Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Guan Heng was sometimes full of humanity, and at other times, he appeared utterly cold.

In his eyes, right and wrong were as distinct as black and white, with no gray areas in between; he was always able to make decisions with swift precision.

Perhaps the worlds of humans and Vampires were the same.

Going out with Guan Heng felt neither like a sightseeing trip nor a simple stroll.

If he had to use a word to describe it, Ning Qiuyan felt it was more like an inspection-an observation and understanding of change.

Guan Heng had likely forgotten how to walk in the human world. He moved like a shadow drifting through the mortal realm, elegant and serene, yet silent as a ghost. Ning Qiuyan often watched his tall back, needing to quicken his pace just to keep up.

When they reached a pedestrian overpass on a busy street, Guan Heng stopped by the railing. He gazed at the skyscrapers surrounding them and the flow of traffic below for a long time. Ning Qiuyan tried to view the world through Guan Heng’s eyes, imagining that a century or two ago, this might have been a narrow path, devoid of high-rises or even more than a handful of houses.

The sky was overcast. The wind whipped at their hair, and Ning Qiuyan shoved his hands into his pockets, shrinking his neck against the cold, yet his heart felt incredibly still.

He realized this feeling wasn’t something he could only experience on Du Island.

It was because of Guan Heng.

Wherever Guan Heng was, a tranquil atmosphere always lingered. When change appeared before the face of unchanging eternity, the whole world could become a solitary island.

Yet Guan Heng did not reject this bustling city.

They left the overpass and stepped into a lively plaza to admire Sujing Tower up close. The two of them found a bench and sat down; not far away, tourists and children were feeding pigeons.

Just as Ning Qiuyan had described to Guan Heng, Sujing Tower was beautiful both by day and by night.

Ning Qiuyan suddenly thought of a question: what was the point of this tower, which could not be climbed and served no practical purpose?

Guan Heng explained that unlike the Eiffel Tower or Tokyo Tower, Sujing Tower was merely a work of art built through funds raised by an artist. The creative goal had been to build the tallest iron tower in the world.

Human ideas were occasionally quite mad. Naturally, it failed to reach its full potential, and construction was forced to stop at only one-third of its planned height. Later, the government took over the repairs and continued the build, barely managing to turn it into what it was today.

During the government’s construction process, the artist learned of the outcome and tried to obstruct it in every way possible. Finally, he leapt from the tower, believing that such a work had lost its original intent and its reason for existing.

Ning Qiuyan had heard rumors about this event.

He guessed it must have been sensational news back then; Guan Heng might have even read the newspapers with his own eyes.

“Rather be a shattered jade than an intact tile,” Ning Qiuyan remarked. “On some level, I can understand his thinking.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Guan Heng said. “Back then, so many people wanted the naming rights. I think it was nearly called ‘Wagner Tower.'”

Ning Qiuyan was startled. “You mean the Mr. Jones from Camellia Night?”

“Someone always has to foot the bill for art on such a grand scale.” Guan Heng seemed to find the matter utterly tedious, a faint smile touching his lips. “Otherwise, where do you think the initial construction funds for the tower came from?”

The surroundings were all shades of gray, leaving the tower as the only bright splash of red.

Even though they were discussing events from a century ago, Guan Heng still looked so young. His short hair, deep gray overcoat, and black leather gloves made him look more like a modern city dweller, blending into the environment without the slightest sense of discord.

Strangely, the area around them remained relatively quiet. The white pigeons only flew at a distance, never landing on the ground nearby.

Perhaps this made them stand out, or perhaps the sight of the two of them sitting together was simply too pleasing to the eye, because a passing pedestrian snapped a photo of them.

Ning Qiuyan noticed that before the pedestrian could get very far, they were intercepted by two tall, adult men.

They politely asked the pedestrian to produce their phone. The pedestrian looked terrified.

Ning Qiuyan knew those were Guan Heng’s people; they were likely demanding that the pedestrian delete the photo.

Guan Heng only spared a fleeting glance and said nothing.

In the afternoon, like most tourists, the two went to the Sujing Museum.

Entry required real-name authentication. Ning Qiuyan was worried Guan Heng wouldn’t be able to get in, but while he was still thinking, Guan Heng had already passed through the turnstile to the other side, having used some unknown method.

Human rules could not truly constrain Vampires.

“Come,” Guan Heng said, reaching out a hand to Ning Qiuyan.

Ning Qiuyan stepped forward quickly and took it.

Inside the museum, they separated for a while. Ning Qiuyan explored the history, while Guan Heng went in a different direction, eventually meeting back at an agreed-upon spot. This time, Guan Heng didn’t need Ning Qiuyan to explain the changes in the outside world, and Ning Qiuyan didn’t have to feel like he was being boring.

Though they both knew very well that Guan Heng did not possess a vigorous curiosity, and once he returned to Du Island, they might never have an opportunity like this again.

Finally, they ceased their exploration of the city’s changes and paid a visit to Sujing’s Wencui Park.
The place was vast and famous, yet Ning Qiuyan had never visited it before. He didn’t quite understand why Guan Heng wanted to come here. Although Wencui Park was exceptionally beautiful, Ning Qiuyan still felt it didn’t compare to even a tenth of Du Island.

It started raining halfway through their walk. A light drizzle pitter-pattered against the still-lush, shaded treetops and the emerald surface of the lake, immersing the entire Forest Park in the rustling sound of raindrops.

Ning Qiuyan habitually pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, the tip of his nose turning red from the cold.

“Can I go over there to record some sounds?” Ning Qiuyan asked Guan Heng. “Just a short clip.”

The sound of rain hitting the lake and the leaves was wonderful-a natural white noise.

Guan Heng seemed pleased by Ning Qiuyan’s polite request and nodded in approval. “Go.”

Ning Qiuyan hadn’t brought his professional pickup microphone, and the recording quality of his phone wasn’t great, so he decided to film a video instead. Initially, he hadn’t intended to record Guan Heng, as that was forbidden. However, when he inadvertently glanced in Guan Heng’s direction, his heart still skipped a beat, and the camera lens quietly drifted over.

Only a few hours had passed, yet Guan Heng’s hair already seemed a bit longer.

Someone had delivered an umbrella. Guan Heng took it and opened it, standing still beneath the deep green canopy.

During the months they were apart, Ning Qiuyan’s biggest regret was not having saved any images of Guan Heng.

He couldn’t draw, so he couldn’t sketch Guan Heng’s face; the only thing he had to remember him by was a photo of the sea taken near the Lighthouse. He didn’t want to spend the coming months living solely on memories again-that was a terrible kind of torture.

After finishing the video, Ning Qiuyan felt a pang of guilt like a thief. He slipped on some moss and fell, scraping the skin on his palm. After washing away the dirt, tiny beads of blood began to seep out. Guan Heng told him to hold out his hand and used a tissue to help wipe the blood from around the wound.

The air was filled with the freshness of plants and earth; humans wouldn’t be able to smell the scent of blood.

A faint red hue appeared in the depths of Guan Heng’s eyes, but his expression remained calm, so Ning Qiuyan didn’t feel any sense of danger.

“Sir,” he called out to Guan Heng. “I have a question I want to ask you.”

The two of them sat on a bench under a tree that offered some shelter from the rain. Guan Heng didn’t even look up. “Speak.”

It felt like a return to their old “Question of the Day” routine.

Ning Qiuyan asked, “What does it feel like to have eternal life?”

Like now, re-entering the world after a century and revisiting old haunts only to find everything changed and everyone gone, with no trace of any former connections left to follow-how did Guan Heng feel?

Ning Qiuyan had no desire for immortality, so he didn’t understand Chi Yang. After attending that eerie banquet, he was also full of confusion regarding the world of Vampires, unable to empathize with them at all.

Guan Heng looked at him but didn’t answer.

Guessing it wasn’t an easy question to answer, Ning Qiuyan asked again, “Do you ever feel lonely?”

Guan Heng’s lips moved slightly. “Often.”

Ning Qiuyan wanted to ask if that was why he so frequently chose to go into hibernation.

But the question felt too cruel and lacked any practical purpose. A dull ache bloomed in his heart, so he didn’t press further. Instead, he said, “I will stay with you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized it sounded like a confession.

His face flushed instantly, but his courage didn’t fail him. He pushed on in one breath: “I might not be able to be by your side as much during my university years, but I’ll come back to Du Island as soon as I have a break. Winter and summer vacations are long, totaling three or four months a year. After I graduate, I’ll come back as much as possible-”

Guan Heng watched him quietly, waiting for him to continue.

He uttered his most important request: “After you go back, could you please not go into hibernation?”

Before they had parted last time, Guan Heng had such a plan. Ning Qiuyan didn’t know if things had changed now, but he didn’t want it to happen. Even if there was only a slight possibility, even if Guan Heng only intended to sleep for a few months, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Guan Heng was about to leave, and Ning Qiuyan had been wanting to ask about this for a long time. The timing seemed right; he felt that if he brought it up now, Guan Heng might actually agree.

Seeing Guan Heng remain silent, Ning Qiuyan started to panic. He looked at him and said, “While I’m in Sujing, I’ll call you every day. I’ll learn more skills and work hard to become more interesting…”

“Ning Qiuyan, you are making demands of me,” Guan Heng interrupted. “That is a right that only I possess.”

Ning Qiuyan was suddenly speechless, his eyes growing a bit damp.

However, Guan Heng continued, “But I am glad you can be this honest, and I am glad you are proactively seeking my permission.”

The mist was heavy and there was no one else around; everywhere was a thick, inseparable green.

Ning Qiuyan’s heart beat faster. Guan Heng didn’t seem angry at his overstepping; instead, he appeared patient, like he was coaxing a brave puppy that had just stepped out of its protective circle.

The next moment, Guan Heng pinched his chin. “I’m curious, Ning Qiuyan. Why do you think I still intend to hibernate now?”