirt buttoned sharp beneath it. The color bit against his pallor.

Downstairs, Mr. Mo waited with the breakfast tray.
"Master Li, are you certain you're going to the office in this condition?"

Li Jie lowered himself into the chair, lifting a fork with measured effort. "I'm used to this, Mr. Mo. I can't miss today."

"Isn't Yuanzhi picking you up?"

"He has... pending work." Li Jie's lips tightened. "He won't."

The sound of cutlery on porcelain filled the room-steady, deliberate, too sharp against the silence.

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Home

Yuanzhi's room was immaculate, everything in its place. He stood before the wardrobe mirror, fastening his cufflinks. No tuxedo this time-something sharper, cleaner: charcoal suit, pale shirt, tie knotted with perfect precision.

On the desk sat a small black box, stamped with the Terminus emblem. His eyes lingered on it before his hand reached. The click of the hinge was soft, almost reverent. Inside-silver. The dagger gleamed as though it had waited for him. He ran his thumb over the blade's smooth edge, lips curving into a faint, cruel smirk.

"A'Yuan!" his mother's voice called up the stairs.

He slid the dagger into the sling bag, grabbed a few files, and descended with his usual calm smile.

The car radio crackled with festival news on the drive.
"Mid-Autumn celebrations begin tonight across the city. This year, with the rare coincidence of the blood moon-"

Yuanzhi's finger tapped against the wheel, steady. The words washed over him, almost like background music.

At the office, he parked underground, slipping through the parking lots elevator with his keycard. No metal detectors. A quiet smirk tugged at his mouth as the doors closed.

The files in his arm were just camouflage. The real weight sat cold in the sling bag.
Above, in the highest office, he could already feel Li Jie's presence pressing faintly against his skin.

🦇🦇🦇

Wen Xiao l Hongkong

The monastery complex pulsed with lanterns and incense, but Wen Xiao's focus cut sharp through the noise. She had waited hours, watching, conserving strength. Finally, near nine, Zihan stepped out-camera slung across his shoulder, moonlight catching on his glasses.

Wen Xiao approached with easy calm. "Zhuo Zihan?"

He blinked confused, half-smile forming-until her hand brushed his sleeve. His body sagged in an instant, collapsing into her hold.

She guided him into the shadows before suspicion could spark, her control practiced and precise. She placed her hand on his temple, peeling back the layers of his memory-classrooms, streets, quiet photographs, laughter. No power. No flares. Nothing of hunterblood.

Still unsatisfied, she pricked his finger, drew blood. Nothing. She exhaled, disappointed, yet relieved. He was clean. Not the one.

She pressed a bandage over the cut, and whispered words to scrub the encounter from his mind. By the time she laid him back near the temple steps, he stirred faintly, none the wiser.

When he woke later, he would find only confusion-and the bandage on his finger.

For Wen Xiao, it was enough. She melted back into the festival crowd, her face unreadable.

🦇

Yuanzhou l Oku-Izumo

Yuanzhou drove into Oku-Izumo, long before dawn, his headlights slicing through the mist curling over narrow mountain roads. The GPS had dragged him across endless switchbacks, and by the time he reached the edge of the village, the sky was already paling.

The address he'd been given lay at the far end of the settlement - a weathered woodshed leaning against a strip of farmland. It looked abandoned, dust and silence filling the gaps where life should have been. Yuanzhou stood there for a long moment, jaw set, scanning every inch. Nothing stirred. No trace of a boy named Zhuo Shen.

He crossed to a nearby rose farm, where an elderly woman was sorting preparing manure. He greeted her politely, showing the address scribbled on the slip.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know if a boy named Zhuo Shen and his grandfather lived here?"

The woman wiped her hands on her apron, glanced toward the empty shed, and shook her head.

"I've owned that land for twenty years. That place has been empty the whole time. No one's ever stayed there."

Yuanzhou closed his eyes, the truth clicking into place with brutal clarity. They had been tricked. The boy-if he was ever here-was long gone.

He forced a calm smile for the woman. "Thank you. Sorry to trouble you."

Back at his car, he slipped into the driver's seat and exhaled slowly, fingers tightening on the wheel. He dialed his assistant at Eterna.

"Get me the fastest ticket back from Tokyo. Immediately."

The man on the line hesitated. "Sir, all commercial flights are fully booked-it's the festival rush."

Yuanzhou's voice cut in, low and firm. "Then prep the jet. No delays."

"Yes, sir."

He ended the call and immediately reached for another number, but before he could press through, his phone lit up. Wen Xiao.

He answered, "Did you find Zihan?"

On the other end, her voice was tight with fatigue. "I checked everything. He's not the hunterblood. His memories, even his blood-nothing. I'm sure of it."

Yuanzhou's grip on the wheel tightened. "I'm certain now it's Zhuo Shen. But someone planted a false trail to drag us here. Which means-"

"-they already have him." Wen Xiao finished for him, her breath catching.

He started the engine, tires spitting gravel as the car shot down the mountain road. "If the boy's powers flare under tonight's blood moon, it'll be too late. We have to alert everyone who can track him."

On the line, silence stretched.

"Wen Xiao.. Hello.. Wen Xiao can you hear me."

Wen Xiao's voice dropped, hushed, shaken. "Yuanzhou... It's Yuanzhi."

His brows knit. "What do you mean?"

"The hunterblood, Zhuo Shen it's Gong Yuanzhi."

Yuanzhou nearly slammed the brakes. "That's impossible."

"Listen," Wen Xiao pressed, words rushing now. "I saw it in Zihan's memory. He had a contact named Zhuo Shen in his phone. They chatted this morning about the festival. And the profile picture-it was Yuanzhi. In Li Jie's garage."

Yuanzhou's chest tightened, anger and dread clashing. "No, no... hell no."

"Yes. And if it's true, Li Jie and him both are in danger. Li Jie can't handle it alone is they jumb into trouble tonight.... I'll call Yuanzhi."

The road blurred before him as he pushed the car harder, engine roaring against the mountainside. "Be carefully. And don't make him suspicious. I'll reach Li Jie myself."

🦇🦇🦇

Eterna Office

The late-afternoon corridors of the office were hushed, with the muted glow of afternoon sun pressing against the glass windows. Yuanzhi walked slowly down the aisle, his greeting nods and half-smiles to the staff fading as he reached the corner office. He paused at Li Jie's door, knocking once.

No response.

He knocked again, sharper.
"Mr. Li?"

Still silence.

Yuanzhi tilted his head, listening. His fingers flexed once against the strap of his sling bag before he tried again, softer this time.
"Sir... it's Yuanzhi. May I come in?"

The words left his lips, but something in his face changed-his jaw tensed, his eyes darkened. He turned the handle slowly and stepped inside.

Li Jie was slumped back in his chair, motionless.

Yuanzhi's gaze flicked toward the glass wall that opened onto the staff area. Anyone could see. With one smooth motion of his hand, the shade rattled down, shutting them in together. The camera on the corner shelf gave a low mechanical whirr and then tilted down toward the floor, as though obeying an unspoken command.

His steps grew slower, quieter. Each footfall was deliberate, the hush in the room thick enough to choke on. His hand slid into the sling bag and found the cool silver hilt of the dagger. His fingers wrapped tight.

A breath. Then another.

He drew the blade free slowly out of the bag-when the man frowned, lips moving in sleep, mumbling broken words.

Yuanzhi froze. His grip faltered, hands retreating like it had burned him.
"Mr. Li?" His voice sounded too loud in the stillness. He stepped closer, tapping Li Jie's shoulder.

The contact startled him-Li Jie's hand shot out suddenly, catching his wrist and tugging. Yuanzhi almost collided, their foreheads nearly striking. He stopped short, his breath ragged, chest too close to Li Jie's.

The other man mumbled again, voice thick with sleep.
"Chun... ah... leave... Please.."

The name cut straight through him.

Yuanzhi pulled back sharply, stumbling one step, forcing his face blank. He dropped the file he carried onto the desk with a dull slap.
"Mr. Li, the construction expenses for the Shanghai building. Please verify them."

Without waiting for an answer, he strode out into the hallway. The shade clicked back up behind him.

In the silent corner of the building, Yuanzhi leaned against the wall, biting hard into his knuckle. Idiot. I should have finished it. Why did I hesitate?
But Li Jie's voice echoed still-Chun...ah.. leave...please..

He rubbed his wrist where Li Jie had gripped him, irritation flashing across his face-then paused. Warmth. His skin still held the ghost of it. But Li Jie was a vampire. His body should have been ice-cold. So why had it felt... warm?

Annoyance warred with curiosity. He cursed under his breath and went back.

Inside, Li Jie had not stirred. Yuanzhi approached cautiously, then reached out and touched his cheek. The heat startled him-it was real. Too real. He pressed his palm to Li Jie's forehead, then compared it against his own. A fever. Impossible.

"What the-" Yuanzhi muttered, crouching down.

Li Jie shivered, brow creasing. Yuanzhi tapped his cheek gently.
"Hey. Hey... are you passing out?" His voice slipped into something less guarded. "Mr. Li. Mr. Li!"

A soft hum came back, barely a sound.

"Li Jie," Yuanzhi tried again, then-against his will-his lips shaped another name. "Li Lun."

Li Jie's eyes fluttered open for the barest heartbeat, then shut again.

Yuanzhi straightened abruptly, fists curling. He wanted to lash out, to end it-but he couldn't. He glanced at the unconscious figure on the chair, then exhaled long and heavy.
"...No. Not like this. I want him awake. I want him to see my face when he dies."

He bent, slipping an arm under Li Jie and helping him carefully onto the couch. Laying him flat, Yuanzhi pressed his fingers to Li Jie's neck. The pulse raced under his touch. Too fast.
"What the hell is wrong with you..."

From the office medical kit, he fished out tablets, hesitating. "Will this even work on a vampire?" He almost laughed, bitter. Still, he pulled Li Jie upright, cradling his head against his chest, sliding the pill past his lips and tipping water to follow.

Li Jie swallowed weakly. A drop of water clung to his lower lip. Yuanzhi brushed it away with his thumb, freezing at the softness of the gesture before pulling back quickly, as though burned.

"God..." he whispered. "What the hell am I doing."

He lowered Li Jie onto the couch, and adjusted the air conditioning to warmer. Then he sat back in the chair, watching the fevered face, silent and conflicted.

In the quiet, laughter echoed-Li Lun's laughter, bright and unbroken. Yuanzhi's hand twitched. His jaw clenched.

"No," he hissed, slapping his own cheek. "Don't remember. Don't you dare."

He spun the chair around, turning his back to the unconscious man, yet his shoulders betrayed the weight of the storm inside him.

🦇

Yuanzhi leaned back in the chair across from Li Jie, one arm draped lazily, eyes on the man slumped in uneasy sleep. His lips curved, dry amusement flickering.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Mr. Li? You're burning up like a furnace, mumbling like a drunk."

He tapped his chin with a finger, tilting his head. "Tch. Maybe I should take a look. Not because I'm worried. Just... curiosity. That's all. I want to know what's haunting you. Nothing else."

He closed his eyes, reaching out. His consciousness slipped like a thread into the fever-dream fog of Li Jie's mind.

At first, static. Red haze. The metallic scent of blood under the blood moon. Then-clarity snapped in.

The moon painted the garden a cruel, merciless red. Chun lay in his arms like a pale, fragile bird with its wing broken; the hem of her dress was dark with blood that spread in slow, obscene stains. Where his teeth had been, where his mouth had torn into her throat, the wound gaped and bled pink into night.

For a long, impossible second he only knew the sound of his own breathing, ragged and too loud. Then the realization hit like ice: he had done this.

"Chun ah." His voice came out raw, no more than a sob. He pressed his forehead to hers as if closeness could sew her back together. "Chun, please. Don't-please. Don't leave me."

He fumbled with his hands, clumsy, frantic. He covered the wound with his palm as if that would patch what his teeth had undone. Blood soaked his fingers. Hot, metallic, undeniable. He dug his thumbs into the soft place behind her ear, begging the mind to return, willing her breath to catch again.

"Wake up. Please. Please, Chun-please-" The name spilled from him over and over until it was a broken mantra. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want- I didn't want this. I won't-no more. I swear I won't laugh at you, I won't leave you, I'll be better-just-please come back."

His words were childish and desperate; they stuttered out between gasps. Tears slicked his cheeks and fell onto her hair, cooling immediately in the night air. He rocked, tiny, animal motions, as if gently cradling her might convince some part of her to live.

Li Lun sobbed then, a raw, animal sound that rent the quiet: "NO-how could I-how could I let this happen? I said I would protect you. I said I would never-" He buried his face in her hair and the smell of her-earth and faint jasmine-filled him, a memory sharpened to pain. "I'm a monster. I-"

Chun's hand, limp in his, gave a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor, like a leaf trying to hold onto a branch in a storm. Li Lun froze, hope spiking, but her chest did not rise. The silence settled like snow, final and absolute.

Li Lun kept murmuring apologies into the night, words reduced to the simple, repeating truth: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Each repetition was a strike, shaping the grief into a living thing he would have to carry. The scream he buried later - when the body had grown cold, and the moon had watched like a patient thief - would be the note the night remembered.

🦇

The memory swallowed Yuanzhi whole.

Yuanzhi hadn't meant to sink so deep-he only wanted to pry, to see what ghosts haunted Li Jie's fevered mind. A flicker of curiosity, nothing more. But then the red haze bled into his vision, and suddenly he was there, caught in the pulse of another man's ruin.

Li Lun's arms clutched Chun's broken body, his screams vibrating through Yuanzhi's very bones. And Chun-he felt it too, the cold slack of her own limbs, the fading light in her eyes.

He wanted to tell himself it wasn't real, that he was only watching, but the weight of it pressed into his chest until his lungs burned. Li Lun's grief wrapped around him like chains. He could taste the salt of his tears, the iron of blood on his tongue.

And for the first time in years, Yuanzhi didn't know what to do

Yuanzhi's lips curled, though his chest heaved. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to scream. "So that's it? You've been... carrying this corpse of a memory all this time?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes.

Inside, the echo of that scream still thundered through his chest.

"Idiot," Yuanzhi whispered to himself, almost too low to hear. "You loved her so much, you killed her. And you still... cling to her."

He shut the link with a snap, leaning back hard, running a hand over his face as though brushing away the unwanted weight.

"No. Not pity. Don't you dare pity him."
Yuanzhi's voice was sharp, aimed at himself, cutting through the stillness of the office. He pressed his palms against his knees, as though grounding himself in that single command.

But the silence after only deepened, and against his will, his eyes drifted back.

Li Jie lay there, breath shallow, sweat beading across his brow, skin flushed with fever. The sight should have filled Yuanzhi with satisfaction-proof of weakness, proof of what he deserved. Instead, an ache pressed at his ribs, sharp and uninvited.

Yuanzhi looked away, jaw tightening. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. He counted the beats of his own pulse, trying to anchor himself anywhere but here.

But then Li Jie shifted, a low sound slipping past his lips, raw and unguarded.

Yuanzhi's throat worked. He cursed under his breath and leaned in, pressing the back of his hand to Li Jie's temple. The heat nearly scalded him.

"...Damn it."

He sat back, dragging in a breath, but his hands were already moving. The basin waited. The cloth was still damp. His own resolve betrayed him.

Yuanzhi tugged open Li Jie's jacket, impatient, his cloth already damp with water. He meant only to wipe him down, to keep the fever from boiling him alive. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But then the fabric shifted, and something caught the light.

A silver chain lay against Li Jie's chest, half-hidden, but the pendant at its end was unmistakable-a ring. Worn, aged, but carried close as breath.

Yuanzhi's hand stilled. His gaze dropped lower, and he saw its twin: another ring circling Li Jie's finger, as though it had never left since the day it was placed there.

His own breath faltered. The cloth slipped from his hand.

Hatred. The first instinct clawed up his throat, sharp and familiar. He should have ripped it off. Crushed it in his fist. Shoved the chain down Li Jie's throat until it choked him.

But he didn't. He just sat back, staring.

One on the finger. One on the heart. Chun, stitched into every vein of him.

A laugh pushed through Yuanzhi's teeth, hollow and jagged. "Pathetic."

It should have sounded like scorn. Instead, it trembled with something else-something Yuanzhi crushed down before it could surface.

Because under the hatred, under the urge to destroy, pity curled its way through him. Not forgiveness. Never that. But pity for a man so bound he carried his ruin in plain sight.

And Yuanzhi hated him for that too.

His jaw locked, his chest hollowing as the truth pressed in. The pull between them-it wasn't breaking. He could hate, he could sneer, he could dream of driving a blade through Li Jie's heart. And yet here he was, holding his fever back, wiping sweat from his brow, staring at rings that weren't his to touch.

The chain glinted again, cruel in the dim light. Yuanzhi dragged the cloth back into his hand and resumed wiping, each motion deliberate, mechanical, as if it could scrub the sight from his memory.

But it didn't. It stayed carved into him: Li Jie carrying Chun even now, bound in silver, bound in blood.

🦇🦇🦇

Hong Kong - Monastery Steps

Wen Xiao leaned against the stone railing, phone pressed to her ear. The night air was thick with incense, festival drums echoing from the courtyard below.

No answer.

She tried again, teeth sinking into her lip. "Come on, Yuanzhi..." The line rang out into silence.

She cut the call and tried Li Jie. Same result. Both phones, dead to her.

Her thumb hovered, then she exhaled sharply and switched contacts.

🦇

Tokyo - Highway

Yuanzhou's car ate up the road, his Bluetooth earpiece chimed in his ear-Wen Xiao.

"They're not picking up," she said, her voice clipped.

"I know." Yuanzhou's jaw was tight. "I tried both."

Static hummed for a moment between them before he said, "I'll confirm."

He ended the call, pulled up a different number.

"Miss. Yu, this is Zhao Yuanzhou. Where is Li Jie? And Gong Yuanzhi?"

"One moment, Mr. Zhao. Mr. Li is in his office, and Mr. Gong went to submit a file to him earlier."

Yuanzhou's fingers tapped once against the wheel. "Check if they're still inside."

"Of course, sir."

The line stayed open as the receptionist crossed the quiet hallway.

The receptionist's heels clicked softly as she crossed the polished floor. She knocked once, then turned the handle and stepped inside-

"Mr. Li-"

🦇🦇🦇

Li Jie's Chamber

The fever dragged Li Jie deeper into restless murmurs, his body shifting again. Yuanzhi leaned over, tugging his jacket back together, fingers fumbling at the buttons with brisk precision.

Li Jie's lips moved again, whispering Chun's name.

Yuanzhi's thumb pressed against his lips, silencing him.
"Enough. She's gone. All you've got is me."

And then-Li Jie's hand shot up, clamping around his wrist with surprising force.

"Li Jie-" Yuanzhi jerked in shock, tugging to free himself, but the sudden pull dragged him forward. His knees hit the edge of the couch, balance pitching. He caught the armrest just in time, body hovering precariously over Li Jie's, their faces too close, breath caught in his throat.

The door creaked open.

"Mr. Li-"

Miss Yu's voice fractured into stunned silence. She froze in the doorway, eyes darting from Li Jie sprawled half-conscious on the couch to Yuanzhi bent above him, one hand trapped, their position intimate in a way that needed no explanation.

Yuanzhi's head snapped around. His pupils blew wide with alarm, color rising hot under his skin.
"Miss Yu-!" His voice cracked, too sharp, too defensive.

In his scramble to stand, he wrenched at his wrist, but Li Jie's grip only tightened, dragging him off-balance again. He staggered, almost toppling fully onto Li Jie this time, barely catching himself with the couch arm.

Yuanzhi's head whipped around. His mask cracked; panic shot through his expression. "Miss Yu-it's not what you think." He tried to pull his hand free, but Li Jie's grip only tightened.

She hesitated, then gave a small, careful smile. "It's all right." Raising her phone, she spoke gently into the phone; "Mr. Zhao, they're fine. Really... fine."

She stepped back, closing the door quietly behind her.

The silence that followed pressed down like a stone.

Yuanzhi dragged himself upright, finally prying his wrist free. His legs gave out, and he slid down to the floor, back against the couch. One hand slapped over his face. His pulse thundered.

When he lowered his hand at last, Li Jie was already sinking back into fevered sleep, still breathing heavily, the silver chain glinting faintly at his chest.

Yuanzhi let out a hollow laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable..."

But he didn't move away. Not yet.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Eterna Office

The office was steeped in night. Beyond the windows, the city bled into shadows, red hues from the distant skyline spilling faintly across the glass.

Li Jie stirred. His lashes lifted slowly, vision blurring before it steadied—and the first thing he saw was Yuanzhi.

The younger man was slumped on the floor beside the couch, head tilted, resting against his own hand. That same hand lay against Li Jie’s chest, fingers loosely caught around the silver chain and the ring that hung there. The lines of Yuanzhi’s face were softened in sleep, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.

For a moment, Li Jie only looked. His breath caught somewhere between his chest and throat. His hand moved almost of its own accord, hovering above Yuanzhi’s cheek, pausing there, uncertain, trembling with something he couldn’t name.

In the end, he didn’t touch. He tapped Yuanzhi’s shoulder instead.

Yuanzhi stirred with a faint frown, his lashes fluttering before he blinked awake. His eyes darted to his hands holding Li Jie's chain, and he quickly pulled away, sitting straighter as if caught in something forbidden.

Silence pressed between them.

Li Jie parted his lips. “You—”

But Yuanzhi cut in, brisk, too quick. “Are you okay now?” He leaned in before Li Jie could answer, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. After a beat, he nodded. “You’re fine. The fever’s gone.”

Li Jie’s gaze lingered on him, quiet, unreadable.

Yuanzhi’s eyes flicked up, locking with his. For a heartbeat too long, neither moved. Then Yuanzhi looked away, exhaling. “Ah… it’s late.” He stood, smoothing his clothes as though it mattered.

“Why didn’t you leave?” Li Jie asked, his voice low.

Yuanzhi stilled, awkward. “How could I? You were burning up. I... I was worried.”

Li Jie’s brow lifted faintly. “You were worried.”

A faint, crooked sound escaped Yuanzhi, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Ha… yeah. I mean—Mr. Zhao asked me to look after you. What would I even say to him if something happened?”

Li Jie’s lips curved with a low chuckle. “I’m fine now. You can leave.” He pushed himself upright, stretching his shoulders.

Yuanzhi frowned. “What about you? How are you supposed to get home like this?”

“I’ll drive,” Li Jie said simply.

Yuanzhi gave him a look. “Okay… fine. Come on, I’ll drop you first.”

Li Jie didn’t move.

With a small huff, Yuanzhi tugged lightly at his sleeve, his voice softening just a fraction. “Come, I need to get back before my mom decide to kick me out of the house.”

Li Jie’s eyes searched his face for a beat longer before he finally nodded. “Mn.”

And together, without another word, they walked out into the night.

🦇🦇🦇

The road stretched empty, a ribbon of asphalt curling through the night. The hum of the engine was the only sound. Li Jie sat slouched in the back seat, head tilted against the cushion, eyes closed as though sleep might claim him at any moment.

Yuanzhi kept both hands steady on the wheel, his shoulders locked, gaze fixed ahead. The silence pressed down.

After some time, he ventured, low and formal,
“Mr. Li.”

Li Jie didn’t stir at first, then, without opening his eyes, answered,
“…Yuanzhi.”

A soft hum escaped Yuanzhi’s throat, half acknowledgment, half doubtful.

Li Jie’s voice followed, quieter but cutting through the stillness.
“Do you have anything to tell me?”

Yuanzhi hesitated. His fingers tightened against the leather wheel. He let a beat pass before answering in the clipped, obedient tone he always used,
“No, sir. I completed all the work and reported it- only the building estimate remains, it needs your signature.”

Li Jie opened his eyes then, the weight of his gaze finding Yuanzhi through the rearview mirror. His voice, stripped bare of titles, came again:
“Not that.”

The grip on the wheel slipped. Yuanzhi blinked, his throat dry. His eyes darted between the road and the mirror, where Li Jie’s steady stare pinned him in place. He swallowed.
“…What else, sir?”

Li Jie didn’t answer. He just kept watching, unblinking, the silence heavier than any rebuke.

Yuanzhi’s breath hitched. He flicked his eyes back to the mirror, then away, then back again. His lips parted as if to say something—

The phone on the passenger seat lit up, vibrating against his bag.

The screen flashed: Mr. Zhao.

Yuanzhi’s eyes snapped to it. His chest clenched, a rush of cold washing through him.

At that exact moment, they reached the mouth a tunnel.

Every light—streetlamps outside, tunnel strips inside—blinked out. Darkness swallowed the car.

Then—blinding glare. A pair of headlights exploded in front of them, dead center in their lane.

“Shit!”

Yuanzhi slammed the brakes. The tires screamed. Both men lurched forward, seatbelts locking, the sickening jolt snapping Yuanzhi back into the seat with a sharp cry of pain.

The car skidded to a halt just short of collision. Yuanzhi’s heart hammered. He ripped at the buckle, flung his door open, stumbling out onto the asphalt.

“What the hell are they—” he begins, one foot on the asphalt.

“Get back inside.” Li Jie’s voice is low, hard. His hand closes on Yuanzhi’s wrist from behind. The younger man almost falls forward; Li Jie’s grip hauls him back, palms iron. Yuanzhi spins, eyes wild. Li Jie’s face is a pale mask in the tunnel light — not the fragile, fevered man from hours ago but steel threaded through bone.

“Get inside.” Li Jie’s voice was hard, dragging him back.

“Sir—”

“I said inside.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. Yuanzhi obeyed, retreating into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut.

Li Jie stepped out instead, the night wind snapping his coat.

The truck ahead of them—an armored beast—snuffed its headlights. Yuanzhi recognized the insignia painted on its side, even in the dark. His stomach dropped.
“…Terminus.”

Behind them, another vehicle blocked the road, its engine growling like a predator.

The back doors yawn; dark figures spill out like shadows given shape. Masked, armed, precise. An ambush.

Yuanzhi whispered through clenched teeth,
“I told them not to interfere in this…”

They come at the car in a wave. Hunters move like practiced predators, knives and compact rifles glinting. One smashes the driver’s side window with the butt of a rifle. Shards scatter, spiderwebbed glass glittering like rain. The tunnel light goes to a sickle of red and black.

Li Jie rolled his shoulders once. His expression gave nothing away. Then he moved.

The first came at him with a blade. Li Jie caught the wrist, twisted, and with a sharp crack redirected the weapon into the man’s throat. Blood spattered the ground. He wrenched the blade free before the body even hit the floor.

Two more lunged at him from opposite sides. A gunshot rang, sparks flying as the bullet ricocheted off his clawed swipe. He drove the knife into one man’s gut, ripped upward, then spun the body into the other’s line of fire, using the corpse as a shield.

Yuanzhi flinched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Li Jie moved fast—slower than his usual speed, yes, but still sharp enough that their numbers didn’t overwhelm him. His claws gleamed as they slashed across another’s throat, another’s chest. The night filled with the sounds of screams, metal scraping asphalt, the sickening thud of bodies falling.

But he wasn’t untouched. Cuts streaked across his arm, his shoulder; blood seeped through his sleeve. He didn’t falter.

The hunters regrouped. Three remained.

Two leveled guns directly at him.

The third—locked in Li Jie’s grip—struggled, his throat trapped under the press of claws.

A shot cracked against the car’s windshield. The glass spiderwebbed, shards spraying inside. The barrel turned toward Yuanzhi.

“Yuanzhi—!”

Yuanzhi ducked instinctively, shoving open the passenger door and rolling out, the shot barely missing him.

That instant of distraction cost Li Jie. Another bullet tore into his side. He staggered, hissed, then snapped the neck of the man in his grip with a brutal twist.

Yuanzhi scrambled to his feet, but too late. A sharp sting burst across his arm as a bullet ripped through his bicep. He gasped, stumbling back against the car.

The gun barrel swiveled toward his chest.

Before he could move—Li Jie was there. He shoved Yuanzhi back against the car and wrapped him in his arms. The bullet struck his shoulder, blood spraying hot across Yuanzhi’s cheek. He staggers under it, one boot skidding, blood blooming across his shirt in a dark, furious bloom. He does not let go.

Yuanzhi freezes as the scene fractures into memory: an arrow through Li Lun’s shoulder; a smear of blood on Chun’s cheek; the blood moon’s light swallowing everything. The gunshot echoes like that arrow. For a breath — a suspended, impossible breath — Yuanzhi’s mind flips back to the old scream under the moon and he sees it again in a vulture-sharp flash. The world narrows to the wet heat of blood, the weight of a body against his, the smell of iron.

He jolted, breath ragged, staring as Li Jie staggered forward, shielding him still. Another gunshot cracked. Blood splashed across Yuanzhi’s hands.

Something in him snapped.

His eyes sharpened. His breath steadied. The two hunters, guns raised—suddenly froze. Their hands twitched. In eerie synchronicity, they turned their barrels on each other.

Two headshots. The tunnel echoed with the sickening thuds of their bodies collapsing.

Silence fell.

Yuanzhi stood there, chest heaving, his hands pressed against Li Jie’s back. His palm came away slick and wet. The thick, metallic smell of blood filled his nose.

Li Jie swayed. Yuanzhi caught him, lowering him down, cradling his head in his lap.

“Li Jie…” the name slipped, trembling. “Wake up. Get up.” His voice cracked. He slaps at Li Jie’s cheek with the flat of his hand, over and over, softer then harder as if to wake him from a dream or stop him from slipping.

Li Jie’s eyes flicker, lids clinging. He coughs — blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth. Yuanzhi clamps a shaking hand to the wound where the jacket is wet and warm.

“You can’t—” Yuanzhi’s voice breaks. “You can’t die like this. I should be the one to do it. I should be the one to—”

He chokes on the last word, a laugh that has no humor. Li Jie’s blood soaked through Yuanzhi’s clothes, warm and heavy. Yuanzhi’s laughter broke out then, hollow, on the edge of madness.

And still, his hands trembled as they pressed desperately against the wound, refusing to let go.

🦇🦇🦇

The tunnel smelled of dust and hot metal. Red brake lights painted everything a bruised, unnatural color. Yuanzhi cradled Li Jie in his arms like a child, head bowed, breath coming ragged and shallow. The world had narrowed to the wet weight of Li Jie’s body and the thick, copper taste of blood.

A voice broke the ringing silence—calm, amused, without the scrape of footsteps to give it away. It echoed from somewhere up the tunnel and slid over them like smoke.

“Are you furious that you couldn't kill him,” the voice asked, “or broken to watch him die?”

Yuanzhi’s head snapped up. A figure was there now, black as a shadow but too human to be a trick—striding down through the dull light with a grace that made the hunters’ ambush feel common and clumsy. Dressed in black, twin blades strapped across his back, knives tucked into his waist, boots, arms. A sword at his hip glowed faintly- Cloud Light Sword. His black hair spilled to his shoulders in layered waves,. He moved like someone who believed he owned space.

The man squatted beside them as if joining a private conversation.

Yuanzhi’s eyes narrowed. “Who are… you?”

The man tilted his head, studying Yuanzhi with faint amusement. “I asked you something first. Do you really want him dead?”

“Why does that concern you?” Yuanzhi snarled, every nerve raw.

“Oh, it concerns me very much.” The man’s chuckle had no humor in it. "He’s my brother-in-law. Or…” his smile curved sharper, “…should I say, my grand-nephew-in-law in the making?"

Yuanzhi stiffened, his brows furrowing, irritation flashing hotter than the confusion.

The man laughed under his breath. “You don’t get me, do you?” He tugged off his mask with one hand—

—and Yuanzhi’s breath seized.

The face staring back at him mirrored his own, line for line, feature for feature. But sharper, older, touched with something both familiar and strange. And there, faintly visible against his skin, were streaks of blue lightning-like lines across his neck, creeping toward his jaw.

“Zhuo Yichen,” the man said lightly. He leaned forward and hooked two fingers under Yuanzhi’s chin, tilting the younger man’s face up so their eyes met. Yuanzhi saw himself reflected in that other pair of pupils—same bone structure, same stubborn mouth—only the reflection smiled in a way Yuanzhi didn’t recognize. "We do look alike. Though I’d argue I’m a little more handsome.”

“Impossible. Yichen is dead,” Yuanzhi said, voice small and brittle.

“Is he?” Yichen’s smile grew sharper. “Then who am I? he chuckled. "So what should I call you—Zhuo Yichun, Gong Yuanzhi, Spring Number Seven?” He let the names hang, each like an accusation.

Yuanzhi’s chest lurched: how—? The question died in his throat.

Yichen dropped Yuanzhi’s chin and watched him with the bored patience of a man who had all the time in the world. “I’ll tell you, but not now,” Yichen said. “Right now: are you furious or are you broken?”

Yuanzhi didn’t answer. He could feel the answer in the tightening of his fingers, in the nausea that had nothing to do with blood.

“Both are bad for your senses,” Yichen sighed. He took Yuanzhi’s wrist and guided it, palms forcing Yuanzhi’s hand down onto Li Jie’s chest. “Feel that?”

Yuanzhi’s mind scrambled; a dull, panicked fog made the world thicker at the edges. He did as he was told and felt the tiny, stubborn beating under Li Jie’s ribs. A pulse. Not gone.

“Your mind’s scrambled. You didn’t sense it because you weren’t thinking straight.”

With a sudden, almost casual motion, Yichen produced a knife in one hand and a phone clasped between two fingers of the other. He held them out like options on a butcher’s tray.

“If you want him dead,” Yichen said evenly, “stab his chest. If you want him alive—take the phone, call emergency.”

Yuanzhi’s eyes sharpened.

Yichen lifted his brows. “I mean... if you’d rather kill him yourself later, still take the phone. Pretend you saved him.”

Yuanzhi hesitated.

“Either way, decide fast. Zhao Yuanzhou is on his way.” Yichen added.

Yuanzhi’s eyes burned. He had the knife in mind — the smooth, silver thing he’d thought about polishing and using to punctuate centuries of guilt.

But his hands twitched towards the phone, fingers brushing the cool glass. Yichen’s hand was faster—he tucked the phone inside his jacket with a tiny, precise movement that spoke of habit. “Too slow, kiddo.” he said. “Already called."

The world had gone small and ridiculous: a phone in a jacket, a blade in a hand. Yuanzhi’s mouth was dry. “What—what do you mean you called?”

Yichen’s smile turned private. “I did. Now—one more thing.” He closed his fingers around Yuanzhi’s hand and, without asking, drew the knife across the fleshy pad of Yuanzhi’s palm in a quick, clean slash.

Pain bloomed white-hot. Blood welled fast, hot and angry. Yuanzhi tried to wrench his hand back, but Yichen pinned it, guiding the bleeding palm downward. The edge of Yichen’s glove pressed Yuanzhi’s raw skin against Li Jie’s lips. Warm blood drooled from Yuanzhi’s palm and touched Li Jie’s mouth, which found its way down his throat.

“Then…” Yichen leaned closer. “Lock your mind, kiddo. False a memory. Wen Xiao will check it, for sure.” He let the words fall like an explanation.

"Why are you doing all this?"

Yichen sighed, "May be, because I too am responsible for all this," then let go of Yuanzhi’s wrist.

Yuanzhi’s brow lifted. “What does that mean?!”

“Not now,” Yichen said, voice patient as a doctor’s. “Later—answers later. He'll be here soon."

But before vanishing, he leaned in again, casual and intimate, as if delivering a secret.

“Oh—almost forgot.” His eyes gleamed. “He knows who you are?" Yichen said pointing and Li Jie. Yuanzhi's eyes snapped up. Yichen turned to the fallen hunters of Terminus "…Ah, not that.” A smirk. “You and Yi Chun’s... Li Chun's connection—that. But he is still not ready to accept it completely, that's why he is getting weak."

Yuanzhi froze, eyes widening. His gaze darted toward Li Jie’s unconscious face.

A horn blasted up the tunnel—urgent, desperate. Yichen’s head turned "Here comes the devil". Then Yichen tapped Yuanzhi’s shoulder with maddening lightness, lips curling.
“Adiós.”

A blow caught the side of Yuanzhi’s neck, smart and precise; the world bled spots and then folded in on itself. Darkness took him.

🦇

The blare of a car horn tore through the tunnel. Headlights swept across the scene, illuminating blood, shattered glass, and two motionless figures. Tires screeched against concrete as the car came to a hard stop just meters away.

The driver’s door flung open. Zhao Yuanzhou stepped out—in a dark sweatshirt and jeans, his hair slightly mussed from the long journey. But his presence hit just as hard, cutting through the air with a quiet gravity.

For a breath, he froze. His eyes fixed on the sight: Yuanzhi slumped against the car door, shoulder and palm bloodied, Li Jie collapsed against him, clothes soaked in red.

“Li Lun—!” The name ripped from his throat, he dropped into a crouch, knees scraping the cold concrete, his hand moving with a soldier’s precision. First Li Jie—pulse, weak but steady. Then Yuanzhi—shallow breath, blood running but not fatal. Both alive.

Behind him, another engine howled down the tunnel. Eterna’s ambulance swerved in, brakes screeching, medics already throwing the doors open before the wheels had fully stopped.

“Move,” Yuanzhou snapped, his voice low but edged like tempered steel. He didn’t shift away, one hand still clamped over Yuanzhi’s shoulder as though grounding him, steadying him even unconscious.

The medics worked fast—Li Jie lifted first, his head rolling back, a bandage pressed tight against his side. Then Yuanzhi, his palm dripping crimson where a slash hadn’t yet clotted, his shirt torn from the graze at his arm.

Yuanzhou rose, fists tightening once at his sides before he shoved them into his pockets. He followed the medics toward the ambulance, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burning cold.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Spring Mansion

The convoy slid through the gates of Spring Mansion, headlights cutting across the manicured drive before disappearing into the hush of the estate. The mansion itself was awake-lights burning in its wings, staff already moving with hushed urgency.

Dr. Mo Yin stood at the ready. The butler's son had shed the household livery long ago for a physician's coat, though his familiarity with the place was unmistakable. At his back, a small team of Eterna's most trusted staff worked with quiet efficiency, wheeling out gurneys and sterile kits.

Yuanzhou climbed down first, still in his worn sweatshirt from travel. His eyes swept the scene with relief and unease as the unconscious forms of Li Jie and Yuanzhi were lifted out.

Spring Mansion was no ordinary residence-it had been retrofitted long ago with a sealed medical suite, sterile chambers, and security-grade monitoring. Here, secrets could bleed without ever reaching the outside world.

"Quickly-this way," Mo Yin ordered, leading the team.

Li Jie and Yuanzhi were wheeled into adjoining treatment rooms, separated by transparent partitions. Yuanzhi, his shoulder bleeding and palm slit open, was kept under sedative within minutes. Li Jie, pale and bloodied, was stabilized under the hands of Mo Yin's own people.

Hours later, after wounds were dressed and the chaos stilled into the steady hum of monitors, Mo Yin finally stepped out to meet Yuanzhou

"How are they?" Yuanzhou's voice was taut, threaded with travel-worn exhaustion.

Mo Yin stepped forward. "Stabilized for now. Yuanzhi has been sedated. He isn't critically wounded, but he suffered heavy blood loss. The bullets..." He lifted a small dish where two misshapen slugs lay under sterile wrap. Each was hollow, with the faint trace of a broken inner shell.

"They were designed with a compartment," Mo Yin explained, his tone grim. "On impact, the casing breaks, releasing a powdered heparin- anticoagulant directly into the bloodstream. The substance prevents clotting-it forces the victim to bleed out."

Yuanzhou's jaw tightened. "So it was deliberate."

"We've countered it," Mo Yin continued. "Administered protamine sulfate and broad-spectrum antidotes to flush the compound. Yuanzhi's body is responding, though the blood loss has weakened him. But..." He glanced toward the other gurney being wheeled inside. "But Master Li's wounds... they've begun healing on their own. Even before the antidote took effect, faster than expected, especially considering the weakness the blood moon forces on his kind."

The men moved quickly into the mansion, corridors already transformed into a sterile zone. Machines hummed softly in Li Jie's private chamber, monitors painting pale light across his face. Yuanzhi was shifted into a separate room, sedatives keeping him under.

"And there's something else. Yuanzhi has a slit across his palm. Did you notice, Master Zhao?"

Yuanzhou's gaze sharpened. "Yeah?"

Mo Yin exhaled. "I collected dried traces of blood-from around Master Li's mouth." Mo Yin lifted a small vial, faint residue visible under the sterile light. "It matches Yuanzhi's. By every indication, Master Li was fed with Yuanzhi's blood."

The room thickened with silence.

"Does he know... who you are?" Mo Yin pressed cautiously.

Yuanzhou looked away, his profile caught in shadow. "I don't know. But that explains why Li Jie is recovering so fast."

Mo Yin frowned. "Why?"

"Because Yuanzhi isn't ordinary," Yuanzhou said flatly. His eyes lifted to meet Mo Yin's. "He's hunterblood. The one bloodline that can both cure and kill a vampire."

"...Hunterblood?"

"Exactly," Yuanzhou replied.

Mo Yin's mind raced. "Wait-he's getting transfusions now. If the blood properties are unstable, could it cause a reaction?"

"No." Yuanzhou's voice was steady. "Hunterblood adapts. Faster than any other. It reshapes itself inside them. Soon it'll be a part of him."

Mo Yin absorbed that, his face pale with both awe and unease. Finally, he asked, "And his family? How do you intend to explain all this?"

Yuanzhou exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Wen Xiao's already handled it. She told them Li Jie had to leave on urgent business, and Yuanzhi was asked to accompany him. No time to give a heads-up. They won't expect contact for days."

The room fell quiet, filled only with the faint mechanical hum of machines from the other side of the wall-where Yuanzhi lay sedated, and Li Jie healed in unnatural silence.

🦇🦇🦇

Morning l Spring Mansion

The mansion had quieted into a low hum of machines and footsteps. The sterile chambers glowed with their pale light, and behind one of the sealed doors, Wen Xiao placed her hand gently against Yuanzhi's temple.

Her eyes unfocused, lashes fluttering as she reached inside. Yuanzhi's memories came like broken glass-sharp but incomplete. She saw the car stopping, the ambush flaring in front of them. Li Jie, fighting, his fangs and claws, slashing the hunter's throat with unnatural speed. Yuanzhi was shot, falling-blood soaking his shirt-Li Jie pulling him close.

But then-something else, something Yuanzhi had deliberately walled off. The deaths of the last two hunters. Their getting shot, their bodies falling-but someone else. A man in black crouched beside them. No face, only a silhouette. Yuanzhi's mind had built a shield over the memory, twisting it into a blur that even Wen Xiao could not pry open.

Wen Xiao drew back with a sharp breath, her palm slipping from his skin.

Yuanzhou was waiting in Li Jie's room. She stepped in quietly, gaze flicking once at Li Jie's unconscious form before speaking.

"His memories are scrambled. Incomplete," she reported. "I saw him shielded, shot, and protected... but the last hunters-someone else killed them. A man in black. Yuanzhi doesn't have a memory of his face. I removed those which could stop him from stabilizing."

Yuanzhou's expression darkened. Before he could answer, a stir came from the bed. Li Jie's lashes trembled, then lifted.

Wen Xiao's tone softened instantly. "You're awake."

Li Jie pushed himself up weakly, eyes darting past them. "...Yuanzhi? Where is he?"

"He's safe," Wen Xiao said quickly.

Yuanzhou studied him, voice level but probing. "Did you know who Yuanzhi really is?"

Li Jie frowned, confusion knitting his brow. "What do you mean?"

Wen Xiao spoke the words evenly, but they landed like a strike. "He is the hunterblood."

Li Jie's breath caught. His pupils narrowed, shock flickering across his face. "...What?"

"So that wasn't the thing you were hiding from me." Yuanzhou said blandly.

The silence after was heavy. At last, Li Jie swung his legs off the bed, despite his weakness. "I want to see him."

🦇🦇🦇

Yuanzhi's Room

In Yuanzhi's room, machines ticked steady lines across their monitors. He lay under soft white light, an IV steady at his arm. He lay still, pale, as though sleep had swallowed him whole. His chest rose and fell evenly, but the stillness was unnerving. Li Jie hovered at his bedside, gaze softening.

"How is he?" he asked quietly.

Mo Yin adjusted a chart. "Stable. He's not in danger anymore. He just needs time."

Li Jie leaned forward, hand lifting slightly as if to reach for Yuanzhi's arm, the instinct to heal pressing against his restraint. But before he could, Yuanzhou's hand came down firmly on his shoulder.

"He's fine. You're weakened already. Don't push yourself."

Li Jie's jaw tightened. "Then why is he not waking up?"

A voice cut in from the doorway. Calm, clinical.

"Because he's under sedation."

They turned. A tall man in a doctor's coat stepped inside, clipboard in hand, movements practiced and precise.

Mo Yin straightened. "This is Yan Jiang, our new recruit. He'll be overseeing Yuanzhi's care for now."

Li Jie's gaze narrowed, mistrust flickering instantly.

Mo Yin caught it. "He's trustworthy. He grew up in a monastery my mother used to visit. The venerable introduced us. He was working at Haneul University Hospital in Korea before joining our team two months ago."

Yan inclined his head respectfully. "It's an honor to serve here."

Yuanzhou folded his arms. "Li Jie, you need rest. Let us handle this."

Reluctantly, Li Jie stood. But as he walked out with Yuanzhou and Wen Xiao, he paused at the door, turning back.

"Take care of him well, Doctor Yan. Nothing, nothing- should go wrong."

Yan's expression didn't waver. "You have my word, sir. You don't need to worry about him."

Li Jie lingered a heartbeat longer before leaving. Mo Yin excused himself soon after, muttering about cases to attend to.

The room quieted. Yan Jiang checked Yuanzhi's vitals, adjusted the IV, movements careful. For a moment, everything seemed steady.

Then Yuanzhi stirred.

🦇

His dream unfolded in an open field. Yellow blossoms swayed, endless under the pastel sky. Ahead of it-Chun in lavender, her laughter trailing behind her like bells. Beside her, Li Lun in sky-blue, smiling, radiant, laughing and running through the field-free.

Then Li Lun's arms wrapped around Chun's waist, drawing her back. She turned-yet in her place stood Yuanzhi himself, clad in soft white tinged with pale green.

He blinked, stunned, yet the scene didn't falter. Li Lun smiled at him, bright and warm, and clasped his hand.

"Come," Li Lun said. "I'll show you something."

Hand in hand, they ran through the golden field, laughter echoing in the air. Beneath the great elm by the stream, Li Lun stopped.
"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Yuanzhi obeyed.

A white cloth layed under the tree, a flower crown waited on top of it. Li lun picked it up and gently placed it on Yuanzhi's head. Yuanzhi opened his eyes.

"Do you have something to tell me?" Li Lun asked softly.

Yuanzhi nodded-just as thunder cracked. The sky bled red. His eyes shifted back to Li Lun.

Li Lun was there, but his pale blue clothes were soaked through, crimson spreading across the fabric. Blood poured from wounds Yuanzhi hadn't seen, dripping into the flowers.

Yuanzhi looked down. His own hands clutched a dagger, slick and wet with blood.

"No..." he whispered. The knife clattered to the ground.

Li Lun staggered, knees buckling. Yuanzhi caught him desperately, but blood only stained his palms further.

"Go," Li Lun rasped, coughing red. His hand gripped Yuanzhi's arm with sudden strength. "Leave now. Please."

He shoved Yuanzhi back. Yuanzhi stumbled, scrambling away, Li Lun's scream tearing through the crimson sky-

And Yuanzhi's eyes snapped open.

🦇

Reality surged back in. A man in a white coat sat at his bedside, adjusting the IV line with practiced ease. His voice was steady, professional.

"You're awake," Yan said quietly, almost soothing.

Yuanzhi stared at him confused.

Yan angled the penlight, the glow brushing across Yuanzhi's lashes as he muttered, "Good evening. I am Doctor Yan Jiang, appointed to be your personal physician to help you recover. You're now in Spring Mansion, under safe care."

He lifted a hand, moving his finger side to side. "Follow this. Slowly... don't be stubborn."

Yuanzhi narrowed his eyes, but obeyed.

"Your wounds are not critical," Yan continued, switching the light off, "though you've suffered blood loss. Rest will do the rest." He slipped a thermometer under Yuanzhi's tongue, ignoring the glare aimed at him until the soft beep released him.

Yan checked the reading, lips quirking. "Stable." Then, with no warning, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing Yuanzhi's jaw. "Now-say something for me. Anything. Let me check if the medicine's numbed your muscles."

Yuanzhi gave him a long look, then finally drawled, "...You're weird"

Yan's mouth curved, satisfied. "Perfect. Speech intact."

Yuanzhi swallowed, his throat rough. His first hoarse question slipped out:
"...Mr. Li?"

Yan adjusted his glasses without pause. "He's fine. He was here earlier, but I asked him to rest. He needs it as much as you do."

Yuanzhi said nothing more, only turned his gaze toward the curtains-staring blankly, as if the world outside might answer what words could not.

Yan's hands moved with quiet precision as he adjusted the saline flow. Then, almost as if the silence amused him, he gave a low, dry chuckle.
"Tell me-are you dizzy from the medicine... or is that just anger frozen into your resting face?"

Yuanzhi blinked. The tone-it curled around him in a way that jolted something loose inside. He stared, the edges of the world narrowing until only that face remained. "What?"

The man tilted his head, lips curving as he repeated, "Dizzy, or angry?"

Yuanzhi's fingers twitched faintly on the coverlet. He turned his head, slow and unsteady, as though the sedatives still clung to him.

"...dizzy," he murmured, the word thin, almost swallowed.

Yan leaned closer, brows lifting, a trace of professional concern shadowing his features. "Dizzy? I'll adjust the dosage. Hold still." His hand reached to steady Yuanzhi's wrist, cool fingers pressing against the inside of his pulse.

Yuanzhi's grip closed-sudden, sharp. His other hand rose, unsteady but deliberate, cupping Yan's cheek. His gaze locked, unwavering now, into the doctor's eyes.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched.

Then Yuanzhi whispered, each syllable burning with certainty:
"Yichen."

The corner of Yan's mouth curved. The practiced gentleness slipped, replaced by something older, sharper, amused. His eyes gleamed with that same mocking familiarity Yuanzhi remembered.

"Oh," he murmured, voice low, edged with amusement, "you actually found me."

🦇

The man seated beside the bed, setting down a tray. He poured water into a cup with calm hands and held out a tablet.

"Doctor's orders," Yichen said simply, passing it to him before sitting back down.

Yuanzhi leaned against the headboard, watching him. His eyes dropped to the glass and medicine in his hands, then rose again to Yichen's face. staring at him. "Since when are you my doctor?"

"Since you got hurt," Yichen replied without missing a beat.

"What is this all about Yichen? How did you got in here?

Instead of answering, Yichen took the medicine back, tipped Yuanzhi's chin lightly with two fingers, and smirked. "It's about recovering, you stubborn kid. Now-open your mouth."

Yuanzhi frowned. "Yichen, don't play with me. What's going on? You can actually shapeshift?"

Yichen pressed a finger against Yuanzhi's lips, eyes glinting. "Shh. Lower your voice, Yuanzhi-ah. People might think you're thrilled to see me." Then, with mock offense, "And what happened to your honorifics? I'm older than your great-grandfather, you know."

Yuanzhi arched a brow. "So what, you want me to call you Grandpapa or grandshushu? Looking at this handsome young face of yours?"

Yichen cleared his throat, caught off guard, then muttered, "...You caught me there."

Yuanzhi leaned forward. "Then tell me. Why are you here?"

"I promised, didn't I? That I'd help you find answers. A promise is a promise." Yichen's tone softened, but he ruined it with a smirk. "How could I let down my great, great, great-"

"Stop it."

"Fine." Yichen lifted his hands in mock surrender.

Yuanzhi gestured at his coat. "What's with this doctor act? And whose face are you wearing?"

"This isn't an act." Yichen tugged at the edge of the white coat, letting it flutter like wings. In the blink of an eye, his form shimmered-then settled into his true self. His own features, striking and unchanged by time, stared back at Yuanzhi. He brushed the name tag on the coat. "That face belonged to someone long gone. But this title-" he tapped the name badge, "-I earned it."

"You studied medicine?"

Yichen nodded.

"And you're working at Eterna?"

Another nod.

Yuanzhi gave a soft laugh. "Why?"

Yichen leaned closer. "Isn't it dull to keep the same career for three hundred years? I thought I'd try saving people for a change."

Yuanzhi gave him a long look. "Right. Three centuries. So what are you, some vampire?"

Yichen flexed his jaw, tried to bare fangs or claws, but nothing came. He shook his head.

"Then a demon?"

Again, Yichen shook his head.

Yuanzhi tilted closer. "Then how do you have these powers-?" But the motion left him suddenly dizzy, his body lurching forward.

Yichen moved swiftly, catching him by the shoulders. "Whoa, Careful-"

The touch sparked a sharp memory in Yuanzhi's mind.

He saw Yichen, much younger, bloodied, cornered. A creature-fangs bared, not quite human-lunged and sank its teeth into Yichen's arm. Yichen's scream tore through the air, the agony branded in Yuanzhi's mind.

Yuanzhi jolted back to himself, breath uneven.

Yichen studied him. "Don't you think it's rude to peek into other people's memories like that?"

"I didn't mean to," Yuanzhi muttered. "It just... happened."

"You're powers are not stable yet," Yichen sighed.

Yuanzhi steadied his breath. "So that bite... it triggered something."

"Yeah." Yichen unfastened his collar slightly, revealing a faint, dark mark at the curve of his neck. "After that night, this formed. The bite of a vampire usually turns you. But I already carried the demonic seed of Bing Yi, the chosen successor. The two forces clashed-and changed me."

Yuanzhi's fingers brushed the mark without thinking. "So you're... immortal?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You've lived nearly three centuries."

"That doesn't mean I can't die." Yichen's gaze darkened. "Dhampirs, too, live long lives. But in the end, they still fall."

Yuanzhi fell silent.

"I stopped aging in my twenties," Yichen said quietly. "I might live forever. Or I might die tomorrow. Either way, it's an agony, Yuanzhi-ah. Watching everyone you love... fade and still living on."

Yuanzhi studied him, voice low. "So... you loved someone."

Yichen gave a short, self-mocking laugh. "I'll admit it-I'm not as brave as you. I never dared to love. Not once."

Yuanzhi's gaze lingered on Yichen, sharp even in his weariness.
"Then why does everyone believe you died? Even Xuan-ge mourned you."

Yichen turned to Yuanzhi fully, lips curving faintly. "That's... complicated. And you're in no condition to grasp it all in one go."

"But-"

"I said," Yichen interrupted gently, tapping Yuanzhi's forehead with two fingers, "I'll be here until you recover. And after that, still at Eterna. Don't worry, I won't vanish before I finish my task."

Yuanzhi's brows drew together. "You said Li Jie knows who I am. How is that possible?"

Yichen's smile softened, just a little too knowing. "The soul-bonding. Don't you remember? It means you two can sense each other. He feels you, the way you feel him-whether it's love or hatred doesn't matter. The thread is there."

Yuanzhi's eyes flickered. "So... he knew I was acting all this time. But-"

Yichen raised a hand. "No buts. You need rest right now." His tone sharpened, that playful warmth cutting into something sterner. "You know what was in that bullet, how it work don't you?."

Yuanzhi gave a short nod.

"Then lie down," Yichen pressed.

"I'm fine," Yuanzhi muttered stubbornly, Yichen only chuckled. A flicker passed through his eyes-he sensed something-and in the next blink his features shifted back into Dr. Yan's. He leaned down, brushing Yuanzhi's cheek with the back of his fingers before catching and tugging it playfully.

"You're stubborn."

"Annoying," Yuanzhi muttered, he let out a sound halfway between protest and laughter, eyes closed, unguarded for once. His hand came up to grip Yichen's wrist as if to push him off, but the smile lingering at his lips betrayed him.

"Sleep a little longer if you want," Yichen murmured.

"I need a bath," Yuanzhi muttered instead, "brush my teeth... and I'm hungry."

Yichen clicked his tongue. "Greedy boy. I'll give you a sponge bath. Now lie down like a good patient."

The door slid open.

Li Jie stood there, eyes narrowing at the scene: Dr. Yan bent close, tugging lightly at Yuanzhi's cheek, while Yuanzhi leaned against the pillows with a rare, soft smile. It was not the guarded expression he wore with most-it was warm, almost childlike.

Yan straightened smoothly, his expression polite. "Mr. Li?"

Yuanzhi turned his head sideways. "Mr. Li, are you okay?"

Li Jie inclined his head, stepping closer. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving Yuanzhi. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Just a little dizzy."

Li Jie nodded again, quietly steady.

Yuanzhi hesitated, then asked, "Mr. Li... did you find who crashed us that night?"

"It was nothing more than a business feud," Li Jie said evenly. "I'll handle it."

Yuanzhi let out a slow breath. "That's a relief."

But Li Jie's eyes drifted back to Yan, sharp now. "You two... know each other?"

Yuanzhi smiled faintly. "Mm. University connection."

Li Jie's gaze held. "Friends?"

Yuanzhi noded once.

Yichen looked at Yuanzhi, a smile tugging faintly at his lips before he answered, "Yuanzhi-ah really? Friends?."

Yuanzhi tilted his head, staring at him in quiet confusion, but Yan only raised a brow at him, mouthing: What?

Yuanzhi frowned, the smallest crease at his brows. Li Jie's jaw tightened; he looked away, expression shuttered.

Yichen leaned back with a sigh. "I came all the way here for you and you are still mad at me?"

Yuanzhi's eyes flicked toward Li Jie instead of answering.

Li Jie rose, his tone clipped. "I'll leave now and get you something to eat."

Yichen inclined his head in confirmation, tone smooth. "Sure Mr. Li, he needs a bath too."

And then he added casually, almost sing-song, "You still love tendon, don't you, Yuanzhi?"

Yuanzhi froze. "Ye.. Yeah, I do."

Yichen's smile widened, wolfish. "I know, you couldn't forget it that soon." Yuanzhi's eyes widened.

Li Jie's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He rose, with as sigh. "Take care, Yuanzhi." His voice was softer, meant only for him. Then he turned and left.

Yuanzhi's eyes followed him until the door shut. Then he glanced back at Yichen, who was already soaking a cloth in a basin of warm water.

"What are you doing?" Yuanzhi mouthed silently.

Yichen's gaze flicked toward the door, then back at him. His lips barely moved. He's still there.

"Forget it. For now, bath time. You're not escaping me."

Yuanzhi huffed under his breath, but allowed Yichen to unfasten the ties of his robe and begin dabbing gently at his collarbone and shoulders. The warmth of the water and Yichen's touch made him flinch, pain threading through his muscles.

Yichen's brows drew together. "Careful. Don't fight me."

Yuanzhi grimaced but leaned into the pillows again. "You're awfully bossy for a so-called doctor."

"And you're annoyingly delicate for someone who claims he's fine." Yichen's mouth twitched, suppressing a smile.

The basin rippled as cloth met water again, soft motions filling the silence.

Yuanzhi looked at him sidelong, lips curving despite himself. "I swear you're enjoying this too much."

Yichen's eyes glinted. "Oh, absolutely."

And just outside the half-closed door, Li Jie lingered a moment too long, the sound of their low laughter threading like a knife into his chest before he finally turned away.

🦇

Yichen's arm steadied Yuanzhi as they made their way back from the bathroom.

Yuanzhi frowned. "Are you a doctor or an attendant?"

Yichen tilted his head with mock thoughtfulness. "For you, I can be both."

Yuanzhi turned sharply, eyes narrowing at him. His lips didn't move, but his voice echoed right in Yan's head: What are you trying to pull?

Yichen almost stumbled, eyes widening. What the-

Yuanzhi clapped a hand over his mouth, glaring. Telepathy, grandpa.

Yichen's laugh rumbled against Yuanzhi's palm. "Wow".

Yuanzhi pressed, eyes sharp. What's your deal?

Yichen's eyes glinted. A little fun. Teasing someone. Rubbing some salt on a long ignored wound.

Yuanzhi snorted in his mind. Yeah right, fun playing with me.

Nope, Yichen countered smoothly, grin tugging his lips. Not you.

Before Yuanzhi could retort, a presence stirred beyond the door. He stiffened, whispering aloud now, "Let me go. I can walk."

"Okay," Yicheb said cheerfully, releasing him. "Don't blame me if you fall down."

Yuanzhi straightened, stubborn as ever-took two steps-then stumbled as dizziness swept him.

The door opened at that exact moment, Li Jie stepping in, Mr. Mo right behind with a tray of food.

Before Li Jie could move, Yichen caught Yuanzhi smoothly, one hand at his waist, pulling him close. "Told you," he said, flicking Yuanzhi's forehead. "Stubborn."

Yuanzhi pouted, slipping his arms around Yichen's shoulders for balance.

Li Jie's face was unreadable, a mask carved of stone.

"Your food is here," Mr. Mo said lightly, glancing between them.

Yichen guided Yuanzhi back to bed, seating him with practiced ease. "I can handle this, Mr. Li. You should go take some rest."

Li Jie hesitated, but before he could speak, Yichen was already scooping porridge, turning to Yuanzhi.

"Open."

Yuanzhi wrinkled his nose. "I can feed myself."

A faint, almost wistful smile touched Li Jie's lips at the familiar defiance.

But Yichen didn't even blink. He leaned in, voice low and edged with wicked amusement. "Want me to tie you down first? It won't look good in your condition."

Yuanzhi blinked at him-then, flustered, opened his mouth for the spoon.

Yichen ruffled his hair, smile softening. "That's my boy."

Yuanzhi didn't take his gaze off Yichen's face, not even once.

That was when Li Jie turned wordlessly, the set of his shoulders sharp as he left the room. Mr. Mo followed, murmuring, "Master Li-" but Li Jie didn't answer.

Yuanzhi immediately tried to swat Yichen with his bandaged hand.

Yichen caught it easily. "If you want to hit me, use the other hand. If that bleeds, it'll get complicated."

Yuanzhi whined in protest.

Yichen only chuckled, offering another spoonful. "Good boy."

And Yuanzhi-caught off guard, cornered, and pouting-ate it like a sulky child.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Spring Mansion

The hush of Springs's bedroom wrapped around them, shadows pooling in the red-and-black corners. The sterile hum of monitors and IVs was gone; only the soft tick of a wall clock filled the room. Yuanzhi sat upright against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.

From the bathroom, Yichen emerged, fresh from washing up, towel draped over broad shoulders, the back of his hair still damp. He spotted Yuanzhi and tilted his head. "Are you okay?"

Yuanzhi didn't turn immediately, voice flat. "Do I look like I'm okay?"

Yichen chuckled, hanging the towel and running a hand through his hair as he dried the strands with a blow-dryer. "Of course you don't. What's the matter?"

Yuanzhi sighed and straightened against the headboard. "I'm fine aren't I- my body and all?"

"Are you?" Yichen mirrored, watching Yuanzhi through the mirror.

Yuanzhi's voice hardened slightly. "If I'm not, then why did you move me out of that sterile hospital setup?"

Yichen set down the dryer and strode to the bed. "Why? You prefer a hospital bed?"

"No, It's not that," Yuanzhi muttered. "If I'm okay, why can't I go home?"

Yichen's fingers brushed Yuanzhi's cheek and forehead, checking his temperature. "Ask Li Lun. He insisted on keeping you here until your wound... heals."

Yuanzhi's voice cracked as the word left his lips. "HEAL? Nooo..."

Yichen chuckled. "Why?"

"It's so boring?" Yuanzhi sulked, burying his face under the blanket.

Yichen couldn't hold back his laughter, adjusting the sheets. "Don't strain your hand, Yuanzhi-ah."

"But whyy???" Yuanzhi whimpered.

"Do you want to go out, for a walk?" Yichen teased, watching him carefully.

Yuanzhi hesitated, then peeked out from under the sheet, leaning toward Yichen. "Can I?"

"No," Yichen said firmly, though his eyes softened.

Yuanzhi furrowed his brows.

"I can't leave you alone," Yichen added quickly. "But if you behave, I'll take you out for a walk."

"I'll behave, Grandpa," Yuanzhi said, tone playful yet earnest.

Yichen arched a brow.

"...Yichen," Yuanzhi added, "are you okay without honorifics now?"

Yichen nodded. "Yeah... I'm okay."

With a careful hand under Yuanzhi's arm, Yichen helped him out of bed. They walked side by side, hand in hand, Yuanzhi leaning on Yichen's steady guidance, trusting him completely, Yichen ensuring he didn't trip. It was the kind of attention that went unnoticed but left Yuanzhi quietly reassured.

🦇

After a while Li Jie entered Yuanzhi's room, expecting to check on him, but found it empty. He scanned the bed, then the entire room-no Yuanzhi, no Yan Jiang. His gaze hardened. "Where are they?"

Just then, Mo Yu stepped in, smiling politely. "Master Li, do you need anything?"

Li Jie's voice was flat, pointed. "Where did they go?"

Mo Yu's smile widened. "Oh! They're in the garden. Would you like me to get you anything, Master Li?"

Li Jie shook his head. "No. You may leave."

As Mo Yu departed, Li Jie felt an unfamiliar sting-the burn of salt in his chest, that deep, invisible jealousy. He walked to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air that led into the Red Rose Garden. There they were: Yuanzhi and Yan Jiang, walking hand in hand. Yuanzhi leaned down, fingers grazing a rose.

"Let me," Yichen said softly, reaching out with care. His fingers deftly avoided the sharp spines as he plucked a perfect blood-red rose. He held it for a long moment, contemplating its stark beauty, then offered it to Yuanzhi.

"Do you know why people give this specific flower when they confess?" Yichen asked.

Yuanzhi took the rose with a shrug. "It's obvious, isn't it? Red stands for passion, for love. And obviously... it's beautiful. What else?"

Yichen chuckled. "It's more than that. If all you wanted was to show passion and beauty, there are a dozen red flowers. Tulips, carnations, poppies... vibrant, all beautiful, and most without a single thorn."

Yuanzhi looked down at the rose in his hand, thumb brushing the sharp stem. "Yeah... that does make sense. Why pick a flower covered in thorns?"

"Because it shows the raw, true self," Yichen said, his tone gentle but firm. "The rose isn't a fantasy. Love can be beautiful, but life isn't always smooth. It's sharp. Painful. If you want that perfect bloom, that love worth holding, you have to go through the thorns."

He gestured to the rose in Yuanzhi's hand. "The thorns aren't a flaw... they're the point. Love isn't about avoiding the prick; it's about learning to hold carefully. Passing through the difficult times-that's how you truly win it."

Yuanzhi smiled, lightly brushing the petals, then snapped the thorn off the stem. "Philosophy," he murmured, eyes twinkling at Yichen. He tucked the flower behind Yichen's ear.

In that moment, Yuanzhi's voices echoed, only in Yichen's mind: I hope you find someone who dare you to risk it all.

Yichen's eyes closed, a serene smile spreading across his face, though he didn't remove the flower. He alone had heard it, and the quiet weight of it lingered between them.

The two settled on the swing in the center of the garden. Their laughter, light and teasing, carried across the night air, mingling with the scent of roses.

Above, Li Jie remained on the balcony, silent, frozen, recalling an eerily similar memory: Chun once placing a red rose behind Li Lun's ear. The parallel burned like salt, sharp and perfect.

🦇

Li Jie stood on the balcony, hands braced on the railing, eyes fixed on the garden below. The night was quiet except for the faint creak of a swing. Yuanzhou was just walking past when he noticed Li Jie standing on the balcony. He stopped, then stepped closer, brow arched.
"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Li Jie replied flatly.

"Really?" Yuanzhou pressed, strolling up to the railing. He followed Li Jie's line of sight and found Yan down below, lazily pushing a garden swing with his leg. Yuanzhi sat cross-legged on it, gazing at the sky.

For a long while, Yuanzhi said nothing. Then, without warning, he leaned sideways, head resting lightly on Yichen's shoulder, eyes closing in quiet ease. Yichen reached up and pulled the hood of Yuanzhi's hoodie over his head. He didn't speak, didn't move otherwise-just sat steady beside him.

Yuanzhou couldn't help a chuckle. "They could make a good couple."

Li Jie's head snapped toward him. "What do you mean?"

"Look at them," Yuanzhou said, still half-smiling, oblivious to the weight of his words. "Yuanzhi's usually all fire, all jokes... now he's curled up like a puppy. Calm beside him. Balance. Cute." He nudged Li Jie with mock fondness. "Really... a vibrant verses calm pairing."

Li Jie's voice sharpened. "How does that mean they could be a good couple?"

Before Yuanzhou could even process that, a sound from below pulled both their eyes back to the garden.

"I'm hungry," Yuanzhi announced suddenly, breaking the hush.

Yichen turned, surprised, then poked Yuanzhi's stomach. "What's in here? Are you raising a whole chicken farm in your belly?"

Yuanzhi swatted his hand away, sulking. "Don't touch."

Yichen laughed. "What about soup dumplings?"

"From where?" Yuanzhi asked, still pouting. "You're going to cook?" Yichen didn't reply.

"Wait, you could actually cook?"

Yichen spread his hands, smile flatly playful. "Why not?" he tilted his head, teasing. "Didn't I tell you? For you, I can be anything."

Yuanzhi's eyes lit up instantly, like a child promised sweets. He hopped down from the swing, nodding furiously. Yichen smiled, patting his head, "Let's go find Mr. Mo." He said, guiding Yuanzhi back toward the mansion, their hands loosely linked.

Up on the balcony, Yuanzhou gestured at them, grinning. "See? That's what I meant. He's a respected doctor, but look-agreeing to cook just because Yuanzhi's hungry. That's not just boyfriend material, in Wen Xiao's words that's a green forest there."

Li Jie gave a sharp little laugh. "Cooking dumplings makes him boyfriend material?"

"It's not about the dumplings," Yuanzhou shot back. "It's about the effort. The willingness. Actions matter as much as feelings."

Li Jie's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth as if to retort, then shut it. The silence between them was thin and sharp.

Yuanzhou's expression shifted into mischief. "Besides-who am I to lecture you? You know how this works, don't you?"

Li Jie stiffened.

Yuanzhou leaned closer, frowning. "Wait. Did you catch a fever again?"

"I am fine."

"But your ears are turning red." Yuanzhou reached to touch his face. Li Jie jerked back, slapping his hand away. "I said I'm fine!" His voice came out harsher than intended, and without another word he turned and strode back inside.

Yuanzhou froze on the balcony, eyes wide for a beat, then blinked and murmured to himself, "What was that?" He watched the door close on Li Jie's retreating silhouette and then tilted his head toward the garden, which is already deserted.

🦇🦇🦇

The Kitchen

The kitchen smelled of fresh scallions, ginger, carrot and flour. Yichen had rolled up his sleeves, forearms dusted faintly white from kneading dough. He moved with an ease that betrayed practice: flour spread smooth across the board, the rolling pin gliding under steady hands. He wasn't even wearing an apron, yet not a single fleck dared stick to his shirt or face.

Yuanzhi, perched on a stool like a curious child, leaned close as Yichen worked. His eyes lit up when Yichen scooped chopped greens onto the board.

"Open," Yichen said, slipping a small piece of carrot toward Yuanzhi's lips.

Yuanzhi obeyed instantly, chewing with exaggerated delight. "Mmm-"

"Careful," Yichen warned, pressing the back of the knife to Yuanzhi's shoulder to keep him from leaning too far into the workspace. He sprinkled more flour and then, without warning, tapped Yuanzhi's nose with his flour-dusted finger.

"Yaaah!" Yuanzhi pulled back, scrubbing at his face. "I just bathed! Don't mess me up again."

Yichen's mouth curved. "I can give you a bath later, Yuanzhi-ah."

Mr. Mo, standing nearby with a tray of vegetables, stifled a laugh. Yuanzhi shot Yichen a glare, eyes darting in a silent "Behave." Yichen only smiled wider and continued folding the dough, deliberately slow, letting Yuanzhi watch each careful tuck and press.

Before long, Yichen drew Yuanzhi into the process-guiding his hands, teaching him how to pinch the edges of the dumpling without tearing the skin. Their laughter and small arguments spilled into the kitchen, warm and domestic.

From the hall, Li Jie stood in shadow, his gaze locked unblinking on the scene. His usual composure-polished, immovable-looked strained now, every line of him too taut, too still.

Mo Yu slipped out, nearly bumping into Li Jie. "Master Li, you're still awake?" he asked softly.

Li Jie only nodded, eyes fixed ahead, as though he hadn't heard.

Yuanzhou, leaning lazily on the opposite wall, crooked a finger at Mo Yu. When Mo joined him, Yuanzhou tilted his head toward the kitchen doorway. His eyes flicked between Yichen, Yuanzhi laughing flour-bright in the warm light, and Li Jie stiff and silent just outside.

"We may need to call the fire department," Yuanzhou murmured.

Mo Yu blinked, confused. "Dr. Yan seems like a good cook, Master Zhao."

Yuanzhou clicked his tongue. "Tch, Not for the kitchen. For him." He jabbed a finger subtly toward Li Jie.

Mo Yu followed his gaze and blinked again, this time wider. "You mean-?"

"Mm." Yuanzhou's mouth tilted into a sly smile. "And I think I poured premium fuel into a dragon's mouth."

🦇

The steam curled up from the bamboo basket, carrying the savory warmth of freshly cooked soup dumplings. Yichen had insisted on making them himself, and now he sat close to Yuanzhi, carefully lifting one with the chopsticks, blowing gently, then holding it out.

"Careful, it's hot," Yichen said, his tone half-gentle, half-teasing.

Yuanzhi bit into it, eyes widening at the burst of broth. A soft laugh escaped him, utterly unguarded. "Delicious."

He looked at Yichen with the kind of unselfconscious admiration that belonged to children, or people who had long forgotten how to guard their joy.

Then, unable to hold it in, Yuanzhi grinned wide-eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling with barely-contained laughter.

The sight hit him like a blade unsheathed.

For a split second, he wasn't seeing Yuanzhi. He was seeing Chun-head tilted, eyes pressed into crescents, the same radiant, teasing smile that always disarmed him. The memory flooded uninvited, cruelly vivid.

Li Jie's chest burned. He forced himself to turn away, yet his gaze kept circling back, helpless as a moth. He strolled his room agitated like a king who lost his kingdom.

He's not Chun. He can't be.
Yuanzhi is... Yuanzhi. So why does it twist in me, watching him curl into Dr. Yan like that? Why should it matter if someone else makes him smile?

He clenched his jaw. The rationalizations came like soldiers, ordered and sharp:

No... They don't resemble each other.
They can't.

But the flash of that smile lingered, undeniable.

They do... resemble. But resemblance doesn't mean they're the same person. They're not.

I never looked at him as I did her. Then why-why does it feel like I'm being-replaced?

Li Jie's hand went to the chain at his neck. The ring pressed into his palm, cool and unyielding. His thumb circled over it, a restless orbit, as if the small band could anchor him.

I don't even love him.
...A pause. A void.

Don't I?

The ring in his palm felt suddenly unbearable, biting against his skin.

Then why-why did I come back here the moment I felt him.

The thought twisted, incomplete, before he slammed it down.

Curiosity. That was all. I was curious. Nothing else.

He tugged hard at the chain, as though force alone could strangle the traitorous thought out of him. The metal snapped. The chain slipped through Li Jie's fingers, clattering faintly against the floor. The ring lay in his palm, heavy despite its size, as though the broken metal carried all the weight he refused to name.

His chest tightened. He hadn't meant to snap it. He hadn't even realized how hard he'd pulled until the silence after.

"Li Jie?"

The voice startled him. He turned sharply-Yuanzhou was there, brows knitted, eyes narrowing as he stepped into the lamplight.

"What happened?" Yuanzhou's gaze dropped, catching on the broken chain and ring in Li Jie's hand.

Li Jie said nothing, jaw locked.

Yuanzhou frowned, closing the distance, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Hey... talk to me."

Li Jie finally looked at him, but his eyes were restless, scattered like wind-tossed embers.

Yuanzhou followed his stare to the object in his palm. His voice softened. "Maybe... it's time for you to let her go."

Li Jie exhaled shakily, the smallest fracture in his composure. "Yuanzhi has... a part of Chun's soul. Her soul resonance."

Yuanzhou blinked, stunned. "What-?"

Li Jie's silence was confirmation enough.

"You mean... he has the soul bonding?"

A stiff nod.

Yuanzhou's lips parted, words tangling in confusion. His gaze darted toward the kitchen where muffled laughter still drifted from Yuanzhi and Yan Jiang.

"Then... Yuanzhi..." He stopped, eyes narrowing further, the thought crashing in too fast. His lips moved, stumbling over the next name. "And Doctor Yan..."

The realization broke against him, half-formed, unbearable. He shook his head, backing a voice dropping into a stammer.

"No... no... that's-What if they are- no"

The denial hung in the air, but the laughter from the kitchen didn't stop.

🦇🦇🦇

Chapter Text

Spring Mansion

The room was dim, lit only by the lamp at Li Jie's bedside. Red-and-black drapes hung heavy, muffling the night air. Li Jie sat on the edge of the bed, the broken chain and ring turning restlessly in his fingers. Yuanzhou slouched opposite him in a chair, arms folded, watching.

Finally, Yuanzhou leaned forward, plucked the ring out of Li Jie's hand, and frowned.
"Yaah... how long did you know you two are connected?"

Li Jie's gaze stayed low, voice quiet. "About... Ten..."

Yuanzhou blinked. "Ten what? Days?"

Li Jie shook his head.

"Ten months?" Yuanzhou pressed.

Silence.

Yuanzhou's voice rose in disbelief. "Don't tell me-you knew for ten years? Since he was what... like thirteen?"

A sigh escaped Li Jie.

Yuanzhou's eyes widened. "Wait. You took over the company after you knew he was here, didn't you?"

"Yes"

"And you just... did nothing?"

Li Jie's head lifted, steady and tired. "Do what? He was literally a child, Zhu Yan."

Yuanzhou leaned back, exasperated. "He's not now."

"Does that make any difference?"

"It does!" Yuanzhou shot back. "It's him-your soul thread! And you won't even acknowledge it. That's why you're getting all weird symptoms. You're just going to sit here and watch him slip away? What were you doing all this time?"

Li Jie's fingers tightened on the broken chain. "What do you want me to do then? I don't even-"

"You do," Yuanzhou cut in sharply. "You do have feelings for him."

"But he doesn't," Li Jie said flatly.

Yuanzhou leaned forward. "How do you know? Oh, yeah the thread ? But... does he even know what we are?"

Li Jie paused, then answered quietly, "He doesn't. He thinks it's just... strange dreams. But he won't get close to me like that."

"Why not?"

Li Jie's jaw clenched. He couldn't say the real reason-that Yuanzhi hated him, wanted him dead. Instead, he murmured, "He thinks I'm like him... a replica of the past. But he remembers how Chun ended up. So he won't."

Yuanzhou's voice softened. "But it was she who-"

"Doesn't that change the fact I did it?" Li Jie cut him off. His eyes flickered with something raw. "I felt how devastating it was for him. So I never dared look, never dared follow where he went, what he was doing. But in the end, he still ended up back with me. And above all..." He drew a long breath. "He's hunterblood. Like her. And I won't let history repeat."

Yuanzhou leaned back, frustrated. "But-"

"It's better this way," Li Jie said firmly. "I don't want to mess his life again."

Yuanzhou narrowed his eyes. "Then what? You're going to let them be together?"

Li Jie's gaze shifted away. "I think they already are."

"What?"

"I don't know what happened between them," Li Jie admitted, "but Dr. Yan came here for Yuanzhi. And they are close, you saw it yourself."

Yuanzhou sat back, muttering, "This is already a mess."

"Don't turn it into a bigger one," Li Jie warned. "Go rest. I want to sleep."

Yuanzhou exhaled, stood up, and nodded. "Fine. Good night."

"Good night."

Yuanzhou stepped out into the hall, the ring still in his hand. He lifted it, studying the broken band under the low light. A slow smirk curved his lips.
"You're deep in trouble, Li Lun... you even forgot this was with me."

He tucked the ring into his pocket.
"Let's see what I can do."

🦇🦇🦇

The morning light slipped through the thin curtains of Yuanzhi's room, painting the walls in pale gold. The air smelled faintly of ginger and broth-last night's dumplings still lingering.

Yuanzhi was sprawled across the bed in his careless sleep, cheek pillowed against Yichen's chest. One leg hooked lazily over him, his wounded arm draped across Yichen's torso. His breath came slow, steady.

Yichen lay awake, careful not to move. He had been scrolling through his phone one-handed, holding still so as not to tug at the stitches. From time to time, he glanced down at the boy pressed against him. A small smile tugged at his lips.

With his free hand, he poked Yuanzhi's cheek lightly, as if testing a dumpling for softness.
"...So this is how parents feel," he murmured, voice no more than a whisper. "When they watch their child grow up."

He gave another poke, amused at how unbothered Yuanzhi was, lips parted in deep sleep.
"You were so fluffy when you were little. A proper bubble ball." His voice softened, warmth threading every word. "Oh, my baby..." He pinched Yuanzhi's cheek slightly, "Why did you grow up so fast?"

He was still chuckling under his breath when the door clicked.

Yuanzhou froze on the threshold. His breath caught. For a long moment, silence stretched-Doctor Yan's eyes lifting, meeting his with cool, steady calm, he drew the blanket higher over Yuanzhi's shoulder. The silence that followed was heavy, that said everything without a single word.

Yuanzhou's stomach lurched. Then he remembered-Li Jie. He was right behind him.

Yuanzhou spun around, blocking the doorway with both arms.
"He's sleeping. We should... come back later."

"I'm only checking on him." Li Jie's voice was flat, unreadable.

"There's no need to wake him," Yuanzhou tried again, pushing for any excuse. "He is on meds and he needs rest."

"I don't need him awake to check," Li Jie answered. His hand closed on the doorframe. His eyes, sharper now, flicked over Yuanzhou's shoulder. "Move."

"Li Jie-" Yuanzhou started, panic clear.

"Zhao Yuanzhou." His tone left no room for argument. "Move."

And before Yuanzhou could protest again, Li Jie pushed past, stepping into the room.

Yan made a small move to rise, but Yuanzhi stirred, fingers tightening in his shirt. A broken sound escaped him, soft and raw.
"Don't... don't leave me."

His voice cracked like a child's, and it froze all three men.

Li Jie's expression shuttered. Without a word, he turned on his heel. At the door, he paused, eyes cutting briefly to Yuanzhou.
"Ask Mo to get them whatever they need."

And he was gone.

Yuanzhou stood caught between them, uncertain. His gaze went from Yuanzhi's trembling form to Yan's steady one, then back toward the hall where Li Jie had vanished. He exhaled, defeated, and muttered, "...Okay." He gave Yan a helpless look before slipping out.

The door shut. Silence returned.

Yan blinked once, then lowered his phone to the side table. He shifted carefully, one hand rubbing slow circles against Yuanzhi's back.
"Easy... it's okay."

The sobbing eased. Yuanzhi blinked awake, sitting up stiffly, his hand slipping from Yan's shirt. He didn't speak.

Yichen-now in his real form, softer, older, unmasked-reached out, stroking his hair back with a tenderness born of long years.
"What happened?"

"It's just..." Yuanzhi's voice trailed off. He dropped his gaze.

A tear slid down his cheek. Yan brushed it away with the pad of his thumb, calm and patient.
"Bloodmoon?" he asked gently.

Yuanzhi gave no answer. His lips pressed thin, shoulders hunched.

Yan didn't press. Instead, he smiled faintly, voice steady.
"I'll draw you a warm bath. Then we'll talk about it, hm?"

Yuanzhi nodded, silent, the tension loosening just enough. Yan patted the back of his head twice in comfort before rising from the bed.

🦇🦇🦇

Steam curled softly around the room, dimming the edges. Yuanzhi sank back into the bath, his head resting on the edge. Yuanzhi's shoulders loose for the first time since the tunnel. Yichen sat on a low stool at the tub's head, a linen towel draped over his knees, fingers splayed to massage the tension from Yuanzhi's temples.

"You still haven't answered me," Yuanzhi murmured, eyes half-closed. "What are you really here for?"

Yichen's hand didn't stop moving. "You're already carrying too much. I don't want to add another weight. When you're steady, I'll tell you."

"That a promise?"

"Would I ever break one?" His voice was quiet, steady.

Yuanzhi huffed. "Sounds suspicious."

Yichen chuckled, pressing a thumb against a tense spot in Yuanzhi's temple. Yuanzhi interrupted after a moment, curiosity brightening his voice. "So what else do you do besides being a doctor, a chef and the mysterious hunter?"

Yichen's hands slowed for a moment, then resumed, spreading lather with practiced ease. "You want to make me list them now?"

Yuanzhi tilted his head into Yichen's touch, smirking faintly. "Why not? It sounds like it's going to be long."

Yichen chuckled. "Fine. I lived in one of the secluded Shaolin monastery, under my shifu, the high priest. He taught me to master my mind, my abilities, my emotions, through meditation and martial art. My shifu... his name was Yan Jiang."

Yuanzhi blinked, fully opening his eyes now. "So... the face you carry-it was his?"

Yichen nodded lightly, fingertips circling Yuanzhi's scalp forming foam. "When I had gained control, my shifu sent me out to see the world. I learned to cook, returned as a chef for a time. After him, the new abbot pushed me into formal schooling. I even enrolled for the imperial exam."

Yuanzhi nearly sat up, but Yichen's hand pushed him gently back. "You completed it?"

A soft laugh. "I did. But I left after a while-it was too mundane. Instead, I joined a music school, studied, taught for a while. Traveled across the mainland. Eventually ended up as a history teacher before enrolling into medical school."

Yuanzhi's lips parted. "...History? I had a history teacher I was very close to in school. He was there till I graduated from middle school. After that I lost contact with him."

Yichen hummed, rinsing foam slowly from Yuanzhi's hair.

"He... he was a disciple of a venerable from Songshan," Yuanzhi whispered, realization creeping into his voice. He froze. "Yichen..."

"Yeah."

"Please don't tell me you taught at Peking University School."

"Yes I did, Xiao Gong," Yichen said softly, with a priestly calm.

Yuanzhi turned his head, water dripping down his temple, eyes wide. "Shou Xin Laoshi...?"

Yichen's faint smile carried the weight of years. "Yes."

Yuanzhi's chest tightened, breath stalling. "All this time-it was you?"

Yichen's hands steadied at the crown of his head, fingers combing through tenderly. "Back then, you were pushed into Chun's memories, I thought you will need someone beside you. But you ended desperately searching for Li Lun. Finding old records of Tiandu. You even brought me Yuan Wuhuo's paintings for explanation, do you remember?"

Yuanzhi turned away, heat rising unbidden in his cheeks, the water rippling around him.

Yichen's voice hardened. "And It wasn't the right time to tell you about heartbreak and bloodshed. I thought you'd be alright, chasing after Li Jie for the time being. But I was wrong. You risked so much before I'd come back."

Yuanzhi swallowed. "So you really came back... for me?"

"Of course. You needed someone to anchor you."

🦇

The low hum of the dryer filled the quiet room. Yichen's fingers moved through Yuanzhi's damp hair, slow, deliberate, coaxing the strands dry. Yuanzhi tilted his head slightly, watching him in the mirror's reflection.

"I think it's not only me who needs someone," Yuanzhi murmured.

Yichen's hand paused. "Then who?"

"You," Yuanzhi said simply, turning to face him. Their eyes met-

-and the room vanished.

The room was dark, lit only by the sickly glow of a single hanging lamp. Shadows clung to the corners, folding over themselves like predators waiting. Yi Xuan kneeling on the floor, wrists and ankles bounded with chain.

Zhuo Guo stood in front of him, expression sharp, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

Yichen was pinned nearby, thrown to the floor with a weight he could barely bear. Blue lines traced across his neck, glowing faintly like living veins of lightning, stretching his skin until it ached with the threat of tearing. One side of his face pressed against the floor, his hands twisted behind him, fingers straining as someone's knee dug into his back, holding him down.

"Will you do it... or not?" Zhuo Guo's voice cut through the cold air, calm and mocking.

"I won't!" Yichen screamed, voice raw, spitting fury and fear in equal measure.

Guo's lips twisted in a snicker. "So... you don't want your brother alive, huh?" He raised a knife, pressing its edge lightly but threateningly against Xuan's neck.

"Yichen, don't! Don't listen to him!" Xuan's voice broke as tears threatened to spill.

Then Guo tilted the knife higher. "Then I will just..." His tone left no room for doubt as the blade hovered.

"No! No! Please don't!" Yichen's voice shattered. "I am the one you casted out? I am the monster in your eyes? Then kill me! Just... Kill me! And let him go."

Guo took a slow step closer, tapping Yichen's cheek with the flat of the blade. "And how can I do that? You are the finest weapon I have. Lethal. Perfect. And still... you refuse to obey."

Yichen tried to pull back, but Guo's grip on his hair was iron. He yanked Yichen's head up, holding him immobile. "If you still refuse, I'll kill him. If you follow me I'll let both of them go."

Xuan called out, voice cracking: "Yichen-ah... you've had enough. Don't do this! Don't listen to him."

"I will do it!" Yichen screamed, raw and ragged, his body shaking. "I'll do anything you want-just... let them live."

The knife hovered, the room thick with tension, and every heartbeat felt like a drum of doom. Yichen's eyes burned with fury and despair, refusing to bend, but trembling with the weight of every choice pressed upon him.

Yuanzhi jerked back with a gasp, the vision snapping like glass. His knees nearly buckled.

"Yuanzhi!" Yichen caught him instantly. Panic flickered across his face as he held him steady.

But then Yichen stiffened, covering one ear. A sharp shrill cut through his head, his jaw tightening against the surge. He forced a breath, voice steady despite the strain. "Don't dig into people's memories without warning." Soft, but firm-half a rebuke, half a plea.

Yuanzhi's voice shook. "I-I didn't mean to," he whispered, eyes wet. He clutched at Yichen's sleeve, then his shoulders, finally folding into him.

Yichen hold him, patting down on his back. "It's not your fault." His steady presence anchoring him. "You're frayed. That's all."

But Yuanzhi only held tighter, voice breaking into a half-whine. "We should've -"

Yichen chuckled faintly, patting his back. "Enough. You need your bandages changed. And you should only focus on recovering right now."

A knock, then the door eased open. Yuanzhou stepped in-and froze.

"...He's fine," Yichen said mildly, as if to settle the air.

Yuanzhou's eyes lingered a moment longer, concern flickering, his voice was quiet, weighted when he spoke. "But you aren't."

Yichen blinked, touched his nose almost absently- a hot wetness slipped past his nose, streaking down before he could catch it. Bright blood stained his upper lip and dripped onto Yuanzhi's shoulder.

Yuanzhi froze. His body went cold, a sudden violent shiver running down his spine. His eyes dropped-and the sight of red blooming across Yichen's skin and shirt wrenched him back. He gasped, jerking out of the embrace as if the blood had burned him.

"No..." Yuanzhi's voice cracked, hands trembling as they hovered uselessly in the air. "I-I didn't... I didn't mean to-"

"I'm fine," Yichen said covering his nose.

The sound of footsteps cut the hush - quick, efficient. Yuanzhou moved before thought, a doctor's reflex: two long strides and he was at Yichen's shoulder, snatching tissues from the box, his voice brisk and commanding. "Keep your head down."

Yichen gave a wry huff. "I know."

"Then hold still," Yuanzhou said, firm, placing his cool hand against the back of Yichen's neck and guiding him into the chair. His movements were precise, professional, but his eyes lingered on Yichen's face, too steady to be casual.

Meanwhile, Yuanzhi's voice trembled: "I... I hurt him." He stood shaking, guilt knotting his chest.

Li Jie caught his shoulders, steadying him. "It's okay. He's fine."

"What really happened?" Yuanzhou asked, sharp with concern.

Before Yuanzhi could answer, Yichen cut in smoothly, muffled behind the tissues. "His head collide with mine, that's it."

Yuanzhou didn't glance up, his focus unbroken. His tone left no room for argument: "Don't breath through your nose."

Yichen raised his eyes to Li Jie. "Mr. Li- could you please take him out for a moment?"

Yuanzhou, still pressing his hand at Yichen's neck, spoke without looking up. "And ask Mr. Mo to get me an ice bag."

Li Jie gave a short nod. "Come," he urged, guiding Yuanzhi toward the hall.

Yuanzhi resisted for a heartbeat, glancing back at Yichen with wide, guilty eyes, whispering, "I didn't mean to..."

"Shh, He's fine." Li Jie murmured, hand brushing Yuanzhi's hair, grounding him.

🦇

Outside, the corridor was hushed, the faint hum of lights pressing into the silence. Li Jie guided Yuanzhi a few steps away from the door, one steady hand at his back, until they reached the bench against the wall.

Yuanzhi sat heavily, his body trembling, his eyes were unfocused, pupils quivering as if still caught between present and past.

"Breathe," Li Jie said softly, crouching in front of him, hands steady on his arms. "Just breathe. He's fine."

Yuanzhi blinked hard against the sting in his eyes-and in that fragile instant, a flicker surged through him, like cracks in glass letting light bleed in.

He saw himself, younger, wind in his hair, school uniform neat as he pedaled a bike down the street. He hadn't noticed then, but now-clear as day-Li Jie stood at the corner, watching him with quiet eyes.

Another flash. Eterna's hospital, dim evening light. Yuanzhi slipping past nurses, shoes squeaking against the polished floor as he tried not to get caught. Behind him, Li Jie's figure leaned against a wall, arms crossed, lips curved faintly-he'd been watching the whole time.

And then, one more. Somewhere in the corners of his school library, him slumbed on top of a book. Yuanzhi had stilled, certain no one had seen him in that moment. Yet in the memory, Li Jie's gaze lingered, steady and unwavering, as if he had always known.

Yuanzhi's breath hitched. He froze, chest tight, overwhelmed by the sudden swell of memories.

"Yuanzhi?" Li Jie's voice pulled him back. He tilted his head, gentle concern lining his features. "What happened?"

Yuanzhi opened his mouth, but no sound came. His throat tightened, words dissolving into silence.

"Nothing," he finally managed, voice hoarse.

Li Jie studied him for a beat longer. Then, without pressing, he lifted a hand and brushed it gently over Yuanzhi's hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. "It's okay," he murmured. "He's fine. You're fine."

Yuanzhi gave a small, jerky nod. His fingers curling around the edge of his shirt, as though it could anchor him against the tremor still shaking his body.

Inside, the room had gone quiet again, save for the faint hum of the air vent. Yichen sat slouched in the chair, an ice pack pressed lightly against the bridge of his nose. Yuanzhou stood across from him, sleeves rolled up, hands still damp from rinsing away the stains.

"Hold it there another five minutes," Yuanzhou said, passing him a clean towel.

"Dr. Zhao..." Yichen began, shifting slightly, but Yuanzhou interrupted, tone firm yet controlled.

"Dr. Yan, you know what I mean," he said.

Yichen raised an eyebrow, waiting. Yuanzhou stepped closer, gaze steady, almost searching.

"So... who exactly is Yuanzhi to you?"

Yichen's lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk. "Why are you asking?"

Yuanzhou exhaled, a little impatient, a little tense. "It's... for Li Jie. He thinks you and Yuanzhi-"

"We are?" Yichen supplied smoothly, leaning back with that unmistakable ease.

Yuanzhou blinked, struggling to process the casualness in Yichen's tone, but nodded slightly.

Yichen's smirk widened. "Yuanzhi is someone important to me. Very important. And he got hurt... because of your friend."

Yuanzhou's brows knit. "He didn't mean to hurt him. It was an accident."

"I didn't mean that," Yichen replied evenly.

Yuanzhou's brows furrowed. "Then what?"

Yichen's gaze sharpened, voice edged with quiet conviction. "Yuanzhi followed your so-called friend for years, admiring him like an idol. And he ended up in a mess. I won't let him risk that again."

Yuanzhou's expression hardened. "I won't let it happen either."

Yichen leaned back just enough to tilt his gaze, half-challenging, half-playful. "You don't have to worry about that."

Yuanzhou's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why not? Are you planning to-"

"Can't I?" Yichen interrupted lightly, arching a brow.

Yuanzhou exhaled and nodded, almost reluctantly. "Okay. You try, I'll... see what I can do."

Yichen chuckled, a low, amused sound. "It's not you who should do anything."

"You just wait," Yuanzhou said firmly, eyes sharp.

The sharpness of the moment broke as the door opened. Yuanzhi stepped in, looking tentative, exhausted, yet seeking. Without a word, he moved toward Yichen and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm sorry," Yuanzhi murmured into his shoulder.

Yichen ruffled his hair, one brow arching lazily toward Yuanzhou, the unspoken confidence in his eyes evident.

🦇

Time passed quietly. Later, Yuanzhi sat on the bed beside Yichen in the room, his hands twisted in his lap.

"What's happening to me?" he asked, voice trembling. "It... it's never been like this. My powers-they never flared up like this, never hurt anyone..."

Yichen's hands came up to gently pat his head, reassuring. "It's because of the blood loss."

Yuanzhi's brow furrowed. "Blood loss?"

Yichen nodded. "Your body is adapting to the transfusion. That's why your powers are unstable. The more your emotions fluctuate, the worse it gets. So for a while... keep your mind at bay."

Yuanzhi nodded slowly, taking in the words, resting back against the pillow.

🦇

Across the hall, Yuanzhou leaned back on the couch in Li Jie's study, eyes narrowing as he thought. If Dr. Yan keeps going like this, Li Jie might lose his chance. If I try to pull Dr. Yan away forcefully and something happens to him, Yuanzhi could completely snap.

He clenched his fists slightly. I need to find a way to give Yuanzhi and Li Jie some space... without letting things spiral.

He exhaled slowly, a plan already forming. "Dr. Yan," he muttered under his breath, "you better be ready."

🦇🦇🦇