That evening, Ken received a WeChat message from Zhao Lei, inquiring about how the meeting had gone. Naturally, Ken replied that the conversation had gone quite well, and that he intended to explore things further.
However, upon learning that Ken had rescheduled the evening meeting to the afternoon, had not invited Zhu Ke'er to dinner, made no subsequent plans, and that they had parted ways to return home shortly after five o'clock, Zhao Lei proceeded to admonish him at length.
Later that night, Zhao Lei messaged again, saying he had asked Wang Han to sound out the situation. It seemed the young lady's impression of Ken was also favorable; she found him "witty and humorous," "quite interesting," and thought they could "start as friends." Zhao Lei suggested this sounded very promising and urged Ken to take the initiative—to chat more, arrange more meetings, and see her more often.
Ken readily agreed, though privately he believed this was merely Zhu Ke'er's polite form of refusal, indicating he was better suited as a friend—a sentiment that, of course, aligned perfectly with his own wishes.
For the following three days, Ken and Zhu Ke'er had no contact whatsoever. His days remained largely spent at the gym, while his evenings were dedicated to visual and lung capacity training.
Ken's first experience of drinking blood was on July 14th, the second on July 17th—a gap of three days. Now, six full days had passed since consuming the rabbit's blood on July 17th, yet he felt neither drowsiness nor hunger.
During these six days, apart from consuming some pure water, he had eaten nothing else, despite maintaining an extremely high level of physical activity. He remained uncertain when the next compulsion to drink blood would arise.
The previous two instances had only occurred after he had seen blood, triggering an intense hunger. This time, however, he hoped to wait until his body actively "signaled" that need itself, allowing him to determine just how long a single feeding could sustain him.
The remaining rabbit, now plump and well cared for, lived in a cage. He had even made a special trip to the supermarket to buy food for it, almost genuinely becoming its "litter attendant." He could only hope to complete this feeding before moving residences.
On the evening of the 23rd, while practicing his visual acuity, Ken suddenly received a WeChat message from Zhu Ke'er: "Sensei Saitama, are you there?" ("Sensei Saitama" was a playful nickname she had given him, referencing One-Punch Man, during their previous conversation.)
After a moment's thought, Ken replied with a simple, solitary word: "Here."
"What are you up to? Feel like coming out for some barbecue?"
Eating something... was naturally out of the question. Just as Ken was preparing to devise an excuse, a sudden salivation flooded his mouth, and a powerful pang of hunger surged from the depths of his being. It's happening.
Since the change began, this was the first time Ken had experienced hunger beforethe sight of blood. Dismissing any thought of an excuse, he hastily replied, "Sorry, can't make it, something came up," tossed his phone aside, sat down at his computer, opened a document to begin a log, and started a timer.
He needed to observe what effects this hunger would have on him and what other changes might manifest as time progressed. During the first two feedings, he clearly remembered the entire process, yet it felt as though his body was operating on "autopilot." The second time, drinking the rabbit's blood at home, had felt considerably more controlled. He wondered: was the difference due to it being his first time at the market, or was his need for blood simply more urgent then? This was another question requiring verification.
After completing his notes, Ken sat cross-legged on the bed, focusing intently on the sensations within his body. Typically, human hunger originates in the abdomen, from the contractions of an empty stomach. But the hunger Ken perceived now did not stem from his abdomen or stomach; it felt more as though it emanated from the depths of his consciousness, from every organ, every cell.
He assessed himself; his physical strength did not seem significantly diminished. Unlike an ordinary person who might feel weak when hungry, that wasn't the case for him. However, the persistent distraction of the hunger made it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on anything else.
Time passed slowly. The hunger, first noticed at 9:08 PM, grew progressively stronger until past 3:00 AM, becoming so intense that Ken found it hard to remain still. He began to rise frequently, walking several times to the bathroom where the rabbit's cage was kept, only to forcefully restrain himself and return. He tried to distract himself with other tasks, but his mind continually conjured images of killing the rabbit and drinking its blood, replaying the sensations from his last feeding.
Initially, Ken recorded a video every half-hour, reciting a Tang poem to the camera to document his state. After midnight, he shortened the interval to every ten minutes, using the method both for record-keeping and as a distraction.
He was tempted several times to go outside for air or a run, but he had previously reasoned that venturing out in this state was unwise, lest he lose control and act on impulse.
To his surprise, around 5:30 AM, near sunrise, the hunger and the urge to feed abruptly lessened considerably. It seemed that after sunrise, the same factor that suppressed his normal bodily functions also dampened his thirst for blood. Relieved, Ken noted the physical changes on his computer while continuing to regulate his breathing and endure.
The daytime was more manageable; the difficulty of resistance did not increase with the passing hours. However, after sunset, the hunger began to intensify once more.
Finally, at 7:33 PM, after nearly driving his fist into the wall, Ken gave up on further endurance. With swift efficiency, he dispatched the rabbit he had raised for nearly a week. Restraining the impulse to gulp directly, he drained the blood into a pre-prepared graduated cylinder.
The cylinder had clear measurement lines. He divided the blood into four portions: the first three cups each held precisely 50ml, while the fourth contained just over 20ml.
After drinking the first 50ml, Ken could distinctly feel that his hunger remained unsatisfied; the craving for the remaining blood was still potent. He did not continue immediately. Instead, he started a timer on his phone. After one minute, he drank the second 50ml portion, then timed again. After a two-minute interval, he consumed the third.
Upon finishing the third cup, Ken clearly sensed a marked decline in the blood's efficacy. A powerful drowsiness washed over him, but he fought against it. While tidying up and continuing to time, five minutes after the third cup, he drank the final portion.
In truth, Ken could still feel a desire for blood, but the final 20ml provided almost no discernible benefit. Evidently, this last portion had lost the potency the rabbit's blood could initially provide. This confirmed a suspicion from last time: the efficacy of the rabbit's blood diminished rapidly once separated from its source.
The second cup, consumed one minute later, showed little difference from the first. However, the efficacy of the third cup had decreased noticeably. From this, he inferred that the decline likely began between one to three minutes after the blood left the rabbit's body.
After finishing his notes, Ken still did not lie down to sleep immediately. He remained seated on the bed, fighting against the encroaching drowsiness. He wanted to see how long he could resist the sleep that followed feeding.