Vampire Fever
Rustle—
Lu Ling slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the light in the center of the white ceiling, its outline blurred. She blinked hard, but it remained fuzzy; her contact lenses must have been lost at the pier or on the fishing boat.
A minty scent—light, familiar, and cool.
Lin Que’s room.
Lu Ling’s heart sank. Just as she tried to prop herself up, her arm was suddenly supported—Ji Yao held her arm and helped her sit up.
“Thank you.”
Lu Ling instinctively avoided looking at Ji Yao. Ji Yao sat back down, picked up a pair of glasses from the nightstand, and handed them to her. Lu Ling put them on, and the regained clarity brought a long-lost sense of security.
The two spoke simultaneously: “How are you feeling now?”
“I’m much better. The filming should still be going on—”
Ji Yao breathed a sigh of relief, her tone calm: “It’s fine, the others outside can handle it. But as for you,” Ji Yao thought of something and smiled slightly, “do you know how much of a visual shock it was for us when Lin Que showed up at the door with you on her back, a camera around her neck, and a fish hooked in her thumb?”
Lu Ling imagined the scene.
Yes, it certainly had an impact—and it would make for great television.
She smiled awkwardly. Before she could find the right words, Ji Yao’s lips parted slightly, as if she had made up her mind: “Lu Ling.”
Lu Ling looked up, adjusted her glasses, and met Ji Yao’s gaze.
“Hand.”
Ji Yao reached out first, palm upward. Lu Ling hesitated for a moment but complied, placing her wrist into Ji Yao’s palm.
“Still a bit warm,” Ji Yao felt her pulse, her brow furrowing slightly as she asked seriously, “Do you have any uncomfortable sensations right now?”
Lu Ling blinked, her back straightening unconsciously as if she were feeling her body for the first time.
“No,” she shook her head, then thought of something, “So, I fainted because of a fever?”
Ji Yao paused, then smiled: “Well, yes and no.”
“What—”
Before Lu Ling could finish, Ji Yao withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair, speaking casually: “There is heat in your body, but it’s not caused by a fever.” Ji Yao glanced at Lu Ling’s neck; it was smooth, the marks of being sucked had vanished, but the scent remained. Humans couldn’t smell it, but her kind could. “It’s Vampire Fever.”
“The first time blood is sucked, this fever-like symptom appears. Depending on the constitution, it varies for everyone. Some people get it every single time they are fed upon.”
“Your case isn’t serious. You should recover with proper rest.”
After saying this, Ji Yao leaned forward. Lu Ling instinctively held her breath, her body stiffening in that instant.
“Don’t misunderstand, I’m just confirming I didn’t misdiagnose you.”
Ji Yao observed Lu Ling, her fingertip tapping her elbow. After a moment of deliberation, she decided to ask directly: “Who is your vampire?”
“My?”
Lu Ling’s brows knitted together. The word “my” caused her intense discomfort.
It felt as though she were being forcibly bound into a low-status, subordinate relationship.
“If it’s inconvenient to answer, never mind. But if you are still feverish tomorrow or tonight, you must tell your vampire. She will have a solution.”
Lu Ling froze, her mouth moving faster than her brain: “What if I don’t tell her?”
Ji Yao was startled: “What do you mean?”
Lu Ling’s hands tightened, her voice tiny, almost a whisper to herself: “Besides her, is there no other way to handle this?”
“There is, but it’s too late. The nearest pharmacy that sells the fast-acting medicine for this is,” Ji Yao quickly estimated in her head, “at least a thirty-minute drive away.”
“An hour for the round trip,” Ji Yao said somewhat helplessly, “You’d be cold as ice by then.”
Lu Ling wanted to ask more, but the moment her gaze met Ji Yao’s, she gave up and nodded.
Ji Yao looked at Lu Ling playfully, about to speak, but Lu Ling noticed her gaze. She looked up and gave her a cool glance before turning her eyes back to the window: “I’ve already got this ‘Vampire Fever’ thing. There’s no need for me to act out a performance like ‘Oh, so vampires actually exist in this world’ or ‘So there’s more than one vampire.’ I already know all of that.”
“Haha, fair enough. Sorry, I was being a bit arrogant.”
Ji Yao chuckled twice, her posture relaxing. She re-evaluated Lu Ling—despite everything, she was surprised by Lu Ling’s composed demeanor. This was a side of her she hadn’t anticipated.
If the person who carried her back had said those words, Ji Yao wouldn’t have felt this way.
However, those weren’t the things Ji Yao truly cared about. “Lu Ling, I need you to do me a favor. You can refuse, don’t feel pressured.”
Lu Ling looked at her, surprised.
Ji Yao lowered her eyes, quickly formulating her words. The moment she spoke, Lu Ling could tell she was performing naturalness and ease: “Please tell your vampire to keep my existence a secret.”
Lu Ling froze, her lips trembling.
“At first, I thought you were one of us, but a second later, I realized my judgment was wrong.”
Ji Yao looked at Lu Ling, wanting to say more, but swallowed her words.
Lu Ling wasn’t one of them, which seemed to leave only one correct answer—yet, that was the most baffling part: Lin Que didn’t have any vampire scent on her at all.
Fact contradicted fact.
While Ji Yao was lost in thought, Lu Ling used the corner of her eye to observe her expression. Lu Ling’s brain turned into a high-speed computer, her eyes collecting Ji Yao’s micro-expressions while her mind processed them to conclude: She isn’t certain of Lin Que’s identity.
At that moment, only one thought occupied Lu Ling’s mind: I must protect Lin Que.
“You seem to know a lot about this. Um, do your kind have specialized medical majors?”
Ji Yao looked up and couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. Lu Ling’s tone was so adorable, and her thoughts were written all over those big eyes. It made one want to indulge her even while seeing through her intentions. Regardless of the answer, it wouldn’t affect Ji Yao personally, would it?
She wanted to confirm her theory, but it wasn’t a necessity.
Lu Ling wouldn’t threaten their safety, nor would she affect the show’s progress.
As long as Ren Hui wasn’t negatively impacted, that was enough.
“Yes, though my bachelor’s and master’s were both in your Human Clinical Traditional Chinese Medicine,” Ji Yao said breezily. Lu Ling was stunned, but before she could comment, there were two knocks on the door. Both of them looked over simultaneously—
Creak—
The moment the door opened, a cool breeze slipped through the crack, eagerly kissing the light blue curtains. Lin Que stepped in amidst the clear sunlight. The door opened and then closed. On a dark brown tray, two bowls of seafood porridge emitted wisps of white steam.
Lu Ling looked at the porridge, surprised: “You made this?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she glanced at Ji Yao, her heart tightening, and added: “Sister.”
Lin Que paused for a moment before replying: “Yes.”
On the floor, her elongated shadow was disturbed by the wind behind her, looking like a puppy wagging its tail enthusiastically.
“I know how to do many things,” Lin Que stirred the porridge, glancing at Ji Yao, who was currently looking for an excuse to leave the room. She smiled naturally. “Xiao Ji, have we met before?”
“Um…” Lin Que stopped stirring and pressed the back of her hand against the bowl to confirm it was at the perfect temperature. She then naturally turned her gaze toward Lu Ling. “Ah, I remember now.”
Lu Ling, sitting on her side of the bed, felt her heart skip a beat.
“‘Wild Berries Growing.’ You and Ren Hui were both assistant directors then, right?” Lin Que spoke casually, her peripheral vision on Lu Ling. “That show invited me to be a guest, but I have no talent for singing, so I turned it down. Who was the champion in the end? I can’t quite remember.”
“Yes,” Ji Yao nodded. She looked at Lu Ling, hesitated for a second, and finally said what she had wanted to say from the beginning: “Back in university, I used to go to FEVER’s live performances all the time. It’s been a long time, Luring.”
Lu Ling’s eyes glazed over.
The smile on Lin Que’s face also faltered slightly. She quickly adjusted herself, turning her body toward Lu Ling and naturally resting her hand on the back of Lu Ling’s.
Lu Ling tried to pull her hand away, but the moment her movement was sensed, the pressure increased.
Ji Yao wanted to say more, but clearly, the atmosphere wasn’t right—it was better to leave quickly.
“You two chat, I’ll go check on the situation outside—”
Click—
The heart that Lu Ling had been holding in her throat plummeted the moment the door closed, falling into a void.
She had considered that Ji Yao might recognize her, and even thought she might have been one of the staff members for “Wild Berries Growing.”
Knowing FEVER through that show was the worst-case scenario Lu Ling thought she could mentally handle, but the reality was even worse.
Ji Yao had seen FEVER at its most spirited and triumphant.
Was she there during the training camp?
If she was, what did she think when she watched that Luring, who claimed to be righteous but was slapped in the face by her own teammates and ended up leaving in disgrace?
Had Luring and FEVER become a complete joke?
—”Relax.”
Sensing that Lu Ling’s emotions were on the verge of spiraling out of control, Lin Que reached out to grip Lu Ling’s shoulder. At that instant, Lu Ling slowly raised her head.
Through Lin Que’s eyes, she saw her current expression—pale face, eyes rimmed with an ugly red, and her pupils trembling, unable to focus.
How pathetic.
Did Ji Yao not understand this humiliation?
Did she not feel that Lu Ling didn’t want anyone to ever mention FEVER or Luring again?
—”Hiss.”
Without warning, Lu Ling broke free from her grasp and tightly wrapped her arms around Lin Que’s neck, her teeth biting into that patch of soft flesh.
Clatter—
Lu Ling bit hard, the pulse of the neck artery thrumming against the tip of her tongue.
Lin Que’s waist hit the edge of the nightstand. The porridge on the tray spilled out as if it were being liberated.
In the next second, she pulled Lu Ling into an embrace.
The mirror recorded their current morbid form of hugging, looking like a mother nursing an infant.
Lin Que’s fingertips gently rubbed the soft flesh of Lu Ling’s exposed skin. A thin layer of sweat broke out on her forehead from the pain, but she didn’t struggle. She simply comforted Lu Ling in this manner.
Lu Ling let go and slowly sat up straight.
Lin Que looked up at her, her eyes as gentle as spring water.
“You knew about Luring.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Lin Que did not deny it; she simply nodded.