The road out of Luoyan was barely a road at all—just broken asphalt veins threading through a land hemorrhaging silence. Once, buses had roared here, full of schoolchildren and gossiping old aunties. Now only the crunch of gravel under bootsteps remained.
Li Wei led the way. Always.
The child followed closely behind him, her small hand gripping the frayed edge of his coat like it was the last tether to humanity. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the supply depot. Not even when Chen Yu offered her a strip of dried meat, grinning like a snake offering candy.
"Still mute?" Chen Yu asked, walking backward with arms spread theatrically. "A girl of mystery! I like that."
She blinked at him. Said nothing.
"She'll talk when she's ready," Li Wei murmured.
"Or when the next horde comes," Chen Yu said cheerfully. "Nothing like thirty sets of rotten teeth snapping at your heels to get the tongue moving."
They passed a billboard advertising toothpaste—faded and torn, the model's perfect smile now covered in mold and claw marks. Irony.
The town up ahead had no name anymore. Just the outline of hollowed-out buildings and the skeletons of dreams. Red dust blew across the street like the land itself was bleeding.
"Let's scavenge the upper district," Li Wei said, eyes scanning rooftops. "Taller structures. Better sightlines."
"And a higher chance of finding our lovely undead friends sleeping upstairs," Chen Yu added.
Inside the first building—a former clinic—they found bedsheets crusted with dried blood, overturned examination tables, and a calendar still turned to the month the world stopped. July.
Chen Yu picked up a stethoscope and mockingly placed it to the girl's chest. "Diagnosis: severe trust issues."
She batted his hand away for the first time.
He laughed. "Progress!"
Li Wei found a half-box of antibiotics, a pair of intact scissors, and something that made him pause—a photograph. A man, a woman, and a baby. All smiling.
He placed it face-down.
Outside, crows circled.
Later, in a ruined bakery, they set camp. As twilight bled into night, Li Wei quietly made a fire with scavenged wood and wire coils. The girl huddled close. Chen Yu sat on the counter, swinging his legs, watching them like a man watching ghosts warm themselves.
"She's going to die eventually," he said softly.
"Everything dies," Li Wei replied.
"Yes, but she's not meant for this world. Not like you. Or me." He pulled out a small bottle of liquor and drank. "What's her name, anyway?"
"I didn't ask."
"Tsk. Cold."
"She needs a warm bed. Not a name."
Chen Yu leaned down, chin resting on one hand. "You know, if you really want to protect her, you'll have to teach her how to kill."
Li Wei didn't answer.
Not yet.
That night, the girl finally spoke.
Her voice was raspy. Barely a whisper. "…Rui."
Li Wei looked up. "What?"
"My name is Rui," she said. "My father called me Little Star. Before…"
She trailed off.
Chen Yu chuckled. "Rui, huh? You're tougher than you look, Little Star."
Li Wei placed his coat around her shoulders and stared out at the dark.
Then came the scream.
Not Rui's. Not a zombie's.
A man's.
Close.
They moved fast—Li Wei first, Chen Yu flanking, Rui hidden beneath the counter with a whispered "Stay."
In the alley behind the bakery, they found two figures.
One was kneeling, blood pouring from a shattered leg.
The other was laughing.
It wasn't a sound of joy. It was the sound of madness.
A survivor—male, maybe late twenties—had rigged an ambush with sharp wires stretched across a narrow path. His trap had caught another man: a merchant or traveler, judging by the satchel and clean boots.
The trapper stabbed the man again in the thigh.
"Where's your water? Where's your stash?" he shrieked. "I saw you! You smug bastard!"
Li Wei didn't hesitate.
He stepped into the alley like a ghost.
The trapper spun, raising a rusted blade.
Chen Yu emerged from behind him and slammed a brick into the side of his head.
He went down twitching.
Li Wei knelt beside the wounded man. Too late.
"He… took my son…" the man whispered. "Said he'd feed him to the dogs if I didn't talk…"
"Where?"
"…northern silo… red paint… please…"
His eyes glazed over. Dead.
Li Wei stood up.
Chen Yu kicked the trapper awake.
He groaned, spitting blood, eyes dazed.
Li Wei crouched.
"You took a child."
"No—no! He was already—he—he—"
Crack.
Li Wei's fist shattered the man's nose.
"Where?"
The man choked on blood. "I… I sold him… Warlord takes them for meat or slaves, I don't know—"
Li Wei rose slowly.
Chen Yu smirked. "I take it this warlord's next?"
Li Wei looked back toward the bakery, where Rui's small form waited in the dark.
"Yes," he said. "He is."
The next morning, the air was thick with smoke. Somewhere in the distance, a building was burning — maybe a barn, maybe a stronghold. The flames painted the dawn blood-orange.
They traveled on foot.
The road was quiet, but not empty. At the edge of a dried-out rice paddy, they saw corpses strung up on bamboo poles like scarecrows. Some were fresh. Some weren't.
"Decoration?" Chen Yu quipped. "Or warning?"
Li Wei stared at the corpses. A child among them — hung by the wrists, not the neck.
"Both," he said.
Rui didn't look. She walked past them with her eyes on her shoes.
Li Wei nodded to himself. "She's adapting."
Chen Yu snorted. "Like a mushroom growing out of rot."
They reached the northern silo by late afternoon. It had once been a grain storage facility, now fortified with corrugated metal, bones, and wire. Red paint dripped over the doors like blood trails. A crude flag hung from the roof — stitched with the image of a snarling dog.
Li Wei counted two guards at the gate. Armed. Alert.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Chen Yu whispered.
"Flank. Fast. No mercy."
Chen Yu cracked his knuckles. "Mercy's for before."
They circled wide, moving through the tall, brittle grass. A crow called once. The wind shifted.
Then — motion.
Three sharp whistles from the watchtower.
They were spotted.
No time for stealth.
Li Wei burst from cover like a storm, knife in hand, eyes cold.
The first guard raised his rifle — too slow. Li Wei slammed his body into the man's chest, tackled him to the ground, and buried the blade into his throat. Blood gurgled out in pulses.
The second guard shouted — "Intrud—!"
CRACK.
Chen Yu's crowbar collided with his jaw mid-word. Teeth flew. He crumpled like wet cloth.
Alarms rose from inside the compound.
Rui appeared behind them, pale and wide-eyed, holding a rock.
"Did I say stay put?" Li Wei growled.
"I heard… crying," she said. "From inside."
Li Wei paused. Then nodded.
"Stay close. Don't look away."
Inside the silo, chaos had bloomed.
Men ran in all directions, grabbing weapons, screaming orders. Some were barely older than Rui. Others were wild-eyed cannibals, half-naked, faces painted with dried blood.
Li Wei and Chen Yu moved like wolves.
Every swing was precise. Every stab surgical.
They didn't fight like heroes.
They cleansed.
A man charged with a cleaver — Chen Yu tripped him with a rusted chain, then stomped on his throat until it collapsed like a crushed pipe.
Li Wei found a locked metal door. Behind it — the cries of children.
Three quick pistol shots. The lock broke.
Inside: five kids. Dirty. Starving. One had no legs.
Rui ran in. She didn't cry. She held their hands and whispered to them.
Li Wei turned to Chen Yu. "We'll burn this place when we leave."
Chen Yu smiled. "Nice. Classic villain move."
The warlord came last.
He was a fat man in leather armor, breathing heavy, swinging a sledgehammer with surprising strength.
"You don't know what you're doing!" he screamed. "This place is order! I feed people!"
"You eat them," Li Wei said.
"They were already dead—!"
Li Wei threw a hatchet. It caught the warlord in the shoulder. He staggered.
Chen Yu was already behind him.
"Hi," he whispered. "Bye."
Snap. A garrote around the neck. The warlord kicked, thrashed, pissed himself. Then went still.
Chen Yu let the body drop with a theatrical bow. "The king is dead. Long live the kingdom of ash."
They didn't bury anyone.
They didn't pray.
They set the silo on fire and watched it burn.
The children rode in an old farm truck they'd hotwired. Rui sat in the front, guiding them gently. She had already memorized their names.
Li Wei walked behind the truck. Alone in the dust.
Chen Yu walked beside him.
"That girl's dangerous," he said.
Li Wei didn't answer.
"She's watching you. Learning how to be you."
Still no answer.
Chen Yu grinned. "What happens when you become her moral compass? And she realizes that compass points straight into the dark?"
Li Wei stopped.
The wind shifted again.
Ash fell like snow.
He looked back at the fire — a tower of flame against a rotting sky.
"She won't become me," he said at last.
"Oh?"
"She'll survive. That's enough."