“Elementary schoolers these days are *so* rich,” Su Yue murmured, gazing at the sixteen crisp hundred-yuan bills in her hand.

“Little Su Yue, you’re amazing!” Lucifer chimed in beside her, eyes sparkling. “1,600 yuan in a day? That’s 48,000 a month… over half a million a year!”

“Hehe, not really,” Su Yue said modestly, though her little head tilted so far back it nearly touched the sky. “Gotta subtract costs. And… not every day brings this many customers.”

“Still super impressive!” Lucifer pressed closer, nuzzling Su Yue’s shoulder.

The sight of two beautiful girls cuddling became a heartwarming vignette in the evening rush hour—quietly healing countless weary office workers.

“So, Little Su Yue, you’ve sold out. Walk home together?” Lucifer asked after a lingering hug, lifting her head.

“Ah? I’ll wait a bit longer,” Su Yue shook her head. Her home was just across the street in a narrow alley—no way she could accompany Lucifer.

“Eh~ Waiting for your master? So cute~” Lucifer narrowed her eyes playfully, whispering near Su Yue’s ear, “Where do you live, Little Su Yue?”

“Fantou Garden, Unit 6507.” Su Yue recited Chen Yan’s address. Not that she couldn’t fake one—but if Lucifer showed up and a stranger answered? Total exposure.

“6507? I live in 6512! Su Yue, we’re neighbors~!” Lucifer’s voice lit up with excitement.

“Oh no…” Su Yue’s mouth hung open. *Is some cosmic ‘world consciousness’ targeting me?*

“Can I visit after dinner?” Lucifer was already daydreaming about cozy time in Su Yue’s room.

“I won’t be home tonight,” Su Yue’s mind raced. “Just moved in… place isn’t unpacked. Not livable yet.”

“Mm… okay…” Lucifer’s tone dipped. Fei saw right through the flimsy excuse—but chose not to call her out.

A pang struck Su Yue’s chest. Her long-buried conscience was *attacking*. She reached out, gently patting Lucifer’s head. “Sorry, Fei. Once it’s tidy, I’ll definitely invite you.”

“Mm~” Lucifer hugged her once more before standing. “Guess I’ll head back alone.”

“Promise you’ll invite me to your place, Little Su Yue?”

“Mm. I promise.”

A faint smile finally graced Lucifer’s lips. She waved, steps heavy with reluctance, and disappeared into the dusk.

“Conscience… my long-dead conscience is *sprouting* again!” Su Yue clutched her chest and rolled miserably on the ground.

“Guess I have to beg that creepy so-called human trafficker…”

*Only for Lucifer’s sake,* she thought bitterly.

She packed her stall and trudged back to her alley nook.

Dinnertime. Her stomach growled. No more scallion pancakes—but she dared not try other shops. Too risky. Chen Yan couldn’t even confirm which stores had alarms. Renovation companies pushed proprietary alarms that detected non-humans *and* chip-implanted fugitives. Buyers wanted “extra security,” but those units weren’t linked to the Supernatural Administration. Officials turned a blind eye.

“But I’m *starving*… When’s that creepy Chen Yan coming back?”

If he were here, she’d send him for food.

Su Yue flopped onto her sleeping bag. Earned good money today… yet no steak, hot pot, barbecue…

*Pure torture.*

“Oh right—that thing!” She sat up, dragged over a box, and opened it. A cooler.

She’d spotted it last night but was too busy writing talismans. *Maybe food?*

With hopeful fingers, she unlatched the clasps. Frost curled into the air. Inside: several bags of dark red liquid.

She lifted one, examined it, sniffed.

“Looks like blood… smells like nothing.” To Su Yue—human or Vampire Princess—it carried zero scent. Real blood meant iron tang or eerie sweetness. This? Blank.

“Mmm… too cold to smell?” She vaguely recalled science lessons about molecules and temperature. *Humanities student problems.*

She unscrewed the tiny cap on the tube, popped it in her mouth, and sucked hard—like a milk pouch.

*Blegh! Blegh!* Her face crumpled. She spat the tube out, hand clamped over her mouth. A violent wave of nausea hit—*spew!*—right onto the ground beside her bag.

“BLEGH! What *is* this garbage?!” She hurled the bag. *Splat.* Dark liquid pooled four meters away.

“Why’s it taste so awful?” She grabbed another label:

*Chen X Liang, Female, Type O, 2045.02.11*

Another:

*Bai X, Male, Type AB, 2045.03.01*

All bags: random types, dates, genders. All utterly tasteless.

*“You can only drink my blood.”* Chen Yan’s words echoed.

*“Little Su Yue… could you drink anyone else’s blood but your master’s?”* Fei had teased.

Silently, Su Yue returned the bag to the cooler.

“Damn it! I’d rather starve to death out here than drink *your* blood!” She shook her tiny fist, teeth gritted.

Miss Su Yue dashed to the scallion pancake stall—closed.

Dejected, she shuffled back to the alley, last hope for lunch gone.

That night, curled in her sleeping bag, she tossed and turned. Her stomach growled in protest.

“Wah wah… Chen Yan, when are you back? I won’t drink your blood…”

“Just bring fried chicken…”

“Hot pot… grilled meat… steak… giant lobster… squirrel-shaped mandarin fish… poached chicken…”

The night stretched on, long and hungry.