Rebirth of the Vampire's Iceberg Hunter - Chapter 7

During dinner that evening, Chuanmei carried her tray over and sat across from Gong Nan.

“There’s too much food,” Chuanmei said. “Could you help me out?” Without waiting for a response, she pushed most of the food from her tray onto Gong Nan’s.

Gong Nan’s chopsticks paused briefly, but she continued eating without looking up. When Chuanmei was clearing her tray after finishing, Gong Nan murmured, “Thank you.”

Chuanmei was stunned. She never expected Gong Nan to say those words! Originally, Chuanmei had only intended to be a little nicer to Gong Nan, but now she began to reconsider her previous assessment of her. Perhaps Gong Nan wasn’t as hopelessly delusional as she thought.

Since she didn’t need sleep, Chuanmei merely closed her eyes to rest. She had planned to wait until Gong Nan fell asleep before going out to eat. But after waiting for over an hour, Gong Nan still hadn’t drifted off. Chuanmei found this strange; Gong Nan usually fell asleep much earlier. Why was she having insomnia tonight?

A while later, Chuanmei sensed Gong Nan getting up and putting on her shoes. She heard light footsteps moving out of the room, followed by the click of the door closing. Chuanmei immediately got up and followed. Finally, you’ve shown your true colors!

Gong Nan walked straight through the orphanage to the main gate.

The main gate? Why the main gate? Chuanmei had expected her to head toward the teaching building.

Chuanmei wrung her hands, muttering an invisibility spell. Concealed, she moved closer to Gong Nan.

Gong Nan’s face was etched with sorrow as she murmured, “I’m sorry…”

At such close range, Chuanmei could clearly see every expression on Gong Nan’s face.

Staring at that grief-stricken, almost despairing face, Chuanmei felt a sudden sense of disorientation. It was as if she were looking at herself—at her past self. I must have looked like that back then! A world devoid of light, only darkness, as if the light had abandoned me. The only difference was that Gong Nan was repeating “I’m sorry,” while she had endlessly asked “Why?”

Gong Nan continued to repeat “I’m sorry,” saying nothing else. She knelt, kowtowed three times, and turned to return to her room.

Chuanmei hurried back to her room ahead of Gong Nan.

“Where did you go?” Chuanmei rubbed her eyes, pretending to have been accidentally awakened by the sound of the door opening.

Gong Nan shot Chuanmei a cold glance, saying nothing. The sorrow that had briefly surfaced on her face was now carefully concealed.

In the past, Chuanmei would have dropped the subject immediately. She hated making a fuss. But today, something had stirred within her—perhaps a memory of her younger self, when she had desperately longed for even a sliver of warmth from someone, anyone. She had never received it. Now, she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to ensure this girl, who reminded her so much of herself, got what she had been denied. Even if Gong Nan was merely acting, Chuanmei couldn’t help herself. Those years from her previous life remained an indelible pain in her heart. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to hug Gong Nan; rather, she yearned to embrace her younger self. But the past was gone forever, and her current mindset was different.

Chuanmei remembered how she had once been just like Gong Nan who’s always wearing a stern expression, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Yet beneath that facade lay a naive heart, untouched by worldly experience. She had simultaneously craved friendship and distrusted it, her inner self still yearning for connection.

“It’s still early. Why don’t you go back inside and sleep a bit longer?” Chuanmei smiled at Gong Nan. After smiling so frequently these past few days, her facial muscles had grown accustomed to the expression. Combined with her natural beauty, Gong Nan was momentarily stunned by Chuanmei’s smile before quickly recovering.

Gong Nan didn’t reply. She simply lay down on the bed and fell asleep.

Chuanmei gazed at Gong Nan’s back and sighed. If it were me, she thought, I’d be jumping for joy, finally having someone who cares about me.

Because of this, Chuanmei couldn’t go out for dinner that evening. She had to wait until the next morning to eat both dinner and breakfast together.

The following days settled into a routine of daily chores, including cleaning.

“Nangong!” The two were about to start sweeping when they heard Third Aunt’s voice.

They turned to see Third Aunt standing under a tree, wearing her perpetually oversized T-shirt.

“Nangong, Chuanmei, come over here.” Third Aunt’s face wore a smile, but Chuanmei sensed no genuine warmth in it.

Chuanmei and Gong Nan set down their brooms and walked over.

“Here are some pastries. The school cafeteria will be closed from noon today until noon tomorrow, so I brought you some snacks,” Third Aunt said, handing a plastic bag to Chuanmei. Though Nangong had arrived first, Third Aunt secretly preferred Chuanmei. It wasn’t exactly affection, but Chuanmei was simply more agreeable to her. Nangong was too rebellious; if not for certain reasons within the courtyard that prevented recruiting new members, Third Aunt would never have allowed her to stay. Chuanmei, on the other hand, seemed like a normal, well-behaved ten-year-old girl.

After taking the bag, Chuanmei glanced inside at the golden-yellow mini-breads, which emitted an enticing aroma. Unfortunately, the scent wasn’t appealing to vampires, so as soon as Third Aunt left, Chuanmei handed the bag to Gong Nan.

Gong Nan shot her a look but said nothing, simply taking the bag back to her room.

*******

Today was June 15th. Chuanmei felt puzzled. Why was the cafeteria closing today when tomorrow was the 16th? The little girl had said the children would emerge on the 16th, so what was the purpose of stopping food service now?

At noon, Chuanmei entered the teaching building again.

The last time Chuanmei came, she didn’t directly rescue the children because any attempt would have been futile. The carrier proteins in their cell membranes had already been destroyed, and even if she took them all to a hospital, they wouldn’t survive long. Instead, Chuanmei chose to find the source of this evil. She had a strong feeling that this orphanage was not their only base of operations.

This time, Chuanmei immediately detected a distinctly different aura. Unlike the alluring scents emanating from the surroundings, this aura was remarkably ordinary. To Chuanmei, it was like a piece of green vegetable dropped into a plate of stir-fried meat.

Chuanmei raised an eyebrow. Last time, everything had been tempting meat. How had a genetic mutation suddenly turned it into a vegetable?

Now standing beside this “vegetable,” Chuanmei found it almost too normal. Having never encountered a Blood Refinement Instrument used on ordinary people before, she couldn’t determine if this was a complication or if the child, like the little girl, had experienced some unknown phenomenon.

As Chuanmei stood there, she suddenly felt conflicted about what to do. Objectively speaking, this child seemed like a normal kid. Chuanmei debated whether she should send him away, but there were too many unknowns. If the child had any underlying issues, it could easily cause unforeseen harm in the ordinary world.

Finally, Chuanmei sighed, reached out, and placed her hand on the child’s head, silently reciting two lines.

Then, Chuanmei collapsed onto the desk in the form of that child.

The camera in the upper right corner of the classroom recorded nothing.

Lying motionless on the desk, doing nothing, was agonizing. Chuanmei felt an unbearable itch all over her body.

“Don’t move,” a tiny voice whispered.

Chuanmei realized it was her deskmate speaking softly.

“Why?” she whispered back. Only then did she realize almost everyone was awake, lying motionless on their desks. Anger surged through her. No one understood the horror of this utterly freedomless existence better than she did! Even when she could still move, she had felt despair about living. How much worse was it now, when she was as immobile as a statue? This was utter dehumanization!

“When can we move?” Chuanmei whispered.

“Why are you asking so early? You always wait until the end to ask.”

Chuanmei obediently closed her eyes. 

The saying was right: the more you speak, the more mistakes you make.

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