My Vampire Boyfriend

Chapter 19: Husband

After that night’s duel between the number-one and number-two donors, the Warlord Prince’s stream finally picked up a crowd—no longer desolate.

Some peers and onlookers sneered that he was inflating his own popularity, staging his own hype; but the money thrown into the room was real. One couldn’t help but wonder how wealthy those supporters must be.

Lucien, packaged as a “rich second-generation heir,” swiftly broke out. With Big Tiger anchoring the afternoon streams and the devoted feeder bolstering the evenings, the two top patrons took turns lavishing gifts. In barely half a month he amassed tens of thousands of followers; his fan group swelled with hundreds of tiny “lovelies.”

Basked in their adoration, Lucien luxuriated in this human pastime and seemed to have discovered a calling. He took streaming more seriously than ever—much to the poor donor’s expense.

Ethan had already been interning for three weeks. Solid fundamentals and quick learning caught the eye of his project lead, Wang Yuanshan, who assigned him a small project. He worked all day, and after returning home he couldn’t stop: showered and then moonlighted as a video editor, producing daily clips for a careless client.

Lucien’s chatter never ceased—constant, absurd direction: “This effect isn’t flashy enough,” “That caption looks ugly,” insisting Ethan dress everything up in gaudy flair until it practically blinded viewers. Naturally, there was no time left for cooking. By the time the edits were done, the Warlord Prince was already about to go live.

Ethan had hoped that once Lucien had more fans he’d give him a break. Instead, he grew worse: somehow learning to DM, he would pester Ethan privately before streams with voice messages full of coquettish pleading—begging him to go online.

The feeder had even had the heartless impulse, once, to refuse—claiming he was too busy with work and would no longer have time to watch. Lucien replied with an aggrieved voice message: “Baby, you’re my first fan. You’re important. I can’t be without you.”

At that moment Ethan was cooking; cabbage sizzled in the wok, oil and water popped, the hood sucked in fumes—noise that garbled the voice. Only after the speech-to-text parsed it did he realize what Lucien had said.

After finishing dinner he listened repeatedly, then logged into the stream on the dot—unaware how pleased the boy felt, oblivious to the sly, triumphant grin playing on Lucien’s lips.

How foolish could humans be?

Emulating other streamers, Lucien added interactive monetization: fans could tip to request roles and skins with modest gifts. Once ordinary supporters began sending frequent tips and song requests, he realized how easy humans were to manipulate: a few “lovelies” and “babies,” a string of flattering phrases, and the chat would erupt.

Most easily fooled were Big Tiger and the feeder. Lucien set his sights on these two cash cows and milked them for popularity. He privately messaged them daily for money, pocketing a tidy profit and boasting loudly whenever Ethan came home.

Winter’s bustle slowly became Ethan’s new normal. Then one Friday, forced to work late, he got a furious call from Lucien.

“You only live to work. You don’t even make as much as I do. Stop staying late and come home to edit my videos! I saved so much footage today—quid pro quo, I’ll pay you.”

Turnabout being fair play, Ethan teased back: “After helping you so much, when did you ever pay me?”

“I…forgot! But I have money now. Come home and stop working.”

It was amusing to needle the silly boy. Ethan pressed: “If I quit my job I won’t eat. Who’ll support me? Your money is yours—can you give it all to me?”

Silence on the other end. Then Lucien grew serious—then, in a sudden flare, alarmed—yelled straight into the phone.

“Ugh, you humans are such a pain—always needing food. I can’t give you everything, but I can maintain you—if you obey me and behave as my servant.”

The emergency stairwell’s motion light had dimmed a moment ago; the corridor lay pitch black. Ethan didn’t respond, simply felt the darkness as if it were a final refuge.

“Hello—where are you?” Lucien demanded.

“Here.” The instant Ethan spoke the light snapped back on.

He looked up at the illumination and said slowly, “Lucien, some things shouldn’t be said lightly. Humans take words literally.”

“Let them take it literally then. You humans are stupid. Hurry home—I have videos to post and so many lovelies waiting. By the way, what does ‘husband’ mean?”

Ethan nearly choked. “Someone called you that?”

“Yeah—this afternoon’s stream. So many people were calling me ‘husband’ and sending gifts. Big Tiger didn’t come, but the number-one fan sent me several big rockets, shouting ‘my husband, Your Highness.’”

Ethan’s instincts went cold. Lucien’s stream had been peaceful for weeks; the most he’d ever had was playful use of “Your Highness.” He told Lucien he’d try to come home early—but the earliest would still be eight. Once Lucien went live at seven, Ethan slipped into the stream, tossed a few cars while muted, tucked his phone in a drawer, worked until nine, then sent a few rockets to catch up.

He arrived home late. Lucien was still energetically streaming. Ethan showered quickly, then peered into the fans’ chat to find the source of the commotion.

Turns out Lucien had posted a selfie in the group earlier that day, and two hours ago had uploaded a silly selfie video with goofy effects and coquettish faces.

“Good evening, lovelies! I’m your invincible, super awesome Warlord Prince. Today’s video isn’t ready yet—stay tuned, and if you pass by don’t miss it. Please follow, okay?”

Ethan scrolled through the comments: a chorus of “husband,” effusive praise, and even proposals of marriage. He paused at a familiar ID.

[Big Tiger: Warlord Prince is invincible and awesome—streaming is hard. Please hand video editing to me (thumbs up)]

What nonsense.

His worry proved true. Lucien livestreamed and asked again, “What does ‘husband’ mean?”

Ethan hesitated. “Calling someone ‘husband’ outright isn’t good. If you got fickle in public and began flirting with fans, it could cause trouble.”

“Finish the edit first,” he deflected.

“Okay.” Video first. Lucien sat beside him and resumed his pestering, half instructing, half bragging: “I made a lot today—enough for fancy skins.”

With that one simple brain, he was easily duped; if he ever fell in love, he’d be swindled of his underwear.

Like an anxious old father, Ethan asked, “Is there anything you want besides skins?”

“Yes!” Lucien grumbled. “This laptop’s too small. I want a bigger screen. And you’re noisy when you cook—I want a room. When are we moving back?”

Such modest wants, yet Ethan couldn’t grant the last. Liam had said he’d take Lucien away within two weeks at the fastest—now over twenty days had passed with no sign of leave. Lucien practically lived with him, streamed to great success, and whenever exhausted would fling himself into Ethan’s arms, testing Ethan’s resolve every night.

“Holy—!” Lucien exclaimed suddenly and thrust his phone under Ethan’s nose. “I just saw so many comments. My game videos don’t get this much. What exactly does ‘husband’ mean?”

“It basically means ‘damn’.” Ethan kept his expression neutral.

“Why are there so many ‘damns’ for me?” Lucien demanded.

“Because you freaked them out. Don’t post videos like that, and don’t put photos in the group.”

“…”

Ethan: “Did you hear me?”

“No way—am I scary?” Lucien swiped to show different comments. “Look—this one says I’m handsome. How am I scary?”

“…”

“And this one says I’m super cute.”

“…”

“Also—why did you grab my phone!”

Ethan closed the video. “The word ‘husband’ is a human term, unrelated to the bloodline. You don’t need to know its meaning.”

Lucien suspected Ethan of slyness and shot back defiantly: “Humans are nothing. Everything in this world belongs to us Bloodline—names included.”

“…”

“You think if you don’t tell me I can’t find out? Hmph—I can just Baidu it. I’m too lazy to check.”

Ethan surrendered. “You even know how to Baidu now.”

“Naturally, I’m superior to you.” Lucien yawned hugely. Seeing Ethan still editing, he propped up his chin and asked in a drowsy voice, “Are you done yet…?”

At that sleepy tone, Ethan knew his willpower had to stretch. Seconds later Lucien slumped against his shoulder and sleepily demanded to be held. He folded like a drunk, the envy of any sleeper.

Ethan tucked him into bed, lay down, and wrapped his arms around him—adjusting so Lucien could feed. After a faint itch, the vampire sipped obediently, then dozed; his appetite was small—just a tease of hunger. A greedy little thing.

That night Ethan did not over-restrain himself; he fell asleep entwined with Lucien. Though the body was cold, holding him felt oddly warm—habit revealed itself as a dangerous, tenacious thing, more relentless than a nightmare.

On Saturday morning, Ethan slipped out before Lucien awoke. At the gym he called Liam and asked one question: when would he take Lucien away? To Ethan’s surprise, Liam planned to stay in West City for the New Year.

“I’ve heard Eastland’s Spring Festival is fun. The brat hasn’t experienced it—take him. Compensation won’t be a problem.”

Ethan declined: “I’m busy with work and don’t have time to take him.”

“I know you aren’t short of money. You’re working to get the internship certificate for school. I just started a company that can provide it.”

What were these two up to, now opening companies?

“There’s one more favor—can we meet?” Liam asked.

Likely about Lucien. Reason urged Ethan to stay out, to distance himself from the bloodline. But curiosity—and a small, unadmitted hope—won out. He gave Liam the boxing gym’s address.

Just a brief taste of Spring Festival for the silly boy.