The city was dead. Buildings stood like hollowed-out skeletons, their broken windows gaping like empty eye sockets. The scent of rot thickened the air, mixing with the coppery tang of blood. Under the gray, sunless sky, the streets were eerily quiet—except for the slow, shuffling steps of the undead.
Jiang Xie moved like a shadow between abandoned cars, his rifle resting easily in his grip. His team was behind him, silent and tense, waiting for his orders. They were here for supplies—fuel, medicine, weapons. Anything that could keep their base from crumbling.
What they didn't expect to find was him.
Huddled beneath the awning of a half-collapsed fruit stand was a boy—a small, pale figure with delicate features and soft, cherry-red lips. He clutched a basket filled with wild berries, his thin fingers curled tightly around the handle as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.
He looked up at Jiang Xie with wide, glassy eyes. They were the color of spring leaves, bright and startling against the dirt smudged on his cheeks.
Jiang Xie had seen plenty of survivors—hardened, desperate, broken. But this boy… this boy didn't belong in this world.
He was too clean. Too soft. Too alive.
The moment their eyes met, Jiang Xie felt something twist inside him, something dark and possessive.
A low groan echoed nearby. A mutant zombie, its deformed limbs dragging behind it, stumbled into the street. Yu Zhi stiffened, his grip on the basket tightening, but he didn't scream. He simply curled into himself, pressing against the fruit stand like a rabbit trying to make itself invisible.
Jiang Xie's rifle was up in an instant. One clean shot, and the zombie crumpled to the pavement.
Yu Zhi flinched at the gunfire but didn't move.
Jiang Xie stepped forward, boots crunching on broken glass. "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice came out rougher than intended.
Yu Zhi blinked up at him, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak—but then he hesitated, shrinking further into himself.
One of Jiang Xie's men muttered, "Boss, he won't last a day out here. Probably some runaway. Should we just—"
Jiang Xie didn't let him finish. "He's coming with us."
Yu Zhi's breath hitched. "I—"
"No arguments," Jiang Xie cut him off, his tone final. "You'll die out here."
Yu Zhi hesitated, his fingers tightening around the basket's handle before finally nodding, barely a whisper of movement.
Jiang Xie turned to his men. "We're done here. Let's move."
As they made their way back, Yu Zhi stayed close behind him, tiny and quiet, but Jiang Xie could feel the warmth of his presence at his side.
And when they reached the gates of his base, Jiang Xie finally admitted it to himself.
He wasn't just bringing the boy back because he was weak. He was bringing him back because he didn't want anyone else to have him.