Chapter 68: So He Had Loved Different People Before

Chapter 68: So He Had Loved Different People Before

At that moment, every emotion from the past seemed to zero out completely for Shu Hanqing.

Mu Ye: "Yan Shenyun, you promised me you wouldn't tell him!"

Mu Ye's voice came out low and hoarse, like he was bowing to fate itself, or like he'd just been hit by the most devastating, soul-crushing disaster imaginable.

Shu Hanqing watched them in silence, backing away step by step, his eyes full of shock and confusion. Countless images scrambled wildly through his mind, and the people in front of him kept overlapping across different scenes, Yan Shenyun included.

—"Only he! Only he is suitable."

—"The zombie tide has receded! We won!"

—"Hanqing, I will always be by your side."

—"Shu Hanqing, you can only trust me!"

...

Mu Ye stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward Shu Hanqing: "...Hanqing? Are you alright?"

Shu Hanqing's face was pale, like a piece of cold jade covered in a thin layer of frost. His slender fingers were clenched tight around the control console behind him. He shook his head and stepped back—then, the next second, he crumpled to the ground.

As Shu Hanqing slept, his consciousness seemed to drift up into the sky, and he felt as tiny as a speck of dust.

So this was the truth Yan Shenyun had been talking about—he really had lived more than once, not just once, but again and again, and every rebirth after death had been orchestrated by Yan Shenyun and the others.

And the only reason was just to keep him alive.

The shock had been too much for Shu Hanqing—his body couldn't handle the Superpower, and he passed out. When he woke up, Mu Ye was sitting beside him.

When Mu Ye saw he was awake, he asked anxiously: "Hanqing, are you feeling alright now?"

Shu Hanqing looked at the man in front of him: "...Where is Yan Shenyun?"

"Hanqing... do you remember everything now?"

Mu Ye reached out and grabbed Shu Hanqing's ice-cold hand.

Shu Hanqing didn't want to look at him, so he shut his eyes.

Mu Ye leaned in and wrapped his arms around Shu Hanqing: "...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Hanqing. I know you hate betrayal, but I'm the one who got you killed. I can't let that tragedy happen again."

Tears spilled from Mu Ye's eyes.

"I know you hate how I always wavered with you—but that's because Yan Shenyun and the others stole my memories. But that day, they gave all my memories back. I watched you die over and over, and my heart broke into pieces. I didn't have the guts... I'd never dare take that risk again."

"In the last life, Lei Zheng kept your whereabouts hidden from me... The last time I saw you was when Lei Zheng took your body and blew himself up along with the Zombie King. How dare he! He's the one who got you killed—he deserved to die."

Shu Hanqing said: "...That was an accident..."

Mu Ye's eyes were red and swollen: "...It was because he showed up that you died. I was the first, damn it... Before anyone else, I was the one who found you first. I was the first person you ever loved, Hanqing..."

"But I killed you too..."

Mu Ye's voice broke.

That day, Mu Ye had gone to see Yan Shenyun in the first place to ask what was in that bottle.

After Yan Shenyun looked it over, he suddenly asked, "Do you want to know everything?"

Mu Ye chose to absorb the Superpower from the bottle, and the memories that had been sealed away for so long, forcibly ripped from him, came flooding back into his mind.

He saw the timelines looping over and over, and Shu Hanqing dying every single time.

That so-called "Plot Guide" had latched onto Mu Ye's consciousness when Shu Hanqing came back to life the third time, but the story it fed him was completely different. Back then, it screamed at him day and night inside his head, telling him he was fated to fall in love with Rong Hua in this life, and that Rong Hua should stay as far from Shu Hanqing as possible.

Putting aside those trivial little details, Mu Ye had been torn apart in his previous life. He felt nothing but disgust for Rong Hua—disgust that that kid had stolen Shu Hanqing's attention.

How could he ever have liked him?

Shu Hanqing had now lived four lives—and in each one, he'd loved someone different.

The life where he loved Mu Ye was Shu Hanqing's second one.

His first death was given to the entire Ten Great Districts base, to every human who survived. He was hailed as a hero of mankind. In his first life, Shu Hanqing was the first person in the apocalypse to awaken the Water Ability. Back then, humanity was helpless against the zombies' evolution.

As a water ability user, Shu Hanqing volunteered to be Yan Shenyun's test subject, and later died alongside the Zombie King.

Yin Bianyan, Sang Mai, Shi Lei, Yi Ran...

Every single one of them was someone he'd known in his first life.

They'd brought him back—more than once.

In the life where he loved Mu Ye, Shu Hanqing had been deliberately given a normal background. He went to school, and after it was overrun by zombies, the two of them, who'd already gotten together in college, fled desperately across the long, desolate wasteland toward the base.

Their lives hung by a thread, blood and carnage closing in from all sides. Mu Ye got unlucky—a zombie's claws raked across his skin. After the bite, he found a corner and rolled up his sleeve, his face expressionless.

The flesh around the wound was blackening and rotting right before his eyes.

At that moment, Mu Ye stole one last glance at Shu Hanqing, who was sorting supplies nearby, his eyes barely holding back a storm of emotion. That night, he slipped away.

Mu Ye was terrified of dragging Shu Hanqing down with him. Even if he were torn apart limb from limb, he'd never want to see Shu Hanqing hurt in the slightest.

Ever since the disaster broke out, they'd relied on each other, wading through rivers of blood just to make it this far.

Back on campus, Shu Hanqing had loved being his little shadow, trailing after him all day like a little sun, calling him "Senior Brother" nonstop, all clingy and sweet.

Mu Ye showed the blackened wound on his arm to the people in the team he trusted, and told them his plan to lure the zombie horde away by himself. He had just one request—that they get Shu Hanqing to the base safely.

In the apocalypse, staying alive mattered more than anything.

Sure enough, the moment they saw Mu Ye's infected wound, terror exploded on everyone's faces. They gasped and scrambled back, terrified of catching even a hint of the virus.

Mu Ye watched them shrink away in disgust, and he thought—if Shu Hanqing were standing here, that silly kid would never be scared, and he wouldn't back off in disgust like they did. He'd get teary-eyed, gently cup Mu Ye's wound in his warm hands, and look up with tear-filled eyes and ask, "Senior Brother, does it hurt?"

Mu Ye pulled himself together, instructing and begging the team, saying he was still clear-headed for now, and that he'd take charge of luring the zombies away. He hoped they'd protect Shu Hanqing and look after him well.

Shu Hanqing was kind and sensible—as long as he had something to eat, he'd never cause anyone any trouble.

Mu Ye spoke in a low voice as he gave his instructions, a dull, agonizing ache pressing against his chest. It was that suffocating helplessness you feel when fate just toys with you.

Once he was gone, in the far-off future, would Shu Hanqing meet someone else? Looking at some other man with that same wholehearted devotion, that same tender, loving gaze?

He didn't even have the courage to picture it for a single second.

When night fell, Mu Ye coaxed Shu Hanqing to sleep, telling him he'd take the night watch.

Shu Hanqing: "...I'll keep you company."

Mu Ye said, "No need, you rest early. I'm on night watch."

Mu Ye drove a beat-up off-road SUV that was on its last legs, floored it, and drew away every zombie that had been hot on their tail.

Among them was an agile-type zombie that had mutated from a homeless man in life. It clung to the back of the truck, bloodthirsty and relentless, sticking to him like a shadow.

Mu Ye floored it the whole way, finally wrecking the car halfway up the mountain. He tumbled and crawled into a hidden cave, barely shaking off the relentless chase.

But the danger was far from over.

Mu Ye had planned to just sit in that cave and wait to die, but it wasn't long before a raging fever hit him.

His body burned like a furnace. He figured it meant his body was finally giving out, that he was about to turn.

His hands shaking violently from the agony, he fumbled to take off the prayer beads his mother had left him before she died. He pressed the beads to his cracked, pale lips, closed his eyes, and mumbled a sutra under his breath, his voice slurred.

He couldn't become a zombie.

Gritting through the dizziness, he stumbled and crawled out of the cave, just wanting to find a cliff somewhere in these woods and throw himself off it.

Even if he smashed himself to pieces, at least... he couldn't become some disgusting monster and hurt anyone, and he sure as hell couldn't turn into a monster and bite the person he loved most.

But before he could find a cliff, his vision went dark and he dropped.

Luck wasn't completely against him. In his deep coma, he got lucky and was saved by an old farming family barely scraping by in the wasteland.

That night, the fever ravaged him.

Lost in delirium, he felt like he'd been tossed into a churning sea of lava and fire. His bones felt like they were being roasted inch by inch, the pain unbearable. The heat was so intense he couldn't get out a single word, and his vision went completely blurry.

In the haze between waking and dreaming, through the sheer agony, he vaguely made out a deeply wrinkled old man holding a chipped bowl, feeding him water a sip at a time, muttering something under his breath.

Mu Ye tried desperately to open his cracked lips, to beg the kind old man to just dump him by the road, to stop wasting his time on a lost cause like him. But no matter how hard he tried, not a sound came out, and he eventually fell into complete unconsciousness again.

The fever put him through hell for God knows how long.

When faint light fell across his face, Mu Ye somehow managed to open his eyes.

The pounding in his head had faded. He sat up stiffly, lifted a shaking hand, and slowly pushed up his sleeve.

The wound that had been rotting and black had somehow stopped getting worse. Instead, it had dried up and crusted over, a dark scab starting to form.

The old man who'd saved him saw him trying to get out of bed and shuffled in with unsteady steps, carefully carrying a bowl of thin rice porridge, steam curling up from it.

The old man handed him the bowl, let out a heavy sigh, and pulled a scrawny, timid kid over to his side, and started talking in a low, defeated voice.

The old man said almost all the villagers had already fled. Now it was just him, a bag of bones with one foot in the grave, barely scraping by with a half-grown grandson. The world was huge, but they had no clue where to run, and no strength left to find a way to live.

The two of them survived by sneaking out during the day to scrounge for scraps and wild fruit, and keeping the door bolted shut the rest of the time. By sheer luck, they'd managed to make it this far.

The day they found Mu Ye, the old man had been out in the fields looking for food.

Mu Ye looked down at the scrawny kid hiding behind the old man, peeking at him with wide, scared eyes.

He tried to pull the corners of his stiff mouth into a kind, gentle smile, but all that came out was exhaustion and a loneliness more pitiful than tears.

Pushing through his weakness, he forced himself to his feet and was surprised to find that after the fever broke, his body had somehow regained a good chunk of its strength.

His palms were burning hot for no reason he could figure out.

He figured he was still running a fever.

Mu Ye still had the zombie bite hanging over him. He was terrified that even if he wasn't turning now, he would eventually. He didn't dare stick around and bring disaster down on this innocent old man and his grandson, so he insisted on saying goodbye to the old man.

The kind-hearted old man saw he was alone, and after a lot of back-and-forth, pulled out two hard, dry flatbreads and shoved them into his hands.

Mu Ye left that household carrying that kindness.

But he hadn't gone far when he reached up and touched his wrist. His heart suddenly clenched—the prayer beads his mother had left him were gone.

That was the only keepsake his mother had left him.

Mu Ye assumed he had dropped them at the old man's home while unconscious. Without overthinking, he immediately turned back along the same path to search.

But when the small courtyard came back into view, Mu Ye's footsteps halted. The old man's door, which had been tightly bolted, was now wide open, creaking eerily in the wind.

A wave of foreboding flooded his chest like ice water.

Mu Ye's face changed drastically. He sprinted madly through the door.

Before he could even steady himself, a foul-smelling shadow lunged at him through the air with a piercing screech, slamming him hard to the ground.

The stench of decay hit him—it was the very zombie that had been relentlessly hunting him earlier.

The mutated zombie opened its gaping maw, dripping with saliva and broken teeth, and bit down viciously at his carotid artery. In that split second of life and death, Mu Ye's arms bulged with veins, and with all his strength, he held the monster's withered neck at bay, his eyes bloodshot.

At the brink of life and death, an indescribable violent energy suddenly erupted from his chest.

Mu Ye let out a heart-rending roar.

In that instant, a blinding blaze of scorching flames exploded from his palm. The overwhelming fire pierced through the zombie's skull and torso. Hissing sounds and the stench of burning filled the air, and in the blink of an eye, the monster beneath his hands was reduced to a pile of reeking, charred flesh.

Disbelief and overwhelming terror intertwined, crashing into Mu Ye's mind, leaving it blank.

His heart pounded violently. Mu Ye stared blankly at his slightly trembling palms, still radiating residual heat, his head spinning and throbbing.

He pushed himself up from the ground with his hands, but when he turned to take in the scene inside the room, the blood in his veins froze solid.

Beneath the water vat against the wall, a small, thin finger—already completely deformed and stiff—was sticking out. And in the pool of blood beside the vat, the old man lay crumpled on the ground, his neck bitten clean through, thick sticky blood staining a large area of the floor.

Mu Ye's trembling hands moved the stone slab pressing down on the vat.

He saw the tragic scene beneath it.

The thin child had already drowned, suffocated to death. One of his fingers had been severely deformed from being crushed by the vat in his desperation. His small face was swollen red and purple, his eyes bulging in terror, with traces of fresh tears still wet on his cheeks.

In the instant of the zombie's sudden attack, the old man, in his panic, had shoved his grandson into the vat and sealed it with the lid, but in the chaos, he had crushed the child's finger.

The excruciating pain had made the child scream in despair, clawing at the vat's walls, but by then, his grandfather had already been torn down by the ferocious zombie, no longer able to hear his grandson's cries.

Mu Ye's mind was a blur, a dull, unbearable ache surging through his chest. He clutched his chest hard, a sweetness rising in his throat, and with a spray, he coughed up a large mouthful of bright red blood.

It was him.

He was the root cause of all of it.

If he hadn't brought this zombie with his blood-soaked presence, this grandfather and grandson, who should have been clinging to life together in a corner of the apocalypse, would never have met such a fate.

Mu Ye grew up in a family steeped in the scent of Buddhist incense, where the elders placed great emphasis on karma, the cycle of rebirth, and divine retribution.

Now, two innocent lives had been snuffed out because of him.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Mu Ye stumbled forward, gently scooped up the child, and laid him softly beside the old man.

He tore a tattered sheet from the bed and covered the cold bodies of the grandfather and grandson inch by inch, making sure every part was hidden.

Mu Ye glanced at his palms, recalling the fire that had burst from his hands moments ago. He was going to become a monster after all. With all hope lost, he set the blood-soaked room ablaze with his own hands.

The roaring flames surged to life instantly, devouring the rotting beams and wooden furniture.

Mu Ye sat expressionless on the scorching ground, closed his eyes, and by the light of the raging flames, recited the sutras of deliverance for the dead, over and over.

The acrid smoke stung his eyes while tongues of flame lashed out wildly, consuming everything around him.

Just as a wave of vertigo slammed into him and his sight went hazy, Mu Ye could just barely make out a familiar figure through the warped heat—someone plunging heedlessly through the towering inferno, running toward him like a man possessed.

Shu Hanqing.

A tear slipped from the corner of Mu Ye's eye—whether forced out by the smoke or born of despair, he couldn't say. He dismissed it as nothing more than a hollow illusion conjured up in his dying moments.

Until that figure lunged at him and tackled him, wrapping both arms around him in a death grip and pressing him tightly against his chest.

The searing warmth of a living body and the pounding heartbeat that came through the cloth jolted Mu Ye fully awake.

This was no dream.

Shu Hanqing's eyes were bloodshot, and pressing close to his ear, he called out in a tearful, almost pleading voice: "Shixiong, don't leave me."

CRASH—

A charred beam came crashing down with a deafening roar.

In that instant, Mu Ye's instinct to protect Shu Hanqing, buried deep in his bones, overrode everything. Without a moment's hesitation, he swung his arms around and clutched Shu Hanqing tightly against him, using his back to shield him from the hail of sparks and falling debris. Gritting his teeth, he charged with savage resolve out of the inferno that had been reduced to rubble.

The moment they broke free of the flames, the searing heat still roared behind them.

Mu Ye collapsed to his knees, exhausted, and lowered his head—only to see Shu Hanqing's shoulder soaked in blood and his feet caked in mud.

He had no idea how Shu Hanqing had made it back.

Shu Hanqing reached out a hand, his face pale as paper, his eyes brimming with lingering terror and panic, tears streaming down uncontrollably: "...I got bitten by a zombie... I wanted to come back to you..."

Mu Ye looked at him, at the despair in Shu Hanqing's eyes, at his trembling hands shaking with fear.

How could he bear to leave Shu Hanqing alone in this cruel, merciless world that devoured people whole?

Mu Ye held Shu Hanqing tightly.

Shu Hanqing whispered: "...Shixiong, am I going to turn into a zombie?"

Mu Ye's life had always been for Shu Hanqing. He wanted to shake his head and say no. He had already planned to spend the rest of his days ensuring nothing but Shu Hanqing's safety and happiness.

But now they had both been bitten.

Shu Hanqing lay in Mu Ye's arms and said: "...Shixiong, I'm so tired."

Blood kept seeping from Shu Hanqing's shoulder, the red already turning black.

If Shu Hanqing hadn't come back, he might have reached the safety of the base.

Mu Ye tightened his arms around the man in his embrace, filled with utter despair, and finally carried him back into the sea of fire.