Part 2
Berlin initially thought Hua Yan disliked him, until he later learned Hua Yan’s secret, realizing Hua Yan hadn’t been thinking that deeply and had meant what he said literally.
That he was genuinely kept awake by the smell. Berlin was observant; he deduced that human food probably tasted bland to Hua Yan, or perhaps vampires’ taste buds were fundamentally different. Sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy probably all tasted foul to Hua Yan, not just tasteless, but perhaps akin to forcing someone to eat rotting meat.
And vampires’ senses were far more acute than those of ordinary people. Berlin could barely smell any cooking oil, but the smell Hua Yan sensed was probably amplified tenfold, or even a hundredfold, of what Berlin felt.
From then on, Berlin did as he promised; when he got hungry in the middle of the night, he only boiled plain noodles.
If it was tasteless, he’d add a little soy sauce and sometimes a little sesame oil.
After adding the seasonings, Berlin would wait patiently for a moment, making sure Hua Yan didn’t come out of his room before he knew that this level of smell wouldn’t bother him.
Much later, Berlin first directly felt the change in Hua Yan. It was another night when Berlin was hungry, sneaking up to quietly boil noodles, when Hua Yan came out of his room, startling him.
But this time, he wasn’t here to stop Berlin from cooking noodles, but to awkwardly sit down at the dining table, his expression calm, and said, “I’m hungry too. Let’s eat those oil-smothered noodles you make.”
Berlin stared at him, dumbfounded: “…Ah?”
Hua Yan seemed both happy and troubled: “I asked, but plain noodles are tasteless, yet you keep eating them.”
As if afraid Berlin would overthink it, Hua Yan added: “I don’t eat tasteless things.”
Berlin looked at him thoughtfully, his mind slightly lagging: “So you want to eat noodles with me?”
Hua Yan was silent for a moment, glaring back: “Didn’t you invite me?”
Berlin thought, but I already know your secret.
He didn’t expose the truth, only holding his chopsticks and saying, “Oh,” with a raised eyebrow. He looked at Hua Yan, nodding with a bright smile, “Okay then.”
Compared to the initially beautiful but venomous snake in his impression, Hua Yan now, even if he were a snake, was only an unhatched egg.
The pattern was still beautiful, but its roundness made it look less threatening, even a little unintelligent.
And Hua Yan wasn’t the only teammate whose transformation had been so dramatic.
Each of his teammates had some quirks; none were particularly warm during their first meeting with Berlin, and their first interaction involved outlining some ground rules.
Berlin clearly remembered the attitudes of his four teammates upon their first meeting.
After all, encountering people with such a way of doing things was rare, making the impression hard to forget.
For instance, Wu Hengyao said not to disturb him on the 15th of every month. Berlin, bewildered, asked why, and Wu Hengyao grunted, “If you disturb me once, we’ll only meet again in our next lives.”
Berlin: “…”
Wu Hengyao didn’t seem to be joking, so Berlin genuinely considered the possibility that Wu Hengyao’s family had ties to some shady gang.
At the very least, he was a lawbreaker unfit for public service.
Wu Hengyao looked a bit fierce and impatient.
That “next life” line briefly frightened Berlin, leaving a lingering shadow. For a long time, Berlin cautiously avoided Wu Hengyao, observing him from afar.
He observed him because although Wu Hengyao had a fierce appearance, Berlin never judged a person based on first impressions, knowing that people were multifaceted and everyone had different perspectives on the same individual.
Like drawing the same starfruit; some people draw it as a star.
He secretly observed Wu Hengyao, until one day Wu Hengyao finally couldn’t take it anymore. He abruptly turned his head, staring at Berlin with displeasure, grumbling, “Why are you always staring at me?”
Caught red-handed, Berlin mustered his courage: “You’re my teammate; I want to understand what kind of person you are.”
After confirming Wu Hengyao was a good person, Berlin could sleep soundly.
Wu Hengyao looked at him quizzically and blurted out, “Don’t bother understanding; I’m not human.”
Berlin: “…”
What’s wrong with this person? Why does he always talk like a bully?
Berlin thought this person might have been hurt in interpersonal relationships, earnestly trying to comfort him: “You don’t need to say that about yourself. You look perfectly human.”
Wu Hengyao wrinkled his nose: “…I feel like you’re insulting me.”
Berlin: “?”
Later, realizing Wu Hengyao, like Hua Yan, meant his words literally, Berlin felt so embarrassed he wanted to go back in time and slap himself with a tofu block to regain his senses.
His teammates weren’t friendly when they first met, yet Berlin still tried every day to interact with them normally with his usual energy.
He wasn’t heartless. He persisted in getting along well with his teammates for a reason.
Skye’s four teammates were the only four people he’d encountered in his life who hadn’t had extraordinarily high affinity with him from the moment they met.
He didn’t remember when it started, but a golden number appeared above the heads of people around him.
Initially, he didn’t know what the number meant, taking some time to figure it out.
But Berlin didn’t rejoice at this unusual ability. Instead, he was troubled.
The affinity displayed above the heads of those around him didn’t bring him joy; it disrupted his life.
Before, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but later, every time he saw someone, he’d see the number above their head rapidly climb before settling on an incredibly high number.
Almost everyone liked him. This liking wasn’t necessarily romantic; it could be friendship, a teacher-student relationship, or the affection of an elder for a younger person.
Regardless of age or gender, the moment they saw him, they seemed to be affected by some invisible magnetic field, their affinity rising unbelievably in a short time.
Initially, Berlin was happy to be liked by so many people, but later he only felt incomprehension and loneliness, and a hint of fear he wasn’t willing to admit.
Why?
Everything should have a cause and effect. Love at first sight exists, but its probability shouldn’t be one hundred percent.
The old Berlin was cheerful, lively, helpful, and could relax and interact naturally with anyone, quickly becoming friends and readily expressing concern and caring for those who needed it.
But with the affinity indicator, Berlin became more reserved.
It was strange.
Because the people around him so easily and inexplicably had high affinity for him, he gradually controlled himself from getting too close to others, unable to completely relax around them.
No one doesn’t want to be liked by more and more people, but the premise is that the liking is genuine.
Berlin hoped the people who liked him genuinely liked him, not because of some inexplicable reason.
Berlin understood a simple truth: There’s no such thing as unconditional love in this world. Every apparent good comes with a hidden cost, unseen beneath the surface.
He might have always been a likable person; Berlin knew he was never unpleasant, but the affinity numbers made him uncertain about things he had previously been confident and never doubted.
The people around him might have liked him all along, without any hidden factors influencing their feelings; he might be overthinking.
But Berlin couldn’t prove it.
All this self-doubt became less important after joining Skye.
Berlin chose to enter the entertainment industry for a reason.
It started when Berlin was walking down the street and was stopped by someone conducting a street interview, answering a few simple questionnaire questions.
The video was uploaded to social media, and a classmate saw it, happily telling him it had a high number of views and that many people liked him.
When his classmate said many people liked him, Berlin felt a little empty inside because he didn’t know why.
Until his classmate changed the subject, grumbling, “Ninety-nine percent of the comments are praising you, but there are always keyboard warriors on the internet. Someone actually said you’re not even one-tenth as handsome as them, and that you’re too thin and look malnourished, nothing to look at, and they don’t understand why everyone’s calling you handsome…Too many self-righteous netizens. Don’t worry; many people defended you…”
Berlin paused, suddenly lifting his head to grab his classmate’s shoulder, his eyes shining: “Thank you, can I see?”