Chapter 16: Kindness

The sky gradually darkened as two staggering zombies shuffled past the window, oblivious to the people hiding inside the milk tea shop.

Wu Lang pulled a tablecloth over the window, then sat at the table by the window. From his travel bag, he took out a loaf of bread and ate it expressionlessly.

The sound of his chewing was neither too loud nor too soft. Song Chengfeng found a chair and sat beside Qu Yan, whispering, “He’s very guarded; we can’t get anything out of him.”

To be honest, he didn’t quite believe Wu Lang was just a simple fitness coach.

Qu Yan tapped the armrest of his wheelchair thoughtfully. “There are calluses between his right thumb and forefinger.”

Song Chengfeng’s breath hitched. “You mean...”

Then he smiled lightly, his features blurred in the dim room. “Looks like we’ve met someone formidable.”

While they spoke, Yan Zhuo approached carrying some food: three bags of crackers and bottled water—very simple fare. Song Chengfeng also ordered a box of self-heating porridge and sighed as he went to prepare dinner for the little one.

Yan Zhuo sat down on the chair beside them.

Qu Yan tore open a packet and popped a piece of chocolate-flavored cracker into his mouth. It was dry and crumbly. Only after swallowing did he speak, “Does it feel uncomfortable?”

Yan Zhuo was caught off guard and paused mid-chew, sensing Qu Yan slowly leaning toward him. Then a deliberately lowered voice whispered near his ear: “Does hiding your tail and ears feel uncomfortable?”

Yan Zhuo recalled telling Qu Yan that leaving his ears exposed felt more comfortable.

In truth, he had made that up, so now he could only respond vaguely.

Qu Yan seemed to ask casually, then quickly withdrew, quietly eating his crackers in the shadows. He wasn’t hungry and stopped after just a few bites.

In the darkness, someone’s breathing gradually became lighter.

Time lost its meaning in this lawless city; only the night and silence spread silently. Yan Zhuo quietly shifted his body, offering his shoulder just so.

As he wished, the shallow breathing beside him soon leaned closer, soft strands of hair brushing his neck and Adam’s apple, tickling it until it bobbed slightly.

If only time would slow down, just a little more.

He wished silently, but the moment was shattered by a sudden thud upstairs—something heavy had fallen.

The head resting on his shoulder immediately pulled away.

Qu Yan rubbed his eyes. “What was that?”

With a soft chuckle, Wu Lang flicked a lighter and lit the thin cigarette in his mouth. “She turned into a zombie.”

Not out of schadenfreude, just a plain statement of fact.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Song Chengfeng patted the little one’s back, helping him fall back asleep, then listened quietly for a while. “No sound anymore.”

“You want to go up?” Qu Yan looked at Yan Zhuo standing up. Though phrased as a question, the tone was definite.

“Yeah.” Yan Zhuo nodded.

---

Night was nothing to him; he easily made out the shadowed expression on Qu Yan’s face. He nervously twisted his fingers. “You... don’t want me to go?”

“Why? You want to help them?” Qu Yan looked up, his tone matter-of-fact. They had made their choice, and they must bear the consequences themselves. That was only fair.

Yan Zhuo hesitated a moment, then squatted right in front of Qu Yan, his palm resting on his knee. “When I met them before, there were four of them.”

Where the other one had gone, he didn’t need to say.

So, wanting to help those poor souls who had just lost a companion? How kind.

Qu Yan smiled faintly, eyes devoid of emotion. “Then go.”

Yan Zhuo didn’t move but gently rubbed the palm pressed against Qu Yan’s knee.

“If you don’t go now, it’ll be too late.” Qu Yan returned to his usual tone, urging, “Go quickly.”

Minutes later, Yan Zhuo returned—clean, without a scratch. His first words: “They’re gone.”

Song Chengfeng asked quickly, “Did they jump from the second floor?”

Even Wu Lang removed his cigarette to look at him. “Are you sure no one’s on the second floor?”

Yan Zhuo frowned. “The window was open, but no one outside.”

That was strange indeed. Song Chengfeng rubbed his swollen eyes from poor rest and muttered, “Could it be they grew wings and flew away?”

After that incident, no one slept. At dawn, Wu Lang slung his backpack over one shoulder and gripped his long knife in the other hand. “For spending the night together, a word of advice: don’t linger in the city.”

With that, he kicked the table blocking the door, pushed it open, and soon disappeared into the street.

“Tsk, he seems alright,” Song Chengfeng whispered, turning to the two behind him. “Shall we go too? First hit the mall for supplies, then head straight to City G?”

This was their plan, and he sought confirmation once more.

Yan Zhuo suddenly said, “I want to go somewhere first.”

“Well...” Song Chengfeng glanced at Qu Yan, the meaning clear—your people, your call.

Qu Yan expressionless: “Whatever.”

Song Chengfeng sensed his bad mood and didn’t want to stir trouble, so he quickly changed plans. “Alright, we’ll go where you want first, then hit the supermarket for supplies. If time allows, we’ll depart for City G today.”

The plan updated, they left the milk tea shop and got into the car, seats the same as before. Qu Yan folded his hands on his abdomen, silent, staring out the window.

The atmosphere in the car was as if frozen. Song Chengfeng had dealt with Qu Yan for years and had seen his mercurial mood swings, so he remained unfazed, driving calmly under Yan Zhuo’s vague directions.

“Left... no, the right road,” Yan Zhuo instructed unclearly.

After the third turnaround, Song Chengfeng couldn’t hold back and stopped the car. “How long has it been since you last came here?”

His tone was gentle enough, mindful that Yan Zhuo was a formidable force.

---

Yan Zhuo glanced in the rearview mirror. Qu Yan remained in the same pose, seemingly indifferent. He curled his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “A long time. I haven’t been back for a very long time.”

Song Chengfeng’s forehead throbbed slightly. He parked in a concealed spot. “Think carefully again. Maybe telling me the name would help.”

The car was running low on fuel.

After resting a while, Yan Zhuo finally gave a vague neighborhood name and address. Song Chengfeng could only guess and drove there.

Without traffic or signals, they arrived after half an hour and stopped before a luxurious villa in an upscale neighborhood.

“This is it,” Yan Zhuo confirmed.

Getting out, they ran into a few zombies, which Yan Zhuo dispatched effortlessly. Song Chengfeng once again deeply understood the meaning of “it’s good to have a sturdy tree for shade.”

They destroyed the door lock and entered the villa.

The interior was simple, the chandelier-lit living room devoid of any sign of life. Yan Zhuo didn’t linger on the first floor but darted upstairs with purpose and speed.

Qu Yan watched his retreating figure silently.

Song Chengfeng inspected the surroundings, then pulled a banner from under the coffee table. When he unfolded it, his expression turned surprised. “Yan Xingzhang... he’s Yan Xingzhang’s son?”

Qu Yan had no memory of that name. “So?”

“You don’t know Yan Xingzhang?” Song Chengfeng was incredulous. “He’s a famous scientist, often on TV.”

Qu Yan remained calm, still confused. His memories of Yan Zhuo were of a boy in rented suits, seeming from a struggling family, yet here he was living in a villa—possibly with a scientist father. He began to question whether his own memory was faulty or if Yan Zhuo had always been deceiving him, hiding behind a facade.

“I remember now!” Song Chengfeng suddenly exclaimed, then murmured, “No wonder his name sounded familiar...”

Qu Yan narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Song Chengfeng didn’t hide it. “Ten years ago, when I was studying under my teacher, a boy came to him wanting to report Yan Xingzhang for abusing minors. From the boy’s words, it seemed Yan Xingzhang was abusing his own son.”

Song Chengfeng’s teacher was a renowned lawyer, well respected. Qu Yan had heard of him before. “And then?”

Song Chengfeng shrugged. “The kid was incoherent, speaking in riddles. Besides, Yan Xingzhang had an excellent reputation, so my teacher didn’t believe the boy.”

“If the boy was telling the truth, then the one being abused was Yan Zhuo?” Qu Yan speculated but quickly dismissed the thought. “No, the ages don’t line up...”

Ten years ago, Yan Xingzhang’s son should have been seventeen, so he’d be nearly thirty now—clearly not Yan Zhuo.

Qu Yan didn’t listen to his own musing. He suddenly wondered if Yan Zhuo’s disappearance a decade ago was related to Yan Xingzhang, or if his current state was the scientist’s doing.

As this thought crossed his mind, he looked up and met the gaze of a young man on the stairs, his eyes glowing blood red.

Those crimson pupils seemed like a sign of transformation into a wolf.