Chapter 162: Whose Dream
Another bright and sunny morning arrives. The little blood servants, in small groups, begin their activities after finishing breakfast.
It seems as though the entire Spring Festival holiday has passed, but for the closed-off Hyacinth Manor, the rhythm of collective life remains unchanged after years.
Training, studying, and work are still the main components of life for most.
Meng Huai wakes up early, now dressed in a brand-new suit, aimlessly wandering through the various hallways of the manor’s main building.
Occasionally, he passes by little blood servants who quickly lower their heads, almost pressing against the walls to avoid his path, as if they have seen something terrifying.
Upon reaching the large terrace on the second floor, he gazes out at the beautiful scenery inside and outside the manor, where some are exercising, others engrossed in books, and some are trimming plants in the greenery or cleaning up.
Everywhere, there are waves of pheromones fluctuating in strength and scent, most of them unfamiliar, plain, or gentle, occasionally mixed with some restlessness or overwhelming excitement.
This world is starkly different from the oppressive, distorted, and cruel realm of dreams, reminiscent of a paradise, appearing somewhat unreal.
“The dining room is on the west side of the first floor, the third floor is mainly for various training rooms, and the basement has a shooting range.”
A stranger’s voice comes from behind. Meng Huai turns to see a woman dressed in a sexy black gown looking at him with a faint smile.
Elegant and dignified, graceful and charming, she exudes an elusive aura that is hard to define.
Meng Huai does not respond, merely gazing at the suddenly appearing beautiful woman with confusion, feeling a twinge of fear and tension.
“Do you know who you are? Or rather, do you know who they are?”
Wan Yue pays no mind to Meng Huai’s expression as she walks past him, leaning slightly against the terrace railing and lighting a cigarette.
In her quiet tones, the chaos surrounding Wan Yue gradually dissipates, transforming into an imposing and solemn presence that shines brilliantly and feels unattainable.
Meng Huai swallows hard, slightly lowering his head, battling an uncomfortable sense of suffocation, and answers in a low voice, “They are vampires… the Blood Race, just like in the dream.”
“Is the only clear memory you have left that of a certain woman?”
Wan Yue turns her head, half-smiling but with a cold tone, “What lies ahead is all unknown, but if the past is too fragmented, your path will be unstable, making it impossible to discuss a new life.”
“But I forgot, there isn’t much that can be brought out of dreams.”
Meng Huai is taken aback, slowly shaking his head.
“Forgotten, or afraid to remember?”
Wan Yue restrains her aura and steps in front of Meng Huai, scrutinizing his tall and proportionate figure again, her smile growing more pronounced.
She reaches out her finger and flicks away a speck of dust from Meng Huai’s suit, saying with a smile, “This little girl can’t even choose the color of her tie… Meng Huai, stay here as long as you need to, until you remember everything and are ready to make plans.”
“My name is Wan Yue; you can call me Sister Wan. Feel free to come find me on the top floor if you have questions. I’m much more reliable than certain girls.”
After speaking, the cigarette butt in her hand arcs beautifully as it falls into the trash can. She turns her waist and walks away gracefully.
“Wait!” Meng Huai comes to his senses and quickly takes a couple of steps after her. Jiang Yan… Where is she?
Do you think that once she is out of your sight, this world becomes unreal? Your luck is actually pretty good; there is an anchor that holds you tightly…
Wan Yue stops, slightly tilting her head as her tone turns colder, “You are already of the Blood Race; you have long since become familiar with her scent. Go find her yourself… We of the Blood Race do not necessarily have to rely on our eyes to discern the truth of this world.”
“Remember, before going to the dining room, find Dr. Lu and get an injection of hormonal inhibitors; otherwise, you will be the monster in this world.”
Wan Yue’s figure fades away, and Meng Huai turns back, staring blankly at the world outside the terrace, feeling lost and helpless.
…
A lithe figure dances between the valleys and forests, stretching gracefully, light and buoyant, reminiscent of budding spring flowers.
Perhaps no one has ever seen this lively and spirited side of Jiang Yan.
After completing the first phase of warm-up exercises, Jiang Yan returns to a forest clearing halfway up the mountain, unrolling a yoga mat, shedding her outer jacket, and sitting on the ground.
At times, she stretches her arms and legs; at times, she curves her body and presses her waist, sending out rhythmic bursts of precisely controlled, boiling blood pheromones. Starting with a deep, robust force, they gradually transition to a subtle tranquility, then suddenly intensify in fervor, ultimately returning to a gentle softness.
After a full set of basic practice, Jiang Yan feels a bit tired and slightly sweaty, yet her mood is clearer and more pleasant than ever.
Mood, perhaps, is the best nutrient and growth elixir in this world. Today, Jiang Yan feels particularly good; that internal sense of congestion seems to be gradually loosening.
Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes, Jiang Yan is suddenly startled to see Meng Huai sitting on a large rock not far away, staring blankly at her.
For the past hour, Meng Huai has been observing quietly from a distance.
Admiring the graceful curves of the girl’s body, his gaze follows her every move, while also enduring the impact of her vibrant aura. Though Meng Huai’s expression shows slight unease, he remains unwilling to back away, quietly keeping watch.
Surprised that Meng Huai found her, Jiang Yan hurriedly grabs her sports jacket to cover her enticing figure beneath the yoga practice attire.
“The basic practice method summarized by Sister Wan can improve our control over hormonal levels, helping to stabilize boiling blood.”
Jiang Yan’s cheeks are flushed as she takes the water cup offered by Meng Huai, adjusting her posture to avoid his gaze.
“It feels impressive, but I don’t know how to do any of this.” Meng Huai shifts his focus away from her, pointing at his own body. “I like this feeling; I can sense where you are with my eyes closed, and I can feel your emotions.”
“I can teach you later.” Jiang Yan smiles brightly and even points to her arm. “Remember, every twenty-four hours, you need to inject the hormonal inhibitors; otherwise, you’ll frighten them.”
“Understood, then am I… Li Huai or Meng Huai?”
The young man fumbles with the water bottle, hesitant.
“You’re both.” Jiang Yan takes a sip of water, blinking her beautiful big eyes, her voice exceptionally gentle. “Which one do you want to be?”
Meng Huai hesitates, falling into deep thought as a series of fragmented dream images flicker in his mind.
After a minute, Meng Huai lifts his head and nods gently, “Meng Huai, that’s what you all call me… so it must be real.”
“Really? You still want to be Meng Huai, right?”
Jiang Yan’s smile appears somewhat strained, a touch of disappointment flickering in her heart.
Meng Huai does not respond. His face grows pale, and his body involuntarily hunches, trembling slightly. Veins on his forehead stand out, and a layer of cold sweat breaks out on his brow.
“Meng Huai!”
Jiang Yan quickly jumps off her yoga mat, steadying the shivering, wobbling body of Meng Huai, fearing her earlier words had upset him.
“I… I want to drink your blood… just a little… I don’t want to dream.”
No, he does not have blood cravings, Wan Yue is correct. He has simply become reliant on my blood to suppress the withdrawal symptoms from He Lan’s addiction… Touching Meng Huai’s cold, sweaty forehead and trembling wrist, Jiang Yan feels a sense of gloom.
Suddenly, Meng Huai’s body lurches forward, arms outstretched as he tightly embraces Jiang Yan, trembling in response to the enticing scent of her aura.
Driven by some uncontainable frenzied thought mixed with bone-deep anxiety, Meng Huai uncontrollably activates his boiling blood.
“Meng Huai, you must hold on! It will be alright!”
Jiang Yan does not resist but continues to gently pat his back, speaking soft words to soothe him while she releases a gentle aura to help ground his increasingly chaotic mind.
A chaotic, nearly uncontrollable aura reminiscent of boiling blood surges silently, impacting both of them, yet it never crosses the line into danger.
Distorted fangs slowly draw closer.
The black-haired girl’s snowy neck skin quietly degenerates at the last moment, transforming into a soft kiss pressed lightly against the skin behind her ear.
It’s okay, Meng Huai, you can hold on!
Feeling the warmth behind her ear, Jiang Yan’s body quivers slightly, her hand patting his back momentarily pausing, heat creeping into her ears.
Meng Huai does not answer. His lips rest against Jiang Yan’s neck, his body gradually relaxes, and he falls asleep.
This is not a bewildered delusion resulting from losing control; it is the genuine experience of profound mental exhaustion after an inner struggle. He has said goodbye to the dream and has tentatively found his footing in the real world.
Jiang Yan holds Meng Huai tightly, slowly walking towards the yoga mat behind her, gently laying him down, then sitting beside him, smiling quietly as she waits for him to wake up again.
On a small hillside in the woods, a rough pavilion, and a crude stone table and benches, Wan Yue watches with a bright smile the enchanting scene unfolding in a forest clearing on the mountainside.
Behind her, Jiang Yao is fuming, while Zheng Shaolin and Xiao Ling stare wide-eyed at each other.
Is that Xiao Yan?
Xiao Ling slowly raises her hand, pointing disbelievingly into the distance.
Cough, cough… Xiao Yan is really good at taking care of people; it’s quite normal for a patient, right?
Zheng Shaolin also tilts his head slightly, smiling awkwardly. He perhaps has a more rigid impression of Jiang Yan than others, yet feels it unnecessary as a man to join Xiao Ling in her astonishment.
Speaking of which, let’s have a barbecue party tonight, it should be lively.
Wan Yue confirms today’s weekend activity, laughing as she tosses away her cigarette butt and gets up to leave.
As Wan Yue and the three slowly walk away, Jiang Yao finally refocuses her gaze toward the distance. To her astonishment, Jiang Yan has placed Meng Huai’s head on her lap!
Out of nowhere, some emotion surges within her, and Jiang Yao takes out her phone, dialing Zhong Jing’s number.
At Hyacinth Manor, there’s a barbecue party tonight, come quickly! Jiang Yao grits her teeth as she says.
Ah? Now? I’m still working overtime… On the other end, Zhong Jing seems busy, and she can hear the sounds of typing.
Forget it!
Jiang Yao feels an overwhelming sense of frustration, slapping the hang-up button, casting one last glance at the pair in the distance, before turning sharply, her boiling blood surging as she leaps away.
The pheromone storm filled with anger sweeps through the Hyacinth Manor, causing chaos, and even Jiang Yan lifts her head in surprise.
Xiao Yao, she…
Gently stroking Meng Huai’s hair, Jiang Yan offers a wry smile.
Having just bid farewell to the lively Lantern Festival, they are now welcoming the barbecue party on Sunday night; the little blood servants of Hyacinth Manor are utterly thrilled.
Perhaps due to the hormonal inhibitors, Meng Huai’s presence no longer seems so strange. At least when he sits beside Jiang Yan, nearly everyone accepts his reasonable existence.
Jiang Yan chooses the most secluded corner, with no one within seven or eight meters, sharing a small bonfire and barbecue grill with Meng Huai.
Meng Huai is somewhat clumsy yet earnest, bringing whatever ingredients are ready just as they reach the point of being charred to taste before handing them to Jiang Yan.
In contrast, Jiang Yan’s barbecue skills are at a significantly higher level; different ingredients are always taken off at just the right moment, neatly passing them to Meng Huai.
Thus, one finds it hard to swallow while the other relishes the flavors; this absurd exchange seems a little ridiculous, yet both are willingly indulging.
Having only ever seen Zhong Jing paired with Jiang Yao, Jiang Yan’s image is often that of a solitary figure, or simply accompanied by Wan Yue or Zhao Peng in a professional manner.
In the eyes of certain individuals, a few months ago, by Jinhe Club’s entrance, a proud sycophant has, a few months later, repeated the same role and, emboldened by some mental deficiency, is even more reckless.
Zheng Shaolin and Xiao Ling, this time, do not fall behind. Their relationship has rapidly heated due to the former’s severe injury, and perhaps seeing Xiao Ai and Zhao Peng’s progress has instilled a sense of urgency in Xiao Ling.
This strange blend of meal shared is naturally a surprise to some.
Before long, Jiang Yao has distanced herself from the crowd, sitting by the waterfall’s pool, silently staring at the bonfire in the distance, lost in thought.
“Some people are almost awake from their dreams, but others have just begun to enter them… Tsk, tsk, being a woman is indeed troublesome.”
Wan Yue appears by the waterfall, her voice penetrating the noisy and dull sound of flowing water, clearly audible.
“Sister Wan… I’m not happy.”
Jiang Yao glances at the figure that quietly appears by the water’s edge under the moonlight, softly speaking.
“Are you referring to the past Meng Huai or the present Li Huai?” Wan Yue steps closer to Jiang Yao, gently caressing her hair with a meaningful smile, “Neither of them is complete, yet they are the person Jiang Yan longs for in her heart, just coincidentally overlapping.”
“The man now is just a patched-up mess, isn’t he?”
Jiang Yao bites her lip, unwillingness etched across her face.
“Wan Niu, your life has already begun, but perhaps Jiang Yan’s life is only truly unveiling from last night.”
“Alright, don’t get entangled. You’ve learned to experience; now you must learn to observe.”
Wan Yue hugs Jiang Yao close, softly stroking her back like a mother.
“Sister Wan, I have one more question…”
“Hm?”
“I’m feeling a bit breathless… Are you a D or an E?”
“Oh dear!”
After a playful pinch to the head from Wan Yue, Jiang Yao covers her head, a face full of grievance.
Late at night, in a high-end villa community in Zone Q, the Zhong family.
“Miss He, it’s almost midnight. Your health has just recovered; you should get some rest.”
Zhong Jing shifts his gaze from the complex documents on the screen to He Jian Qing, who is sitting beside him, quietly and obediently.
Since returning from Japan a few days ago, He Jian Qing has become particularly clingy, never straying far and not interrupting. Her words have lessened, and her demeanor shifted from poised to indecisive.
“Aren’t you feeling unwell as well, but still working hard?”
Noticing that he paused his work, He Jian Qing leans in a bit more, wrapping her arms around Zhong Jing’s, resting her head on his shoulder and softly saying, “Brother Jing, call me Qing Ya; you’ve never been willing to call me that.”
“Are you really that attached to this formalism?”
Zhong Jing chuckles, casually fiddling with his pen, not rejecting her affectionate gesture at this moment.
“Brother Jing, in Japan, those who can call me Qing Ya are the ones who make me feel hypocritical, disgusting, and fearful… but it’s my name, so why shouldn’t it come from the lips of someone I love? Even if you don’t love me, it shouldn’t sound unpleasant.”
He Jian Qing rubs her cheek against Zhong Jing’s arm, an expression of anticipation on her face.
“Mm, Qing Ya, actually we can be very good friends.”
After a moment’s contemplation, Zhong Jing clears his throat slightly and finally utters the name she has been yearning to hear, only for the second half of his sentence to carry a colder tone.
“Brother Jing, I love how cautious you are, hiding behind your nonchalance; it makes me feel like you truly value me.”
He Jian Qing hugs him tighter, her eyes sparkling with relief. “Brother Jing, you know, I’ve never felt the need to possess an ordinary person. Just the surface can feel so difficult and extravagant.”
“I somewhat understand Sister Mi Xiang now; she chose mutually beneficial happiness instead of merging into one. Perhaps I really don’t understand you.”
Zhong Jing is taken aback, examining her expression closely. A few seconds later, he suddenly laughs, “The mindset of ordinary people is so unfamiliar to you that you would rather deal with people like Wen Yang, like getting me to accept blood puppets.”
“But have you considered that once I become a blood race, my mindset and life pursuits could turn into the kind of person you find familiar yet loathsome? The more familiar something is, the easier it is to see its ugly side.”
While speaking, Zhong Jing withdraws his arm from He Jian Qing and opens the window behind him, lighting a cigarette, a wry smile on his face.
“You should have realized it by now. The way my father regards He Jian Mi Xiang, similarly with how I regard you, is precisely because we are ordinary people devoid of those motives and desires easily discernible by your kind.”
Perhaps having developed some interesting ideas, Zhong Jing casually opens a blank document with one hand and seriously types the words “Blood Race.”
Following that, he types three entries under this title: “Powerful, Long-lived, Will Fall.”
In my view, the blood race resembles an unchangeable profession rather than a way of life. From the moment of their creation, most blood race individuals are fervently bound by these three thematic fates—either advancing or regressing, with a predetermined endpoint in sight, much like animals.
What the blood race spends their whole lives doing is to achieve higher realms, longer lifespans, and whether or not they fall is merely a branching choice. They can renew or escalate but cannot deviate, and they will stop at nothing to achieve that.
Interacting with the blood race is actually quite simple, as for most of them, regardless of how they perform, their inner kindness, malice, and even desires are solidified.
Even when rare exceptions like He Jian Mi Xiang and you exist, they still cannot escape the confines of these three thematic fates. What can be done is merely to make this cage look more glamorous.
Glancing at the few lines on the computer screen, He Jian Qing feels somewhat lost, her body gradually stiffening.
In contrast, as ordinary people, continuously gaining strength and extending life are fantasies found only in novels, movies, or games. The vast majority of mortals cannot dedicate their entire lives to pursuing these ethereal and elusive fantasies.
Because these notions are merely trivial delights ordinary people use to ease emotions but cannot alter the fate of their lives.
Thus, we accept our fate, live as we please, full of flaws, rich and colorful; we are utterly unreasonable. You can see the mundane, the kind, and the despicable among us…
In our limited lives, each person tries their best to become the person they want to be remembered as—either content with the status quo, achieving everlasting fame, or infamy.
Those who wish to pursue unrealistic fantasies often become the extreme outliers in the ordinary world, or rather… the blood race is born this way, having suffered through the myriad facets of humanity.
There is a very interesting phenomenon: throughout history, those who have caused deep calamities or glorious achievements in the world are often the ordinary little people in your eyes… thus, the lives of ordinary people are even more miraculous, filled with imagination, unfathomable, and even more appealing.
With that, Zhong Jing deletes the document, resuming a calm smile. In the study, the atmosphere is somewhat heavy, and He Jian Qing lowers her head, her expression forlorn.
Lord Wan Yue, Hyacinth, and Jiang Yao are also blood races… they are actually the same as me!
A few seconds later, He Jian Qing bites her lip and reluctantly speaks.
No, their greatest difference from you lies in living like ordinary people; often, I forget that they are blood races.
Zhong Jing cradles his head in his hands, gazing up at the ceiling’s light fixtures, his eyes glinting with inexplicable brilliance. “What might be most important to them could be entirely different from what other blood races value. What they wish to resist is precisely that which you fear to confront.”
The freedom you relentlessly pursue is merely a weak option constrained by three fates. You only desire life to be a little less terrible, not necessarily better.
He Jian Qing appears surprised, or perhaps lost.
Soon after, He Jian Qing slowly rises, sitting in Zhong Jing’s embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest, tightly shutting her eyes, her body beginning to tremble.
Brother Jing, I’ve been a blood race since my birth. The world I see has always been, as you said, good or bad, all too transparent, filled with despair…
Brother Jing, teach me how to be an ordinary person… even just to experience an ordinary person’s dream would be enough.
