The shadows at the underground garage entrance offered no real sense of security. The distant growls echoing from the streets and the unsettling, faint scratching sounds deep within the garage reminded them that lingering meant danger.
"We can't stay here." Gu Xun braced against the wall, trying to stand, but his body swayed. Lu Zhao instinctively reached out to steady his arm, finding it icy cold and trembling slightly.
"You need rest!" Lu Zhao blurted out, his voice sounding jarring in the empty street. He immediately lowered his tone. "You... you look terrible."
Gu Xun steadied himself with Lu Zhao's support, shaking his head. His lips cracked. "Jiang Jin... won't give up easily. We're too close to the hardware store." He paused, breathing heavily. "Find a more hidden place."
Lu Zhao watched Gu Xun forcing himself to stay upright and swallowed his objections. He knew Gu Xun was right. Jiang Jin's blood-red eyes, filled with destructive intent, were seared into his memory like a brand. He scanned the surroundings, his gaze finally settling on a relatively intact three-story building across the street. The faded sign above the door read "Warmth Inn," its entrance ajar.
"There?" he gestured across the street.
Gu Xun followed his gaze and nodded slightly.
Supporting each other, they crossed the street as quickly as possible. Pushing open the motel's glass door, a wave of dusty air mixed with a faint musty smell hit them. The front desk was in disarray, the guest register scattered on the floor, and dark brown stains congealed on the ground.
"Try not to touch anything," Gu Xun whispered, his voice muffled by a suppressed cough.
Lu Zhao nodded, tightening his grip on a half-pipe he'd picked up from the roadside. He led the way, carefully spreading his senses to detect any movement on the stairs and in the corridors.
The first floor seemed devoid of life, save for several corpses long since rotted and gnawed beyond recognition. They ascended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking under their weight, the sound jarringly loud in the deathly silence.
At the end of the second-floor corridor, they found a room with its door tightly shut. Lu Zhao tried the handle—locked. He looked to Gu Xun, who motioned for him to step aside. Gu Xun pressed his palm against the lock. A faint, almost imperceptible white glow emanated from his hand. Seconds later, a soft click sounded as if something inside the lock had melted.
"This is the only way," Gu Xun withdrew his hand, his face seeming to grow paler, his voice growing weaker. "Damaging intricate structures... takes a tremendous toll."
Lu Zhao pushed open the door, letting in a relatively cleaner stream of air. The room was small, containing only a single bed, a nightstand, and tightly drawn curtains. He quickly checked under the bed and the cramped bathroom to confirm it was safe.
"This place is okay." He turned back, only to see Gu Xun clutching the doorframe, her body slowly sliding down.
"Gu Xun!"
Lu Zhao lunged forward, catching Gu Xun before he collapsed completely. Gu Xun's body was light, yet now it felt as if all his bones had been removed, leaning entirely on Lu Zhao. Lu Zhao half-carried, half-supported him to the bedside and laid him down.
His forehead was burning hot to the touch. Supernatural ability depletion, mental shock, physical exhaustion—all the problems erupted at once in this moment.
"Water..." Gu Xun murmured unconsciously, his eyes closed.
Lu Zhao frantically rummaged through his backpack, pulling out the last half-bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap, carefully tilted Gu Xun's head back, and fed the water drop by drop into his parched lips. Swallowing was difficult for Gu Xun; most of the water trickled down the corners of his mouth, soaking his collar.
Seeing him now, fragile as if he might shatter at the slightest touch—a stark contrast to his earlier composed demeanor, calmly issuing commands while shielded by his light barrier—a wave of indescribable bitterness welled up in Lu Zhao's heart. This man, once so powerful and rational, had now broken down because of Jiang Jin's madness and their shared flight.
Silently, Lu Zhao dipped his sleeve into the precious water and awkwardly wiped Gu Xun's scorching forehead and neck. When his fingertips accidentally brushed the smooth skin at the side of his neck, a subtle awkwardness made him pause for a moment. The feeling vanished instantly, quickly overshadowed by a more intense worry—Gu Xun couldn't collapse.
After finishing, Lu Zhao slumped onto the floor beside the bed, his back pressed against the cold wall. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, but he dared not sleep. He listened to Gu Xun's breaths—sometimes steady, sometimes ragged—his ears alert for any faint sound beyond the door.
The night grew deep. Outside the inn, this dead city occasionally emitted distant howls or unexplained noises, each one making Lu Zhao's heart clench. He gripped the steel pipe tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Now, only the two of them remained.
He glanced at Gu Xun, unconscious on the bed, and an unprecedented weight pressed down on his shoulders. All along, he had relied on Gu Xun's judgment to some degree. Now, the one who made decisions had fallen, leaving only him.
He couldn't do without Gu Xun—that much was obvious. It wasn't just the healing ability, but that core that kept them sane and grounded in the face of utter despair. This realization sent a wave of deep dread through him—if Gu Xun didn't wake up, what would he do alone?
This dependence tugged at some vague, internal resistance he felt toward overly intimate bonds. He shook his head, trying to dispel these untimely, chaotic thoughts and focus his attention on keeping watch.
The long night dragged on, each minute and second feeling like torture. Lu Zhao curled up in the shadows, realizing for the first time with such clarity that the path to the so-called safe zone was far longer and more arduous than any stretch they had traversed before. And the person beside him was the pillar he couldn't afford to lose right now, the focal point of all his complex emotions.