That night, Muchen barely slept.
Though his body ached from exhaustion, his mind refused to rest. He kept the police-issued rifle by his side, fingers lightly brushing the cold metal now and then, as if to reassure himself it was still there. The faint hum of the generator outside, the occasional creak of the old hostel building, and even the quiet breathing of the others around him felt amplified in his ears.
But more than anything, it was the fear that gnawed at him. Fear that something would happen again. That someone would take Yunfeng while he slept. That he wouldn't be fast enough. Strong enough. That somehow, the world would find a way to separate them again.
He kept one eye on the door. The other on the bottom bunk.
At some point, when his limbs grew too heavy and his eyelids refused to stay open, he slumped forward and finally drifted off into a light, uneasy sleep.
The morning came cruelly.
