Chapter Two: A Photograph That Would Not Pass

She raised the camera at a distance of less than half a meter. In the viewfinder, rain slashed across the man's pale face. She pressed the shutter. The flash fired. One piece of the world fell silent. Not the whole street, but a sphere perhaps three meters wide around the vampire. Raindrops hung like transparent nails. His coat froze in the wind. His red pupils stopped halfway through contracting. A sheet of newspaper remained suspended behind him, its date painfully clear. Outside the sphere, cars moved and people screamed. His hand still encircled Jianyue's wrist, but she worked herself free. His skin was cold and hard. He made no response. On her camera, the exposure counter dropped from eleven to ten.