Embrace That Vampire - Chapter 19

Do you want to?

Yes! Of course, he did!

Only a fool would say no.

Faced with temptation, Pei Yun blinked and immediately threw his earlier advice about locking doors to the back of his mind. He flipped back the covers and hopped off the bed, not forgetting to bring along his best friend, the Big Mouth Shark, as he left.

While Lu Que was in the shower, Pei Yun conscientiously tucked himself and his “family” into Lu Que’s bed and lay down.

It was strange. He didn’t know why, but even though the sheets and bedding were the same—and the bed in the master bedroom was even larger and softer than the one in the guest room—he just felt more comfortable and at ease sleeping here.

Moreover, there seemed to be an indescribable scent constantly wafting into his nose. It was very light and faint; one had to sniff carefully to catch it. He couldn’t say exactly what it was, but it smelled wonderful.

Pei Yun hugged the quilt and sniffed carefully, confirming the scent was coming from the fabric. But don’t we use the same laundry detergent? Or does my uncle have a habit of spraying a sleep-aiding scent on the bed?

He moved the shark a bit closer to himself and let out a yawn.

When Lu Que returned to the room from the bathroom, his footsteps paused imperceptibly when he saw a massive fish head popping out from under the covers. He then changed direction, walked to the other side, and climbed into bed.

Pei Yun’s eyes were exhausted, but his brain was awake. This was his first time sleeping with Lu Que, and everything felt fresh.

Lu Que reached out to turn off the light. He saw Pei Yun huddled under the quilt with half his face showing, his eyes darting around as he stared at him, clearly having no intention of sleeping.

“Not sleepy anymore?” he asked. Pei Yun: “I am. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Lu Que pressed the switch, and the room plunged into darkness. “Then close your eyes and go to sleep.”

The ambient light didn’t affect Pei Yun’s vision. He turned his head restlessly—looking at the shark on his right, then at Lu Que on his left. It felt magical. The sense of security he felt earlier was nothing compared to this.

“Uncle, are you sleepy?” he whispered in a tiny voice. Lu Que (eyes closed): “Pei Yun, it is currently two in the morning.”

Pei Yun chuckled. “Uncle, aren’t you afraid I’ll bite you in the middle of the night if you sleep with me?” Lu Que shifted and looked toward him. “Are you hungry?” Pei Yun: “Not at the moment.”

Lu Que withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes again. “Then sleep first. Call me if you get hungry.”

The person beside him seemed to settle down. Unfortunately, the peace didn’t last more than a few minutes before he started moving again.

Lu Que felt a bit of a headache coming on. “Xiao Yun, be good.”

“It’s not that,” Pei Yun said, flipping over again. “I’m sleeping in the middle of ‘you guys,’ and no matter how I lie, I feel like there’s a draft on one side. My back is cold.”

It took Lu Que a moment to realize who the other half of “you guys” was. “Take the fish out,” he said.

Pei Yun was currently clutching the shark’s mouth, trying to pull it flush against himself. “That won’t do. I’m used to sleeping with it.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a hand reached over, snatched the fish from his grasp, and tossed it onto the sofa by the wall. Before Pei Yun could mourn his loss, that same hand changed direction, gripped his shoulder, and with a light push, pulled him into a firm embrace.

Lu Que lay on his side, holding him close. His voice sounded above Pei Yun’s head: “There. Now sleep quietly.”

Surrounded by a warm temperature that wasn’t his own, Pei Yun blinked. He suspected his uncle had taken the opportunity to slap an invisible “Binding Talisman” onto his back.

The hyperactive boy finally went quiet. Lying here was indeed more comfortable than any position he had tried to find by tossing and turning. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally slid shut.

Drowsily, he called out to his uncle again, his voice softened by sleepiness like a half-awake murmur: “Actually… I was sleeping in my room at first… but I woke up from a nightmare, so I ran to the living room.”

Lu Que talked to him with his eyes closed. “What dream?”

Pei Yun: “I dreamed I was locked in a modification tank. Those tubes poked so many holes in me… it hurt so much. I was bleeding everywhere…”

“It was just a dream.”

Lu Que interrupted him, pulling him a bit tighter into his embrace and patting his back very lightly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I won’t let you become like that.”

Pei Yun gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “I know.”

After another while, he faintly heard someone calling him “Xiao Yun.”

“In the future, if you’re ever afraid at home alone, just call me.” It was his uncle’s voice—cool, patient, and very gentle. “Any time is fine. I will answer.”

He didn’t know if he responded, because in the next second, he was completely swept away by sleep.

The consequences of tossing around until the early hours of the morning were significant. During the next day’s classes, Pei Yun could barely keep his eyes open.

He managed to survive his major classes through sheer willpower, but in his elective, he was completely dead to the world. When class ended, Du Jian called him several times without waking him. Du Jian was so startled he nearly carried him to the infirmary, thinking he’d fainted from low blood sugar again.

“What did you do last night?”

Since their class ended late, they were drafted to organize equipment in the lab. Du Jian took the opportunity to interrogate him. “Staying up late to grind ranks without me again?! I’m going to be furious!”

“Grinding for ranks with a spiral windstorm bomb, maybe,” Pei Yun yawned, making up a lie on the spot. “I ate too many chiles yesterday and had a stomach ache for half the night.”

Du Jian: “Did you have diarrhea?” Pei Yun: “NO!” Du Jian: “You have a stomach ache but no diarrhea? You’re unusual.” Pei Yun: “My intestines hurt, okay? Just shut up.”

The class monitor laughed nearby. “By the way,” she said, “did you guys see the news last night?”

An Lan: “The ARI one?”

The monitor nodded. “Yeah. Seeing that alert gave me a fright. Luckily, no one was hurt.”

Du Jian, An Lan, and the monitor began a casual discussion, their words filled with sympathy and pity for the vampire. Pei Yun’s movements slowed as he organized the equipment, and he kept his head down without speaking. He had no intention of joining the conversation; being a quiet listener was enough.

The monitor lamented how pitiful vampires were, spending half their lives in modification tanks. As Du Jian was agreeing, a voice suddenly interjected: “Pitiful? Don’t they deserve it?”

The group froze. They all turned to look at Yu Nian, who was standing in the doorway.

“Yu Nian, you…” The monitor faltered, stunned by his extreme comment. “You’re saying vampires deserve it?”

“Don’t they?”

Yu Nian walked in and locked a microscope into a cabinet. “Things that are naturally a threat to social security… the fact that they aren’t directly exterminated is already an act of mercy. What’s there to be pitiful about?”

The monitor had always thought that people with extreme views of hating vampires were as distant as death itself. She hadn’t expected one to be in her own class. She and Du Jian exchanged a look, momentarily at a loss for words.

Pei Yun took a deep breath behind them, trying to tell himself to endure, that he hadn’t heard anything, and not to argue with an idiot.

An Lan countered with a cold face: “There are plenty of murderers among humans too. According to your logic, should we all be imprisoned and executed like murderers?”

Yu Nian: “It’s not the same. Vampires are born as anomalies. They deserve to die.” Du Jian: “You!”

“You guys say it so lightly,” Yu Nian scoffed. “It’s only because you don’t have family members who were killed by vampires. You don’t have a monster like that around you. Since you haven’t experienced it, don’t pity the killer on behalf of others.”

“That vampire yesterday deserved it too. I don’t feel a shred of sympathy. I only find it a pity—why didn’t he break more tubes? Why didn’t he die in the modification tank just like that vampire five years ago—”

THUD!

A dull pain on his cheekbone cut off the rest of his words.

“Holy sh*t!” “Little Pei!!!”

In the office, Lu Que was entering data for a document with one hand. His other hand was free to answer a call from Professor Zhang.

“How can it be such a coincidence?! The plant has been stable for so many years, yet right after Old Man Sheng submitted his application, a vampire loses control. Luckily it was caught in time. If it had been any worse, the Bureau’s procrastination would have been forcibly cured!”

Zhang Liangshen was fuming; his anger was palpable even over the phone line.

“The modification tank has been checked; there were no abnormalities,” Lu Que said.

Zhang Liangshen sighed. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I feel so bad—it’s like the heavens themselves are helping him. Honestly, enough is enough.”

“Old Lu, we’re preparing to speed up research on in-vitro blood modification. Do you want to lend a hand?”

“In a while, I will be applying to resign from my title as a Professor at the ARI.”

The two voices spoke almost simultaneously. Zhang Liangshen was the first to lose his composure.

“What did you say?!! You’re even giving up the honorary title?!”

Lu Que: “Mhm.” Zhang Liangshen: “No, why? If you don’t want to agree to the research, just don’t agree. Why do you have to throw away even the honorary title?” Lu Que: “I don’t participate in research. Having the title of Head Professor serves no purpose for me.” Zhang Liangshen: “It serves no purpose, but it doesn’t hurt anything either, right?” Lu Que: “It does.” Zhang Liangshen: “What?” Lu Que: “It has an impact.”

Someone will be afraid.

“What on earth…” Zhang Liangshen didn’t understand. He wanted to ask for details, but he suddenly heard someone running up to Lu Que on the other end, frantically calling “Professor Lu” several times.

“What is it?” Lu Que looked at the panting student.

The boy patted his chest and took a few breaths. Pointing toward the laboratory outside, he said brokenly, “Over there… in the Biology Lab on the second floor… Pei Yun and Yu Nian are fighting!”

Lu Que stood up immediately. “Something came up. Talk to you later.” He hung up and strode out of the office.

There weren’t many people in the lab. By the time Lu Que arrived, Pei Yun and Yu Nian had already been pulled apart.

Yu Nian was leaning against the sink, panting. The swelling on his cheekbone was obvious. Pei Yun didn’t look much better; the corner of his mouth was bruised and bleeding—it looked like it might be split. Du Jian and An Lan were blocking him, fearing he might charge forward in another fit of rage.

Unexpectedly, Sheng Hui had arrived a step ahead of him.

“Professor Lu!” The monitor was the first to notice him; her look was that of someone seeing a savior.

Du Jian and An Lan also breathed a sigh of relief. Good, the guardian is here. No need to worry about Pei Yun being bullied.

Lu Que walked up to Pei Yun. Seeing the lingering anger on the boy’s face, it was clear he had been deeply provoked. The corner of his mouth was indeed split, with blood seeping out. Pei Yun tried to call out “Uncle,” but the pain made him wince. As he raised a hand to touch the wound, Lu Que saw that the back of his hand was red too.

“Don’t touch it with your hand.”

Lu Que pressed down on his wrist and hooked a finger under his chin to tilt it up, carefully inspecting the wound.

Pei Yun knew he must look incredibly disheveled. Feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he tried to turn his head away, but his chin was held firm. Lu Que used a semi-commanding tone: “Don’t move.”

Pei Yun gave a dejected “oh” and stood still obediently.

He had expected Lu Que to question him about why he had started a fight. He had even prepared a mental draft: as soon as Lu Que asked, he would stiffen his neck and coolly say, “I just can’t stand him,” before coolly accepting his punishment.

But Lu Que didn’t. He didn’t ask anything at all.

Sheng Hui had been waiting for Lu Que to speak since he appeared, and he was now growing impatient. “Professor Lu, your student was the one who started this fight. Don’t you have anything to say?”

Lu Que confirmed the wound wasn’t serious and turned around. “What does Professor Sheng want me to say?”

“This isn’t your first day at Ningqing University, Professor Lu. Do I really have to teach you how to handle this?”

Sheng Hui’s face was dark, his gaze even fiercer than usual. “According to university regulations, students who engage in private fights and brawls must be given a disciplinary demerit!” He looked at Yu Nian. “I will report my student’s part truthfully.”

He turned back to Lu Que. The meaning was clear: I’ve set the example; you know what to do.

Pei Yun really couldn’t stand Sheng Hui’s attitude. We’re all professors with equal status. What right do you have to speak to my uncle like that? His anger hadn’t faded, and he held his breath, wanting to say “A demerit is a demerit, I don’t need anyone to teach me,” but Lu Que seemed to see through his intent.

Lu Que spoke first: “Indeed. Regardless of the reason, one should be punished for fighting.”

“Xiao Yun, go back and write an eight-hundred-word self-reflection. Hand it to Professor Sheng next week.”