Chapter 42 Part 2

The plainclothes men exchanged glances, waiting for a long while before they heard Si Nan speak slowly:

"Your country's military has a top-level secret unit, designation 118, with eight squadrons under its command."

After a brief moment of thought, the other party responded quickly, "Okay, please continue."

However, Si Nan didn't care whether he agreed or not, his calm tone not changing in the slightest. "In Unit 118, there is a squadron leader surnamed Zhou. I demand that this person, along with Deputy Minister Guo's only grandson, come to the scene to pick me up. If I don't see these two people when I get off the plane, I will immediately kill the contact personnel on the grounds of suspected identity exposure and leave with the target. If my safety or the safety of the target is threatened in any way during the pickup, as punishment, I will kill Deputy Minister Guo's grandson first, then leave."

"From then on, lost in the vast sea of people, you will never find a trace of me again."

Si Nan turned around, his rain boots squelching in the mud.

The lead agent said in a low voice, "No problem. All your demands will be met. We will immediately relay this to Old Mr. Guo."

Si Nan smiled. "Your Old Mr. Guo knows I don't trust anyone..."

He walked out of the cemetery as the surrounding plainclothes men watched him go, his flat voice gradually fading into the curtain of rain.

"...I only want the people I've designated to pick me up."

In the midsummer of his fifteenth year, in a tropical rainforest lush with vegetation, dappled sunlight filtered through the deep green broad-leaved forest. A young special forces soldier, with his hands crossed, was sleeping with his head pillowed on his palms. His face was smeared with mud and camouflage paint, but one could still make out the handsome and untamable contours of his high brow bones, straight nose, and angular cheeks.

A young boy, treading on the ground covered with soft fallen leaves, tiptoed over cautiously and squatted beside the soldier, as silent as a cat.

He held his breath, a tiny ant held between his fingertips, intending to place it on the tip of the soldier's nose.

But just a moment before he could succeed, the soldier, without opening his eyes, suddenly flipped over and pounced on the boy, pinning him underneath like a beast capturing its prey, and without a word, tickled him relentlessly on his neck and armpits.

"Hahaha..." The boy laughed until he was out of breath, flailing his hands and feet as he begged for mercy. "I was wrong, I was wrong, I'll give you some fruit as compensation... hahaha!"

The boy pulled a small handful of crimson berries from his pocket, but before he could speak, the soldier sat up, pulled out a handful of even redder, larger fruits from his own pocket, and teased him under his astonished gaze, "Who really wants to eat, hmm?"

The campfire burned brightly, illuminating the insects circling by the flames and the pitch-black jungle within a few meters. The boy sat cross-legged by the fire, lazily peeling the fruit's skin, and asked in a drawn-out tone, "Why are the berries you picked sweeter than mine—"

The juice from the berries had stained the soft corners of his lips a bright red. As the soldier walked back and forth setting up a hammock, he frequently turned his head back, staring unblinkingly at the boy's casual side profile, and mumbled, "Who knows? I walked for miles to find them. Who's to blame but you for not eating a proper meal."

"I'm not eating that energy paste."

"You're the picky one."

The soldier finished setting up the hammock and tested its sturdiness. The boy contentedly watched his busy back, one hand propping up his cheek. "Big brother, you've been on watch for several nights. Let me take the watch tonight—"

"You on watch? What if a wild beast comes and snatches you away?"

"I'll just shout."

"Shout what?"

"Shout 'Hero! Help! Help—'"

The soldier laughed heartily and walked over to ruffle the boy's hair.

"I don't want to sleep in the hammock," the boy said, rolling over by the fire, his words muffled by the fruit pit in his mouth.

"Why, is it uncomfortable?"

"It's cold."

"Can't be helped if it's cold."

The boy twisted around the campfire again with a surprisingly nimble and agile movement, dodging the soldier's arms as he tried to lift him into the hammock.

"Little classmate!" The soldier was at a loss. He tapped the space between the boy's eyebrows and asked, "What exactly do you want?"

In the firelight, the boy's bright, glass-like eyes darted around, and he grinned. "I'll sit here and keep watch. Give me the gun, you go to sleep."

Before his words had even faded, the soldier plopped down by the campfire and beckoned, "Come here."

"What for?"

"I'll show you a magic trick."

The boy scooted closer and was pulled into the crook of the soldier's arm. The soldier's long legs, clad in camouflage pants, securely encircled him. Before he could struggle, he was wrapped in a warm tactical jacket, even his neck tucked in snugly so that not a wisp of wind could get through.

"Trick's done," the soldier said succinctly. "Sleep."

The back of the boy's head was held against the soldier's broad, sturdy chest, and for a moment, he was a little dazed.

He could hear the other's steady, powerful heartbeat and the soft crackling of the campfire. Further away was the howling wind of the deep-night jungle. But that whistling wind, passing through the treetops, suddenly seemed very distant, having nothing to do with him anymore. The warm arms around him insulated him from the cold, dangerous, and lonely world.

He carefully took a breath. His nostrils filled with the potent Alpha Pheromone, mixed with a hint of sweat.

This was the first time in his life he had ever felt at ease surrounded by such a scent.

"...I still haven't asked your name," the boy murmured, half-asleep.

The soldier, holding his gun in one hand, vigilantly scanned the perilous jungle at night. "Hm? It's against the rules for contestants and hostages to exchange names."

"Tell me..."

The soldier pressed the boy back into his embrace and said helplessly, "Alright, alright... don't tell anyone."

"Mm."

"...My surname is Zhou."

"Zhou what?"

"..."

"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday..."

"Zhou Rong!" The soldier was getting a headache. He gave the boy's head a light tap as punishment, though the action was gentle enough to be called careful. "The Rong from 'warfare'."

The boy finally expressed a bit of satisfaction with a "mm."

"Next time there's danger, call for Rong-ge." The soldier paused. In the firelight, his handsome face seemed a little red as he said in a low voice, "As long as you call for Rong-ge... I'll come save you, no matter where you are."

No matter how far, I can get to you.

Eleven years later, in the center of the zombie-infested T City. Si Nan caught the grappling hook in mid-air and was swept up by the waist by Zhou Rong as the motorcycle behind them spun and crashed into the zombie horde.

The two embraced in the earth-shattering explosion, falling into the armored vehicle together.

"The surname's Zhou, name's Rong from 'warfare'. And you?"

—Noah.

My name is Noah.

In the gloomy bungalow, Si Nan's brows were twisted as he gasped hoarsely, painfully curling up his body, which was covered in electric shock scars. Cold sweat soaked through the bedding layer by layer.

Separated by mountains and rivers, unseen for so many years...

Just as you once promised, please come and get me one last time.