As Gu Xun uttered those words, "Let's go," Lu Zhao felt as though he'd been plunged into icy water. Moonlight seeped through the slats of the rolling door, casting pale streaks across the floor. It illuminated the dust suspended in the air and the unyielding resolve etched on Gu Xun's face.
Lu Zhao's gaze drifted involuntarily toward the back of the shop. Jiang Jin lay buried beneath collapsed shelves and scattered tools, one arm twisted at an unnatural angle, utterly still. Shadows swallowed most of his form, only the tips of his boots exposed to the moonlight, caked in engine oil and unidentifiable grime.
"He..." Lu Zhao opened his mouth, his throat dry and sore. He wanted to ask if Jiang Jin was dead, to ask if they were truly leaving like this, but the words caught in his throat, turning into a silent gasp.
Gu Xun offered no answer. He bent silently, his movements stiff with exhaustion, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly when they touched the backpack strap. He slung the bag, containing their dwindling supplies, over one shoulder. As the canvas fabric brushed against the fresh, startlingly vivid red marks encircling his wrist, his brow furrowed almost unnoticeably.
Then he walked toward the rolling door. The rusted metal groaned beneath his hands, creaking upward slowly. With every inch it rose, the cold wind outside—a foul mix of rot and gunpowder—surged in further. When the gap was just wide enough for one person to pass, he turned back, casting one last look at Lu Zhao. Moonlight fell across half his face, illuminating his bloodless skin and eyes that were too clear—emotion had been stripped from them entirely, leaving only a frozen calm.
"Lu Zhao," he repeated, his voice quiet yet heavy as a hammer striking her heart. "Stay, or come with me."
This was no negotiation, but a line drawn at the edge of a cliff. Lu Zhao's heart pounded wildly in his chest, the sound of blood rushing against his eardrums almost audible. Stay? Share a room with Jiang Jin, who had just revealed such frenzied possessiveness and destructive tendencies? The mere thought made his stomach clench. But following Gu Xun... two exhausted souls, stepping into this night that had swallowed countless lives...
His gaze finally fixed on the bruised ring around Gu Xun's wrist, the marks glowing purple-blue in the cold moonlight. A mixture of fear, dependence, and some inexplicable sense of duty pushed him forward a step. His shoe scraped against the metal debris on the ground, making a faint, grating sound.
"Go." The word finally squeezed through his clenched teeth.
Gu Xun gave an almost imperceptible nod and sidled out the door. Lu Zhao followed immediately. As he bent down to exit, he thought he heard a faint sound from the shadows behind him—a sound like the grinding of broken bones—that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
The instant his entire body cleared the doorframe—
BOOM!!!
A deafening explosion erupted behind him!
A searing shockwave erupted, spewing scorching metal shards! The heavy roll-up door tore apart from the inside like paper, its center grotesquely twisted and shattered. A gaping hole, its edges glowing a dark crimson, gaped open, instantly flooding the narrow doorway with a wave of blistering heat.
Behind the gaping hole, Jiang Jin stood swaying like a demon crawling out of hell. His forehead split open, blood mingling with sweat trickling down his twisted face. His bloodshot eyes locked onto the backs of the two figures outside, churning with the agony of utter betrayal and a madness potent enough to incinerate everything. The fist that had just smashed open the door was raw and bleeding, yet it remained clenched tight, wisps of black smoke rising between his fingers.
"Gu Xun—!!!"
His roar was hoarse and broken, yet it carried a force capable of splitting clouds and shattering stone, making the very air tremble.
Lu Zhao was terrified out of his wits. The deafening sound and wave of heat made him instinctively lunge forward.
Almost the instant the explosion echoed, Gu Xun whipped around, scraping together his last ounce of strength to seize Lu Zhao's arm. He yanked him violently toward himself, and together they stumbled into the deeper shadows across the street!
"Run!"
Gu Xun's sharp command shattered Lu Zhao's fear-frozen mind. Before they could even steady themselves, driven by pure survival instinct, they scrambled on all fours into the narrow alley beside the hardware store—a garbage-strewn passage barely wide enough for one person.
Behind them, Jiang Jin's beastly roar and the crackling of flames clung to them like flesh-eating maggots. Trapped by the rubble and the emotional shock, he didn't pursue immediately, but that precious moment of respite could vanish in an instant.
The dark alley swallowed their figures like a monster's esophagus. They stumbled forward, lungs burning, hearts pounding as if about to burst. Gu Xun's steps were noticeably unsteady, most of his weight leaning heavily on Lu Zhao's supporting arm. Lu Zhao could distinctly feel the faint tremors running through his body and the abnormal heat radiating through the fabric.
They dared not look back, scurrying like frightened rats through the labyrinthine alleys. They darted around corners, using every conceivable obstacle—overturned trash cans, broken carts, discarded furniture—to conceal their movements and scent. Only when the pain in his chest felt like it would tear him apart, only when the bone-chilling sound behind them was finally swallowed by the night's dead silence, did the two collapse into a hidden corner piled with worn-out sofas and mattresses. Leaning against the cold, damp brick wall, they lay like stranded fish, mouths agape, greedily yet painfully gasping for the foul air.
Silence descended once more, magnifying every heartbeat and gasp.
Lu Zhao, still shaken, glanced toward the alley entrance, where only impenetrable darkness lay. Jiang Jin hadn't pursued them—at least not yet.
Gu Xun leaned against the wall, eyes closed. His damp bangs clung to his skin, his complexion appearing even more ashen in the shadows. After a long moment, he slowly lifted his eyelids to look at Lu Zhao, equally disheveled and shaken.
"For now... we're safe," his voice was a thread of breath, almost lost in the wind.
Lu Zhao looked at him, fragile as if he might shatter at the slightest touch, then glanced down at his own hands, caked in mud and cold sweat. An unprecedented sense of bewilderment and heaviness enveloped him like a soaked quilt, tightening around him.
Had they truly escaped? How long could two men, their strength nearly spent, endure in this desolate wasteland?
From the very start, their journey together had been steeped in the panic of flight and the terror of the unknown.