Chapter 23

When they returned to the mansion, dawn had already broken.

The vast white building cast a massive shadow in the morning light. The car stopped within that shadow, the sunlight not yet crossing the boundary.

Ning Qiuyan had regained some strength, but due to both physical and psychological reasons, he appeared extremely weak. He hadn’t eaten, nor slept, and even after such a long ride, his body was still cold.

His eyelids were closed; he knew he was being carried by Guan Heng again, but he didn’t want to open his eyes.

Ning Qiuyan had never considered himself a weak person.

Guan Heng, to him, blurred the lines of gender, representing only an identity, a form of power.

In such circumstances, he had lost the capital to resist.

Watching Guan Heng carry the young man out of the car, the Servants were astonished but dared not look too long. Ning Qiuyan vaguely heard someone go to call Uncle Kang, then sensed the light brighten through his eyelids, and the surroundings grow warmer-he must have been carried into the house.

Guan Heng walked steadily; Ning Qiuyan didn’t feel any jostling at all. Carrying a person weighing over a hundred jin seemed to be nothing for Guan Heng.

This explained why Guan Heng could so easily lift him by the lake last time-a reclusive patient with a severe illness couldn’t do that, but a powerful non-human could.

“Bang-”

Ning Qiuyan heard the sound of the door opening.

He had no idea Guan Heng had already carried him upstairs until he was placed on the bed, realizing he was back in the room he’d stayed in before.

Guan Heng laid him on his side; when Ning Qiuyan opened his eyes, he saw Guan Heng’s lapel and the silver-gray sash at his waist, the material extremely smooth-it was the robe he’d seen before.

Then, his gaze dropped and he saw the bloodstains on his own clothes, wanting to sit up.

“Lie down,” Guan Heng’s voice sounded above his head.

“It’s too dirty,” Ning Qiuyan still sat up, unable to bear it, “It smells so bloody.”

He felt Guan Heng ruffle his hair, much like Lu Qianque would, but Guan Heng’s touch was more perfunctory.

For some reason, his eyes suddenly grew hot.

A belated sense of grievance and anger flared in his heart. Their previous agreement hadn’t included anything like this, but now he didn’t dare mention anything-who knew if Guan Heng might just bite him?

Guan Heng said, “Eat something before you take a shower.”

Perhaps Guan Heng wasn’t skilled at caring for a human, but he at least knew the basics-one shouldn’t bathe when blood sugar is low.

Ning Qiuyan turned his face away, saying nothing.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Guan Heng crouched down, holding his hand and looking at his face.

The scene resembled an adult coaxing a child.

Guan Heng’s long hair was tucked behind his ear, his expression calm, and his eyes had returned to an ink-black color-the previous hint of blood-red seemed to have sunk into the deep sea of his pupils.

He was so handsome that anyone looked at by this Guan Heng would find it hard to ignore his gaze.

Ning Qiuyan thought of a phrase from an ancient book: “Extreme beauty must be demonic.”

Of course, Guan Heng wasn’t demonic at all; his temperament always reminded Ning Qiuyan of the cool breeze in the mountains at night, or the morning dew on grass-completely different from the devil who had forced him to slaughter a sheep.

“Are you scared?” Guan Heng seemed to have become the gentle and refined version of himself again. “Or do you just find it unbearable?”

Ning Qiuyan still didn’t speak.

This kind of situation between them seemed to be a first.

Guan Heng finally said indifferently, “You’re facing a demon. Don’t imagine us to be too beautiful.”

Ning Qiuyan rested for a day. By evening, Uncle Kang told Guan Heng that Ning Qiuyan couldn’t eat.

Guan Heng looked up from his work, giving a bit of attention, and asked, “What dishes were prepared?”

Uncle Kang listed the day’s menu-there were both meat and vegetables, all very nutritious.

Guan Heng listened and said, “Switch to all vegetarian for the next few days. If that doesn’t work, make some desserts.”

Uncle Kang agreed.

That day, Ning Qiuyan was awake but didn’t go upstairs to find Guan Heng, nor did he visit his puzzle room. The puzzle left out last time was still exactly as it had been; Guan Heng said nothing about it.

Uncle Kang understood, and said to Guan Heng, “Don’t worry, he’ll get used to it gradually. Xiao Ning is a strong child.”

Guan Heng seemed thoughtful.

*

When Ning Qiuyan left with Lu Qianque, he said he was going to pack his things, but at the time he was too tense and confused, and left in a hurry, so he didn’t bring anything.

After changing out of his bloodstained clothes, he never saw them again. The Servants prepared some of Guan Heng’s clothes for him, already altered to fit his size.

In the afternoon, Dr. Ling came by to check his physical condition; Ning Qiuyan was very quiet throughout.

Dr. Ling knew that Ning Qiuyan had already figured out that the blood draws were just a pretense. They took so little each time that anyone with medical knowledge would quickly see through it-they were simply taking advantage of his innocence.

Dr. Ling thought that once Ning Qiuyan was in a better mood, he should apologize to him.

The next day, Ning Qiuyan started moving around.

He wandered around the house, observing how many people here were actually human.

When he ran into Uncle Kang, the latter seemed to notice his nervousness and told him, “Don’t be afraid. The only unusual person on the island is the gentleman; the rest of us are just like you.”

This relaxed Ning Qiuyan’s nerves a bit. He asked Uncle Kang when he could leave, and Uncle Kang replied, “I think you’ll have to wait until Young Master Lu brings news.”

Ning Qiuyan began to venture farther; not staying in that house made him feel much better.

Walking alone on Du Island, the scenery was as beautiful as ever.

When spring arrived and everything revived, he wondered what the landscape would look like then.

With nothing to pass the time, the days felt extremely long.

Unconsciously, he walked to the lighthouse he’d visited before. After climbing up, he remembered he didn’t have a phone now-even if there was signal, it wouldn’t matter.

From this vantage point, the vast blue sea was laid out before his eyes.
The long coastline lay silent, a dark cloud hanging in the sky.

He wondered how Ray was doing, whether he had been avenged by the Monster, and hoped Ray would have a pang of conscience and turn himself in.

He wondered if the Monster had harmed more people, and whether the police had discovered the two people-one dead, one injured-from that day.

All of this was beyond Ning Qiuyan’s ability to handle. He had come to Du Island in a daze, cluelessly investigating another unknown world, and only when he finally got an answer did he realize how foolish and ignorant his actions had been.

Ning Qiuyan slowly realized that something seemed off about himself lately; there were things he wouldn’t have done before.

He seemed to have become overly obsessive, addicted, stubborn. This odd feeling seemed to have started when he arrived at Du Island, but he couldn’t quite say why.

He quickly pushed aside the things he couldn’t figure out.

Leaning against the railing of the lighthouse, he hoped to see a helicopter in the sky-Lu Qianque would be arriving by helicopter.

Blown by the icy sea wind, Ning Qiuyan spaced out for a long time.

Someone called his name from below.

He swung his legs down from the railing and bent over to look.

From this height, people on the ground looked tiny, but he still recognized Guan Ziming.

“Ning Qiuyan!” Guan Ziming called out again.

Ning Qiuyan didn’t want to respond.

“Hey, are you coming down or not?” Guan Ziming shouted. “If you don’t, I’m leaving.”

Guan Ziming waited a minute, but Ning Qiuyan showed no intention of coming down.

He turned and walked away, but hadn’t gone far before Ning Qiuyan came down from the lighthouse and asked why he was calling.

Ning Qiuyan was wearing an overcoat, the length just right but the shoulders much too wide, giving him an oversized look that was actually quite stylish-completely different from his usual slovenly appearance.

The first time Guan Ziming saw him on the boat, his impression was that Ning Qiuyan dressed like a ball-so afraid of the cold, yet daring to come to Du Island.

“I’m going to draw blood now,” Guan Ziming said. “Want to see how it’s done?”

Draw blood?

Ning Qiuyan stood there, unmoving.

Last night, Ning Qiuyan had entered the farm standing, but was carried out horizontally by Guan Heng, covered in blood and pale-faced. Guan Ziming had spent the whole night feeling like an accomplice for handing over the knife and closing the door.

He’d felt a bit guilty, but with Ning Qiuyan’s sour expression, he didn’t want to ask further.

Guan Ziming headed back toward the farm, knowing Ning Qiuyan was following. He was familiar with the area, and took a shortcut rather than winding along the small paths.

There were some bushes along the way, and some Spanish Needle that stuck to clothes.

The two walked through the snow. Halfway, Guan Ziming looked back and saw Ning Qiuyan had stopped to pick Spanish Needle off his coat.

“These damn things are annoying,” Guan Ziming pointed out. “I never wear clothes that attract them. Looks aren’t everything.”

Ning Qiuyan was even less inclined to speak.

They reached the farm, and Ning Qiuyan finally said, “I’m not killing any sheep today.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward the sheep pen.

Inside, the flock was grazing. There was no scene of ewes searching for lambs as he’d imagined; everything looked perfectly ordinary.

“No one expects you to kill today,” Guan Ziming said. “Raising a sheep isn’t easy-you can’t slaughter them every day. Do you know how long it took me to clean up your mess? If everyone in the slaughterhouse worked like you, they’d never open for business.”

Ning Qiuyan: “…”

He watched Guan Ziming enter the place he’d spent the previous night, then come out with a set of equipment-clean, unopened syringes, similar to the ones Dr. Ling used.

Guan Ziming took him to the deer pen, where the deer greeted Guan Ziming warmly, crowding in for food.

Guan Ziming found some carrots, picked one at random for Ning Qiuyan to feed, and then quickly began drawing blood.

“Insert the needle here-they barely feel any pain,” Guan Ziming said. “Some have thick skin and flesh, don’t feel a thing. Once you’re skilled, drawing blood only takes a few minutes. No need to kill every time.”

Ning Qiuyan watched his movements and asked, “How much?”

Guan Ziming wasn’t sure what he was thinking. “Not much, just two hundred milliliters.”

Ning Qiuyan: “Oh.” Then, “How many times a day?”

Guan Ziming replied, “Two or three times. Not always deer-sometimes we switch it up.”

After feeding the carrot, Ning Qiuyan didn’t know what to do, so he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets.

Guan Ziming finished drawing blood and stroked the deer for a while. For a brief moment, a human warmth flickered across his usually expressionless face, so different from the person who’d once been brought to the island in handcuffs-he seemed to have adapted well here.

“You were brought back here,” Ning Qiuyan remembered Guan Heng saying. “So why did you run away?”

Guan Ziming’s cold expression returned. “I thought he was a blood-sucking devil.”

Ning Qiuyan thought, isn’t he?

Guan Ziming was about to say more when the sound of a truck came from not far away-someone from the mansion had arrived. He put down the blood bag, closed the insulated box, and walked over, probably to report in.

Ning Qiuyan grabbed a few more carrots to feed the deer.

Deer always seemed more intelligent than sheep. Being watched by them, Ning Qiuyan always feared they’d see through him as a butcher.

The weather was so cold, but the deer felt warm to the touch, and his mood improved a little.

Beside the deer pen was the chicken coop.

Guan Ziming, talking with someone, entered the chicken coop. Ning Qiuyan heard the hens clucking and glanced over, then was momentarily stunned.

There was an Old Woman, her hair snow-white, wearing an apron and carrying a beautiful woven basket, smiling as she collected eggs with Guan Ziming’s help.

From the left side of her cheek down to her neck, there was a large, terrifying scar.

As if she’d been mauled by a beast, the wound had healed into a twisted scar, replacing her original skin and becoming a permanent part of her.