Chapter 4 part 1
The sea breeze swept away the faint scent of blood in an instant.
The busy staff continued their work without noticing anything unusual, their footsteps steady as they went about their tasks and chatted amongst themselves.
The bustling crowds at the port, the repetitive calls of souvenir shop vendors – the usual cacophony continued uninterrupted. But Berlin felt his breath catch in his throat, his heightened focus momentarily silencing the surrounding sounds.
He stood a short distance from Hua Yan, but Berlin didn’t question whether the other had detected the scent of blood.
Two years was enough time for Berlin to discern the cognitive differences between ordinary humans and supernatural beings – their senses, reaction speed, learning ability, physical strength, and even their control over time. If Hua Yan were to lose control here, the consequences would be difficult to manage.
Time seemed to stand still. The surrounding crowd blurred, like a sped-up background in a movie, while the person in Berlin’s field of vision remained sharply focused, almost slowed down, briefly frozen in time.
Hua Yan stared at him, motionless. His willpower was stronger than Berlin had imagined.
But he clearly wasn’t as calm as he appeared. The plastic bottle in his hand let out a terrifying cracking sound under a sudden, uncontrolled force. The unopened cap held out for less than half a second before bursting open under the pressure.
Thick, dark red juice flowed down, inevitably spilling onto his pale, delicate hand. The silent drops on the sand deepened in color, like a wounded beast leaving a trail of crimson blood in the snow.
Almost simultaneously, Wu Hengyao, carrying a surfboard, sharply turned his head towards Berlin’s location. Jiang Shuran also noticed the anomaly.
Four obscure gazes converged on the same point.
The scent of human blood held an irresistible allure for dark creatures.
The difference lay in their preferences. Demons preferred pure souls over flesh and blood. Werewolves, while struggling to suppress their primal urge to tear and devour their prey, had little interest in consuming them as food. Merfolk, born of the ocean, tended to offer everything as a sacrifice to the sea.
Only vampires fed on blood.
Humans healed extremely slowly. Even a minor wound wouldn’t close immediately.
The slowly seeping fresh blood was like a life-giving rain in the desert for Hua Yan.
As a higher-order being, suppressing his instinct against ordinary human blood wasn’t difficult for Hua Yan; otherwise, he wouldn’t have coexisted peacefully with humans for so long.
His self-control was among the best in his kind. Even if someone else were injured, Hua Yan could maintain an outward composure, even offering concerned inquiries without a ripple of emotion.
Berlin was different.
After two years of close proximity, Hua Yan had never shown Berlin his dangerous side.
However, the strongest control could crumble in an instant when faced with the intensely fragrant and alluring scent of his beloved’s blood. Desire resurfaced, his mind agitated.
At this moment, Berlin was like an incredibly sweet and tempting cake, exuding an unparalleled allure.
The smile that usually played on Hua Yan’s lips faded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His inky black hair fell as he lowered his head, concealing the fleeting scarlet in his eyes.
Berlin tightened his grip on the plastic bottle, suppressing his nervousness while silently observing Hua Yan.
The sun was shining, the shadow of the parasol covering Hua Yan, making it difficult for Berlin to see his expression clearly.
This was the first time Berlin had been injured in front of Hua Yan.
He had learned Hua Yan’s identity through two years of daily interactions.
The consistently stocked, thick, viscous, dark red “juice” in the refrigerator; the special “thermos” he always carried; wounds that disappeared like illusions in the blink of an eye.
And the crimson pupils he had accidentally caught sight of in the mirror while going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Initially, Berlin didn’t understand the hidden side of the world; his thoughts didn’t immediately turn to supernatural explanations. He curiously asked Hua Yan what the drink in the refrigerator was, and Hua Yan casually replied it was hawthorn juice.
He didn’t suspect anything, because after debuting, Skye had done many interviews, and Hua Yan had answered similar questions, saying his favorite drink was hawthorn juice, and that he carried a bottle everywhere as if it were water.
He was telling the truth. Berlin, who toured with his teammates every day, had indeed seen Hua Yan do this. Hua Yan’s lips were naturally pale; after drinking “hawthorn juice,” a thin layer of red would stain his lips and teeth, making him look like he had makeup on and appearing more vibrant than usual.
When Hua Yan mentioned his love for juice, the host nodded enviously and in realization, saying that it was no wonder Hua Yan’s skin was so good—even up close, during interviews, you couldn’t see any pores. Hua Yan remained impassive, calmly explaining that the juice was rich in Vitamin C.
Skye became incredibly popular right after their debut, and their indirect endorsements were incredibly influential. That year, streets were filled with young people carrying juice bags.
At the time, Berlin thought the hawthorn juice Hua Yan drank seemed very thick, and its color was also deeper, wondering if it was homemade or a special drink.
He asked Hua Yan where he got the hawthorn juice, since there was no brand name on the bottle. Hua Yan said his family sent it to him.
It turned out Hua Yan was a liar.
Berlin wanted to try the hawthorn juice Hua Yan drank every day, but Hua Yan refused. Back then, they had just formed the group and weren’t very familiar, and the golden number above Hua Yan’s head hadn’t yet become 99.
When they first debuted, Hua Yan’s attitude towards Berlin was very different from now.
Just as Hua Yan’s first impression on Berlin was, he didn’t seem like a very easy person to get along with – cold, lacking empathy, and even a little sarcastic.
When someone is exceptionally handsome, a detached expression increases the sense of distance.
Berlin wasn’t the type to force his way in; he chose to respect the other’s boundaries.
So when Hua Yan refused, Berlin didn’t say anything more and didn’t ask about the hawthorn juice again, delaying his discovery of the truth.
When they first moved into the dorm, Hua Yan didn’t talk much to Berlin – or rather, he didn’t bother talking to anyone. At work, it was fine, but when they were resting in the dorm, Hua Yan mostly stayed alone in his room, the curtains drawn tight, even without turning on the lights.
Sometimes, they’d be so busy touring that they didn’t have time to eat. When they finally returned to the dorm late at night, Berlin’s stomach was rumbling, so he made some simple food in the kitchen. Just as he finished making his fragrant, steaming oil-smothered noodles, Hua Yan emerged from his room looking grim, silently gliding to him, his face cold, and asked, “What are you doing?”
Berlin stared at him, chopsticks in hand, a little bewildered: “Uh, making a late-night snack.”
He wanted to ask if Hua Yan wanted to eat together, but the next second, Hua Yan frowned in disgust: “It smells too strong, it’s keeping me awake.”
Berlin instinctively sniffed: “…?”
It smelled pretty good.
Plus, the range hood was on, and it worked quite well; the smell of cooking oil was barely noticeable, especially since the kitchen and Hua Yan’s bedroom were quite far apart.
But Hua Yan looked foul-tempered and seemed genuinely bothered, so Berlin readily tilted his head to look at him and agreed: “Then I’ll just boil plain noodles next time I’m hungry.”
Hua Yan seemed to pause, a little surprised by Berlin’s reaction. But he didn’t say anything, turning back to his room.