"I'm heading out."
Chen Cebai looked up, his gaze fixed squarely on her neck.
He rarely stared at her like this. Behind the thin-rimmed glasses, his eyes were nearly raw—cold-blooded and reptilian, like something covered in glistening scales.
Qiu Yu shivered involuntarily. But when she looked again, that unsettling gaze had vanished.
Chen Cebai's expression was unreadable as always—no joy, no anger. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
It had to be her imagination.
In the three years they'd been married, she had never seen that look in his eyes—greedy, obsessive, and downright chilling.
She really had been seeing things lately. Maybe it was time to book an appointment with a psychologist.
Qiu Yu was an easygoing, sunny person. No negative emotion ever lingered long in her heart.
Even when people said over and over that Chen Cebai could never fall in love with her, she didn't take it to heart. After all, she had a smooth-sailing job, a comfortable life, and a ridiculously handsome husband. Whether he loved her or not—did it really matter?
Smiling, Qiu Yu waved at him and left the house.
Chen Cebai paused, then walked out onto the terrace.
He lit a cigarette, but didn't smoke it—just held it between his fingers.
The acrid sting of the smoke still couldn't mask her scent.
It was thick, metallic-sweet, utterly maddening.
It all started a week ago.
At first, it was just a change in his sense of smell.
That day, as he walked down the street, he suddenly caught a trace of blood laced with sweat.
Stranger still—that scent conjured a vivid, exact memory.
—He saw her, Qiu Yu, under the suffocating summer sun, standing with her back to a strange man.
That man looked at the sweat-drenched hair clinging to the back of her neck… and, smiling gently, reached out to tuck it aside.
Chen Cebai had always been a calm, rational man. His emotions were flat, his body temperature lower than normal.
Years in the lab had turned his skin pale—deathly, unnatural, as if he weren't fully human.
If not for his breathtakingly handsome features, most people wouldn't dare approach him.
At the time, he was sure he hadn't felt anything in particular upon seeing that vision.
But later, after finishing his work and washing his hands in the lab's restroom, he noticed dark, bulging veins across his forehead, neck, and arms.
In the mirror, his eyes were bloodshot. His expression—stormy, aggressive, on the brink of something violent.
Thankfully, the lab had been nearly empty. No one saw his… condition.
But things only spiraled from there.
In sunlight, he'd feel a rising sense of agitation and rage.
His heart rate slowed. His breathing thinned.
Biometric scans showed his body temperature had dropped to 10°C—a physiological impossibility for any living human in a temperate environment.
Yesterday, when she walked past him, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a primal urge to hunt.
He knew he could take her down in under a second.
And today… it got worse.
As he stared at the back of her neck, his teeth began to itch.
He wanted to bite her.