Cheng P.O.V.

After our conversation, staying inside felt like the worst thing we could do.

Chin Mae had spent enough time staring at walls, worrying about sunlight, blood and what he might become. I needed air too, so I challenged him to a run.

At first, he kept glancing around as though every stranger we passed might somehow know what had happened the night before. His shoulders remained stiff, his attention jumping from passing cars to pedestrians, then back to me.

I pretended not to notice.

Hidden in my pocket was a thick face mask I'd brought just in case.

It was probably useless. I didn't even know what I expected it to accomplish if his hunger returned, but having something made me feel less helpless.

I hadn't told him about it.

If I handed it over, he'd probably spend the entire day convinced he couldn't control himself without it.

Eventually the streets thinned and buildings gave way to trees, wet grass and quieter roads.

That was when I finally saw him relax.

Our shoes struck the pavement in a steady rhythm. My breathing had become embarrassingly loud, while Chin Mae ran beside me as though we'd only just started.

I focused on the road ahead.

Last night had changed everything.

I needed to understand what he needed before something else happened. More importantly, I needed to keep him safe while we figured it out.

“Do you want to stop?”

Chin Mae caught my forearm as I passed him.

I kept running.

His grip tightened.

“You're practically hyperventilating.”

I slowed just enough for him to catch up. His expression was severe, but concern sat openly beneath it.

“You had a headache an hour ago. And we're both hungover.”

“I'm fine.”

The sentence would've been more convincing if I hadn't gasped halfway through it.

His eyebrow lifted.

I wiped my forehead and pointed forward, refusing to surrender.

“For your first run with me, you're doing annoyingly well.”

His irritation softened into embarrassment.

“I'm surprised too. I've always been rubbish at physical exercise.”

There was something almost guilty in the way he said it.

Maybe his body no longer felt entirely like his own.

“Guess being a vampire has its advantages.”

“Idiot.”

But he smiled.

Just slightly.

Damn.

I looked away before I stared too long.

He suddenly pointed toward a park entrance ahead of us.

“Look.”

The excitement in his face made him seem younger. For a second he simply stood there, silently asking whether we could go in.

“Don't stop immediately after running.”

I caught his arm and pulled him forward again.

“You'll regret it.”

He reluctantly jogged beside me until our pace gradually slowed.

“Aren't you tired?”

Chin Mae looked toward a stream visible through the trees.

“I actually feel energised.”

His voice lowered.

“Maybe the blood made me healthier.”

The words seemed meant more for himself than me.

I didn't like being excluded from his thoughts, but he wasn't wrong.

Since drinking Brian's blood, something about him had changed.

The violent shifts in his mood seemed quieter. His skin had regained colour. Even the wounds and scars I'd become accustomed to seeing had disappeared almost overnight—including the injury on his torso that had been there when we first met months ago.

Human blood had done something to him.

While he'd showered that morning, I'd searched online for anything resembling useful information.

Most of it sounded like fiction pretending to be fact.

Vampires supposedly gained more strength from human blood taken directly from a living person. Stored blood could sustain them but wasn't as effective. Animal blood was described as even weaker, sometimes making hunger harder to control.

I trusted random information online about as much as I trusted a drunk man giving directions.

Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly a medical journal for newly transformed vampires sitting on my bookshelf.

One thought had refused to leave me.

If even part of what I'd read was true, Chin Mae would eventually need blood again.

And if that happened, I'd rather it be mine than somebody else's.

“I heard it's supposed to snow this week.”

His voice pulled me back.

Chin Mae walked close to the stream, watching water slide between dark rocks.

“It would be nice. Especially in December.”

“Careful. It rained a lot.”

His foot slipped almost immediately.

I caught him beneath the arm and dragged him backward before he could fall.

He looked up at me, startled, then gave me a small, embarrassed smile.

I almost smiled back.

Then I remembered what I'd wanted to tell him.

“Chin Mae, I need to—”

“Does your family live here?”

The question caught me completely off guard.

He stared at the water rather than at me.

“Or… are they back home?”

Chin Mae rarely asked about my personal life. Usually I was the one pushing against every locked door while he guarded his own.

“They travel constantly for work. They're rarely home. Holidays, birthdays… sometimes.”

I shrugged.

I had learned not to need them a long time ago.

“Are you going back during the winter break?”

His tone was deliberately casual.

His face wasn't.

I bumped my shoulder against his.

“Do you want me to go?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Won't you miss me too much?”

He fought a laugh and walked ahead.

That reaction pleased me far more than it should have.

“It's too much hassle anyway. I'll probably stay.”

The tension in his shoulders eased.

Interesting.

Was he relieved because I mattered to him?

Or because being alone frightened him now?

“What about you?”

The question escaped before I could reconsider it.

Chin Mae stopped.

His expression emptied so quickly that I immediately knew I'd stepped somewhere dangerous.

“I won't ever go back home.”

The words were cold.

The anger beneath them wasn't.

He stared at the grass between us before continuing.

“My dad died two years ago. My mum... remarried soon after.”

Something inside me sank.

“I'm sorry.”

I moved closer, resting a hand around his forearm.

I didn't know whether touching him was the right thing to do. Giving him space might have been kinder.

But every time Chin Mae opened even a crack in the wall he'd built around himself, I became terrified that stepping away would make him close it again.

I wanted him to keep talking.

Not because I was entitled to his secrets... but because carrying them alone was clearly destroying him.

We sat near the stream, damp grass bending beneath us.

“You didn't get along with your stepfather?”

His hand immediately rose to the back of his neck.

“That filthy bastard…” The hatred in his voice startled me. “He's not—”

His breath caught.

Whatever he'd intended to say disappeared.

His shoulders started shaking.

“Mae?”

His breathing became rapid and shallow.

I moved without thinking and wrapped my arms around him.

“Slowly. Breathe.”

His body was rigid against mine.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed.” Gradually, his breathing began following mine.

“If you ever want to get some of it out, I'm here. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.”

I loosened my hold.

Chin Mae didn't move away.

Instead, his head remained against my chest.

I stared down at him.

He was staying there voluntarily.

My heart immediately decided to make the situation unbearable.

“Hey…”

A sniff interrupted me.

Then a quiet sob.

Every stupid thing my father had ever taught me about crying surfaced at once.

Men didn't cry.

Men didn't show weakness.

A man had to be strong enough to provide, protect, endure. My father had made sure I understood that lesson whenever emotion escaped me in front of him.

Humiliation first.

Sometimes punishment afterward.

But Chin Mae wasn't weak.

Neither was I.

Pain didn't disappear because someone taught you to swallow it.

So I said nothing.

I simply stayed there.

A light drizzle began falling around us, darkening the grass and cooling the heat still trapped beneath my clothes. The scent of wet soil rose around the stream, strangely comforting.

At some point, without realising it, I'd leaned back onto one arm.

My other hand was moving slowly through Chin Mae's hair.

Wait.

What am I doing?

Before I could stop, he spoke.

“I did get along with him at first.” His voice was muffled against my chest. “Then he started acting weird around me.”

His fingers tore blades of grass from the ground.

“Possessive. Controlling. Violent. Only when my mum wasn't there.” His jaw tightened.

“She worked at the hospital. She was gone most of the time.”

My hand stilled in his hair.

Everything about his reaction told me there was more.

Much more.

My eyes moved toward the back of his neck.

“Was he the one who left those marks on you when we first met?”

Chin Mae went rigid.

“And the bite?”

I barely touched the place where it had once been visible before his hand snapped around mine.

Hard.

Pain shot through my fingers.

I didn't pull away.

“You can trust me.”

With my free hand, I gently lifted his chin.

His breathing was uneven, but he met my eyes.

Then I saw the colour changing.

Crimson.

A tear slipped from one of those bright red eyes.

I wiped it away with the sleeve of my grey hoodie, leaving a faint red stain behind.

“Did you ever tell your mother?”

His lips trembled. “She…” He swallowed. “We fought over something that happened between him and me. So I left.” His grip loosened slightly.

Pieces started fitting together in my head faster than I could stop them.

His panic around touch.

The scars.

The fear.

The way he reacted whenever that man came anywhere near his memories.

“Chin Mae…”

Anger burned through me. “That bastard hurt you, didn't he?”

His face drained of colour.

I should have stopped.

Instead, the thought of the bite dragged me further.

“He did something to you. Your mother found out, you fought and you left.” My gaze dropped instinctively toward his neck. “And if that bite—if he's somehow connected to what happened to you—”

“Just don't.” His voice was almost inaudible.

I froze.

He pushed my hands away. “I don't want to hear anything!” He stood so abruptly that I barely had time to react.

“Mae—”

I caught the back of his hoodie.

“Thank you for telling me. I'm not going anywhere. You can trust—”

He shoved me.

Hard.

My back struck the wet ground with enough force to knock the air from my lungs.

“AH-!” Pain travelled through my ribs as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Then Chin Mae was beside me. “I'm sorry!”

Panic replaced the anger on his face. One hand landed against my chest as though checking whether I was still intact.

I caught it.

Our fingers intertwined as he helped me sit up.

His cheeks turned pink the moment he noticed.

He withdrew quickly.

I ignored the ache in my back and stood.

“Coming here was the best decision you could've made.”

He stared at me.

I stepped closer. “You're strong, Mae.”

His eyes remained bright red.

Not dark rust like I'd seen before.

Bright.

Alive.

“You'll get through this because you already have what you need inside you. Not because of me. Not because somebody else saves you.”

My hands settled on his shoulders before sliding carefully toward his nape.

He didn't recoil.

“There aren't borders that can contain you. No rules that can decide what you're capable of. No locks that get to keep you where you don't want to be.” I leaned closer before catching myself.

His face was too near.

His lips even nearer.

Not now.

I pulled him against my chest instead.

“You can do anything you set your mind to, Chin Mae.”

His body gradually softened in my arms.

Don't screw this up.

He'd already told me where the line was.

I would respect it.

We had enough to survive without me making everything worse because I couldn't control myself around him.

“Thank you, Cheng.”

When I released him, I immediately missed the weight of his body against mine.

I settled for looking at him.

Apparently even that was dangerous.

His eyebrow lifted. “Your phone is ringing.”

I sighed.

“And don't ignore it this time.”

I picked up the call “Emma. I'm with Chin Mae". The meaning seemed obvious to me.

Leave us alone.

Her voice exploded through the speaker, asking whether I wanted to grab something to eat.

Apparently not to her.

I rubbed my face and covered the speaker. He watched me expectantly.

“Emma wants to have dinner together.”

He shrugged. "Let's eat at home, though. Ask her to pick up some red meat. I'll send her the money.”

We left the park quietly and started running again once we passed the gate.

Within minutes, Chin Mae glanced over his shoulder.

“We can jog. You look exhausted.”

“I am jogging. And pay attention when we get back into the city. Cars are more dangerous than trees.”

A few seconds later, something suddenly locked around my body.

I stopped.