Lu Zhao clutched the unconscious Gu Xun tightly behind the mound, waves of dizziness washing over him from exhaustion and his severe injuries. He couldn't collapse here—the pursuers might still be nearby, and the night wilderness was fraught with danger.
Gritting his teeth, he mustered his last ounce of strength, hoisting Gu Xun's arm over his shoulder. Almost dragging him along, he staggered forward. He had to find a more concealed spot—any temporary shelter.
As dawn broke, his vision cleared slightly. Guided by sheer survival instinct and a vague sense of the terrain, he moved toward an area that seemed more desolate and densely vegetated. After an unknown amount of time, just as his consciousness began to fade, he glimpsed the corner of a dilapidated wooden house peeking out from behind a tangle of dead vines and overgrown shrubs.
An abandoned farmhouse!
Hope gave him his last ounce of strength. Pushing aside vines, he dragged Gu Xun into the precariously leaning structure. Collapsing onto a relatively dry pile of straw inside, he lost consciousness completely.
He was roused by a burning thirst in his throat. Sunlight streamed through broken windows and door cracks, casting several dim, yellow columns of light. He sat up abruptly, his first glance darting to Gu Xun beside him—still unconscious, but breathing seemed steadier.
Lu Zhao struggled to his feet and began searching the farm for water. Fortunately, behind the house he found a dilapidated wooden barrel that had collected rainwater. It still held a small amount—not clean, but life-saving.
He took a few sips himself, then carefully fed some to Gu Xun. As the water slid down his throat, Gu Xun's eyelashes fluttered a few times, but he did not wake.
Lu Zhao kept watch over him until late that evening, when Gu Xun slowly opened his eyes.
"Water..." His parched lips moved, his voice faint.
Lu Zhao immediately brought the cracked bowl of water to his lips. Watching Gu Xun sip slowly, Lu Zhao's taut nerves finally relaxed, and overwhelming exhaustion washed over him once more.
Over the next few days, the two settled temporarily at this abandoned farm. It wasn't large—mainly a dilapidated wooden house, a half-collapsed barn, a long-dry well, and a patch of barren fields. Though meager, it offered a rare respite, at least temporarily shielding them from the threats of the base and Jiang Jin.
Gu Xun's recovery was slow but steady. Lu Zhao took charge of finding food and water—he discovered a small patch of tenacious wild potatoes near the farm and collected rainwater using a broken container he found. Life was austere, yet it held a peculiar calm, like the quiet after a storm.
The tacit understanding forged during their flight deepened here. Lu Zhao instinctively took on all physical labor, while Gu Xun used his gradually returning, meager abilities to process the gathered food and water, ensure safety, or silently ease Lu Zhao's pain when thorns cut him during his outings.
Once, while Lu Zhao laboriously cleared the barn to make more space, Gu Xun sat resting on the threshold. Watching his busy silhouette, he suddenly spoke softly: "Back then... in the river valley, thank you for not leaving me behind."
Lu Zhao paused in his movements but didn't turn around. He merely hurled a piece of rotten wood into the corner and muttered, "Whatever."
After a moment, he added softly, "You never... left me either."
From the night of their falling out at the hardware store to their journey of mutual support, the barriers, awkwardness, and fear born from the "homophobia" label had long been worn away through countless life-and-death moments. What lingered between them now was a deeper, more genuine bond—trust, reliance, an unbreakable connection forged from the ruins, transcending any label.
When Lu Zhao emerged from cleaning the barn, covered in dust and sweat, Gu Xun instinctively reached out. He dipped a clean cloth in water and gently wiped the grime from Lu Zhao's face. Lu Zhao didn't flinch, merely tilting his head slightly to facilitate the gesture. Sunlight fell upon them, warm and serene.
Several days later, while exploring the half-collapsed barn, Lu Zhao discovered an old wooden box, nearly falling apart, buried beneath a pile of discarded farm tools. Opening it, he found not only rusted parts but also a vintage radio with a mottled casing and a crank handle.
On a whim, he dusted it off and gave the crank a vigorous turn. The radio's indicator light flickered weakly a few times, emitting a crackling static noise. He carefully turned the tuning knob. Amid the static, he seemed to catch an extremely faint, intermittent human voice, heavily distorted by interference:
"...Repeating... This is... 'The Watcher'... on... 76.8 MHz... awaiting... response... survivor... outpost..."
The signal was incredibly faint and soon drowned out by static once more.
Lu Zhao's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't make a sound. He carefully stashed the radio back where he found it.
At dusk, the setting sun painted the sky a warm orange-red. Gu Xun and Lu Zhao stood beside the farm's edge fence, gazing at the distant, rugged wilderness outlined in golden contours by the sunset.
"That base, 'Hope'... it's fake," Lu Zhao murmured.
"Mhm," Gu Xun replied. "I wonder how Jiang Jin is doing..." "..."
After a moment of silence, Gu Xun turned to look at Lu Zhao's profile, its edge gilded by the setting sun. "What do we do next?"
Lu Zhao recalled the faintly crackling radio in the barn, remembered the "Watchers" and the "Survivor Outpost." It might be another glimmer of hope, or it might be another trap.
He withdrew his gaze and looked at Gu Xun, his eyes calm and resolute. "We don't have to do anything. We can stay here, or go somewhere else. Anywhere is fine."
He paused, his voice carrying an unprecedented steadiness and strength: "With us together, anywhere can be hope."
Gu Xun looked at him. The fading sunlight fell into his clear eyes, reflecting a gentle and unwavering light. He curved his lips into a smile—an extremely faint yet utterly genuine one.
"Alright."
No stirring declarations, no detailed plans for the future. Just two simple words and the figure standing shoulder to shoulder.
The future remained fraught with uncertainty and hardship. Survival would forever be the eternal theme upon this wasteland. But they no longer needed to search for some external, elusive "hope."
For they were each other's most steadfast light in the long, dark night, and each other's warmest hope.