Embrace That Vampire - Chapter 1

For the 2:00 PM class, Pei Yun lay sprawled on his desk and slept until 1:40 PM.

The weather in Zhuqing had not yet warmed up in March.

When his roommate nudged him awake, a gust of cold wind happened to squeeze through the crack in the balcony door, pouring down the back of Pei Yun’s collar. He shuddered from the cold, and his sleepiness was mostly driven away.

The computer was still on; the progress bar of a game video was nearing its end.

Pei Yun moved the mouse to drag the progress bar back, muttering, “That’s strange, when did I fall asleep…”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Zeng Yichen felt helpless. He glanced at the takeout on Pei Yun’s desk, of which more than half remained. “You only took two bites for lunch. Aren’t you hungry?”

Pei Yun had just woken up, and his head was still a bit dizzy.

He shook his head to look at the time, packed up the takeout, tied the bag tight, and threw it into the trash can. “It’s fine. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

He stood up, let out a lazy yawn, and raised his hand to rub his eyes.

Zeng Yichen pressed his hand down. His gaze swept over, pausing for two seconds on the reddish corners of Pei Yun’s eyes, and he gave a gentle smile. “Don’t rub your eyes with your hands. Hurry up and pack. Don’t you have a class? Don’t be late.”

After speaking, he turned to close the balcony door.

Pei Yun took the opportunity to give his eyes two quick rubs. However, when he reached for the bookshelf, he got stuck. “Wait, what class is this again?”

Just as he lowered his head to check the curriculum, Zeng Yichen already provided the answer: “Microbiology, Professor Lu’s class.”

Pei Yun double-checked—it really was. “The Dorm Head is awesome! How did you know?”

There were four people in their dormitory; three were biology majors, and only Zeng Yichen was different, majoring in Financial Management.

“Every time it’s Professor Lu’s class, you guys are in a state of chaos. It’s hard not to remember,” Zeng Yichen said with a smile. “Hurry up, or you really will be late.”

“Oh right. Any later and I might be ‘invited’ to eat a failing grade set meal.”

Pei Yun grabbed his books and ran out in a hurry, waving his hand over his shoulder. “I’m off, Dorm Head! See you after class!”

He rushed into the classroom at 1:59 PM. He sat down exactly at 2:00 PM, just as the bell rang.

Du Jian hadn’t returned to the dorm at noon; he had arrived early and started bombarding the dormitory group chat with messages five minutes before class. Seeing Pei Yun arrive, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Do you have to play with my heart like this, Big Bro? I was already considering whether to say you had appendicitis or cecitis!”

“Cecitis, then.”

Pei Yun helped him make the choice. “Non-specific infection; surgery isn’t necessarily required. But the appendix is different—if you don’t cut it out in time, the harm is great.”

Du Jian: “…What’s with this sudden science popularization? I didn’t say you actually had to—”

“Even faking it won’t do.” Pei Yun said solemnly, “My phantom limb would hurt.”

Du Jian was driven mad: “Damn it, does an appendix even count as a limb?!”

Pei Yun laughed joyfully.

The projector lit up with a PPT, and the classroom soon fell silent. The voice of the lecture coming from the podium was steady and unhurried, with a low, cold tone.

Today was Thursday, and the previous microbiology class had been back on Monday.

Pei Yun had forgotten where they left off. He glanced at Du Jian’s book, flipped to the same page, and then looked up at the PPT.

He considered his vision to be quite good, but for some reason, it had been declining sharply lately. Even sitting in a position toward the front-middle of the classroom, he actually couldn’t see the content on the PPT clearly.

He had probably been overusing his eyes lately; he needed to find time to get a pair of glasses.

Du Jian was rubbing his hands together seriously like a little fly. For some reason, he suddenly felt as if Professor Lu had glanced in his direction twice in a row.

His spirit was immediately jolted. He spent a moment cautiously paying attention out of the corner of his eye but found nothing further.

It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him.

Du Jian comforted himself and continued rubbing his hands like a fly.

The large classroom was crowded. Considering the need for air circulation, windows were open on both sides.

However, halfway through the class, a few girls sneezed from the wind rushing in, so the boys near the windows took the initiative to close them.

Du Jian blew a breath of air into his palms. “Finally closed. My hands were about to freeze into chicken claws.”

As he spoke, he turned his head and saw Pei Yun yawning listlessly.

“No way, you’re sleepy again?”

Du Jian was in disbelief. “Didn’t you go to sleep at nine last night? And the Dorm Head said you even took a nap! Perk up, Pei Baby!”

Two girls sitting diagonally in front of them turned back at the sound. They saw Pei Yun resting his chin on his book like an obedient puppy, his eyes drooping spiritlessly.

He probably noticed them out of the corner of his eye, as he lifted his eyelids to look over. His eyes were as beautiful as two precious amber beads.

the girls let out a small gasp, smiled at him with blushing faces, and quickly turned back.

Pei Yun said lazily, “No spirit, can’t perk up.”

Du Jian’s gaze was suspicious. “Did you really sleep at nine last night? You weren’t secretly grinding ranks under the covers behind our backs?”

“Interesting. Has our dorm reached such a level of ‘involution’?”

Pei Yun’s lips curled into a smile. “Really, no. But I don’t know what’s wrong lately either; I just can’t get enough sleep.”

Du Jian: “I heard my mom say before that only pregnant women get lethargic like this.”

Pei Yun: “Get lost. You’re the pregnant woman.”

Du Jian: “No, listen to me first. Only pregnant women get lethargic; since you aren’t one, there’s a high probability it’s a seasonal cold.”

Du Jian cautiously propped up a book to hide himself, carefully scrutinizing Pei Yun. “Your complexion really doesn’t look great. How about asking for leave to go back to the dorm and rest?”

“I’m not asking.” Pei Yun insisted, “I don’t have a cold. I’m just sleepy.”

The PPT flipped to another page.

He glanced at the podium and quickly retracted his gaze, fearing he would make eye contact with the person up there. “Besides, using ‘wanting to sleep’ as a reason for leave—do I have a death wish?”

“True, true.”

Du Jian sighed. “Professor Lu is too terrifying. He’s like an emotionless AI robot; I’m scared of him too.”

His thoughts began to wander. “Say, if Professor Lu had a child at home, they would definitely be both lucky and unlucky. Lucky to inherit those top-tier looks and high IQ, but unlucky because the growth process would definitely be painful and ‘f*cked up’.”

Pei Yun spoke expressionlessly: “He isn’t married and doesn’t have children.”

“I know that.” Du Jian counted on his fingers. “The ‘child’ I’m talking about can refer generally to any child of his relatives, including nephews, nieces, a little grand-nephew…”

Where was he going with this?

Pei Yun was dying of sleepiness and was too lazy to pay him any mind. He dropped a sentence—”Help me cover while I sleep for a bit”—and plunged into the crook of his arm to meet the Duke of Zhou in his dreams.

Du Jian gave an “oh” and dutifully propped up a knowledge handbook for him to hide his head.

Ten minutes before the end of class, three multiple-choice quiz questions were projected onto the screen.

Any student in this major who had attended Lu Que’s classes knew that this was the segment for randomly selecting “lucky audience members.”

If you could answer, you gained participation points. If you couldn’t, you were gifted a limited-time “ice sculpture” experience card, along with copying the relevant knowledge points twenty times.

It was tense and exciting.

Du Jian had “won the prize” a few times, to the point that his toes curled against the floor in nervousness every time this segment arrived.

The little handbook blocking Pei Yun had slipped onto the floor at some point. It was too late to prop it up again now; he could only lower his head, silently chanting “don’t see me” while frantically poking his deskmate’s elbow.

However, his deskmate was as if he had entered an eternal slumber; there wasn’t the slightest reaction for a long time.

The first student successfully survived the ordeal, and the entire classroom silently cheered for her with their eyes.

Pei Yun still hadn’t woken up.

The second student failed the ordeal, and everyone’s eyes showed mournful sympathy.

Pei Yun still wasn’t awake.

There was only one lucky audience member left.

The classroom was deathly silent; one could hear a pin drop. The atmosphere was strained to the limit.

Du Jian felt a chilly gaze sweep across him. His scalp went numb, and he reached down to pull at the hem of Pei Yun’s clothes.

Quick, wake up, brother! Don’t sleep anymore, the lottery is about to hit us—

“Pei Yun.”

Lu Que’s gaze landed on the back row. “The last question. You answer it.”

Dozens of pairs of eyes instantly snapped over in unison.

Du Jian’s breath was stuck in his throat, neither coming in nor going out.

He toughened his skin and gave a dry, hollow laugh. “That… Professor Lu, Pei Yun really isn’t sleeping. He’s just thinking. Thinking.”

His left hand reached behind him, poking Pei Yun’s spine with all his might.

You’re a goner, kid! Don’t sleep anymore! If you keep sleeping, it’s really over!!!

“Pei Yun.” Lu Que knitted his brows and called out again.

Then, the tearless Du Jian watched with wide eyes as Lu Que stepped down from the podium and walked through the aisle to arrive before them.

“It’s… it’s actually quite miraculous. My roommate, he—every time he thinks, he involuntarily falls into a kind of… a kind of invulnerable state.”

Du Jian gave Pei Yun another two shoves in a deathbed struggle. “Look, just like this. Ha… haha…”

Ancestor, wake up!

Du Jian’s heart went cold. “Isn’t it the change of seasons lately? Pei Yun has a bit of a cold. He insisted on coming to class despite being ill. Professor Lu, for the sake of his thirst for knowledge, could you please not—”

“How long has he been sleeping?” Lu Que interrupted him.

Being interrupted, Du Jian didn’t react immediately and answered subconsciously, “It seems like it’s been more than half the class.”

The furrow between Lu Que’s brows deepened. Seeing that the boy couldn’t be woken, he directly reached out to feel Pei Yun’s face, lifting it slightly upward.

The young man’s cheek was cradled in his palm as he slept obediently.

His breathing was shallow and weak, and his face was pale.