Chapter 6
1447 Words
A crisp clink echoed as Yeye casually placed a fake ID on the table. Except for her photograph, every detail on it was fabricated.
Every vampire navigating society today, save for the isolationists, carried such an ID. The difference lay in its source—hers was an official issue from a government agency, while Chen Tiao’s came from the black market.
An original versus a counterfeit.
The ageless, deathless nature of vampires meant their IDs required an update every five years. Some black-market operations were so sophisticated even law enforcement couldn’t detect the forgery.
The sound of running water poured from the bathroom. Yeye shed her heavy coat and hung it neatly, removing her shoes and socks to reveal her pale, cold skin.
She loved the sensation of soaking in hot water. At those moments, their body temperatures rose, making them feel alive, like ordinary humans.
A pouch of artificial blood, colloquially called "compressed biscuits," hung from her mouth. Developed by specialized departments, it was a concoction of various animal blood and nutrients that met vampires’ basic physiological needs. Yet, its taste was far from human blood, earning it the nickname "dog food" among black-market circles.
A notification chimed. Her phone displayed a message from someone signed [F], whose avatar bore a cheerful sky-blue smiley face.
[F]: The compressed blood packs and anti-light medication you applied for have been approved. They'll be express-delivered tonight to your current hotel. Tracking number: 10086XXX.
[M]: OK.
[F]: Struggling with that murder case, are you? :)
[M]: My focus isn’t the murder itself but the vampire involved. Some things don’t quite add up. I’ll notify the department once I’ve resolved it.
[F]: Be careful.
Disconnecting from the internet, Yeye watched the cheerful bunny avatar dim. The room fell into a profound silence, so still it was as if no one was there at all.
Morning
Cheng Cheng’s morning routine didn’t start with brushing his teeth but with a run.
“Up early for exercise again, Xiao Zhi?” An elderly woman heading to the market greeted him with a smile, swinging a plastic bag in her hand. “Come to dinner tonight. I’ll introduce you to a lovely girl!”
“No, thank you, Auntie. I have work tonight. Maybe next time,” he replied, waving as he jogged briskly around a corner, leaving only a glimpse of his white tracksuit behind.
“Ai…” the woman sighed regretfully, shaking her head. Such a fine young man, yet so unwilling to find a partner.
Morning
Yeye’s mornings didn’t start with brushing her teeth either—they started with a bath.
"Breaking news: a foreign leader visits China today…” The crackling sound of a radio filled the steam-filled bathroom. Reclining in the tub, she had cucumber slices over her eyes, sipping breakfast from a packet.
Drying off with a plush towel, Yeye wrapped herself in a robe and stood by the window, basking in the dawn’s first light. The exposed skin prickled with a faint burning sensation, grounding her in reality.
But after just ten seconds, she withdrew, grabbing a bottle of lotion and spreading its contents across her skin.
Sunlight and silver—the eternal vulnerabilities of vampires. Brief exposure to sunlight caused pain but wasn’t lethal. Prolonged exposure at noon, however, could turn them to ash.
The government-issued anti-light lotion, developed for the vampire “White Faction,” was hailed as one of their greatest inventions. Conveniently applied, it granted 24-hour protection from intense sunlight.
Struggling to reach her back while standing before the mirror, Yeye mused, perhaps she should hire someone solely to apply sunscreen.
A sharp hiss escaped as Cheng Cheng nicked himself shaving. The razor clattered into the sink as he pressed a hand to his face. In the mirror, his tanned face bore a fresh cut along his jaw, blood trickling faintly.
Glancing at the clock, he quickly splashed water on his face, grabbed his coat, and rushed out the door.
“Morning, Captain Cheng!” “Captain, you’re here!”
Colleagues from various departments greeted him as he strode into the precinct, nodding briskly in response before hurrying to the detective unit.
“Something’s different about him today.”
“Did he… shave?” “And change his clothes?”
(Unison) “The sun must’ve risen in the west today!”
Zhou Dingtian was poring over witness statements when Cheng Cheng dashed in. Stopping at the desk, he glanced around. “Where is she?”
Zhou looked bewildered. “Who? You mean Xiao Lang? She’s in the lab.”
“Not her.” Hands in his pockets, Cheng Cheng scowled. “The special agent.”
“...Ohhh,” Zhou drawled, his face alight with realization—promptly extinguished by a flick to the head.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“She came in early, went straight to the lounge to treat Chen Tiao,” Zhou grumbled, rubbing his head. “Then ran into his girlfriend, Zhong Qingqing. They’re off somewhere talking now. Why? What do you need?” But by the time Zhou finished, Cheng Cheng was gone.
In the lounge where Chen Tiao was temporarily held, Yeye had administered an inhalable version of the anti-light medication. Though less potent than the lotion, it ensured he wouldn’t burn. As for blood packs? A few days without them wouldn’t be fatal.
“Please, help him,” a soft voice pleaded.
Before her stood a young woman, barely in her twenties, with delicate features and simple attire—so unlike the roguish Chen Tiao.
“I can’t absolve him with just a word. You’ve come to the wrong person,” Yeye replied curtly, disliking unnecessary entanglements. She turned to leave.
“Wait!” A sudden tug on her wrist made her pause. The unexpected contact stunned her, and instinctively, she pushed the woman to the floor.
“You…” The woman slowly sat up, her calm face betraying a rare, resolute clarity. “You’re like him, aren’t you?”
“I know,” she said with quiet determination, her gaze unwavering.
When Cheng Cheng arrived, he overheard the hushed conversation between the two women.
“He’s not the killer. He would never hurt Mrs. Qi,” Zhong Qingqing said. “Even though we owed her a lot of money, our relationship wasn’t strained. That day, A’Tiao even told me he’d cook some braised pork to bring her.”
“She loved braised pork.”
“What were you doing that day?” Yeye’s voice followed.
“I went to work. A’Tiao stayed home, like always,” Zhong replied. “I left early while he was still asleep. You know how weak he’s been lately… Besides, someone nearby has been renovating. The constant hammering and drilling were so annoying I didn’t bother waking him.”
“Renovating?” Cheng Cheng stepped forward, his sudden appearance startling Zhong Qingqing.
“Officer Cheng!”
“You mentioned renovations?” His expression turned grave. “The fifth-floor residents have lived there for years—renovations are unlikely. The seventh floor is vacant. Where did you hear this noise?”
Zhong Qingqing’s face blanched. “I’m not lying! I heard it—hammering, drilling…”
Cheng Cheng pressed further, but Yeye interjected. “She’s telling the truth.”
“I noticed the smell of paint and fresh lumber mixed with stone dust when I stepped out of the elevator at the crime scene.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, leaving him puzzled—why hadn’t he noticed?
“Go home for now,” she told Zhong. “Chen Tiao will be fine for the time being.”
Later, at the crime scene, investigations revealed troubling details. The property register confirmed the fifth-floor occupants had lived there for years without renovations, while the seventh floor remained unoccupied.
“Your building’s been around for ages. Why are units still vacant?” Zhou asked the property manager, irritated. “Are you holding out for higher prices?”
“Impossible. We cleared everything ages ago,” the manager replied, frowning. “Maybe the seventh-floor units weren’t properly registered.”
“You mean you don’t even know?”
“The records are handed down to us. Some properties are reserved for executives,” the manager explained.
This bizarre revelation deepened Cheng Cheng’s unease. At the seventh-floor doorway, he stood tense, waiting for Zhou to confirm details with the manager.
The worst-case scenario had come to pass—the real culprit had fabricated evidence, diverting suspicion onto Chen Tiao.
“Captain!” Zhou called as the elevator doors opened. “The seventh floor isn’t vacant. It’s used by Liu An—Mrs. Qi’s secretary!”
- Writer
