Chapter 14: Awakening

Suxie led Han Qi down a secluded path, and the deeper they went, the fewer people there were. At the end of the road stood a Baroque-style building suspended in midair—this was the headquarters of the vampire military in the city. Of course, under a powerful enchantment, ordinary people couldn’t see it.

It was Han Qi’s first time here, and his heart was filled with nervousness, awe, and no small measure of excitement. He couldn’t help but look around curiously. Yet what most drew his gaze wasn’t the great fountain in the central square, nor the uniformed vampire soldiers, but rather the children chasing and playing with each other on the plaza.

Because they were still young, they hadn’t learned to hide their true nature. Tiny, pointed fangs peeked from lips as soft as jelly; their eyes were crimson, but set in round, rosy faces, the effect was oddly harmonious—like rabbits, Han Qi thought, and the notion made him stifle a laugh. In his distraction, a little vampire crashed into his leg and tumbled to the ground.

Han Qi quickly bent down, scooped up the child, and stroked his soft hair. “Did you hurt yourself?”

The child lifted his head, his big, glistening eyes like rubies resting at the bottom of a lake.

His nostrils flared slightly, and in a childish murmur, he whispered, “You smell so good...”

The next moment, the boy lunged for Han Qi’s neck, mouth opening to bite the spot marked by the red rose tattoo.

Suxie reacted instantly, grabbing the boy by the back of his collar and setting him back on the ground without so much as a backward glance. Taking Han Qi by the hand, he said, “We have business to attend to.”

Denied his prize, the little boy’s eyes welled with tears. He smacked his lips. “It seemed like it would taste really good…”

Han Qi frowned. “Is this red rose really that dangerous?”

Suxie gave him a deep look and nodded. Han Qi instinctively covered the tattoo on his neck. Suxie pulled him into his arms, sniffed his neck, and said softly, “Even if you hide it, the scent still lingers.”

Han Qi sighed, feeling the unfairness of fate—it was bad enough to be reborn as a vampire, but to be a bearer as well?

Suddenly, Suxie leaned in, his lips brushing Han Qi’s earlobe as he murmured, “You know how hard it is for me to resist, don’t you?”

Han Qi stiffened, coughed, and quickly changed the subject. “We agreed to train today. Let’s hurry.”

After the death of Han Qi the human, he was reborn as a vampire, but his powers as a member of the bloodline had not awakened. Han Qi didn’t want to be helpless in the face of dangers like assault, and Suxie couldn’t always be by his side. Military training, meant to provoke instinct, was the best way to awaken a vampire’s abilities.

From the outside, the military headquarters appeared to be a towering building, but once inside, it seemed boundless: each path led to a different training ground.

Just now, Suxie had led him down a narrow lane, the two walking hand in hand. Unnamed trees swayed on either side, and the air was thick with a dark floral fragrance. In Han Qi’s new memories, Suxie’s appearance had been abrupt, and he couldn’t say he truly understood him, but he trusted him inexplicably. As long as Suxie was there, nothing else mattered—it felt as if they were always meant to be together, never to part.

A gentle smile crept onto Han Qi’s lips just as Suxie stopped.

“We’re here… the Mirror of Ice.”

A flash of blinding white light forced Han Qi’s eyes shut.

What was this place?

He squinted in confusion. Above him shimmered a rippling surface, smooth as a mirror, like flowing silk.

Wait—flowing? Han Qi was startled.

Could it be… underwater?

Blue and transparent, the water shimmered all around him, without the slightest sense of suffocation; instead, it felt as if he were wrapped in soft silk. Looking down, he saw pale green algae swaying gently. Han Qi felt no fear. But where had Suxie gone?

He looked around, but saw no sign of him. Han Qi tried to call his name, but no sound emerged. The Mirror of Ice swallowed both sound and sensation, creating a world of absolute silence and isolation.

Han Qi didn’t want to stand idle. Trusting his instincts, he began to move, each motion sending ripples far into the distance…

He didn’t know how long he wandered, nor how far. Suddenly, a powerful vibration seized his heart. In theory, nothing could be sensed in the Mirror of Ice, so this tremor struck directly to his soul, as though something immense was about to appear.

Without warning, a single eye opened in the blue depths—a massive, blood-red pupil, as large as Han Qi himself. But it was only an eye; there was no nose, mouth, or body. Though the sight was strange, Han Qi felt no fear. The crimson pupil, though chilling, carried no malice—only a trace of sorrow and gentleness.

As the Blood Key, Han Qi’s nature was to assimilate and resurrect; he was drawn to that gentle emotion, approaching the eye without hesitation. As he drew near, the slit pupil softened into an oval. Han Qi reached out—he knew he would feel nothing, but at the moment of contact, he closed his eyes instinctively.

When he opened them again, he saw his own dark, flowing hair waving in the water as if alive. He didn’t need a mirror to know his eyes had turned red and his fangs had grown—his first time revealing his true form.

He didn’t know when Suxie had appeared, but by the time Han Qi became aware, he was already in his arms. The green water enfolded them, their long hair intertwining.

The scene was so beautiful, so moving, that Han Qi simply couldn’t resist; he wrapped his arms around Suxie’s shoulders, meeting the warmth in those burning eyes. Suxie bent down and kissed him deeply, fiercely, without restraint.

Han Qi’s normally pale skin now bore a delicate flush, whether from excitement or shyness, and in the green water, it made him look all the more alluring.

It was an odd, enchanting sensation. Though Han Qi could hear nothing, feel nothing—seeing only Suxie’s movements—he could almost hear fervent moans and ragged, desperate breaths, feel the smoothness and heat of their skin pressed together, sense the yielding tightness where their bodies joined.

To share such intimacy with the one he loved most—the psychological shock alone was enough to make him tremble with pleasure.

Only upon emerging from the depths did his senses begin to return.

By then, night had fallen. Scattered pinpoints of starlight floated above the deep blue sky. Droplets of crystalline water rolled from their bodies, catching the dim, gorgeous starlight.

Han Qi couldn’t help but open his eyes, turning his head to see Suxie’s bare chest. Flecks of light danced over his toned muscles, casting alluring shadows. Now awakened, Han Qi found himself drawn to the scent of blood—his own, faintly sweet and metallic, mingling with the musk of passion. As his senses returned, embarrassment overwhelmed him. Suxie looked over; Han Qi quickly averted his gaze.

Suxie took Han Qi’s shoulders, drew close, and kissed the corner of his mouth, his tongue lingering between his lips and teeth.

Han Qi told himself to stay calm, to keep his composure, but he couldn’t help holding his breath. The memory of their passion still flooded his mind, his heart pounding wildly. He was at a loss.

He pushed Suxie away, just a little, and asked, breathless, “That eye I saw at the bottom of the lake—what was it?”

Suxie continued to kiss him softly. “The blood-red eye?”

“Yes, what was it?”

“It’s the spirit of the lake,” Suxie replied, smiling gently, patient. “The first vampire fell in love with a mermaid who lived at the bottom of a lake. So they became one with the water, to be together forever.”

Han Qi remembered that gentle, sorrowful gaze—the mermaid had died long ago, but the lake remained. Sometimes, immortality is its own punishment.

He suddenly grabbed Suxie’s hand. “I’m immortal, aren’t I?”

Suxie understood what Han Qi was thinking. He squeezed his hand in return. “Don’t worry. Once you have a child, you’ll be freed from the role of Blood Key.”

Han Qi fell silent, brows furrowed in thought. Suxie was about to comfort him when Han Qi suddenly spoke. “If the choice is between immortality or being torn apart… then… then I’d rather have a child.”

Suxie couldn’t help but laugh. “Silly, being torn apart is painful too.” He brushed Han Qi’s brow, his smile fading. “There can only be one Platinum, so we might die…”

Han Qi stared in surprise. “Then just now, did you…?”

“No.”

“So all that was for nothing…”

“If you really want a child, we’ll just try again.” He slipped an arm around Han Qi’s waist.

Han Qi pressed a hand to his chest. “No, we have to show some restraint.”

Truthfully, Suxie didn’t want to go again—Han Qi was far too exhausted, and he couldn’t bear it. He simply buried his face in Han Qi’s neck and held him quietly.

Han Qi asked, “If a child is born, will we die?”

“Not necessarily. After all, you have the Blood Key lineage—it’s not pure Platinum, so the outcome is uncertain.”

Suxie couldn’t help but wonder—one bloodline representing slaughter, the other rebirth—what would become of their union? He would never let Han Qi gamble his life on such a risk.