He wore brown plaid shorts roughly the same length as yesterday’s, the woolen fabric covering Cen Jin’s thighs. Below them were a pair of black crew socks similar to last night’s, though the material was a sheerer, translucent silk that stretched tightly over the curve of his calves, revealing a faint hint of flesh underneath.
This was Cen Jin’s school uniform. He had wanted to find long trousers to wear, but came up empty.
Clinging to the railing with his small leather schoolbag strapped to his back, Cen Jin slowly descended the stairs.
The shorts, which were no longer flimsy or loose, finally gave him a small measure of security. But the moment he recalled opening the wardrobe earlier to discover a drawer full of white and black lace, sheer silk thongs, double-strapped minimal garments, and even a tiny scrap of fabric designed to cover only the front.
What on earth were these…? How was he supposed to wear them…?
Only after repeatedly confirming that this was indeed his own room did Cen Jin reluctantly accept reality.
Ultimately, he had chosen the most “conservative” silk style. It wasn’t form-fitting, and the straps on either side weren’t connected, requiring him to tie them manually.
The strap fabric was so slick that the bows resting on both sides of his hips felt precarious, prompting Cen Jin to constantly reach through his shorts to check on them, terrified that the tiny scrap of cloth might fall off without him even noticing.
The strings were also quite long; had the shorts been even an inch shorter, the ties might have spilled out past the hemline.
Cen Jin inevitably grew self-conscious, not daring to take strides that were too wide.
Fidgeting nervously, he made his way down to the first-floor dining room and immediately spotted Zelin seated at the dining table. Zelin had already finished eating, and his empty plate had been cleared away.
With his head lowered, playing on his phone as if unaware that Cen Jin had come down, the harsh light from the screen illuminated Zelin’s furrowed brow.
The moment Cen Jin laid eyes on him, the corners of his mouth automatically turned down in a pout.
A stray thought flashed unbidden through his head: Could it possibly have been this cheap cousin of mine who helped me bathe last night?
Cen Jin frantically shook his head, violently expelling that horrifying notion from his mind.
If it really had been Zelin, that would truly be living through a nightmare.
Still absorbed in his phone, Zelin spoke up with a touch of impatience: “Could you stop dragging your feet?”
Realizing Zelin was addressing him, Cen Jin quickened his pace.
Breakfast consisted of a simple fried egg sandwich, a vegetable and fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk.
None of it appealed to Cen Jin; he preferred spicy food, heavy-flavored hot pot, and the like. Seeing this spread made his spirits droop once more.
He managed only half of his sandwich, finding it completely impossible to swallow the rest, and stood up. “I’m done.”
Cen Jin had intended to wait for Zelin to leave first before following behind, but Zelin seemed hopelessly addicted to his phone, merely glancing up briefly to inspect Cen Jin’s leftovers before resuming his unmoving posture in his seat.
“If you’re not leaving, I am.” Cen Jin murmured softly, preparing to head out.
“Just eating that little?” Zelin flipped his phone facedown onto the table, his critical gaze sweeping up and down over Cen Jin’s entire frame.
However, with the table blocking the view, Zelin couldn’t see Cen Jin’s lower half.
Yet Cen Jin had a nagging suspicion that Zelin’s gaze had lingered on a certain area for a few seconds.
“No wonder you never grew taller,” Zelin remarked.
Cen Jin opened his mouth to retort, but upon seeing Zelin stand up, he wisely shut it again.
Zelin, who was younger than him, had actually grown taller than him—surpassing him by a solid half-head. Cen Jin truly had no grounds for argument.
Zelin strolled over. Refusing to budge an inch, Cen Jin stood his ground and stared up at the approaching youth.
Zelin picked up the glass of milk. Violating all personal boundaries, he pressed the rim directly against Cen Jin’s lips.
Cen Jin pressed his lips together, took a step back, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Afraid I poisoned it?” Zelin frowned, fixing him with a look of utter disgust, yet he advanced the glass toward Cen Jin once more.
“I can drink it myself.”
What an annoying cousin. Why does he have to meddle in everything?
Since Zelin had already shoved the cup straight against Cen Jin’s mouth and his back was pressed flat against the wall with nowhere left to run, Cen Jin had no choice but to reach up, grip the glass himself, and drink.
It was sweet milk far too sweet, leaving a cloying, sugary film coating the back of Cen Jin’s throat.
Zelin had no intention of letting go. When Cen Jin’s fingers brushed softly against his, the touch was as light and gentle as a kitten’s paw.
An untimely urge sparked within him, and he proceeded to execute that impulse with deliberate action.
Zelin suddenly exerted force, tilting the glass upward.
Cen Jin hadn’t anticipated the sudden movement, and the sweet milk spilled past the rim, escaping his lips to trickle down his chin.
“Ugh!”
The rim pressed painfully against Cen Jin’s mouth. His eyelashes fluttered as he glared angrily at Zelin with furrowed brows.
Engaged in a silent tug-of-war over the glass, Zelin found himself momentarily dazed by the ruffled, vexed expression on Cen Jin’s face. Seizing the opening, Cen Jin shoved the glass away.
There hadn’t been much milk left inside, so none of it splashed out.
Furious, Cen Jin slammed his shoulder against Zelin’s chest, shoving past him to storm into the kitchen to wash his hands and face.
Coming back to his senses, Zelin stared at Cen Jin’s retreating back and at the schoolbag bouncing rhythmically with every step his dark eyes growing heavy and profound.
Lowering his gaze to the nearly empty glass of milk, Zelin shifted his grip, rotated the rim to align with the spot where the liquid had trickled down, tilted his head back, and drank the rest.
In the quiet dining room, the gentle patter of running water drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the boy’s muffled grumbles and scolding. If one listened closely, the faint sound of swallowing could be heard as well.
The chauffeur pulled the car to a halt right outside the grand gates. Swinging his hands to shake off the residual droplets of water, Cen Jin walked toward the vehicle.
Pulling open the rear door, he found Zelin already seated inside.
Cen Jin paused, but having zero desire to sit in the front passenger seat, he pointed first at Zelin, then at the front. “Move over.”
Zelin merely shifted the angle of his head slightly, casting a glance filled with cold disdain and mockery from the corner of his eye. “Hmph.”
Cen Jin snapped his hand back, slammed the car door shut, and marched around to take the front passenger seat instead.
That display of bravado followed by immediate cowardice left the voice entirely at a loss for words.
“Actually, you could have stood your ground a bit longer. Who knows, your malice points might have gone up again.”
Cen Jin buckled his seatbelt, leaned back against the headrest, and closed his eyes to rest.
He grew irritated just looking at his cheap cousin, and wanted nothing to do with him.
Cen Jin actually drifted off to sleep, only waking when the middle-aged chauffeur gently called out to him.
He rubbed his eyes sleepily, turned to check the back seat, and found it completely empty.
Before Cen Jin could feel a shred of relief, a sharp rap against the window glass startled him violently.
Turning his head, he spotted Zelin standing outside the window with an impassive expression.
The next second, Zelin pulled the car door open and leaned his upper body straight into the interior, catching Cen Jin completely off guard with the sudden intrusion.
Zelin was so close that his unique scent rushed eagerly into Cen Jin’s nostrils likely the herbal sachet tucked into his clothes, carrying a rich, woody aroma.
Frowning, Cen Jin gave Zelin a shove, but before he could even raise his hand fully, he was pinned in place by a chilling glare from Zelin.
Zelin spoke coldly: “Don’t move.”
Reaching over, Zelin unbuckled Cen Jin’s seatbelt, grabbed him firmly by the arm, and hauled him right out of the car.
The rough handling was so abrupt that the schoolbag clutched in Cen Jin’s arms nearly slipped from his grasp.
“What are you doing?” Cen Jin complained.
A hand suddenly plunged deep into his short pocket, dropped something inside, and whipped back out in a flash.
Before straightening up, Zelin lowered his voice directly against Cen Jin’s ear: “Forgot your blood bag, idiot.”
Cen Jin froze as the reminder hit him. As a vampire, he needed to consume blood every other day to sustain his bodily functions.
Of course, his specific mission required him to harvest human blood through romance and manipulation, but his cousin knew nothing of that.
Perhaps sensing how foolish his blank, dazed expression looked, Zelin swallowed back whatever scathing remark was on the tip of his tongue. Giving Cen Jin a dark, inscrutable look that lingered for several seconds, he turned on his heel with an impatient huff and strode through the school gates.
Cen Jin reached up to rub his ear, which was still tingling from the tickling warmth of Zelin’s breath, then sluggishly settled his schoolbag properly across his shoulders. Bidding the driver a quick goodbye, he finally lifted his gaze to study the academy entrance.
Countless luxury vehicles models Cen Jin had never laid eyes on—were parked outside the school gates. Students stepping out of the cars spanned a massive age gap: the youngest were ten or eleven years old, while the oldest had reached adulthood at twenty-four.
The majority of students arrived via chauffeurs, though a small percentage drove their own vehicles straight onto campus. These were the independent ones who arrived driving themselves.
In the brief span of dozens of seconds that Cen Jin stood there, multiple high-end cars of varying makes drifted past him.
It almost seemed deliberate; the drivers would suddenly brake hard as they neared Cen Jin, only to accelerate away just as abruptly.
A face full of exhaust fumes later, Cen Jin clapped his hands over his ears to block out the roaring engine noise.
Deciding against standing around like an idiot, he prudently hugged the edge of the grand entrance gates and slipped inside.
From the moment he stepped onto campus, Cen Jin could sense the gazes of the surrounding students lingering on him in a desultory fashion. Accustomed to keeping a low profile, Cen Jin felt thoroughly unequipped to handle the attention, prompting him to grip his schoolbag straps tighter, drop his head, and quicken his pace.
Yet anyone who recognized Cen Jin would interpret this posture as a sign that he was simply in a foul mood.
As Cen Jin marched forward blindly, a pair of legs suddenly materialized directly in his path. Failing to brake in time, Cen Jin plowed straight into them chest-first.
“Ah…” Cen Jin clutched his forehead and looked up, only to find a dark-haired boy with sun-kissed, wheat-toned skin standing before him.
His uniform differed slightly from Cen Jin’s, consisting of formal black dress trousers paired with the standard white button-down shirt.
“Xiaojin, why didn’t you reply to my messages last night?”
Cen Jin nearly blurted out, Who on earth are you?
“Ethan Neal. This is your current boyfriend; you two only started dating recently. He’s a football player and a sports major in your cousin’s grade a grade below you, making him a high schooler.”
‘Did he chase me, or did I chase him?’ Cen Jin’s focus always gravitated toward the most peculiar details.
“He chased you.”
Oh.
In that case, dumping him would be effortless.
His role required him to play the fickle, heartless vampire, and this kind of behavior fit the villain persona to a tee, so there was zero issue.