Chapter 21: A Hunter’s Game and a Predator’s Scent

Over the next few days, Su Mian executed his plan to “accelerate the capture of Xiao Moyuan” with relentless fervor. His online behavior grew increasingly bold and revealing, almost to the point of uninhibited self-expression.

Late at night, he would send blurry, steamy photos of his collarbone, accompanied by the message: [Brother, I just finished showering and can’t sleep. I’m thinking of you…]

He would share links to songs with suggestive undertones, then playfully add: [The lyrics are all about me and Brother~]

He even deliberately posted online memes, then feigned innocence as he asked: [Brother, is what they say about ‘seven times in one night’ really true? I’m a little curious, but also a little scared…]

He employed nearly every seductive tactic he could conceive, much like an eager angler frantically baiting the water, hoping to instantly reel in the big fish named Xiao Moyuan.

Yet, Xiao Moyuan’s reactions remained consistently like a block of solid ice, slowly melting over a gentle flame.

He never rejected Su Mian’s “offerings,” and even provided responses. However, these replies always carried an air of condescending, effortlessly composed calm.

When faced with a blurry photo, he would respond: [The pixel quality is too poor. Next time, send a clearer one.]

To the shared song, he would comment: [Your taste isn’t bad. You could try listening to more classical music to refine it.]

As for the audacious questions, his replies would leave Su Mian seething with frustration: [Theoretically, it’s feasible. Practice reveals truth, so you can give it a try.]

[Yuan: All talk and no action is just posturing. Save these internet quotes of yours for our Mid-Autumn Festival meeting, and say them to me in person.]

Just when Su Mian was most intoxicated and convinced of his imminent success, Xiao Moyuan would subtly steer the conversation back to the ultimate topic of “Mid-Autumn Festival meeting.”

It was like a bucket of cold water, drenching Su Mian to his very core.

This profound sense of powerlessness left him frustrated, yet even more unwilling to give up. He could only grit his teeth and continue what he believed to be his “hunt.”

***

Several evenings later, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of warm orange.

The dismissal bell rang, and students surged out of the academic building like a tide.

Su Mian packed his bag, and his gaze immediately found Shen Zhixia in the throng. She walked alone, her head bowed, moving slowly.

Since their last unpleasant parting, they hadn’t spoken properly in days.

Watching his childhood friend’s somewhat lonely figure, the lingering resentment in Su Mian’s heart dissipated. In its place, a pang of concern emerged, along with an urge to reconcile.

He took a deep breath and quickly hurried after her.

“Zhixia!” He caught up to her, walking beside her, trying to make his tone sound light and natural. “Want to walk together? Are you… doing okay lately?”

Hearing his voice, Shen Zhixia slowly lifted her head.

The moment her eyes met his, Su Mian’s heart gave a sudden, sharp lurch.

Shen Zhixia’s complexion was an extremely unhealthy pallor, as if she hadn’t seen daylight in a long time.

Her usually vibrant eyes now appeared somewhat hollow, with faint dark circles beneath them. Her entire being exuded an indescribable weariness and a sense of… disorientation.

Her mental state seemed utterly unwell.

“Ah Mian…” Shen Zhixia’s voice was soft and slightly hoarse. She forced a smile. “I’m fine…”

Her words abruptly trailed off.

The instant she turned her head, her gaze involuntarily fixed upon Su Mian’s neck.

The golden afterglow of the setting sun, filtering through the classroom window, perfectly illuminated the exposed, fair skin of Su Mian’s neck. It sharply outlined the boy’s slender, graceful neck, even revealing the faint bluish veins beneath.

An intensely rich, ineffably alluring sweet scent suddenly surged into Shen Zhixia’s nostrils!

This fragrance did not originate from perfume or skincare products; it emanated from blood itself, from Su Mian’s body, which seemed to possess a unique vitality.

To Shen Zhixia, who was now ravenously thirsty, this scent was like a traveler who had trekked through the desert for three days and nights suddenly discovering a spring of clear, sweet water before them.

“Gulp…”

A distinct sound of swallowing echoed abruptly amidst the slightly noisy backdrop of the crowd.

Shen Zhixia’s pupils subtly constricted. In her previously hollow eyes, an incredibly sharp, blood-red glint, filled with primal desire, flashed into existence.

Her gaze was locked immovably on Su Mian’s neck, her throat working. Her fangs even began to throb with a faint itch.

The most primal, savage impulse—to pounce, tear through that delicate skin, and indulge in the sweet blood—swept over her reason like a tsunami.

Startled by her suddenly changed, predatory gaze, Su Mian instinctively took half a step back. He touched his own neck, asking in confusion, “Zhixia? What’s wrong? Is there something on my neck?”

Shen Zhixia snapped back to reality!

Reason, like a cold tide, instantly extinguished the desire that had nearly consumed her.

She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging deeply into her palms, using the pain to maintain her lucidity.

She forced herself to avert her gaze, lowering her head to conceal the terrifying red glow and tumultuous emotions that had not yet fully receded from her eyes.

‘What was I thinking?!’

‘That’s Ah Mian! It’s Su Mian, who I grew up with!’

‘How could I… how could I want to drink his blood?!’

A profound sense of fear and self-loathing seized her.

She finally realized with chilling clarity that she was no longer human.

This body no longer craved ordinary food, but the fresh blood of its own kind.

And this very craving had almost driven her to attack the person she knew best!

“No… nothing.” Shen Zhixia’s voice held an almost imperceptible tremor. She dared not look at Su Mian again, speaking rapidly, “I just remembered something I need to do. I’ll go ahead!”

With that, she practically fled, stumbling into the crowd and quickly vanishing as if another second’s delay would cause that terrifying desire to spiral out of control once more.

Su Mian stood rooted to the spot, utterly bewildered as he watched Shen Zhixia’s panicked retreat.

He touched his own unblemished neck, his heart filled with confusion and a strange sense of loss.

‘Zhixia’s gaze just now… it was so strange…’

‘It was like… like someone starving seeing a delicious cake…’

This absurd comparison made him shiver, yet he immediately dismissed it as overthinking. He shook his head, attributing the odd sensation to Shen Zhixia perhaps feeling unwell or being in a bad mood.

He remained oblivious that he had, unwittingly, just skirted the edge of danger.

The blood of his body, currently undergoing unknown transformations, was a top-tier, irresistible temptation for certain beings.

Meanwhile, by an unoccupied corridor window on the second floor of the academic building, a tall figure had been standing for an unknown duration.

Xiao Moyuan leaned against the window frame, his profound gaze calmly tracking the dispersing crowd below.

It finally settled precisely on the spot where Su Mian and Shen Zhixia had briefly converged and then abruptly separated.

He was somewhat distant, unable to discern their exact conversation.

However, the intensely charged scene—Shen Zhixia’s sudden, predatory gaze, and her final, almost uncontrolled, panicked flight—had all been captured by his eyes.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his long fingers unconsciously tapping gently on the windowsill.

‘Is the hunger already so pronounced…’ he murmured coldly to himself. Shen Zhixia’s undisguised, bloodthirsty craving for Su Mian further confirmed his assessment. This demonic entity was close to losing control.

His gaze then lightly swept over the slender young man—Su Mian—who still stood bewildered, touching his neck.

This troublesome individual had, unexpectedly, become the catalyst that prompted the prey to prematurely reveal its weaknesses.

Furthermore, why did Shen Zhixia exhibit such unusual interest in him?

Was it merely a random choice, or… was there something special about Su Mian himself?

A faint, elusive hint of inquiry flickered in Xiao Moyuan’s eyes.

It seemed that before the net was cast, aside from Shen Zhixia, Su Mian—who inexplicably kept appearing in his line of sight—also warranted a closer look.

The sun fully sank below the horizon, and night began to fall.

Su Mian walked alone back to his dorm, his mood growing increasingly heavy with the frustration of his online seduction attempts and the stalemate in his relationship with his childhood friend.

And in the deepening night, the hunter’s gaze had already locked onto more than one target.