Inside the instance.
This time, when Che Quan entered the "Little Black Room" with Jiang Cong, his symptoms became even more severe and pronounced.
Not only were his arms and legs weak, forcing him to rely on Jiang Cong to hold him, but his whole body also began to heat up. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and his eyes returned to their shadowy, rose-red hue, veiled in a thin mist.
His fangs naturally reverted as well, without his realizing it.
In the darkness, Jiang Cong held the vampire boy suffering a bout of skin hunger syndrome, tightening his arms and refusing to let go.
At that point, Che Quan could no longer be bothered to put up a pointless fight with Jiang Cong.
Being held like this did, after all, ease the discomfort of skin hunger syndrome to some extent.
As for the other things the Instance System had so cautiously spat out of its filthy mouth... he would not agree to a single one, would never do as it said, and certainly would not allow Jiang Cong to do anything of the sort.
All Che Quan could think about now was killing these people one by one, destroying this entire school, the instance, and the audience. Only then would the rage lodged in his chest subside.
"Che Quan... your name is rather unusual." Jiang Cong sat on the sofa with refined elegance, his long silver hair cascading like moonlight.
Sitting beside Che Quan, he toyed with Che Quan's languid, pleasantly warm fingers as he spoke.
"Shut up."
Even Che Quan's rebuke was languid now, carrying an allure he was entirely unaware of.
"May I touch your fangs?"
"Get lost."
Jiang Cong did not mind the repeated, blunt refusals. Instead, he gave a mischievous little laugh.
Lifting his hand, he unexpectedly touched his slender fingertips to the sharp, snowy-white fangs pressing into Che Quan's lower lip.
The sudden contact made Che Quan, already in a bad way, let out a loud, muffled sound and jerk back.
Though teeth were hard and could serve as sharp weapons, their surfaces were strangely sensitive.
Especially when someone else reached out to stroke them, the sensation felt distinctly unusual.
That was true of Che Quan's fangs-more so, even.
"You!" Once Che Quan recovered his senses, fury surged through him again.
He was about to settle the score when Jiang Cong interrupted him in a warm, unhurried voice. "Doesn't that feel much better? More of your symptoms have gone away, haven't they?"
Che Quan paused, instinctively checking how his body felt. Only after discovering that he was indeed much more comfortable did his anger ease a little.
But there was still a score to settle.
Taking advantage of having recovered most of his energy and strength, Che Quan went after Jiang Cong again.
With a faint, ambiguous smile, Jiang Cong teased him softly. "How heartless. Turning on me the moment you're done using me."
Che Quan was utterly unmoved by those words, let alone burdened by any moral scruples.
Vampires did not abide by human morals or laws.
Then the two began fighting again, trading blows with neither willing to give ground.
Every strike Che Quan threw was meant to kill.
But Jiang Cong dodged each one with ease, even turning Che Quan's own force against him to draw him back into his arms.
The tireless viewers posting live comments pressed their ears against their screens every time, trying to make out those barely audible exchanges.
Catching even a single word would send the live comments into a frenzy of celebration and speculation.
Unfortunately, none of them knew that Jiang Cong had used the highest-grade Blocking Item.
No matter how close outsiders leaned in, they could not overhear a thing.
By the end of this encounter, Che Quan had finally recovered from his bout of skin hunger syndrome.
He prepared to leave the darkness without looking back.
Then Jiang Cong spoke behind him, sounding as though he were joking. "Hey, shall we try something more fun next time?"
Che Quan replied icily, "What?"
"Hmm... in vampire terms, I believe it's called..."
Jiang Cong articulated the final two words very softly, an unhurried smile lingering in his refined, magnetic voice.
"Drop dead."
Hearing that, Che Quan hurled back those chilling words, strode out, and slammed the door behind him.
In the pitch-black little room, Jiang Cong chuckled softly.
There was no mistaking the boundless indulgence and unfathomable depth in that laugh.
Finally, Jiang Cong murmured to himself, as though sighing in satisfaction, "Che Quan..."
A vampire noble who was forever proud and conceited, unwilling to bow to anyone.
A noble who, because of his pure blood, had been adored by everyone since childhood and disdained lowering his head... his elder brother.
Yet now, he could only lie in Jiang Cong's arms and let him touch his sacred, inviolable fangs at will, entirely unaware that Jiang Cong was carefully maneuvering him into a trap.
Back then, Jiang Cong had been a discarded "bastard" of half-human, half-vampire blood, forever drifting at the outermost edge of their kind, a solitary creature who was neither human nor vampire.
And in that earlier era when vampires ruled the world, Che Quan had been heaven's favored son, an arrogant crown prince showered with every affection, proud and haughty to the extreme.
They were not actually related.
Che Quan had been born into the royal aristocracy, his parents both renowned pureblood vampires.
As for Jiang Cong's parents, his father was an exiled vampire noble whose fortunes had long since faded, while his mother was a washerwoman from the slums. She had happened to save his father, and the two had secretly married and brought him into the world.
He only called Che Quan his elder brother because Che Quan had been born a little earlier than him.
They were as far apart as the clouds and the mud, their paths never meant to cross.
Except for that one time. That time had been an accident.
He had still been young then, thin and frail, reckless and fearless. To raise money for his mother's treatment when illness left her life hanging by a thread, he had gritted his teeth and gone out begging in the heavy snow, despite having nothing to wear but a ragged short shirt and thin trousers.
Dignity and pride mattered far less than a full stomach, warm clothes, and a healthy loved one.
But the streets were crowded, and every passerby hurried along.
When humans saw his tiny fangs and silver hair, they cried out in fear and scattered like startled birds and beasts.
And the moment vampires caught the human scent on him, they drove him away with contempt and disgust.
Nowhere could he find a sense of belonging.
Aimless and heedless of his freezing hands and feet, his little figure trudged through the thickly falling snow, holding a chipped bowl with nothing inside.
Suddenly, a luxurious carriage inlaid with gemstones appeared in his path.
Or rather, he had unwittingly blocked its way.
The carriage stopped.
The plush curtain at the front of the carriage was lifted.
A little vampire boy peered out, with ink-black hair, vivid red eyes, and fair skin.
The little boy's fangs were white as snow, tiny and endearingly delicate.
His soft, fair chin, still a little rounded with baby fat, was tilted slightly upward, giving him an air of pride and self-respect.
Jiang Cong looked up at him in a daze and instinctively held out his chipped bowl to beg. But in the next instant, the gulf between them made him feel painfully ashamed of his own inadequacy.
So he cautiously drew his hand back.
For the first time, he felt that he was terribly rash, crude, and unfit to be seen.
The little boy's voice was soft and childish, yet his questions were cold. "Why are you blocking the way? And why are you holding a bowl? Are you trying to attack me?"
He hurriedly shook his head and replied in a small voice, "My mother's sick. I don't have any money."
He could not get the next words, "I wanted to beg for some," out.
He had clearly made up his mind that dignity did not matter at all.
But the young Jiang Cong had not known then that, no matter what, no one wanted to look so utterly humiliated, wretched, and pitiful in front of someone they liked.
Before you continue