Ning Yu closely observed his condition with a flashlight. Zhou Rong lay on the ground, his upper body leaning in Si Nan’s arms, with dark circles under his eyes, breathing weak and intermittent. Almost dehydrated from constant sweating, his sexy and handsome face looked haggard and decayed, with black blood spots continuously emerging from around the ulcerated wound on his neck.
Under the flashlight, the virus caused these blood spots to continuously rise from beneath the skin, while the serum’s power made them subsequently disappear, creating a very unstable surface condition.
“He will bleed out!”
“In this situation, we can only leave it to fate…”
Si Nan cursed out loud, kneeling beside Zhou Rong, heavily striking his chest several times, then leaning down to listen to his heartbeat, trembling as he performed external cardiac massage.
“Zhou Rong! Wake up!” he shouted hoarsely: “Zhou Rong!”
With a muffled thud, Zhou Rong’s body suddenly jerked, and the back of his neck erupted with several blood arrows like a ruptured artery!
Ning Yu: “Team Leader?”
Yan Hao: “Captain!!”
Si Nan’s pupils contracted sharply. Amidst the uncontrolled cries of the other two, he saw the blood spraying on the ground, slowly turning from purple-black to bright red.
…
“Captain!”
“Captain!”
A voice carried through the afternoon breeze, calling from afar: “Captain, come quickly!”
Zhou Rong’s head was dizzy, the scenery before his eyes alternating between near and far, like a whirlpool of colors. After an indeterminate time, he slowly opened his eyes. Before him was a playground bathed in sunlight and dust, with rows of military green uniforms rising like poplars.
Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the soldiers erupted.
He ran instinctively in his dream, pushing through the agitated crowd, stopping at the edge of the training ground. In the center of the open space lay a man – Zhou Rong recognized him as Liu, the chief instructor of their 118th battalion, his face covered in blood, unconscious, with an obvious depression in his chest.
“Despicable!”
“Such a heavy hand!”
The exercise still ended with a 19 to 8 casualty ratio!
A young man’s fingertips hovered near Liu’s throat, standing up with his back to them.
He had short black hair, wearing a gray-white snow camouflage uniform with a metal white eagle military badge on his left arm. The fight hadn’t affected his neat appearance, and the surrounding angry shouts seemed to not reach his ears at all.
Zhou Rong inexplicably felt the silhouette was familiar, but the dream was too chaotic, and he stood there in a daze.
“It’s him!” someone shouted angrily.
“White Eagle instructor, damn this psycho!”
The young man seemed to sense something and slightly turned his head.
He wore aviator sunglasses, his black hair standing up neatly at the front, with straight, slightly raised eyebrows visible at the edge of the frames. Though representing the A country’s military, his Asian height and hair color were very apparent.
Through the crowd, his gaze happened to meet Zhou Rong’s.
The young White Eagle instructor didn’t seem to recognize him, but after a few seconds, a subtle hint of surprise flickered across his eyebrows, as if with a hint of hidden unexpectedness. In the dream, Zhou Rong stood bewildered, watching the other slightly curl his lips.
Those were lips of a very light color, pressed thin, appearing cold and unfeeling at first glance.
A fierce fire burned in the depths of his mind, his limbs aching intensely, making his thoughts as chaotic as boiling mud. In that murky pain, Zhou Rong hazily recalled what happened next – the White Eagle instructor stepped over Liu, who had four broken ribs, and walked through the crowd, seemingly unconcerned.
He watched the other turn around and walk towards him step by step.
His consciousness sank in the deep sea, the clamor and shouting quickly disappearing above the water’s surface. Everything became very quiet, the White Eagle instructor standing before Zhou Rong, removing his sunglasses and extending his hand.
The young man who had just rescued them on the street removed his motorcycle helmet, his long, black eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining Zhou Rong before finally extending his hand:
“I’m Si Nan.”
The White Eagle instructor spoke, two voices merging in the void, with a familiar hoarseness and laziness:
“Si Nan, ‘Nan’ as in south and north.”
“I came back because of you…”
“You absolutely must not leave.”
On the rooftop in the night, Zhou Rong suddenly spurted out a mouthful of black blood!
Yan Hao was roaring something, Ning Yu rushed up, the wind from the helicopter shattering all shouts.
Zhou Rong turned over in intense spasms, propping himself up with one elbow, violently coughing out several mouthfuls of bloody foam.
“Cough cough… cough cough cough! Cough cough—”
Si Nan reached out and touched, looking up: “Red.”
Ning Yu switched on the flashlight. In its light, on Si Nan’s fingertip, the blood Zhou Rong last coughed up had transformed from black-purple to completely bright red!
“…Si Nan…” Zhou Rong said exhaustedly: “I…”
Si Nan supported him carefully, observing. In the flashlight’s illumination, the ulcerated wound on Zhou Rong’s neck was completely covered by fresh red flesh, gradually healing into a thin scab.
“I…” Zhou Rong seemed to break free from Si Nan’s supporting hand, spreading his arms and tightly embracing him: “Brother Rong won’t go… don’t leave me…”
His gaze unable to focus, he murmured: “Don’t leave me, Brother Rong won’t go.”
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Ning Yu flipped open Zhou Rong’s eyelids and looked, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion, unclear whether from shock or excitement: “This is the first successful case of recovery after infection with the new virus, truly… truly lucky.”
Besides luck, there were indeed no other words to describe the situation. Ning Yu looked at the unconscious Zhou Rong, then at Yan Hao, and suddenly felt a sense of absurdity: These special forces soldiers’ luck was too good, a one in a hundred or even one in a thousand chance, and they’d encountered it twice in succession?
Or was it that the antibodies had extremely strict genetic quality requirements for the recipient?
Si Nan arched his body, embracing Zhou Rong’s head, silent. He rarely showed intense emotions in front of others, and this brief few-second hug was already his limit. He then took a deep breath, raised his head, and said: “I must take Zhou Rong on the helicopter.”
Ning Yu nodded, and before he could speak, Yan Hao suddenly stepped forward, kneeling halfway and spreading his hand.
In his hand was the test tube containing the primary antibodies.
“I’m leaving,” Yan Hao said, looking down at the ground, speaking to Si Nan: “Take Rong Ge back to base, keep this for safekeeping.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the front line. Spring Grass and the others are still there, I need to help them retreat.”
Si Nan said flatly: “You can’t go.”
Yan Hao was stunned. Si Nan pointed his thumb towards the rooftop below.
In the pitch-black night seen through night vision goggles, the open ground was constantly surging and rolling, with overwhelming roars. At some point, zombies had gathered into a black wave, and the jeep they arrived in was now like a small boat floating in a raging sea.
Yan Hao’s expression slightly changed: “I thought you’d want me dead.”
“No such thing.”
