With a soldier leading, Tangxue and Qianyue met no more roadblocks. They slipped through the Dark Abyss Zone’s threshold like shadows at dusk and reached the nearest restaurant.
On the way, eyes clung to them like cold hooks in fog. But the soldier’s bowing, like reeds flattened by wind, made the watchers wilt and swallow their sparks for trouble.
“Noble ladies, we’re here,” the soldier chirped, voice as oily as a lantern wick. “This is a famed house in the Dark Abyss Zone, a century-old brand. You’ll be pleased, I swear.”
Qingsheng Tangxue ignored his bobbing like a bird pecking grain, and she studied the place the way frost studies old wood. The eaves sagged like tired eyelids, and dust lay like ash.
Mm… a bit run-down, she thought, the air thick with old oil and time. Even the signboard bragged “a century-old Dark Abyss Zone shop,” like a cracked bell ringing itself.
She threw the soldier a glance, and cold sweat beaded on him like dew on winter grass. He flinched as if a blade of wind had nicked him.
“My lady, is there anything you find unsatisfactory?” he asked, voice thin as paper.
“No. You can go,” Tangxue said, cool as a moonlit lake. “I don’t like someone hovering while I eat.”
“Oh—oh! Thank you for sparing me!” Relief broke over him like sun after rain, and he bolted, heels slick as oil on stone.
“…”
“…Qianyue, am I that scary?” Her voice fell like a pebble into a well.
“Nope,” Qianyue said, blinking like a kitten in light. “Qianyue feels big sister’s very gentle.”
“Good,” Tangxue murmured, warmth like tea easing her chest. “Let’s see what’s good here. I’m starving.”
“Mm-hmm~” Qianyue chimed, joy fluttering like a paper kite.
They stepped into the one-story old house, its beams creaking like old bones, and lantern glow pooled by the door like melted amber.
“Qianyue, grab us a seat,” Tangxue said, voice as steady as a string. “I’ll fetch a menu at the counter.”
“Okay~” Curious as a sparrow, Qianyue peered around and chose a place by the window, where light spilled like a silver stream.
As for Tangxue… she took one look at the menu and her heart dropped like a stone into dark water. The dish names shoved at her worldview like rough hands.
“Qianyue, you order,” she said, appetite wilting like a cut flower.
“Big sister?” Qianyue looked up, puzzled, eyes bright as garnets.
“I’m not hungry. Order what you like,” Tangxue said, voice thin as smoke.
“But big sister, I can’t read…” Qianyue glanced at the menu Tangxue passed over, cheeks flushing like dawn.
“You can’t read Blood Clan script?” Tangxue’s brow pinched like a drawn bowstring.
“This…” Qianyue’s voice faded, soft as drifting dust.
“Forget it,” Tangxue sighed, palm to her forehead like a leaf to water. “Pick something that looks pleasing. I’ve no appetite. I’ll eat later.”
“Oh…” Qianyue nodded, small as a mouse.
She pointed at a pork blood stewed ribs and a livestock blood drink, choosing at random like tossing a leaf to the stream. Then she cast Tangxue a grateful glance, gentle as a candle.
Tangxue let it pass like wind past stone. She drew a few roasted chicken wings from her spatial wristband, the aroma rising like warm smoke.
She had bought the cooked meat at a transit stop, meant as a midnight snack, a soft comfort like a quilt. Hunger gnawed now like a cold rat, so plans didn’t matter.
Bringing outside food here was impolite, a ripple against the current, but necessity cuts like ice and dulls niceties.
When the server came, Tangxue paid in gold, the coins ringing like rain on bronze, and added a small tip, light as a leaf.
The server glanced at the wings, made no fuss, and filed her away as “not Blood Clan,” like a note on a damp page. As long as the boss didn’t see, the river stayed calm.
As for the others, their opinions were dust on a windowsill. Tangxue let wind take them and kept her gaze like flint.
In the City of Woe, almost no one but the Blood Clan came, and the dishes were thick with blood, like ink sunk deep into paper. Outsiders weren’t expected, much less catered to.
Even ordinary Blood Clan rarely dined out here; the seats felt as empty as winter fields. Entering the City of Woe was easy as falling rain, leaving was hard as climbing ice.
There was only one exit, the city gate, a single throat in a stone beast. Qianyue had dreamed of leaving again and again, but her coins were snowflakes in spring.
Without money, you could be trapped here for a lifetime, like a moth sealed in amber. The thought sat like a stone in Tangxue’s chest.
When Qianyue’s dishes landed, Tangxue set her chicken wings aside, the grease cooling like twilight. She leaned in and tasted, cautious as a fox at a stream.
The blood flavor slapped her like iron smoke. It was worse than the blood cake from before, a bitterness that crawled like ants.
The pig’s blood wasn’t the pig’s blood she knew; this place raised different stock, a local tang like wet earth after a storm. Her throat tightened like a knot.
She couldn’t bear it; the taste scraped her nerves like a rusty nail. She let the spoon rest, quiet as a blade in a sheath.
Qianyue, though, ate with bright focus, each bite a calm harbor. Peace pooled in her like warm soup, and a smile bloomed like a shy flower.
A picky Vampire, tasting fare even common Blood Clan struggled to swallow, and smiling—strangeness flickered like heat-haze. Tangxue could hardly believe her eyes.
Is this really the Vampire King I think I know? The thought hummed like a hidden string.
White hair, red eyes—among Blood Clan she knew only three like that: Aunt Yuqiu, a winter branch; the Vampire, Edgar, shadow in velvet; and the last…
A royal of the Blood Clan she’d killed, a memory like a scar under frost. The first time she met that woman, she raged like a beast off its chain.
That mad light mirrored Tangxue’s old self, two flames licking the same wind. The resemblance stung like salt.
“Big sister, aren’t you eating?” Qianyue asked, voice soft as feather snow.
“No,” Tangxue said, shaking her head like a willow. “I’m not used to this flavor. Too much, and my stomach will revolt.”
“Really… Qianyue feels it’s okay,” Qianyue murmured, nose wrinkling like a rabbit’s. “It smells sharp, but it fills you. Fullness hushes hunger’s ache.”
“Then eat more,” Tangxue said with a small laugh, light as a bell. “We still have miles to go.”
“Mm-mm~!” Qianyue nodded, joy peeking like sunlight through leaves.
For a child, eating when starving is the purest festival, drums in the belly going quiet. Tangxue still remembered the morning’s breakfast, and the way Qianyue had teared up like dew.
As for why Qingsheng Tangxue wanted this little Vampire as her guide, even she didn’t quite know. It began as pity, a lantern in rain.
Now it was curiosity, a sprout pushing stone: she wanted to see what this child would become.
She knew the Vampire King’s tomb by heart, the path etched in her like a frost rune. The route lay like a thread through a labyrinth.
“Qianyue, do you know the name of the Vampire King that Frost Valor dealt with?” Tangxue asked, lifting her head like a bird catching wind.
“I don’t,” Qianyue said, the answer flat as a pond.
“Take a guess~” Tangxue teased, a ripple in still water.
“Qianyue can’t guess,” she said, shaking her head like a bellflower.
“I don’t know either,” Tangxue admitted, a smile thin as moonlight. “So I want to see her tomb. It’s in the deep of the City of Woe, far from the gate.”
“Qianyue wants to go with big sister!” Her eagerness flared like a spark in dry straw.
“If so, no mischief,” Tangxue warned, voice soft as velvet but edged like a blade. “Or I won’t take you.”
“Mm! Qianyue is always good.” Her promise sat bright as a polished coin.
“Good children don’t pry,” Tangxue muttered, the words drifting like smoke.
Deeper in the City of Woe lay the royal heartland, rings of stone like a coiled dragon. The Vampire tombs rose there, built into the marrow of the city like bones.
