Chapter 39: A Pity

Downstairs at the residential building, Rong Yu gripped Qu Zhizhi’s wrist, his face etched with worry. "Zhizhi, must you go?"

Qu Zhizhi’s expression remained unchanged as he gave his wrist a slight tug. "Brother Yu, our food is running out."

"But... it’s too dangerous for you." Rong Yu’s grip loosened, though his disapproval lingered.

Qu Zhizhi sighed softly. "What other choice is there? Brother Yu, you aren't in a position to go, and if I don't take on these tasks, how are we to survive?"

Rong Yu’s pupils contracted at these words. He stepped back on his lame right foot, his expression shifting until he finally offered a bitter smile. "It’s my own uselessness."

His foot had been injured because of Qu Zhizhi. When the supermarket shelves collapsed, he had shielded Qu Zhizhi without a second thought. His foot bone had shattered, the protruding fragment tearing through skin. He had bled profusely, and without timely medical intervention, he was left with a strange, dragging gait, the pain becoming unbearable after standing for too long.

Every time Rong Yu looked at that deformed foot, a surge of helpless, unventable rage would boil within him. Yet, whom could he blame? It was he who had chosen to shield Qu Zhizhi.

For some reason, his mind drifted to Qu Yan, whom he had encountered recently. Qu Yan had sat in a wheelchair, dressed in clean clothes with a healthy complexion, as aloof and noble as ever.

He couldn't stop himself from wondering how Qu Yan had managed to survive until now. With his legs crippled, who would help him for no reason? Why did Qu Yan deserve a better life than his own?

As Qu Yan’s near-perfect face flashed through his mind, his heart suddenly calmed. Though a broken man, as long as one lowered their pride and spread their legs, there would always be someone willing to take them. Besides, weren't there people who specifically enjoyed that sort of thing?

Only by thinking this way did the pain radiating from his foot feel slightly more bearable.

His expression twisted. Qu Zhizhi, guessing his thoughts, felt a flash of mockery in his eyes.

"Brother Yu?" He waved a hand in front of Rong Yu’s face. "Focus on recovering; don’t worry about me."

Facing the malice Rong Yu hadn't yet managed to hide, Qu Zhizhi leaned gently against his shoulder, his voice filled with tenderness. "I will always remember how good you’ve been to me, Brother Yu."

Passing several residential blocks, Qu Zhizhi hopped onto the pickup truck, where Yan Zhuo was already seated.

Qu Zhizhi paused for a moment before sitting beside him as if nothing were amiss. "We didn't get a chance to talk properly before. Have you and my brother been together the whole way here?"

"Don't mention him." Yan Zhuo stared down at his knife, the bright, white blade reflected in his pupils.

Qu Zhizhi didn't quite hear him. "What did you say?"

Yan Zhuo looked up, his black eyes devoid of light, like an abyss. "Don't ever mention him again."

The long blade twirled in his hand—a threat, a warning.

Qu Zhizhi fell silent for a moment before slowly smiling. "You seem to have some misunderstanding about me. Is it because of my brother?"

*Shing.* The air seemed to be cleaved in two as the long blade pressed against his throat. Yan Zhuo stared at him, his voice devoid of inflection. "You are not worthy of calling him brother."

Qu Zhizhi’s lips turned pale, and he let out a cold, sharp laugh.

Others climbed onto the truck one after another. They were headed to clear the West District as usual. Having worked together for the past few days, many were familiar with Yan Zhuo. Aside from the new recruits, the others crowded around him, asking for tips on killing zombies.

Yan Zhuo was not stingy with his knowledge. His voice was steady and still sounded clear, revealing his youth, yet everyone trusted him, nodding in agreement from time to time.

"So that’s how you apply force!"

"That really makes it much easier."

...

The newcomers, unable to join the conversation, huddled together, some looking flustered and others terrified.

A tug on his clothes made Qu Zhizhi turn. It was a middle-aged man with red-rimmed eyes, clearly sleep-deprived.

The man hesitated for two seconds before asking, "Is he our team leader? He looks quite young. Is he very strong... does he have an ability?"

Qu Zhizhi frowned with impatience.

The man’s voice hadn't been loud, but it was overheard. Someone replied, "Don't worry, Captain Yan’s ability is exceptionally powerful. Besides, the West District is mostly cleared; there aren't many zombies left, so you don't need to worry."

Hearing this, many let out a sigh of relief.

The truck stopped at a street corner. This was their usual drop-off point. The veterans were familiar with the routine, while the newcomers followed quietly.

"Captain, should we search the mall again?"

Yan Zhuo vaulted from the truck bed. "You take five people to the mall; the rest follow me."

He wore a loose T-shirt with a low neckline that rested against his collarbone. As he jumped down, the collar shifted, revealing a faint mark.

No one noticed it but Qu Zhizhi.

He stared coldly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

As the others were busy looking around, Qu Zhizhi suddenly grabbed Yan Zhuo’s collar, his gaze icy. "What is this?"

The mark was magnified before his eyes—a bite mark, its color having faded significantly. A fist slammed into his abdomen; Yan Zhuo had used his full strength. Qu Zhizhi’s fingers trembled, but he didn't let go, forcing the words out one by one: "I asked you, what is this?"

The others looked at each other, and eventually, someone stepped in to pull them apart, saying awkwardly, "Personal business, this is personal business. Captain Yan has the right not to answer."

When Qu Zhizhi had grabbed Yan Zhuo’s collar, many had seen the bite mark. In such a suggestive location, anyone could figure out what it was. Since Qu Zhizhi clearly knew Yan Zhuo, the question sounded loaded with subtext. Many smelled the scent of a dramatic scandal. The man who had pulled them apart opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yan Zhuo!" Qu Zhizhi shrieked as he was dragged away.

The person holding him was startled and instinctively let go.

Someone, unable to watch any longer, whispered, "What if you attract the zombies..."

"Is it Qu Yan?" Qu Zhizhi asked, his voice manic. "Did Qu Yan touch you?"

A cold, dark gleam flashed in the air. The long blade in Yan Zhuo’s hand lifted for a split second. Under the shocked and fearful gazes of the crowd, Yan Zhuo still refrained from acting. "One last time: you are not worthy of speaking his name."

He had been moved to kill, yet he had to restrain himself. Killing Qu Zhizhi would be easy, but because it concerned Qu Yan, he could not act on his own.

Qu Zhizhi was half-dragged into the mall, his eyes filled with a resentment that looked jarringly out of place on his delicate face.

Qu Yan knew nothing of what had transpired between Yan Zhuo and Qu Zhizhi. He usually stayed in his room, and few people disturbed him, but today was an exception.

The person knocking was a young girl. She wasn't very old, and her long hair was gathered messily at the back, showing she hadn't put much effort into her appearance.

Song Chengfeng had been coming and going early and late these past few days, busy with unknown tasks. Qu Yan let the girl in. "Are you looking for me?"

The girl nodded, stepping into the living room. "We’ve met before."

Qu Yan remembered. A few days ago, on his way to find Wen Xi, he had encountered a pair of high school siblings he had once glimpsed at a bubble tea shop. The girl had been with them.

Putting together that fleeting glance and what he had seen a few days ago, Qu Yan guessed the girl was the companion who had been abandoned due to a fever.

Sure enough, the girl’s eyes crinkled. "They told me everything about what happened. If it weren't for you, I might not be alive today."

So, she had come to thank him? Qu Yan didn't consider his actions at the time to be out of kindness, so he replied with a detached tone, "No need to thank me. You survived because of the persistence of your two companions."

The girl smiled sheepishly. "I know. I didn't come today just for that."

Qu Yan leaned his chin lazily on one hand, his eyes filled with curiosity.

The girl asked hesitantly, "Are you a student from Mingde?"

Qu Yan looked surprised. There was an age gap of over a decade; he didn't think the girl would know him.

Afraid of being misunderstood, the girl quickly explained, "It’s like this—I’m also a student at Mingde. When I was in charge of tidying the school storage room, I saw your photo."

Qu Yan’s expression softened. He then heard the girl ask with a touch of intimacy, "May I call you Senior?"

It was just a title; Qu Yan didn't mind, so he nodded.

"Your photo was covered in dust. When I was wiping it off, a teacher sighed nearby, saying you’d had an accident and missed the college entrance exams. They even played a recording of the school gala for us. You were playing the piano on stage, and I just kept thinking how such a pity it was." The girl reached into her backpack and pulled out several photos, handing them to Qu Yan. "Because the storage room was being cleared out, many photos were going to be destroyed. I thought it would be best to return them to their owner, so I took them. But before I could find you, the zombie wave broke out. I kept these photos in my bag, and they’ve been preserved ever since."

She solemnly placed the photos in Qu Yan’s hands. "Now that they are back with their rightful owner, I can finally be at ease."

The photos were old, their edges yellowed. Qu Yan looked through them one by one. In them, he was playing the piano—a youthful, dazzling face under the stage lights.

It didn't look like him.

*How could this be me?* Qu Yan thought.

There were three photos in total. He looked at them very slowly, and after finishing, he suddenly flipped back to the first one.

This photo had been taken from the side of the stage. The angle wasn't great; Qu Yan’s body was only partially in the frame, and a small portion of the audience was visible.

In the corner of the photo, in a dim area, sat a person who was not very conspicuous. Qu Yan looked down—there was no mistake. It was Yan Zhuo.

He was smiling, the curve of his lips distinct, his eyes fixed on Qu Yan on the stage.

Qu Yan’s movements suddenly stopped. The girl asked, "What’s wrong, Senior?"

His fingertips brushed against Yan Zhuo’s face in the photo. Qu Yan said with certainty, "He likes me."

"Did you know back then, Senior?" the girl asked, clearly curious.

Qu Yan remained silent for a long time before saying, "I only knew a long time later."

Only after he had fallen into the dust, and had strayed far from the self that Yan Zhuo had loved, did he finally understand.

The girl’s expression dimmed. "What a pity."

Yes, truly a pity, Qu Yan repeated in his heart.