Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 932: Snake Bite

The light in the prison cell was dimmed to a very low level—however, for Gloria, the vampire who disliked sunlight, it was evidently not enough to lift her spirits. Because it was daytime outside.

With a biological clock completely different from that of humans, Gloria felt extremely fatigued and hungry, her powers confined.

She even felt cold—this was because her vampire abilities had been sealed. Even if she drank blood, her special organs, which couldn't function, were unable to convert the blood into the physical strength vampires needed.

Or, even if they could convert it, the efficiency would be very low.

It was somewhat like an addict, submerged in a poison called ‘blood’, unable to resist their dependence on it. This normally would lead to madness… but given Gloria’s current situation, her consciousness was clear.

Because her consciousness was clear, she felt even more uncomfortable—especially regarding the ‘food’ provided by the man in front of her.

Song Haoran would come every day, ask her some questions, and then cut his palm to leave her some ‘food.’

Later, he even brought paper and a pen to note down some important things Gloria said.

“So, even though vampires are ageless and immortal, food is still a limiting factor for their development,” Song Haoran said, twirling a ballpoint pen in his fingers. “Where exactly are the farms of the thirteen clans? I mean, the various residences of pureblood humans.”

This was already related to crucial secrets of the thirteen clans… Gloria bit her lip, battling the pain of hunger while hesitating whether to tell the truth. After all, during this time, she had exposed too much that ordinary people shouldn’t know under this man’s inquiries.Strictly speaking, Gloria had already committed the crime of betraying her race—what was worse, she belonged to the supervision agency of the thirteen clans, which meant her crime was even greater.

At this moment, Gloria curled up in the corner between the window and the wall, holding her body, her face pale as she trembled slightly. The sharp fangs vampires use to feed had long been exposed. “I... I don’t know... that’s confidential information, it’s not... something someone of my level should know.”

“Really don’t know?” Song Haoran suddenly smiled wickedly, then picked up a remote control placed nearby and pressed one of the buttons.

At that moment, one side of the prison cell window slowly opened, and a beam of reddish sunlight instantly shot in—under the light, dust danced chaotically in the air.

As the window opened further, the light gradually began to spread toward Gloria. She suddenly shuddered, tightening herself even more.

When the sunlight spread to the edge of her bed, Gloria even fearfully curled her toes, her pink toenails glistening in the presence of sunlight.

“I only know of one, it’s my family’s breeding ground, I don’t know anything else!” Gloria ultimately feared the direct rays of sunlight.

Song Haoran smiled, casually pressing the stop button, and the sunlight’s advance instantly stopped right before Gloria’s toes—but the window didn’t close, the golden light still remained before her.

She remained curled up in terror, her tension not only not easing but increasing.

“Where is it?”

“Mo...rogo,” Gloria stammered.

Song Haoran said indifferently, “Be more specific.”

“Danjir... After going to sea from Danjir, sail east for about half a day, there’s a small island…”

After casually jotting this down, Song Haoran glanced at Gloria’s appearance and then closed the window.

The retreat of sunlight finally allowed Gloria’s tense expression to relax slightly.

Song Haoran suddenly said, “I won’t be back for a few days, then I’ll come again. After that, I’ll be leaving for a while… but don’t worry, I’ll have someone deliver your three meals a day.”

Gloria still looked at Song Haoran in fear… It seemed ridiculous for a vampire to fear a human—but this man had that ability.

As he spoke, Song Haoran took out a small dagger, held the blade in his palm, and gently pulled it out. In his clenched fist lay a glass cup.

Crimson blood flowed out in a line, gradually filling the cup.

Gloria couldn’t help but part her lips.

The cup was quickly filled, and as Song Haoran stood up, he pressed his wrist down while smiling, “This is your breakfast… oh, no, it should be a midnight snack for you. Enjoy.”

He was just about to leave.

However, before he could completely exit, Gloria had already abandoned the effort to suppress her instincts with reason and crawled down from the bed, rushing to the cup without hesitation, gulping it down.

After drinking the full cup of blood, Gloria let her body fall to the ground—after a vampire drinks blood, they experience a very brief moment of pleasure, which is nearly their greatest enjoyment.

Song Haoran watched this scene with interest, chuckling, “Though I’ve seen this several times, every time I see you like this, I feel an urge to experience it myself, that extreme pleasure.”

Gloria slowly opened her eyes, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

She lay still on the ground and suddenly spoke, “You… are not normal.”

“Oh?” Song Haoran shrugged, “What do you mean?”

Gloria still didn’t move, only her eyes shifted… moving over Song Haoran from top to bottom, “Normal people’s wounds can’t heal this quickly. Normal people can’t withstand this much blood loss for so many consecutive days.”

“Maybe I just have a naturally good constitution,” Song Haoran replied casually, smiling as he turned to leave, “Goodbye, Miss Gloria, discussing vampire issues with you is truly enjoyable.”

After the steel door closed, Gloria slowly stood up… She glanced at the surveillance camera in the corner. This device would automatically shut off when Song Haoran entered, but would turn back on as soon as he left.

At this moment, Gloria walked to the foot of the bed and sat down. The camera could only see her body protruding from the end of the bed but couldn’t see her hand quietly reaching down to the bed’s leg.

This single bed in the prison cell was made entirely of steel… and now, Gloria’s fingers were twisting a screw on the bed’s leg.

But she lowered her head, expressionless.

…

After leaving the prison cell, Song Haoran’s wound had already healed. He casually shook his hand, feeling no numbness from excessive blood loss.

“So it’s determined by the speed of wound healing and the amount of blood loss…” Song Haoran muttered, “I thought it was due to the blood. So, my blood is still human blood, right…”

He was pondering some things that had happened to him—only Gloria hadn’t given him any useful clues.

Maybe it would be possible to consult Mr. Blind, but Song Haoran didn’t plan to reveal his secret of immortality—immortality... Could Mr. Blind's Dao heart resist such temptation?

While he was thinking, Song Haoran’s phone rang. It was O'Neil, saying that the car was ready, and they could depart at any time.

Soon, he would be heading to Chinatown with Bai Shuitang to clarify the matter of the remnants—of course, Song Haoran wouldn't be venturing into danger alone. Earlier, a team had already quietly set off.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Song Haoran said, stopping and hanging up the phone as he walked toward the adjacent courtyard.

This was where his father kept his collection of books—a study that resembled a hall.

Without a doubt, Song Haoran encountered the early-rising Luo Qiu here—in the Cold Residence, he could generally find Luo Qiu in this place when nothing was happening.

This big nephew had a pleasant scholarly aura about him, reminding Song Haoran of the vast, tranquil grasslands beneath the snow-capped peaks.

“Are you getting used to it?” Song Haoran called out before even stepping over the threshold.

Luo Qiu, who was reading a poetry collection, put it down and asked curiously, “What do you mean by ‘getting used to it’?”

Song Haoran chuckled, “Reading with a red sleeve to help with the scent of the books, but now that there’s no red sleeve around, I’m asking if you’re used to it. If you’re not, I can find another one for you; I guarantee she’ll be just as good as Gan Hong.”

“What do you want with me?” Luo Qiu replied casually.

“Hey, you’re obviously dodging the question. But why do you always do it so naturally?” Song Haoran walked in with a helpless expression, then suddenly felt a stir in his heart. “Luo Qiu, do you want to go out for a bit?”

“That could work,” Luo Qiu nodded. “But what are we going to do?”

“Not much, just want you to come along,” Song Haoran smiled. “Because I suddenly feel that as long as I bring you, good luck will come... Besides, you don’t have anything else to do, right?”

“...A premonition?”

Song Haoran nodded, “You don’t know? My premonitions are quite accurate... Come on, don’t be such a bookworm! I’m taking you to have some fun!”

“Alright, let me gather my things.”

Luo Qiu stood up, returned the poetry collection to its place, extinguished the sandalwood incense that was burning nearby, and tidied up the teapot and cups before leisurely following Song Haoran outside.

But what kind of nonsense is this about bringing luck... has he really become a good luck charm?

...

Bai Shuitang didn’t expect the Song family to act so quickly; early in the morning, the eldest son, Song Haoran, insisted on personally taking him to Chinatown.

Additionally, Bai Shuitang was surprised to find that he would be accompanied by the “Young Master Qiu,” as referred to by the servants.

About this “Young Master Qiu,” Bai Shuitang had quietly inquired late at night with an old acquaintance in the Cold Residence. He discovered that even the long-serving employees there didn’t know much.

They only knew that he had returned with the eldest son, Song Haoran, and entered the mourning hall on his first day back, after which Master Song announced his identity.

The servants had many speculations about Young Master Qiu’s identity, but Bai Shuitang thought more deeply—Song Tianyou’s beliefs were almost entirely traditional; places like the mourning hall wouldn’t even allow someone like Song Ying in unless it was a significant occasion.

The fact that this Young Master Qiu could enter the mourning hall immediately surprised Bai Shuitang—this signified that Young Master Qiu was recognized as a true male descendant of the Song family.

“However... this is good,” Bai Shuitang sat in the car he arrived in, his expression gloomy.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and noticed the car behind him—Song Haoran and Luo Qiu were inside.

Bai Shuitang let out a cold laugh, took out his phone, and after a long wait, the person on the other end finally answered.

It was Basil’s voice.

“Basil.” Bai Shuitang looked indifferently at the driver in front—when he called this name, it was obvious that the driver’s shoulders shook slightly.

“What do you want from me? I’ve told you, I won’t continue to cooperate with someone as treacherous as you.”

“Basil, the person driving the car right now is someone you placed beside me, right?” Bai Shuitang said with a sneer, “I’m sure you’re already well aware that I went to the Cold Residence... Driver, you better not slow down, or those behind us will get suspicious.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone.

After a while, Basil spoke again, “Bai Shuitang, what are you planning?”

Bai Shuitang replied calmly, “I guess you’re thinking that after our falling out, I’ll immediately go to the Cold Residence to find Song Tianyou, the old fox, to save myself and expose your plans, right?”

Basil chuckled coldly, “Do I really need to guess?”

Bai Shuitang scoffed, “Basil, you underestimate me. My purpose in going to the Cold Residence isn’t to save myself; it’s to lure someone out. But I thought I’d at least have to wait a day before the Song family made a move. I didn’t expect them to act so quickly.”

“Are you talking about... Song Haoran?”

Bai Shuitang said in a low voice, “Soon, I’ll be bringing him to your hiding place... Whether or not we can deal with him depends on your skills. Basil, this gift of mine is sincere enough, right?”

“You better not pull any tricks on me,” Basil sneered, then added, “But if you can really take care of Song Haoran this time, our cooperation can continue.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The call was cut off a few seconds later. Bai Shuitang then calmly looked at the driver in the rearview mirror—seemingly sensing Bai Shuitang’s gaze, the driver quickly turned his attention back to the road.

Bai Shuitang remarked, “Basil is quite clever; at least he knows to find a Chinese person instead of a foreigner to lower my guard.”

The driver wanted to say something but suddenly froze—because when he glanced at the rearview mirror again, he saw a short pistol in Bai Shuitang's hand!

The arm rested on his thigh, the gun barrel slightly aimed upward... at this distance, if he were to shoot...

“President Bai! Let’s talk this out!”

“I’ll give you double whatever Basil offered you. How about it?” Bai Shuitang said coldly. “I’m just short one dog; do you want to take that role?”

“President, I…”

“Think about it; you’re still young. Are your parents alive? How’s your family? Do you have insurance? Oh... if you don’t answer, I can find out anyway; it’s just a waste of time.”

“…” Sweat broke out on the driver’s forehead as he hurriedly said, “President Bai, tell me who to bite, and I’ll bite whoever you say!”

Bai Shuitang smiled slightly and replied indifferently, “Just drive and be careful.”