Cold night dew dampened the hem of his clothes. Far from the fire's reach, the wilderness's chill reclaimed its dominance. The distant flames that had painted the sky red now pulsed like a gradually failing heart, their beat growing fainter until they finally faded into silent darkness. Only the faint, lingering scent of charred ash carried on the wind proved that the harrowing escape moments before had not been a hallucination.
Lu Zhao sat on the cold ground, hugging his knees, his body trembling slightly from exhaustion and lingering fear. Gu Xun leaned against a rusted metal wreckage, eyes closed as he regulated his breath. In the sparse moonlight, his complexion appeared almost translucent. A single step separated them. Silence spread through the frigid night, no longer unsettling, but rather like a shared barrier against the bitter cold.
Lu Zhao stole a glance at Gu Xun, his eyes lingering on the man's still-furrowed brow and the faint tremor in his fingertips. The awkwardness of their earlier close contact and the awkwardness of feeding him water now felt blurred and distant in the dazed aftermath of their narrow escape. A more primal, more pure emotion filled his heart—they were two grasshoppers on the same string, each the other's sole reliance in this world of death.
"Here." Lu Zhao broke the silence, his voice dry. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle—the last of the water he'd risked his life to bring back—and offered it to Gu Xun first.
Gu Xun opened his eyes, glanced at the bottle, then at Lu Zhao. Without refusal, he took it and drank two careful sips, moistening his cracked, bleeding lips before returning the bottle. "You drink too."
Lu Zhao took it back, sipping only a tiny mouthful. The cool liquid slid down his throat, temporarily dousing the burning thirst. He carefully stowed the bottle away, then retrieved the fruit can. Using the plastic spoon, he scooped out two pieces—one for Gu Xun, one for himself. The cloyingly sweet syrup melted in his mouth, offering a pitiful bit of energy and comfort.
With a little food and water replenished, the chill and weakness in his body seemed to dissipate slightly. Lu Zhao took out the provincial map again and spread it on a relatively flat patch of ground. Gu Xun moved closer, studying it carefully by moonlight and his gradually dark-adapted vision.
"The West City Gymnasium," Gu Xun traced a perilous route on the map, "isn't the farthest point as the crow flies, but it requires crossing the old town and commercial district. That area was once the most densely populated. Now... it's likely hell." His fingertip finally settled on the red "Hope" marker. "Here. The direction is completely different, requiring a detour and a longer journey. But the route passes mostly through suburbs and mountainous areas. Theoretically... the risk might be lower."
He paused, lifting his head to meet Lu Zhao's gaze with piercing intensity. "Moreover, Jiang Jin would never expect us to completely change course—abandoning the nearest official shelter for an unknown destination."
It was a gamble. Trading a longer journey and an unknown destination for the chance to evade the most dangerous zones and the relentless pursuers.
Lu Zhao stared at the solitary red circle on the map, representing a completely unknown entity—perhaps a more fortified stronghold, or perhaps a deeper trap. He looked back at Gu Xun, whose gaze was calm and resolute, awaiting his response.
He knew Gu Xun was placing the choice back in his hands. This decision might truly determine their survival.
Lu Zhao drew a deep breath of icy air. The wilderness wind filled his lungs, carrying the scent of decaying plants and rot. He recalled Jiang Jin's mad eyes, the greedy faces of the three survivors in the convenience store, and the sheer desperation of struggling to survive amidst the city's ruins.
"We can't go back," he murmured, as if telling himself, yet also making a decision. "We won't follow his plan."
He lifted his head to meet Gu Xun's gaze, his finger tapping firmly on the red "Hope" marker.
"We're going here."
Gu Xun looked at him, a faint flicker of something akin to relief passing through his eyes before vanishing. He nodded, carefully folded the map, slipped it back into the tube, and handed it to Lu Zhao. "Keep it safe. This is our compass now."
Lu Zhao took the tube, carefully tucking it into the innermost compartment of his backpack alongside the half-bottle of water and the remaining can of food. These few items represented all their possessions and their future hope at that moment.
The night deepened, and the temperature continued to drop. They dared not light a fire, relying only on the faint warmth of each other's proximity and their thin clothing to ward off the cold. Gu Xun closed his eyes again, seizing the moment to recover his strength. Lu Zhao, forcing himself to stay alert, took charge of the night watch. His ears strained for any unusual sound in the wilderness, his gaze scanning the heavy darkness around them with vigilance.
Tomorrow, they would embark on a path entirely unknown. Ahead lay rugged mountains, more mutants, an uncertain "hope," or... But at least, they had made a choice—together.
Lu Zhao watched Gu Xun's peaceful sleeping face in the moonlight. He realized that the slight unease he'd felt from their close contact had been overshadowed by something heavier, more solid—after sharing life-and-death experiences and making decisions together. It was no longer a vague repulsion, but a clear realization: he must protect this frail yet formidable companion before him. It was a weighty thing called "responsibility," and a strange, steadfast certainty born of walking side by side.
A faint glow brewed below the horizon as the long night drew to a close.