Following those thick, ambiguous words, Sheng Mian looked up at her in shock, yet Shen Zhilin’s expression remained as steady as ever.
The sweltering, heavy atmosphere was becoming unbearable for Sheng Mian. She lowered her head further, leaving only her petite profile visible. Most of her face was obscured by her hair until Shen Zhilin, moved by a sudden impulse, reached out and tucked the stray strands behind Sheng Mian’s ear. As she smoothed the hair back over her shoulder, Sheng Mian’s profile, her slender neck, and her flushing ears were fully revealed.
An ill-timed, audible swallow broke the silence. Shen Zhilin leaned down toward that blood-red ear tip and whispered, “Looking at you like this, I really want to bite you.”
The thirst for blood made Shen Zhilin feel a wave of dry heat; it was a primal instinct of her role.
“You!” Sheng Mian turned her face abruptly. Their noses brushed, their faces so close they were practically sharing the same breath. Sheng Mian instantly forgot what she was going to say, freezing like a stone statue.
“Being bitten by you guys doesn’t necessarily mean death or conversion, right?” Sheng Mian remembered that death only occurred if a vital spot was bitten causing massive blood loss, or if the vampire intentionally chose to fully convert the victim.
Shen Zhilin arched an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. Facing that dark, swirling crimson gaze, Sheng Mian blurted out, “You can taste my blood.”
She figured that as a vampire, Zhilin must be parched. She could afford to be generous and let her have a taste.
Shen Zhilin felt that Sheng Mian trusted her far too much to make such a dangerous proposal. “Once a vampire tastes blood, it’s not easy to stop.”
“You’ll stop. I trust you,” Sheng Mian replied, her gaze pure and direct.
Shen Zhilin felt a tremor in her heart. Sheng Mian always seemed to harbor an excessive amount of trust toward her.
Sheng Mian brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck once more and even leaning in slightly. This gesture, bordering on self-sacrifice, made Shen Zhilin’s brow twitch. Sheng Mian’s scent was indeed terrifyingly attractive to her.
Zhilin pulled back Sheng Mian’s collar, exposing the shoulder just below the neck. Gritting her teeth, she leaned in and bit down with surprising tenderness.
It wasn’t a sharp, stabbing pain; rather, it was a numbing ache that Sheng Mian found bearable. A stream of sweet, intoxicating blood entered Zhilin’s mouth. The taste was more perfect than she had imagined. Shen Zhilin fought to suppress her violent cravings, only daring to take small, slow sips.
As they drew closer, Sheng Mian instinctively reached out to grab Shen Zhilin’s clothes, her fingers curling tight. Her face was a mask of both pain and pleasure.
[System Notification]: Deity Identity Card activated. Passive skill triggered. Vampire Faction eliminated. Remaining: 1 Knight, 1 Commoner.
The Good Faction Wins!
In that dim room at the end of the corridor, only two “corpses” remained on the dark red sofa, entwined like lovers. The Vampire and the Deity were two sides of the same coin—restraining each other, yet inseparable, locked in an endless cycle within this sea of passion and fate.
Sheng Mian took off her headset, her face still flushed with heat. She fanned herself frantically. Opposite her, Qin Heng’s indignant, frantic voice rang out: “You three played me for a fool! I’m so mad!”
The group couldn’t help but laugh. Sensing the mockery, Qin Heng’s hands itched for revenge. Unable to do anything to Sheng Mian or Yi Chi, he lunged for Shen Zhilin, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “Give me back my life!
Give me back my life!”
Before they knew it, the sky was ablaze with the setting sun. “Let’s go down for dinner,” Teacher An called out to the students.
The moment Sheng Mian stood up, her eyes instinctively sought out Shen Zhilin. Their gazes met as if crossing a vast galaxy, yet feeling as close as a touch. The surrounding clamor was completely drowned out by the thumping in her chest.
Cheng Liye watched this silently from the back, his fists clenched at his sides. With a look of lingering resentment, he turned and walked away.
The next morning, everyone boarded the bus for the return trip. On the way back, Sheng Mian was wide awake. Shen Zhilin sat beside her as usual, but there was an unusual tension between them now—a restless, itchy feeling in their hearts that they couldn’t quite scratch.
Having been away for two days, Zhao Manwen prepared a lavish dinner. Sheng Yichen, riding on Sheng Mian’s coattails, got to enjoy many complex dishes that weren’t usually served.
The two siblings ate like a whirlwind. Sheng Mian eventually let out a satisfied hiccup and put down her chopsticks, only to notice Zhao Manwen and Sheng Guangwen exchanging hesitant glances.
“What’s wrong? Do you have something to say?”
Sheng Guangwen gave a meaningful look to his wife, signaling for her to handle it. Zhao Manwen sighed helplessly, wondering how to start.
Sheng Yichen, his face greasy and his mouth still full of meat, blurted out: “It’s just that your history grades for the midterm and recent tests were terrible. The homeroom teacher called Mom and Dad.”
Zhao Manwen glared at Yichen for being too blunt. She looked up to gauge Sheng Mian’s reaction while Sheng Guangwen slowed his eating. The only sound in the room was Yichen’s aggressive chewing.
Sheng Mian had completely forgotten about her grades during the trip. Zhao Manwen chose her words carefully: “Your father and I aren’t trying to pressure you. Your teacher just thinks that with the college entrance exams approaching, you should focus more on history.”
Sheng Guangwen, who hadn’t spoken for a while, added: “For history, just memorize what you can. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We don’t require you to get into a top-tier university. If you want to study abroad later, we can certainly afford it.”
Sheng Mian felt a surge of mixed emotions. Previously, she had thought this wasn’t her real life and intended to take things easy. But her parents’ understanding gave her a deep sense of guilt over her own laziness. She had never known what it was like to have parents. While she was living in a virtual world, the affection and care she felt were real.
Sheng Mian made a decision: “I’ll put more effort into history.”
“Just don’t exhaust yourself,” Zhao Manwen added. “Make sure to rest.”
Back in her bedroom, Sheng Mian began to fret. To start learning history from the tenth-grade level with the limited time left seemed impossible. She didn’t even know which parts were the key points. After much deliberation, she decided to ask Shen Zhilin for help.
She typed and deleted her message repeatedly, her thumb hovering over the send button. Her head felt heavy, and her breathing quickened. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, hit send, and immediately flipped her phone over, burying her face in the duvet.
Soon, the phone vibrated. Shen Zhilin replied quickly: See you tomorrow at 9:30 AM.
Just as Sheng Mian was about to ask where, a new message popped up: Come to my house.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. Sheng Mian stared at the new message for a long time, feeling completely out of sorts. She hurried through a shower and crawled under the covers; only then did the dizzy, floating sensation subside slightly. Drowsiness claimed her quickly, and with a final spark of awareness, she set her alarm clinging to the thought that she couldn’t be late tomorrow before drifting into a hazy sleep.
As soon as Yi Chi arrived home, she saw a table overflowing with dishes. Chen Lian, wearing a dark green silk dress, emerged from the kitchen carrying the final course.
“You’re back! Sit down and eat,” Chen Lian said, taking Yi Chi’s backpack and ushering her into a chair.
Knowing her mother cared more about her expensive clothes and jewelry than anything else, Yi Chi frowned slightly and asked out of concern, “Why aren’t you wearing an apron?”
Chen Lian awkwardly smoothed a stray lock of hair. “I’m all done, so I took it off.”
Just then, Yi Jianzhong returned. Yi Chi stopped Chen Lian from getting up to serve the rice and went herself. The kitchen counters were spotless not at all like Chen Lian’s usual messy cooking style. Turning her head, Yi Chi spotted the trash can, which was overflowing with takeout boxes and delivery bags.
Her gaze lingered there for a long time before she turned back to the rice cooker. Perhaps only this pot of rice had been cooked by Chen Lian herself. Yi Chi didn’t know if she should be grateful that she was at least eating one poorly-cooked meal from her mother’s own hands.
As she placed a full bowl of rice in front of Yi Jianzhong, the sudden proximity allowed Yi Chi to catch a faint, sweet scent—the smell of another Omega.
She had smelled this Omega pheromone on him during his rare visits home lately. Yi Chi instinctively glanced at Chen Lian, only to find her eating calmly, seemingly noticing nothing at all.
The meal was stifling and brief. The few snatches of conversation centered entirely around CEO Wang’s business deals.
Later, Chen Lian brought Yi Chi a glass of milk before bed. Unable to handle the excessive display of affection, Yi Chi felt as if she were covered in thorns, restless and uneasy. Facing this version of her mother soft and full of warmth, only made her feel pressured.
“Go shopping with Mom tomorrow,” Chen Lian said in her gentlest tone. “We’ll buy you some new clothes.”
Under Chen Lian’s expectant gaze, Yi Chi drank the milk and gave a muffled mumble of agreement. Chen Lian seemed genuinely happy; a smile bloomed on her face, her eyes shining with joy.
Chen Lian thoughtfully turned off the light before leaving. The room plunged into darkness. Yi Chi lay there, her eyes blinking in the shadows, unable to sleep. It had been so long since she had been this close to her mother. Were they really going to go shopping arm-in-arm like a normal mother and daughter? To Yi Chi, it was a prospect both foreign and exhilarating.
The alarm blared several times before Sheng Mian finally forced her eyes open. She couldn’t stop yawning; her body felt achy and her head was heavy. She suspected she was coming down with a cold and quickly drank a glass of water with a Vitamin C tablet.
The autumn wind was crisp and refreshing. As it blew against her, the heat in her body dissipated, and her mind cleared.
Shen Zhilin stood at the bus stop, as upright as a tree. The morning sun hit the lower half of her face, leaving her eyes hidden in the shadows of her brow. The golden light of dawn traced her jawline with a divine, vibrant glow.
Her tall silhouette stood out in the crowd. Even before the bus pulled in, Sheng Mian saw her from afar. She checked the time; luckily, she wasn’t late. She wondered how long Zhilin had been waiting.
Sheng Mian hurried off the bus. “How long have you been here?”
“Just arrived,” Shen Zhilin replied, her voice as cool and crisp as her presence.
“I could have found the place using the location you sent. You didn’t have to come to the stop to meet me,” Sheng Mian said. She was touched by the thoughtfulness but didn’t want to be a burden.
“I was picking up some fruit anyway.” Zhilin lifted a heavy bag filled with various kinds of fruit.
Sheng Mian followed Zhilin into an alley, turning right twice to pass through a narrow passage squeezed between two buildings. The sunlight was completely blocked out by the high walls. Zhilin silently slowed her pace, leading Sheng Mian through.
The neighborhood was full of middle-aged women exercising; the appearance of two such striking young people immediately drew their curious gazes.
Zhilin pushed open a heavy iron door, and their footsteps echoed steadily in the stairwell. After only a few flights, Sheng Mian’s breathing grew heavy and her legs felt like lead. That feverish, dizzy sensation returned. Just as she was about to ask “How many floors left?”, Zhilin pulled out her keys and opened the door.
The apartment was a simple one-bedroom. To the left was the kitchen, to the right the bathroom. Though small, it was impeccably clean and organized. The moment Sheng Mian stepped inside, she felt as if she were being embraced by Shen Zhilin’s pheromones.
The air carried nothing but that faint, familiar scent. Sheng Mian guessed that Zhilin must have opened the windows earlier that morning, as the scent in the room was light.
Sheng Mian took several greedy, deep breaths. The wintry coldness mixed with a hint of sage felt like menthol, clearing her mind instantly.