I am 23 years old and live alone.

01

Every morning before dawn, I dress up meticulously and go to work, returning home only late at night.

My job is simple: handling ducks.

I know people are watching me because I always wear sexy short skirts. I like being watched. When they look, I deliberately lift my leg. My boss is happy too; after all, many people come to buy ducks just to see me. Every day, there are no ducks left, and I happily take home the duck blood I’ve processed. This is a special benefit from my boss, who says the duck blood can sell for a good amount.

Today, as usual, I returned home late at night. I put the duck blood in the fridge and suddenly felt a sound behind me. Turning around, I saw the door was open. I live alone, and only I have the key to the door. How could it be open? I quickly closed the door, locked it, and shut the nearby windows. I turned on the TV, setting the volume to the maximum. Now I was reassured.

I plopped down on the soft sofa and closed my eyes. Suddenly, a pair of hands clasped around my neck. I smiled, revealing my sharp teeth. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” I laughed and started my dinner. Although duck blood can sustain life, fresh blood is much sweeter and tastier.

I am a vampire, and this is my 300th year.

Three hundred years ago, I became a vampire. Back then, the world was wonderful, and I lived carefree. Now, 300 years later, I can barely survive.

The next day, the police came. They questioned me and my boss in front of a flock of ducks. “Have you seen this person?” My boss, an honest man, shook his head, saying he hadn’t. He spends all day handling ducks and doesn’t care who buys them. “What about you?” “I don’t remember,” I answered honestly. I hadn’t seen the person; I didn’t turn on the lights last night and didn’t see their face. I’m not picky; as long as it’s a human, it tastes good.

A few days later, the police left. The boss said they found the person hiding under a stone bridge, talking nonsense like a madman. I smiled and continued to handle the ducks in my sexy attire. I am a 300-year-old vampire, knowing how to control my desires and manipulate people’s minds. But I never had any designs on my boss. He, like me, leaves early and returns late every day, but on nights of the full moon, he leaves especially early and comes in very late the next day. I’ve never asked him, and he’s never told me. He’s a generous boss, leaving duck blood for me and not minding if a few ducks go missing occasionally. I advised him to call the police, but he said it wasn’t necessary; it was just a few ducks.

I am wealthy but have no money. This is understandable. Living for 300 years, I’ve collected many valuable things, but I can’t exchange them for money in this society because of their obscure origins. I don’t like running a business; I just want to eat my fill every day. Besides, in this era, being too conspicuous is risky. So, despite living for 300 years, I can only make a living through a job.

I handle the ducks diligently, draining blood and plucking feathers until late at night when the boss starts to close the shop.

“You did that, didn’t you?” The boss suddenly spoke. I was startled, not knowing what he meant. “That madman under the stone bridge.” I turned my back to the boss, revealing my sharp teeth. I had changed many bosses and never been exposed before, making me inexplicably flustered. “I mean no harm. Just wanted to remind you to be careful; there are hunters around.” The boss packed up and left without another word.

I stayed in the shop, feeling a bit dazed. I’ve been discovered. The boss knows my identity. And most importantly, hunters are coming.

02
The hunters, our mortal enemies who once almost annihilated our vampire family, are back. If I hadn’t kept a low profile, they might have targeted me long ago. But what are the hunters doing here now? And how did my boss know about this? I realized I’d been too careless, utterly unaware of any danger.

The next day, I covered myself up tightly, which displeased some of our regular customers. “She’s had an allergy flare-up,” my boss explained on my behalf. Since last night’s incident, I started paying more attention to my boss. He seemed quite young, though he never shaved and had a rugged appearance. His eyes were bright and clear, his movements swift, with no wrinkles around his eyes. I didn’t know how to describe it, but he was completely different from us vampires.

My skin is pale, glowing white in a crowd, and I’m very beautiful—beautiful enough to make men willingly spend money on me. But he wasn’t exactly handsome. Despite always stooping, I could tell his muscles and bones were strong, his flesh firm—something I discerned after biting countless human veins. Such a person didn’t quite fit the image of a daily duck butcher.

I couldn’t figure out who he really was, which made me increasingly curious about him. I even started following him, but I failed. As soon as I took a few steps behind him, he stopped. “It’s too late. Follow me tomorrow when you finish work early.” I stopped in my tracks. Tomorrow was the full moon, his monthly early quitting day. A perfect day.

The next day, I openly followed him. His home was far away; even as a vampire, I got tired after following him in high heels for an hour. He sold ducks in the city but lived in this deserted place. “For safety’s sake, you should stay outside,” he said, shutting me out. It was a standalone villa. Such a villa would be incredibly expensive in the city, but here in this remote countryside, it seemed out of place. This area likely only had basic utilities, maybe no internet, and certainly no natural gas or heating.

Being left outside made me happy. It gave me a chance to see what my boss was really up to. I circled the villa, noticing there were no real windows—it was built like an immovable fortress. From the outside, it had large glass windows, but they were sealed off from the inside. Clearly, he wasn’t human! An ordinary person would have given up, unable to see or hear anything in such a tightly sealed place. But I, with my superior vampire senses, could hear the beautiful rhythm of blood flowing under the skin.

Soon, I heard low growls, violent collisions, and the sound of blades cutting through metal. The air was filled with the tempting scent of blood and a smell I detested: the stench of beasts. It was a werewolf. I confirmed it immediately and almost took off my high heels to flee. Not because I couldn’t fight a werewolf, but because my 300 years of hiding had made me instinctively flee at the first hint of danger. Werewolves, uncontrollable beasts, were no match for noble vampires like me.

But my boss had some real skills, managing to keep this secret from me for so long. He must have smelled the lingering scent of that person on me last time—after all, werewolves have an even sharper sense of smell than I do. The next day, the boss arrived late as usual. Today, I wore my prettiest dress, a tight red miniskirt with a slit up to my thigh. As soon as he walked in, I bluntly asked, “Are you a werewolf?”

He didn’t speak, didn’t even look up at me. But I kept staring at him, at his fingers. If anyone knows werewolves better than hunters, it’s us vampires. Our way of identifying werewolves is simple: their ring and middle fingers are the same length—a flaw that evolution failed to fix. I had never noticed his hands before. He was wearing sturdy leather gloves, which was quite clever.

“The hunter is gone,” he said.

03
After a long while, he finally looked up and spoke to me.

“That’s good,” he said. I was wearing my boldest red lipstick, but he didn’t even glance at me.

Of course, I knew the hunter had left. There can only be one hunter in a city, just like there can only be one vampire. This city already had a hunter, but that hunter fell into my hands three years ago.

He was an old hunter, thinking his experience made him invincible. But there are many old fools who get caught by the very prey they hunt. I thanked this era for allowing me to forge a pregnancy report, gaining his complete trust. The old pervert died believing I was genuinely in love with him, thinking his old wounds had flared up and infected him. He even urged me to take good care of the nonexistent child and told me to seek help from a specific website if I ever faced difficulties or dangers.

That website was a secure network exclusively for hunters, revealing their whereabouts and plans worldwide. But I hadn’t browsed it for a long time, having grown complacent. If not for my werewolf boss reminding me, I might have forgotten that I was still masquerading as a hunter.

Yet, I sensed something was off. I couldn’t pinpoint the source of my unease, but as a vampire who has lived for 300 years, I have an innate sensitivity to danger. Danger was close by.

I decided to change jobs. Working under a werewolf wasn’t safe, even if he was a good boss and had revealed his identity to me.

“If you quit now, you won’t get this month’s salary,” the boss said coldly. But it made me realize that without this month’s salary, I’d be kicked out by my landlord. To avoid modern-day inconveniences, I never bought a house, but my boss had a standalone villa. Thinking about this, I reconsidered quitting.

I continued wearing my short skirts, but it had been a while since anyone followed me home. This lowered my quality of feeding; I was surviving on duck blood daily. I couldn’t understand—had those men suddenly reformed?

I soon discovered that the men who followed me were being intercepted before they reached my door.

“You don’t look well lately,” the boss said, showing rare concern. But what good intentions could a werewolf have? He probably wanted to kill me while I was weak.

“People following me have been taken. Was it you?”

“No,” he shook his head. I knew it wasn’t him; that person smelled enticing.

“Need help?”

“No need.”

A vampire doesn’t stoop to seeking help from a werewolf to find food. But before I could investigate, the person taking my prey appeared. The police came to the duck shop again, still looking for me.

“You have the freedom to dress as you wish; our duty is to protect your freedom.” It turned out to be the police! I had to give up, letting them arrest those who intended to harm me repeatedly.

I stopped wearing high heels and changed out of my short skirts. I didn’t care about the complaints from customers anymore. Without fresh blood, I grew weaker by the day, barely surviving on duck blood. I started thinking about snatching joggers at night. It would only take a few minutes, and I wouldn’t be caught.

“Let me help you,” the boss offered again. I refused once more. But I failed again. The police seemed to be everywhere, patrolling around the joggers. I dared not make a move.

“Let me help you,” the boss said for the third time. I nodded. Pride and dignity aside, survival was more important. One sip of blood, and I’d regain my strength. Then, I’d move to a more secluded place, away from this police-surrounded city.

“After work today, follow me,” he said. I nodded.

Before the time came, the boss started packing up, meticulously cleaning the shop. He even refused my help. I thought maybe his target for tonight was among the customers. Soon, he closed the shop. This time, I wore flat shoes, making the long walk to his home easy.

“Wait inside,” he instructed. I was left alone in the boss’s villa, waiting for him to bring me food. Time passed quickly. With his werewolf speed, he should have returned long ago. But he hadn’t. Growing impatient, I tried calling him, only to find there was no signal in this place.

Hours passed, and dawn was approaching. I hadn’t even drunk duck blood to save room for this meal, pacing around the villa in hunger. I tried to open the door to find some other food, but it was locked. This fortress-like villa could trap a werewolf and naturally a weakened vampire like me. Something was wrong.

I began searching the villa frantically. Did the boss plan to starve me? A mere werewolf! I inspected each room. The villa showed no signs of habitation—no air conditioning, refrigerator, TV, not even a sofa or bed. The boss couldn’t possibly live here unless it was all a setup for me.

Desperately, I searched the villa. Only one room was locked. I bent my fingers and easily picked the lock. The walls were covered in photos—of me. Different cities, different jobs, different clothes, different expressions, all me! On the only table in the villa lay a single photograph. I recognized the person in the photo.

04
Three years ago, I was wearing a white dress, tearfully stopping him to say my wallet had been stolen and I needed two yuan to take the bus. He gave me a ride home, and I invited him in for a cup of tea. From then on, he frequently came over for tea, until I applied the unique vampire venom to his wound with my sharp fangs. He never knew I was a vampire until his death.

But I knew all along that he was a hunter, a hunter specializing in strange creatures like us. Looking closely, the old hunter in the photo and my boss share a similar look. I remember the old hunter mentioning he had a son who was seriously ill. That’s why I forged that pregnancy test report.

I suddenly realized why I felt something was off after browsing the encrypted website. Each hunter’s movements were clear, but in the city I stayed before, there were traces of two hunters. That’s impossible unless one hunter had hidden their tracks. It was him.

I slumped over the table, exhausted. No wonder my boss wore gloves; he wasn’t a werewolf but a hunter. I opened the storage compartment under the table and found a wolf pelt. The sounds and smells I perceived that day were all fabricated. Everything was to make me believe he was a harmless werewolf and to trap me in this villa.

Why didn’t he just shoot me? That’s what hunters are best at. My creator died that way at the hands of a hunter. I bared my fangs and claws, frantically trying to find even the smallest gap to escape. Vampires don’t die without blood; they just lose energy and fall into a coma.

I thought of the dried werewolf corpse under the table. He must want to do the same to me, using me to lure out other vampires. This despicable man.

Soon, I fell into a dormant state. Vampires don’t die from lack of blood but enter a deep sleep. I could no longer move, but my senses remained. I heard the villa door open; it must be him. He checked me from head to toe, likely confirming if I was truly in a dormant state.

Soon, I heard a rustling sound. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, perhaps preparing to deal with me. After a long time, I felt something cold piercing my body, and then heard the sound of blood flowing. The delicious scent filled the air. He was draining my blood.

But I realized he wasn’t just draining my blood. The air was filled with the scent of human blood, an irresistible aroma. Just one sip, and I would awaken. I figured out his plan. He wanted to become a vampire himself, performing a blood transfusion.

Ridiculous. A hunter wanting to become a vampire.

I soon felt the searing pain of silver piercing my body. I, a vampire who had survived 300 years, was going to die at the hands of a hunter who desired to become what he hunted. How absurd.

I am a vampire who has lived for 300 years.
Dying at the hands of a hunter who desires to become a vampire.
How absurd.

05
Voiceover:

Three years ago, I discovered I had a terminal illness and began desperately searching for a way to survive. I was on the brink of losing hope until I found traces of a vampire. I persuaded my father, who had given up on treating me, to go to that city. The vampire found him, just as I expected.

My hunter father finally died, and I took all his belongings. He had the means to extend my life with werewolf meat, but he never let me have it. I only needed a few more years, just a few.

I consumed the werewolf meat. On the 15th of each month, I felt like my body was being torn apart, but I didn’t transform because I’m not a werewolf. Despite the torment, I didn’t change. I also developed a craving for raw meat. Every month, I had to consume dozens of pounds of raw meat to suppress my desire to eat humans.

I started building a house designed to trap a vampire. If I could become a vampire, I could live without enduring this inhuman suffering.

Now, she finally took the bait. I’m finally going to become a vampire. It’s really happening.

The End