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Seven centuries apart, a tale of blood, devotion, and the cosmic dark.
On that fateful day, a girl was brought into the Mu estate, her body a map of scars. The world was baffled: why would the cold, solitary, and absolute Mu Fei take in a pathetic little stutterer?
Mu Fei, the heartless matriarch of the shadows, felt nothing but a lingering headache. “How long do you intend to follow me?” she demanded.
“You… like… flowers,” the girl whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I want to… give them to you.”
With a heart newly awakened to love, the girl held out a bouquet of small purple blossoms in her scarred hands, offering them to the beloved sovereign who belonged only to the darkness.
Ten years later, at an awards ceremony: Someone asked her, “Miss You, why do you always cover your neck whenever you appear in public?” You Ran wore a subtle, complex expression. “I suppose I’m just sensitive to the cold,” she explained softly.
In truth, she was helpless. The Great One she adored—a seven-hundred-year-old, fastidious, germaphobic, and aloof Vampire—had one supreme obsession: To sink her fangs into You Ran’s neck, Leaving behind a proprietary mark.
Even when the pain brought tears to her eyes, she willingly remained the other’s “Blood-Food Dessert.” For she was destined to be her Nightingale.
“Upon her lips lies the direction of my heart.”
