Chapter 3042: Blood-Stained Addiction 18

That night, Jin Chen was taken out of the white bone prison by the butler and moved to a new cell.

This place looked a bit more frightening, but upon closer inspection, one would find it was better than the room Jin Chen had stayed in before.

Washroom.

Jin Chen stepped out of the bath, his silver long hair wet and clinging to his smooth back and waist; he casually picked up the white robe draped on the rack and threw it over himself, only loosely pulling it together.

He walked to the desk, picked up the teapot on it and poured a cup of tea, then slowly turned his head to look out the window.

Outside the castle, a full moon rose slowly, suffused with a faint dark red, as if soaked in diluted blood.

Thin mist spread, winding around the outlines of the gothic spires.

The blood moon approaches.

A certain room beneath the spire.

Saiyin lay against the coffin's edge, in the endless tearing, an indescribable pain surged like a tide, trying to strip the soul from the flesh and completely renew the blood and flesh.

His skin became dry and rough, his lips cracked and bled, his eye sockets sank, his cheekbones protruded, his already pallid face grew even paler, revealing the purplish-blue veins underneath; as he continued to gasp, Saiyin's fangs extended, his nails turned sharp and lethal, glowing with a cold white light in the candlelight.

"Huh..."

Saiyin panted lowly, his hair disheveled and falling over his shoulders, his deep purple robe crumpled from being kneaded, looking like some ancient creature that had crawled out of a tomb.

Pale, frail, gloomy, exquisitely beautiful, a sickly, decadent beauty.

Saiyin felt he had become a desiccated corpse; since that first embrace hundreds of years ago, he had never received acknowledgment or blood, so no matter how long he lived, he would only grow more arid.

Under the full moon, Jin Chen closed the pages of the book.

He slightly furrowed his brows and sighed, a little troubled.

How could he look so painful?

Jin Chen put down the book and left the cell.

In the gloomy corridor, Jin Chen's white robe trailed behind him, his silver hair gently swaying in the night breeze; moonlight streamed through the corridor's windows, and the butler Ede Jia's stooped figure appeared at the end of the hallway.

He looked at Jin Chen, then bowed slightly, making no obstruction, quietly turning aside to clear the way.

Jin Chen walked past him, passed those ancient murals, and pulled open the heavy iron door.

Saiyin lay against the coffin's edge, his long hair scattered on the floor, his complexion a deathly pallor, his lips devoid of any color, even somewhat cracked. He seemed to have completely shed his usual haughty, elegant countenance, revealing his most fragile side—tormented into gauntness by pain, yet within that extreme fragility blooming a breathtaking beauty.

Saiyin heard the footsteps and, with difficulty, lifted his head: "Jin Chen..."

Jin Chen approached Saiyin, bent down, lifted him from the coffin's edge and held him in his arms, his arms encircling Saiyin's slender waist, and he gently stroked Saiyin's thin back as it heaved violently.

He lowered his gaze slightly, looking at the blood-count buried in the crook of his neck, painfully sobbing.

Outside the window, that full moon stained with an ominous dark red cast its cold, eerie moonlight through the iron bars onto Jin Chen's side face, his gem‑like blue eyes revealing an almost divine compassion and pity.

His fingertips lightly brushed Saiyin's damp temples, "My lord, how… have you become so miserable?"

Saiyin's body trembled violently in his embrace, as if trying to pour out the centuries of desiccation and tearing anguish onto this sole support, he eagerly rubbed his cheek against Jin Chen's neck skin.

Jin Chen gently pressed his lips' corner, "Open your mouth."

Saiyin's bloody pupils scattered; his lip corner was entered by Jin Chen's thumb, the pad resting against the upper jaw, barely touching the trembling sharp fangs—those of a top predator—under his fingertip they appeared unusually fragile and docile.

A deeper longing was awakened; Saiyin unconsciously sucked on the invading fingertip, and Jin Chen's lip corner twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Good." He whispered praise and slowly withdrew his thumb.

Saiyin's gaze followed his finger; the craving in his blood‑red eyes intensified, yet the interruption left him bewildered, he uselessly opened his mouth and emitted a yearning breath.

Jin Chen slightly tilted his head, exposing his neck and shoulder to Saiyin's view: "Where would you like to bite, my lord?"

"Huh..."

Saiyin leaned in his embrace, instinctively seeking the source of the sweet scent, his unfocused blood‑red eyes wandering dazedly between Jin Chen's neck and shoulder.

Jin Chen's fingertip lightly tapped his left shoulder near the collarbone: "Here… is this alright?"

Saiyin's gaze unconsciously followed his command; his slightly cracked lips trembled open, revealing fully extended fangs, he buried his face in Jin Chen's neck crook and drank without restraint.

Jin Chen slightly lifted his head, enduring the sucking, he gently caressed Saiyin's pale, gloomy cheek, his fingertips brushing over his trembling lashes and wet eye corners, lightly patting his thin back now and then, and slowly swept his own silver hair to the opposite shoulder so as not to hinder Saiyin's movements.

They leaned against the coffin, the white robe trailing on the ground, tangled messily with the hem of the deep purple nightgown, making it hard to tell them apart in the dim light.

But it seemed that the solace of blood eased the most tearing pain, yet it did not fill the ineffable void.

Soon Jin Chen noticed, with a hint of vexation, that the body in his arms began to restless stir.

Saiyin was no longer satisfied with mere blood‑sucking; his head, buried in Jin Chen's neck side, began to rub anxiously, his moist, warm lips and still‑extended fangs, as he rubbed, freely scraped the skin of Jin Chen's neck and shoulder, reddening it and mixing with the flowing blood into a flushed, decadent crimson.

Jin Chen's white robe, already loosely fastened after his bath, became even more disheveled by his restless rubbing, the collar falling open.

Jin Chen's eye color darkened a little; he helplessly allowed Saiyin to rub for a moment, until the restlessness grew more evident, then he openly extended his slender fingers to lightly stroke the narrow vessels beneath Saiyin's pale skin, gently massaging.

"What's wrong now, my lord?"

Saiyin with difficulty slowly lifted his head, pulling away from Jin Chen's shoulder, his lips stained with scarlet blood slightly parted, his blood‑filled eyes hazy as they met Jin Chen's somewhat helpless blue gaze.

His vision blurred, his consciousness drifting between the emptiness after pain's relief and a soul‑shuddering craving.

In this chaos, the first thing that flashed into his mind was that dark bedroom of that night, looking down at his eyes, the intertwining blood lines, the uncontrolled trembling, and the feeling that frightened him yet he secretly clung to.

Saiyin trembled, pressing firmly onto the hand Jin Chen had lightly rested on his neck, as if urging him to grip tightly.

He lifted his pale, fragile neck, his blood‑moistened lips opening and closing slightly, mingling with a strong bloody scent, lightly brushing Jin Chen's lip and jaw: "A little harder…"