— They left. They went to the South China Sea. The moment he realized this fact, Si Nan’s blood ran cold, his lungs seeming to freeze instantly.
“You…” he immediately became anxious, desperately searching the dim dawn sky for the helicopter’s trace: “You…” You didn’t wait for me. — Why didn’t you wait for me?
Si Nan staggered back, sitting dejectedly on the floor, holding his head. Intense regret was like a venomous snake biting his heart, his internal organs soaked in poison, the pain unspeakable. I messed everything up, he thought neurotically, grabbing his hair.
I messed up everything again.
I hurt Yan Hao, possibly Zhou Rong too. I led my teammates into a city center full of the undead, then ran away on a motorcycle!
Why did I run?!
Are they safe? Where are they? Did Zhou Rong try to find me? Will they come back?
Countless questions dragged his heart into hell, Si Nan held his breath.
I was wrong, I’m still here, come back for me… he trembled, fingers unconsciously scratching the floor, leaving multiple intersecting pale marks.
I was wrong, come back for me…
The rosy light crossed the high window sill, spilling into the small rental room. Si Nan painfully closed his eyes in the bright light.
He would give anything to return to twelve hours ago, to catch his crazy self driving away and give him a hard slap. Or he would prefer to go back before attacking the unprepared Yan Hao and Zhou Rong at the construction site, to break his own hand and stop all irreversible consequences before they happened.
But now he could do nothing.
He had no weapons, no food, standing alone in the zombie-dense city center.
Isolated.
He had never been so clearly aware that after barely reestablishing some connection with this world, he had personally severed them again, falling back into a lonely, dark abyss.
6:30 AM.
Strong hunger awakened Si Nan, his eyes opening blankly, red and moist at the corners.
The city was already bright, streets filled with zombies’ heavy footsteps and moans.
— Must leave here.
Si Nan stood up, seeing stars. Sleeping on the cold winter floor all night resulted in a fever; he could feel his burning forehead, his steps weak and soft, each step like walking on a cotton field. But he knew he couldn’t collapse now.
