Chapter Three: The Stopped Clock

She cut a fingertip on broken glass. A bead of blood appeared, froze, then flowed backward into her skin. The cut closed without a mark. “Am I dead?” “No. Death is kinder.” Gu picked silver fragments from his palm. “Your metabolism is locked at the instant of your first bite. Your body will stay warm, and your heart will beat only when necessary. Your cells no longer record age. Ordinary food will never satisfy you again.” “I won't drink blood.” “Neither do we, often. Blood is only a crude carrier. What you will hunger for is other people's time.” From the kitchen came the scent of the staff meal. Zhiwei did not smell chicken; she smelled the chef's regret after arguing with his daughter that morning.