What It's Like Being a Vampire

Chapter 203: “Ordinary People”

As usual, he gave himself a check-up after waking up, then went to change the canary’s food and water.

After checking his phone, he found several missed calls. Among them, there was a phone number he hadn’t seen before that had called three times. There were also two missed calls from Director Lin.

He found this strange, as he had previously agreed with Director Lin’s team that he would have two days off a week when they were not to contact him. They had all agreed to this arrangement, even written it into the contract. So why were they calling so persistently yesterday? Was there an emergency?

While he had actually completed the main framework of the project and written a large amount of core module code, he hadn’t fully handed it over. Instead, he transferred it bit by bit, letting Ma Hongguo assign the people he had recruited to work as per requirements. It was like building a house; once the frame was up, they just had to follow the standard procedure of laying bricks and painting. He had given them all the methods and formats; as long as the people Ma Hongguo had hired were reasonably competent, it was hard to imagine any problems arising. Even if there were, Ma Hongguo had the skills to solve them.

So what kind of emergency could they possibly have?

Xiang Kun dialed back Director Lin. It took eight rings before it was answered. Judging from Director Lin’s voice, he had just woken up from a nap.

“Mr. Xiang, you finally called back,” Director Lin said.

“Did something happen?” Xiang Kun asked, puzzled.

“Our boss is looking for you. She couldn’t add you on WeChat and couldn’t get through to your phone,” Director Lin said, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

Xiang Kun was even more confused. “Your boss? You’re not talking about Miss Zhang, are you? What does she want from me? Our collaboration has always been direct. She doesn’t understand technology, does she?”

“I have no idea. But she had come to your city a few days ago. You should call her back. The number that ends with 939 is hers,” Director Lin said.

After ending the call with Director Lin, Xiang Kun looked at the unreturned call from the number ending in 939. After thinking for a while, he simply added it to his contacts under the name Zhang Qian, but did not call back.

He had a pretty good guess on what Zhang Qian was up to. Ninety-nine percent sure she was trying to investigate the secret of that A4 paper, but he had no intention of resolving her confusion.

As Xiang Kun was thinking about the special “emotion” he sensed from the brush-written song lyrics in the van before drinking blood yesterday, he tried to sense it again. But this time, he was unable to detect that specific “emotion”. However, since he had experienced it previously, he was intentionally looking for that feeling this time, he could vaguely sense a bit of it, although it was far from clear.

After Xiang Kun had tried for a while, unable to “secure” that emotion like yesterday, he quit, opened WeChat, and sent a message to Xia Libing:

“Are you there?”

A minute later, Old Xia sent back a dazed emoji.

“You guys should be off work now, right? Resting at the hospital?”

“At home. What is it?”

“Oh, nothing much. I bumped into your cousin Xia Tianhuo yesterday.”

Of course, Xiang Kun’s main purpose was to ask him about the note, but Old Xia was as cunning as a fox. It would be too abrupt to ask directly, so it was better to find an excuse to bring up the topic. Xia Tianhuo was the best ice-breaker.

Xia Libing: “Oh.”

After a pause of two seconds, just as Xiang Kun was considering how to continue the conversation, Xia Libing sent another message: “Did you beat him up?”

Xiang Kun was taken aback. Once again, he was startled by Old Xia’s way of thinking. He sent back a toppling emoji, then followed up: “What are you talking about? Why would I beat up your cousin? Don’t make me sound like I’m some kind of violent person…”

Xia Libing: “Oh.”

Xiang Kun found the topic he needed: “Why do you think I would beat up your brother?”

Xia Libing: “He’s mostly been abroad these past few years and doesn’t like to go out much when he’s back, so it’s unlikely you’d run into each other on the street. But he likes Nana, and you and Nana hang out a lot. He probably thinks you two are together, so he’s been following you. You’re very alert and observant, so you probably noticed him stalking you, beat him up, and then he identified himself and brought up my cousin and me hoping you’d spare him. Then, impressed by your fighting prowess, you both buried the hatchet and hit it off. This is my conjecture of how you two met. Isn’t that how it happened?”

Xiang Kun was somewhat speechless as he looked at the chunk of text Old Xia had written. Although there were some discrepancies with the actual situation, the line of thought was correct.

Whether in real life or online, under normal circumstances, Old Xia seldom initiated a conversation. When asked, she usually responded briefly. Unless the situation required her analysis, or she was interested in the topic, she would suddenly say a lot or type a lot.

“Your cousin is pretty reasonable. He’s a man of principle,” Xiang Kun replied.

Xia Libing: “He looks fierce, but he actually cares a lot about others’ feelings. He thinks he’s straightforward, but he’s not at all, and he’s especially indecisive when faced with problems. He probably didn’t even know what he was going to do when he went looking for you. Dealing with him is simple. Just lure him somewhere and fight him. If you win, he’ll respect you. Or, you can invite him for a meal. He’s a big foodie who loves meat. Given your culinary skills, if you cook a meal for him, he’ll be calling you big brother once he’s done eating. He and Nana hardly ever meet. His feelings for Nana are mostly imaginary. Just beat him up and then invite him for a meal to help him see reality.”

Xiang Kun was completely taken aback. Was this Old Xia’s version of “offer a stick and a carrot”?

“You sure know a lot about your cousin.”

“I’ve told you before, I observe everyone.”

“But he’s already gone abroad, so I can’t invite him for a meal.”

“Then you don’t have to. You can invite me instead.”

Following this sentence, was an emoji of a panda holding a bowl begging.

Xiang Kun sent back a laughing emoji: “Next time I come back to Citong City, or when you come back, I’ll cook for you.”

Then he jokingly moved on to the “main topic”: “By the way, do you still have that brush-written note I gave you before I left? You haven’t thrown it away because it’s ugly or anything, have you?”

When he talked to Old Xia about this note last time, Old Xia had responded with a chat record, where she consulted a person who seemed to be a calligraphy expert about the note, and of course, the feedback wasn’t exactly positive. So, this question sounded quite natural.

Xia Libing sent over a picture. In the picture, the note he wrote was spread out on a table.

Then she sent three words: “Looking at it.”

Looking at it? Xiang Kun quickly tried to sense it again. But it felt the same as before, the specific “emotion” that he sensed yesterday was elusive, and he still “couldn’t catch it.”

“What are you looking at?” Xiang Kun sent an emoji with a question mark.

Xia Libing: “Analyzing your mood and state when you wrote this.”

Xiang Kun widened his eyes in surprise and responded: “Why are you analyzing that? Can you get that from these characters?”

The key to an “emotionally infused” object is the maker’s emotion when crafting it. Had Old Xia sensed something? Otherwise, how could she pinpoint the crux so quickly?

Xia Libing: “What else could I analyze? I don’t know much about calligraphy, and your handwriting isn’t worth analyzing in terms of calligraphy anyway. But it’s true, I can’t analyze it. Why don’t you write a few more for me to compare? The sample is too small now; it’s hard to make a judgment.”

Hmm, that makes a lot of sense…

But the thing is, surely regular people wouldn’t try to analyze something from a calligraphy piece that a friend gave them, right?

Xiang Kun: “Alright, I’ll find some time to write a few more pieces for you.”

Xia Libing: “I heard from Nana and my cousin that you sing this song very well? Could you record it and send it to me to listen to?”

Xiang Kun: “How about a live performance next time I visit? I’m more of an ‘in-person’ kind of performer. If it’s just an audio recording, you won’t be able to catch the essence.”

Xia Libing ignored his self-praise: “Okay.”

Xiang Kun then seemingly asked with concern: “Are you adjusting well in the hospital lately? Is it very busy? Do you psychiatrists need to work night shifts?”

“Not busy, no need to.” Xia Libing’s reply was curt again.

After ending his chat with Old Xia, Xiang Kun sat in his chair, slowly sifting through the information he had just gathered.

From what Old Xia herself had said, and judging by the background of that photo, that piece of calligraphy was placed in her bedroom – last time he made dinner for her at Old Xia’s house, he had seen that table, it was in Old Xia’s bedroom.

And Old Xia doesn’t work night shifts, which means she should be sleeping at home at night – the idea of her going out partying or staying out overnight can be easily dismissed without a second thought.

So why is it that every time he sensed the calligraphy piece at night, he couldn’t induce Old Xia to dream? Could this girl not sleep at all? She’s not a vampire like him…

Even for a vampire like Xiang Kun, he has to have a good sleep after drinking blood once a week!

However, when he sensed the special “emotionality” from the calligraphy piece during work hours of a working day yesterday, Old Xia should’ve been in the hospital. Could it be that the special “emotionality” he sensed at that time was not Old Xia’s? Then, who was in Old Xia’s house handling that piece of calligraphy?

Another question was, why did Old Xia want to analyze his calligraphy?

Usually, if a friend gives you a piece of calligraphy that they wrote themselves, unless both you and the friend have a hobby of calligraphy, and the friend writes incredibly well, worthy of being deemed a master calligrapher, would you periodically admire and analyze it?

Old Xia said she doesn’t understand calligraphy, which is perfectly normal, but who among ordinary people would analyze the emotions of their friend when writing it?

Well, Old Xia is not an ordinary person, and it doesn’t seem too odd for her to do so.

…

Citong City, in Xia Libing’s bedroom.

On her desk, beside the calligraphy of the song lyrics “People Like Me” written by Xiang Kun, there is an open laptop with several documents and pictures on it.

If the photo she took included the display screen, Xiang Kun would be surprised to find pictures of his handwriting from various periods on it – including forms he’s filled out, test papers, calligraphy he posted online during his rebellious phase, and even Jia Dao’s “Swordsman”.

Xiang Kun thought that when Old Xia said “analysis”, it meant simply looking at and analyzing the forms of his characters. Naturally, he couldn’t imagine how much deeper Xia Libing’s “analysis” was.

After receiving Xiang Kun’s calligraphy of the song lyrics, Xia Libing created a special folder to store the results and the reference materials of her analysis. Then, this folder began to grow bigger and bigger.

In the span of a month, Xia Libing had broken down all 301 characters in the calligraphy piece Xiang Kun had given her. Each character was photographed, entered into the computer and compared with Xiang Kun’s handwriting from different periods, both with a calligraphy brush and a regular pen.

So far, she could only tell that Xiang Kun’s writing style in this piece had changed a lot from his previous ones. The characters seemed calmer, steadier, and his control over the brush had noticeably improved. However, she couldn’t tell anything else.

However, Xia Libing was certain that there must be a reason for Xiang Kun to give her this piece of calligraphy.

According to her analysis of Xiang Kun’s character, he was not the type to gift a run-of-the-mill piece of calligraphy to just anyone, especially not on the obviously practice-designed rice paper.

Whether it’s cooking or making wood sculptures, he pays great attention to details and cares a lot about the impressions of others. You can tell just by looking at the woodcarving he gifted to Tang Baona that he shared in their chat group. Even the wooden box for the woodcarving was handcrafted by Xiang Kun, carefully sanded down.

From any angle, Xiang Kun shouldn’t have gifted such a simple piece of calligraphy on rice paper to her.

Moreover, in their occasional chats later, Xiang Kun purposely or inadvertently mentioned this gift, which also proved his point.

Initially, she thought the emphasis must be on the song lyrics. So, she listened to the song “People Like Me” many times and analyzed the lyrics in detail. But she quickly realized that the emphasis was actually on the calligraphy piece – otherwise, Xiang Kun would not have personally delivered it.

Today when Xiang Kun brought it up again, she had been ready to directly question him. Regardless of whether or not Xiang Kun’s response would be the truth, she might get a clue from his reply.

However, from his response after she mentioned analyzing his “mental state and emotion when writing”, Xia Libing believes she might be on the right track.

Did Xiang Kun give her this piece of calligraphy because it expressed some sort of emotion or feeling that he wanted her to understand?

But why did he choose to let her feel this through calligraphy? Why didn’t he just say it?

Would an average person do something like that?

Considering it’s Xiang Kun, Xia Libing felt a sense of relief. He is indeed not an average person, and doing something weird like this seems normal for him.

Could it be… that he’s figured something out?

Is this actually a test for me?

Xia Libing pondered while staring at the calligraphy on the table.

There was one sentence in their conversation that caught her attention: asking if she was very busy at the hospital and if she had to work at night.

Based on her analysis and judgement of Xiang Kun’s character, he wouldn’t ask her such a meaningless polite question, because Xiang Kun must have known she didn’t need it. And asking “are you busy and do you have night shifts” without a follow-up questioning purpose doesn’t fit Xiang Kun’s usual communication style either.

That can only mean: The question was a probing one asked by Xiang Kun for some purpose, even though she was not clear about his purpose at the time.

What could be the purpose of asking if I’m busy and if I have night shifts?

If I have night shifts, I’ll have to stay in the hospital overnight. If I don’t, then I’ll be resting at home.

Xia Libing felt like she somewhat sensed something, but upon thinking more deeply about it, she was clueless again.

Glancing at the time, it was almost time for her to go to work. She didn’t ponder any further, closed all the files on her laptop and put it into sleep mode.

Then she began to carefully fold the calligraphy piece into the size of an A4 paper, placed it in a transparent file folder, and put it into the fabric tote bag she usually uses to carry things to the hospital.