Seeing Chu Yao’s face instantly drain of color and her pupils dilate in extreme terror, Chen Yexun immediately asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong?” Chu Yao couldn’t speak.
She just handed him her phone with a trembling hand.
In the dim light of the screen, the message from Chen Yexun stood out starkly in the chat box: *Where the fuck are you guys?* Chen Yexun’s face darkened ominously.
He snatched the phone, quickly scrolled through it, and confirmed there were no other messages or call logs.
“Trouble…” he cursed under his breath, his heart sinking heavily.
After resting for less than a minute, Chen Yexun forced down the turmoil in his chest.
His voice was hoarse but resolute.
“We can’t stay.
Keep moving.
This time, don’t touch any of the surrounding bushes or branches.
Keep your movements light.” Under Chen Yexun’s instruction, Chu Yao clumsily yet rapidly blocked and deleted Chen Yexun’s WeChat account.
The two of them once again hoisted the unconscious Li Chengyu onto their shoulders, using the compass to guide them as they trudged forward with utmost caution.
*Trouble.* Chen Yexun’s mind raced.
Since the other party could send messages using WeChat, it was entirely possible they could check his map search history on his discarded, unlocked phone.
They might have even seen the gas station location he had sent to Chu Yao and Li Chengyu.
“We can’t go to the gas station,” he murmured to Chu Yao, his voice suppressed.
“Our only hope now is a service area or the driving range.” A wave of regret washed over him.
In the heat of the moment, he had only thought about creating a noise source, completely lacking the time and presence of mind to lock the screen before throwing the phone away.
A single lapse in judgment could lead to catastrophe.
They walked in silence.
The stillness of the forest felt suffocatingly tense, every rustle of grass and breath of wind tightening their nerves another notch.
Because of their extreme caution and the burden of dragging a person, their pace was sluggish.
Chen Yexun tuned his senses to their absolute limit, scanning their surroundings like a radar.
A tearing ache shot through his shoulder where Li Chengyu’s body rested.
He glanced at Chu Yao; sweat drenched her forehead, and her teeth were clenched in determination, but she was clearly reaching her limit as well.
Suddenly, Chen Yexun came to a dead stop and pulled Chu Yao down into cover.
Up ahead, beneath another tree, hung a blurred human silhouette.
Even from a distance, it was obvious that the lower half of its body was missing.
“Detour,” Chen Yexun whispered without hesitation.
He took Chu Yao’s hand and carefully changed course, his eyes locked dead on the “alarm” and the area beyond, remaining entirely motionless.
Minutes ticked by.
Chu Yao didn’t understand what Chen Yexun was observing and couldn’t help wanting to lean in closer to get a better look.
The instant she shifted, Chen Yexun turned as if struck by electricity.
He pressed his finger hard against his lips, making an intensely strict “be quiet” gesture!
The alarm in his eyes spiked to the absolute maximum!
Chu Yao’s heart leaped straight into her throat!
Chen Yexun pulled her along, using the gentlest possible movements to practically carry Li Chengyu as they tiptoed into a dense patch of bushes nearby.
He gently laid Li Chengyu down first, then gestured for Chu Yao to lie flat.
The two of them slowly flattened themselves, burying their bodies completely in the dead leaves and shadows.
Chu Yao covered her mouth and nose tightly, practically ceasing to breathe.
Holding their breath, they waited.
They didn’t know how much time passed—perhaps only a few minutes, though it felt as agonizing as a century.
*Rustle, rustle…* That spine-chilling sound echoed once more, and it was drawing closer!
Through the gaps in the bushes, Chu Yao caught sight of several blurry figures covered in dark red stains, strolling leisurely from the direction they had just come.
Without exception, every one of their faces wore that same uniform, twisted, euphoric smile.
Her heart hammered frantically, almost bursting through her chest.
Instinctively, she glanced at Chen Yexun beside her.
Chen Yexun had one hand clamped tightly over Li Chengyu’s forehead, as if attempting through sheer willpower to prevent him from waking up and making any noise.
His other hand gripped the fruit knife tightly.
His eyes were cold and razor-sharp, like a wild beast preparing to pounce, radiating a desperate, murderous aura that proclaimed: *If we’re exposed, I’m dragging all of you to hell with us.* Now, all they could do was pray that Li Chengyu wouldn’t wake up right now.
Those lunatics drew closer and closer—so close that Chu Yao could clearly hear the crisp *snap* of dead branches under their feet, so close she could smell the thick, sickening stench of blood and decay wafting off them.
Chu Yao felt like she was suffocating, her head spinning in waves from the lack of oxygen.
Fortunately, this group of infected seemed to be wandering aimlessly.
Uttering filthy words, they failed to notice the three people resting mere inches away.
They passed right in front of the bushes, gradually walking into the distance until their voices faded into nothing.
Chu Yao felt almost completely drained of strength.
Just as she was about to let out a sigh of relief— Chen Yexun immediately tapped her arm, repeating that strict gesture for silence!
Chu Yao forced the breath back into her lungs, her heart pounding wildly once more.
*Are there more?* After waiting through another agonizing half-hour, complete silence returned to their surroundings.
Even the sound of the wind seemed to have died down.
Only then did Chen Yexun slowly raise his head, meticulously scanning the area before finally confirming it was truly safe.
“Let’s move,” he said softly, his voice raspy from prolonged tension.
The two hoisted Li Chengyu once more and resumed their arduous trek.
After walking for what felt like another eternity, Chu Yao felt her legs turn completely numb, moving solely on instinct.
She didn’t dare ask to stop because she trusted Chen Yexun’s judgment unconditionally.
Finally, Chen Yexun’s eyes brightened, locking onto a small hillside up ahead to their right.
It was covered in waist-high weeds and dense bushes, connected to the surrounding trees to form a natural sanctuary.
The terrain was slightly elevated, making it easy to survey the surroundings.
He signaled Chu Yao to stop while he cautiously crept up first, using his knife to part the tall grass and inspect every inch.
Once he confirmed nothing was hiding inside, he motioned for Chu Yao to bring Li Chengyu over.
Chu Yao struggled to drag Li Chengyu into the brush, accidentally brushing against a spiderweb.
A sizable spider landed on her arm, but she merely brushed it off with an expressionless face.
Had it been in the past, she would have screamed and jumped in terror.
But now, having witnessed a true living hell, these trivial everyday fears seemed utterly insignificant.
The three of them were finally able to slump into the relatively safe tall grass for a brief respite.
“The ones who just passed…
were they the ones chasing us?” Chu Yao asked in a hushed, trembling voice.
“No,” Chen Yexun denied immediately.
“At least, I didn’t see anyone holding my phone.
Besides, that group was too small—I counted only six.
The noise from the ones chasing us earlier sounded like far more than that.” “Then…
could the previous group still be looking for us?” Chu Yao asked worryingly.
“Very likely,” Chen Yexun agreed with a nod, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding trees.
“That’s why we have to do the exact opposite of what they expect.” He continued his analysis, “If those guys still have any brains left, they’ll assume normal people like us would be terrified and instinctively head deeper into the forest, thinking that the farther we are from the road and crowds, the safer we’ll be.” “Therefore,” he concluded, “we’re going to head toward the highway instead.
That way, our chances of running into them might actually be lower.” Though frightened, Chu Yao raised a question: “But…
what if they don’t reason things out at all and just wander wherever they want?
And wouldn’t getting closer to the road put us back in danger?” “Always prepare for the worst.
Better safe than sorry,” Chen Yexun replied in an unquestionable tone; this was the rule he had lived by all along.
“Besides, based on my observations, the infected in a suburban area like this are generally split into two groups.” He gestured with his hands, “One group stays posted on the highway, enjoying the ready-made toys and crash sites.
They’re pleasure-seekers and tend to stick around longer.
The other group prefers hunting for prey in the woods, wandering deeper and deeper.” “So,” he pointed roughly toward the direction of the highway, “the relatively safest place is actually this buffer zone—far enough from the highway, yet not deep in the heart of the forest.
This ‘buffer zone’ is a blind spot for both groups of maniacs.” “More importantly,” he added, “if we keep moving in this direction, the farther we get from the temple fair, the fewer infected there will be on the highway itself.
And…
we can also take the opportunity to check the abandoned vehicles parked along the road for what we need most.” “A Bluetooth speaker,” Chu Yao realized.
Chen Yexun nodded, his eyes turning back toward the silent yet lethally dangerous forest outside the brush.