Chapter 11: Fairness

“You sleep here.”
Song Chengfeng watched as Yan Zhuo tossed a candle onto the bed and bent down to pick up a blanket.

Before Yan Zhuo could leave, Song Chengfeng spoke first: “Did Qu Yan instruct this?”

“Mm.”

For some reason, Song Chengfeng always sensed a guarded wariness from Yan Zhuo. Although it was their first meeting, given the current circumstances, such caution seemed understandable.

“Have we met before?”

Yan Zhuo looked at him with slight surprise. “No, we haven’t.”

It was just a mistaken memory. Having received the answer, Song Chengfeng let it go and shifted the topic, “What are Qu Yan’s plans next? He can’t hide here forever. How about G City? I’m heading there to find my wife...”

“You’re married?”

Yan Zhuo’s reaction was odd. Song Chengfeng felt sure he hadn’t misspoken and nodded, “Is there a problem with that?”

Yan Zhuo didn’t answer directly but said, “I’ll tell him what you said.”

The sense of wariness seemed to vanish suddenly. Song Chengfeng closed the door behind him and briefly felt that this strange youth resembled Qu Yan—not in appearance, but in some indescribable aura.

His objective was achieved. With zombies rampant outside, it was best to travel with companions. Qu Yan himself was unimportant; his real target was Yan Zhuo, whose combat prowess was nearly off the charts. But clearly, Yan Zhuo listened to Qu Yan. To team up with him, one had to first gain Qu Yan’s approval.

If only Qu Yan were here, Song Chengfeng wouldn’t care about his fate—he had once described Qu Yan as cold-hearted and indifferent to others’ suffering. In turn, Song Chengfeng was much the same. In some ways, they were alike, which explained their seamless cooperation over the years in committing many deeds condemned by others.

Thinking this, Song Chengfeng chuckled softly, climbed onto the bed with the small creature who was peacefully full, and noticed the neatly folded quilt exuded a damp smell. He recalled the blanket Yan Zhuo had taken and suddenly realized, “It’s deliberate, definitely deliberate...”

After settling Song Chengfeng, Yan Zhuo returned with the blanket. A day had passed, and its scent had nearly faded, faint enough to be smelled only when close—that of Qu Yan’s shower gel.

Carefully clutching the blanket, Yan Zhuo pushed open the door. The figure on the bed hadn’t changed position. He exhaled and stood there, hesitating. As a wolf, he could have climbed onto the bed without hesitation, even rolling around to seek Qu Yan’s touch. But now human, he naturally couldn’t act so freely.

Although he roughly understood that Qu Yan’s “sleep together” meant sharing the same bed, he still couldn’t take that step.

After a few minutes of inner struggle, he carefully sat on the edge of the bed, occupying a corner, and slowly lay down.

The room was filled with the scent of burning candle wax, as if warmth had permeated the air. Wolves were naturally vigilant creatures, and the night was their domain. Yan Zhuo lay awake, wide-eyed and alert.

His wolf tail twitched unconsciously, brushing against the quilt with a soft rustling. Yan Zhuo noticed and quickly restrained it.

Silently turning over, he faced Qu Yan. His keen night vision was useful now, allowing him to see Qu Yan’s thick, slightly curved eyelashes. He recalled how, back in high school, classmates endlessly debated who was more attractive—Qu Yan or Qu Zizhi. Such comparisons were common; as brothers, both excelled academically and were striking in appearance, brightening the dull lives of most students.

These debates often ended abruptly with the bell, but more often Qu Zizhi won, thanks to his warm, inviting eyes that always carried a slight smile, easily winning others’ favor. Qu Yan, by contrast, preferred solitude, seldom smiled or spoke, leading most to label him cold and arrogant.

Many times, Yan Zhuo had wanted to argue that beneath those delicate, beautiful lashes could not lie cold eyes.

Lost in memories—perhaps because the previous ten years were a blank slate—those high school scenes felt as vivid as if they had just happened.

As he recalled, the person before him suddenly moved, eyes opening then closing. An arm stretched out from beneath the quilt toward Yan Zhuo.

Holding his breath, Yan Zhuo watched as the hand merely brushed his wolf ear before retreating.

“Why don’t you pull your ears back?” Qu Yan’s voice was muffled as he shifted closer, narrowing the space between them to just an arm’s width, their breaths mingling.

Yan Zhuo turned his face slightly. “It’s... more comfortable this way.”

Qu Yan hummed softly, “So you still haven’t fallen asleep.”

Yan Zhuo remained quiet for a moment, then relayed what Song Chengfeng had said earlier.

Qu Yan scoffed emotionlessly, “He really hasn’t changed at all.”

Yan Zhuo keenly sensed the sarcasm in his words, but before he could ask, Qu Yan continued:

“Whether I leave or not doesn’t matter. What he wants is you.”

Yan Zhuo was no fool. He understood immediately, clenching then loosening his fists. “I won’t go with him.”

Qu Yan showed no reaction, his fingertips again touching Yan Zhuo’s wolf ear. But instead of lingering as before, the hand slid down to Yan Zhuo’s cheek, gently tracing the line of his jaw.

“See, even in these circumstances, you can survive with ease. But me? Before the outbreak, I was a cripple, subjected to others’ ridicule. Now, I can only wait to die. My chances of survival are far lower than normal. Yan Zhuo, isn’t that terribly unfair?”

His words were laced with unhidden hatred and jealousy. The touch on Yan Zhuo grew more forceful. He knew his condition wasn’t Yan Zhuo’s fault, yet he couldn’t help but treat him harshly, trying to tear away the mask of gentleness and see if the words “I’ll listen to you” were sincere or not.

He had been deceived too many times, always interpreting Yan Zhuo’s actions with the worst intentions.

“Yes, it’s very unfair.” Yan Zhuo gently grasped Qu Yan’s wrist and, this time, leaned closer, his nose nearly touching Qu Yan’s lips. “But the future will be even more unfair. Your chances of survival will be greater than anyone else’s. As long as I live, you will live.”

He linked their lives together.

Qu Yan’s pupils twitched but quickly regained calm. “Perhaps I never truly knew you.”

Yan Zhuo’s words were undeniably tempting, but Qu Yan was not foolish enough to believe them outright.

Yan Zhuo’s cheeks flushed slightly as he softened his tone. “Is it because we went to the same high school, or because I took you in and dressed your wounds, or... because I’m Qu Zizhi’s brother?”

“No...”

He pressed his palm against Yan Zhuo’s lips, stopping him from speaking. “You know, Yan Zhuo, people change. Everything they show is just what they want others to see. A tiny bit of fondness from school days means nothing.”

Yan Zhuo’s demeanor was too clear; Qu Yan couldn’t have missed it.

He saw through him. Yan Zhuo looked at Qu Yan, his carefully prepared words swallowed whole, along with his confusion, hidden in the darkness.

Releasing his hand, Qu Yan rubbed Yan Zhuo’s head. “I’ll go to G City with Song Chengfeng.”

“Why?” Understanding the situation, Yan Zhuo’s favorable impression of Song Chengfeng evaporated, though it had been slight to begin with.

“He’s right. I can’t hide here forever. Besides, didn’t you say there’s a survivor base in G City? It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” Qu Yan withdrew his hand, his tone much lighter. “Song Chengfeng can drive, so he can be our driver. This deal isn’t a loss for me.”

Qu Yan’s emotions were too controlled, as though he carried a heavy burden in his chest. Yan Zhuo opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say.

Qu Yan turned away, his back to Yan Zhuo. The muffled sound beneath the quilt followed. “No need to say anything. Yan Zhuo, just answer one question: if I weren’t Qu Zizhi’s brother, would you still say those things earlier?”

“I would.” Yan Zhuo answered without hesitation.

“That’s enough.” Qu Yan yawned softly. “Sleep now. Tomorrow might be a good day.”

He had misspoken earlier—those faint feelings from school days meant nothing, yet they were all he had to hold onto now.