Chen Yexun lowered his body first, meticulously checking Li Chengyu’s pulse, breathing, and pupil response.
After confirming he was merely in a deep coma with stable vital signs, he finally let out a slight breath of relief.
Without hesitation, he unbuckled Li Chengyu’s backpack, slung it across his own chest, and handed the thermos to Chu Yao.
“Eat something first.
I’ll go keep watch.
I’ll be back in five minutes,” he commanded in an extremely low, firm tone.
“Remember, don’t leave any trash behind.” Chu Yao knew now was not the time to be modest.
She took the supplies and gave a firm nod.
Chen Yexun took one last glance around before slipping silently out of the brush like a phantom.
His figure quickly vanished into the taller, thicker grass further up the slope.
Chu Yao immediately stayed low, hiding herself deep within the brush.
She carefully unwrapped the gauze on her hands, which was already soaked with blood and sweat.
The subtle tear of the chocolate wrapper made her heart leap into her throat, feeling as though the sound would echo through the entire forest.
She quickly crumpled the wrapper tightly into her jacket pocket before taking small bites of the chocolate.
Despite the freezing weather, her body temperature was high from the intense running and constant tension.
The outer layer of chocolate had already softened into a sticky mess, coating her hands.
She finished it quickly, washed it down with two small sips of water from the thermos, then pulled out fresh gauze to rewrap her palms and forearms.
Just then, the surrounding grass rustled slightly.
Chen Yexun returned as silently as he had left, his face even graver than before.
“Pack up.
We’re moving.
We can’t stay here.” Chu Yao’s heart tightened.
Hoping for the best, she asked, “What did you see?
Could it…
be wild animals or something?” The moment the words left her mouth, she felt ridiculously naive.
“In the distance, about a hundred meters out, dark silhouettes flitted past.
More than one,” Chen Yexun said, refusing to make idle guesses.
“Whatever they are, treat them as infected.” He took the water cup Chu Yao handed back, unscrewed it just enough to take a tiny sip to moisten his dry, cracked lips, and stuffed it back into the side pocket of the backpack.
The two hoisted Li Chengyu once again, dragging their utterly exhausted bodies as they resumed their desperate flight.
Chu Yao pulled out her phone, opened the navigation app, and minimized the compass into a floating window.
Following Chen Yexun’s quiet directions, she slowly navigated their detour toward the so-called “middle zone.” When the map finished loading and displayed the tiny glowing dot representing their location, Chu Yao nearly gasped aloud.
They were already deep in the mountain forest, marked in dark green on the map, an agonizingly long distance from the edge of the nearest highway.
She had never imagined that their desperate flight had driven them this deep into the wilderness.
The road ahead grew even harder.
Dragging an unconscious adult male through a pathless dense forest reduced their speed to a crawl.
With every step, they had to be hyper-aware not to make too much noise while constantly guarding against maniacs or those terrifying “human alarms” that could appear from any direction.
As Chen Yexun struggled to navigate, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
The terrain of this suburban forest was far more complex and treacherous than the smooth contour lines on the phone screen had suggested.
Sudden steep drops, deep ravines, and impenetrable thickets blocked their path at every turn, forcing them into grueling detours.
A straight line to the other highway might have been only a dozen kilometers, but in this “green maze,” the actual distance—and the overwhelming sense of psychological distance—was magnified endlessly.
Yet even more unsettling than the terrain was a rapidly growing intuition.
The hairs on the back of Chen Yexun’s neck stood on end.
He felt a cold, malicious gaze clinging to their backs like a shadow.
Ever since leaving that patch of grass, the feeling had not vanished for a single second.
He suspected the infected had caught up.
But instead of attacking immediately, they hovered like ghosts in the shadows of the woods, following unhurriedly.
Did they find it more entertaining to toy with their prey?
Or were they anticipating the moment when these three exhausted survivors, after straining every nerve to tread so carefully, would finally realize that despair had encircled them all along—just to see the delicious expressions on their faces?
Supporting Li Chengyu, Chen Yexun applied a quiet pressure with his hand, signaling Chu Yao to come closer.
Then, pressing his lips almost directly against her ear, he breathed in an imperceptible whisper that only the two of them could hear: “We’re being followed.
From at least two directions.
Don’t turn around, don’t look around.
Keep acting normal.
We can’t let them know we’ve noticed.” Chu Yao’s body froze instantly, all color draining from her face.
Tears welled up in her eyes in a heartbeat.
It was a profound, suffocating terror born of sheer physical exhaustion and shattered hope.
She felt her mental limit breaking; she truly couldn’t hold on any longer.
Chen Yexun felt her body trembling and her composure collapsing.
Releasing Li Chengyu for a brief moment, he reached over and patted her shoulder with hard, decisive force.
His voice remained low, yet it carried an undeniable, icy strength that cut straight through the terror drowning Chu Yao’s mind: “Crying won’t help.
Force those tears back.
“Fear is a luxury we can’t afford.
“Now open the map, focus, and check if there are any marked ravines or rivers nearby.”