After leaving Amir's place, Brian didn't head straight to his own residence in Central Zone G. Instead, he took a detour, entering through a different street toward the checkpoint.
For Chen Shi, who still didn't know the way, it was simple—wherever Brian went, he followed.
His eyes curiously scanned the surroundings, watching the diverse crowd of passersby and soldiers of all skin tones. He observed their faces—some serious, some sad, some bitter, some cheerful—and felt a strange sense of detachment.
At this moment, Chen Shi was like an outsider, observing the full spectrum of human life. Having only been in this world for two days, he hadn't yet realized that he was now one of them.
Though his gaze stayed forward, Brian silently observed Chen Shi's every move. But he said nothing. He didn't intervene. Some things, you only understand after experiencing them yourself, right?
When they turned into a block, a familiar scene caught his attention. Ahead of them lay a chaotic neighborhood that people avoided like the plague. They walked forward slowly.
After a short distance, when the familiar clinic came into view, Brian led Chen Shi across the street and stopped beside a lamppost. He peered through the glass, observing the clinic's interior.
Inside, only a few patients were being treated—pitifully few. Most of the nurses sat idly in chairs, resting lazily.
It hadn't always been this way. In the beginning, patients needing treatment for injuries or medicine for colds had been countless. Often, the clinic was so packed that people had to wait outside just to get in.
But that scene only lasted for the first one or two years. Once corruption spread through the quarantine zone and supply cards became extremely valuable, almost no one came to the clinic anymore.
If you were injured, you endured it. Recovery took longer, but it was better than nothing. If you had a fever or cold, you suffered through it. Even if it was painful, it was still better than starving.
Brian scanned the people inside. He didn't see the two figures he was looking for. But he didn't rush. He simply waited, as if he had all the time in the world.
Chen Shi, standing beside him, scratched his head in confusion. Why had Brian suddenly stopped? He didn't understand.
But he didn't dare wander off. The same problem remained: he didn't speak the language. Silently, he vowed to learn English as soon as possible.
After nearly half an hour of waiting, Brian's body tensed. Finally, among the crowd, he spotted a very familiar figure.
About a hundred meters to the right of the clinic, a woman with messy blonde hair walked toward them. She wore a tattered, dirty coat, her face smudged, wrapped tightly from head to toe. Despite her disheveled appearance, her delicate beauty was unmistakable. It was Anna—someone he hadn't seen in a long time.
Beside her walked a rough-looking middle-aged man in a grayish-white hat, equally unkempt. They moved through the crowd, occasionally glancing at the soldiers, as if discussing something important.
The moment they appeared, Brian locked onto them. But what caught his attention first wasn't Anna, the woman he knew well—it was the unfamiliar middle-aged man. As if he'd found unexpected treasure, his eyes lit up.
He quickly pulled out a palm-sized notebook from his pocket, slid out a pencil of matching length, and began sketching rapidly. Within minutes, the man's portrait was perfectly captured.
All of this happened right in front of Chen Shi, barely a meter away, yet completely invisible to him. He just stared at Brian with growing confusion.
—Click!
Once the sketch was done, Brian snapped the notebook shut and tucked it back into his pocket. Pleased with his unexpected find, he stretched his limbs and prepared to leave.
Before departing, he glanced back. He saw Anna had parted ways with the man and entered a dark alley. Minutes later, she emerged in a clean nurse's uniform, her face washed, smiling as she walked into the clinic.
Military Base
Dormitory
Brian pushed open the door to his room, tossed his backpack onto the table, and collapsed onto the sofa with a deep groan of relief. Finally, he could truly relax.
The room was exactly as he'd left it. Clearly, Sarah hadn't been there since he left.
With relaxation came exhaustion. He hadn't slept all night, and today he'd driven for hours. Brian was utterly drained.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and fall asleep, he suddenly remembered something. His eyes snapped open. He looked at Chen Shi, standing at the door, unsure whether to sit or stay.
—Don't be so stiff. Treat this like your home.
He pointed at his backpack on the table.
—That's the supplies I got today. If you're hungry, help yourself. My room's off-limits. You can look around anywhere else. If you get bored, there are a few Chinese books in the room to your right. Feel free to read them.
After giving instructions, he stretched, grabbed a pillow, and covered his face with it. Within seconds, soft snoring filled the room.
Chen Shi stared at Brian, already fast asleep. He really wanted to raise his tiny fist and punch him in the face.
He sat down on a chair, hugging his head. After two days here, apart from what Brian had told him, he knew nothing. Completely in the dark.
—What the hell? Why did I have to transmigrate to a foreign country?!
No matter how much he complained, it didn't help. He slumped, sighed deeply, remembered Brian's words, and slowly stood up, heading toward the room with the Chinese books.
When Brian opened his eyes again, night had fallen. The room was dark. He sat up, rubbed his eyes to wake himself, and pulled a kerosene lamp from the storage cabinet by the door. He turned the flame to maximum, lighting up the area around him.
He looked around. The boy was gone. But under the door of the study, a sliver of light shone through.
He walked over and opened the door. A candle burned on the floor, beside an open book. But no one was reading it.
His gaze shifted. Chen Shi was leaning against the innermost window, staring out at the black night. Only streetlights and scattered lights from a few buildings and houses pierced the darkness.
Holding the kerosene lamp, Brian stepped beside him, looking out together.
—Why are you standing here?
Chen Shi kept staring, not reacting to Brian's presence. He asked a question that, to those living here, sounded absurd.
—Why do those places have electricity, but we don't?
Brian hadn't expected that. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but he answered:
—Because the people who live there are more important, more valuable than us.
Chen Shi fell silent. No matter how many apocalypse movies he'd seen, without experiencing it, one couldn't truly grasp the cruelty. In that moment, he realized what he was seeing was only the tip of the iceberg.
But he quickly remembered—he was just a four-year-old. He shouldn't react like this. He lifted his head, feigning confusion.
—But why? Didn't they say everyone was equal?
—Hmph!
Brian let out a mocking laugh, ruffled Chen Shi's hair, his lips curling with sarcasm.
—Foolish kid, what equality? In this world—past, present, or future—people are born unequal.
His expression darkened. In a voice only he could hear, he whispered:
—The only "equality" in this world… is that we all have the right to kill each other.