On a makeshift cot by the window, Shen Shanwu lay quietly on his side. His down blanket rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. His cheeks still held a slight trace of baby fat for his age, pressed into the pillow, making his sleep look especially peaceful and sweet.
With his eyes closed, his long eyelashes became even more noticeable—distinct and slightly trembling in the gentle breeze, giving an endearing impression. Shen Shanwu’s lips were naturally parted in his deep sleep, quiet and still, with his breathing so soft it was almost inaudible.
Even Yao Wuque had to admit that, if this kid could always stay like this, it would be hard to dislike him.
Jiang Huan stood by Shen Shanwu’s bed for a moment, tucked the blanket in a bit more, and then left without a word. Before he left, he even turned off the light, not caring that Yao Wuque hadn’t finished his sudoku.
“…” Yao Wuque reluctantly closed his book and put away his pen, finishing the water on his bedside table in the dark. He had never seen his captain act so gently toward anyone before. Lying there, he tossed and turned, wondering what kind of spell that annoying kid next door had cast on their captain to earn such special attention.
After a long while, still without answers, Yao Wuque finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, troubled by these questions. At that same moment, the boy sleeping by the window slowly opened his eyes under the hazy glow of the moonlight. Shen Shanwu sat up gradually, his red eyes against the dark background glinting with a feline light.
He patiently waited a while longer until the villa was completely silent. Then he reached for the bag at the foot of his bed, lifted his hand, and effortlessly snapped the lock on the window. He opened it just a sliver, carefully slipped the bag outside first, then climbed out himself, quietly closing the window without disturbing Yao Wuque, who was fast asleep on the other bed after taking a sleeping pill.
No sense of vigilance at all, Shen Shanwu thought silently as he slid down the villa’s outer wall, landing softly on the grass. Seventeen years old really was just seventeen—if Jiang Huan or that ever-alert lieutenant had been sharing a room with him tonight, slipping out would have been nowhere near this easy.
Shen Shanwu glanced back at the dark villa before vanishing soundlessly into the night.
Compared to the disciplined lifestyle of the squad, the school was still bustling with activity. With no more college entrance exams in this post-apocalyptic world, evening self-study sessions had become a thing of the past. Students from wealthy families went home after classes, while those less privileged stayed in the dorms. Under the first light of the crescent moon, it was just the right time for these rowdy teenagers to be causing a ruckus.
Originally, the school’s night duty had been handled by a single old man. But after an incident earlier that day when some kids snuck into the outskirts of the city, there were now four old men on night watch—perfect for a game of mahjong.
As Shen Shanwu approached, he happened to overhear their conversation about the day’s events. Amid the sound of tiles clacking, the rumors had become fantastical, claiming that he was the secret love child of the Shanhai Unit’s captain and his first love. Supposedly, the captain’s first love had been tricked by a scoundrel and had abandoned the captain in his youth for being poor, only for it to be 30 years of Hedong and 30 years of Hexi1the rise and fall of a person is fickle, sometimes it will turn in the opposite direction which is unpredictable..
The rumors were so detailed, it was as if these guards had experienced it all firsthand.
Originally, Shen Shanwu had planned to wait and slip into the school along with any students sneaking back in after curfew. But security was so lax that all he needed was a quick burst of speed, and he was easily inside without much effort.
The dormitory hallway was full of students wearing thick jackets over baggy shorts, their breaths visible as they hurried down the hall. From their conversations, it seemed they were rushing to get back before the washroom closed. Flashlights, candles, and oil lamps swung in their hands as they joked and jostled each other. Shen Shanwu, masked and blending in, walked past without drawing any attention.
The CEO’s son stayed in a four-person dorm room, and when Shen Shanwu entered, only one student was there, lying on the top bunk, he asked if he had taken a shower without raising his head.
Shen Shanwu stayed silent. He scanned the name tags on the bedposts, located his target, and placed his backpack on the innermost part of the bed.
Not receiving any response, the student on the top bunk grew curious. He turned on his flashlight and leaned over to check, only to find no one there. “Did I just imagine it?” he murmured to himself, bewildered.
When his real roommates returned, he shared the strange incident with them. One, a tall, skinny guy with glasses, laughed and said he must have seen a ghost. But when he climbed up to his bunk and felt a backpack next to his pillow, his expression turned ghostly for real.
Instinctively, the tall guy kept quiet. Avoiding the curious eyes of his roommates, he cautiously opened the bag. In the dim glow of his flashlight, he saw a transparent glass dome—the pinnacle of protective technology. Inside, it encased a single, blooming white flower, its jet-black stamen and leaves giving it an eerie allure that only heightened the pure brilliance of its petals.
It was an eternal flower—a rare bloom found only in regions of intense radiation. Once it blossomed, it would never wither, remaining perpetually in full bloom even after being picked. Its meaning was simple: eternal love.
This flower was beautiful, but lethal in every way. Even after being picked, it continuously emitted strong radiation, making it nearly impossible for an ordinary person to approach its native habitat. Only a mutant could acquire such a bloom.
The tall guy snapped the bag shut, struggling to calm his rapid breathing. It was almost ten o’clock, and he understood—he’d just received his birthday gift from his father, even though the face he remembered was now a blurred memory.
After a long moment, he couldn’t resist opening the zipper just a bit, letting a sliver of light peek in. He held his breath, his eyes drawn to the flower once more…
In the middle of the night, Yao Wuque woke up, forced by an urgent need to pee. Rubbing his head, he felt strangely groggy, but the urge was too strong to ignore. Earlier, he’d been punished with 200 push-ups for not offering Jiang Tong water, and in retaliation, he’d chugged seven full cups right in front of Jiang Tong. Now, it was payback time.
Yao Wuque sat up groggily and instinctively glanced toward Jiang Tong’s bed. The little guy was curled up in his spot, bundled neatly under the covers.
“…Pfft.” Yao Wuque made a childish face at him, then wobbled over to turn on the night light and headed out to relieve himself. When he returned, Jiang Tong was still in the same position, buried completely under the blanket, seemingly unbothered about suffocating himself. Yao Wuque certainly wasn’t about to tuck him in. Holding his light, he climbed back into bed, ready to drift off again, when suddenly a chill ran down his spine, jolting him awake with a realization—
Where had Jiang Tong’s ever-present backpack gone?
He clearly remembered that Jiang Tong had placed his backpack at the foot of the bed before they went to sleep. Out of curiosity about what was inside, Yao Wuque couldn’t help but keep an eye on that big black bag.
Suddenly, he flicked on the light switch. The blanket over Jiang Tong was raised, but as the darkness faded, it became apparent that this “bump” was utterly deceptive.
“Please, no… please don’t…” Yao Wuque prayed as he stepped forward to lift the blanket—only to find it completely empty. He let out a pained groan and looked up to see that the lock on the window was missing.
Am I a dead pig? The lock is gone, and I was sleeping just a meter away, completely oblivious?? Yao Wuque frantically questioned himself as he rushed out of the room and knocked on the door of the neighboring room.
The neighboring room housed the two girls from the squad. Zhong Yin quickly opened the door, followed closely by Zhang Xiaowen, who was rubbing her eyes.
“Jiang Tong is missing.”
With those four words, Zhang Xiaowen nearly poked her finger into her eye in shock. Zhong Yin abruptly pushed past Yao Wuque and rushed into the room next door. She pulled back the covers, but there was not a trace of warmth underneath—clearly, Jiang Tong had left some time ago.
“We’ll go look for him, Wuque. Xiaowen, you go tell the captain,” Zhong Yin instructed calmly. Yao Wuque quickly threw on a protective jacket over his pajamas, feeling a mix of rage at the little brat and fear creeping in. “What… what if we can’t find him?”
“If you can’t find him, you might as well resign from the team and apologize,” Zhong Yin said, slipping on her long boots while barefoot and fastening her mask. She and Yao Wuque stepped out into the ten-degree chill.
Meanwhile, in the villa, Xiaowen was truly in agony. She couldn’t shake off her sleepiness as she paced frantically around the living room for three whole laps. Finally, taking a deep breath, she headed to the top floor and knocked on the captain’s door.
The door opened quickly. Jiang Huan stood in front of her, draped in a black cloak, with the vast darkness behind him. The small night light he held was the only source of illumination. At night, Jiang Huan always seemed enveloped in a haze of melancholy, as if he had just awakened from an unshakable nightmare.
“What happened?” Jiang Huan asked calmly. The moment he spoke, the sense of vulnerability that had enveloped him receded like a tide, and he transformed back into the familiar captain of the Shanhai Unit.
“Captain…” Xiaowen said carefully, “Jiang Tong… is missing.”
Jiang Huan’s expression hardened. “Missing? How did he go missing?”
“Yao Wuque said he woke up in the middle of the night to find both Jiang Tong and his backpack gone. The lock on the window is also missing, so it’s presumed that he escaped through there.”
The absurdity of a trained squad mercenary allowing a ten-year-old to slip away from under his nose was staggering. Jiang Huan paused for a moment, then his anger flared. “Where’s Yao Wuque? Did he not hear a thing with all that noise from the lock being pried open?!”
He couldn’t keep his voice down, and soon the lieutenant and another team member poked their heads out from the adjacent room.
Xiaowen quickly explained, “He went out with Zhong Yin to look for him.”
“Is he doing this on purpose?” Jiang Huan said darkly. “Intentionally letting Jiang Tong go.”
Xiaowen grew more anxious. “Captain, that can’t be! Wuque wouldn’t do that…” The more she explained, the more hollow her words felt. Anyone could see that Yao Wuque didn’t like Jiang Tong; if Jiang Tong wanted to leave, Yao Wuque would likely applaud.
But the captain had never before expressed such suspicion of a team member. Did Jiang Tong really matter that much to him? …Who exactly was this child?
The lieutenant, awakened by the commotion, asked for the details of what had happened. Turning back, he instructed the teammate sharing the room with him to wake everyone else. Ruffling his tousled hair, he said, “Captain Jiang, don’t worry. Even if we have to dig through the ground to find him, we’ll bring that little brat back!”
“…” Jiang Huan held the lamp, his head slightly bowed. The encroaching darkness behind him seemed to threaten to swallow him whole. He had always been an indestructible presence, a steadfast pillar. Yet at this moment, his figure appeared almost fragile and vulnerable, evoking a sense of pity.
Xiaowen couldn’t see his expression clearly and tentatively called out, “Captain?”
“Forget it,” Jiang Huan suddenly said, stopping the teammate who was about to head downstairs. “Forget it… If he really doesn’t want to come back with me, then let him go.”
“But, Captain…”
Jiang Huan waved his hand, silencing Xiaowen’s further protests. “Go get Yao Wuque and Zhong Yin back. Everyone should just go back to sleep.”
As he spoke, he glanced back at the pitch-black room, feeling wide awake despite his exhaustion. He stood there for a moment, then, under the watchful gaze of his teammates, Jiang Huan extinguished the lamp in his hand and placed it on the table. He then steadied himself against the wooden railing and slowly made his way downstairs, turning on the overhead lights in the hall before finally sitting down on the sofa.
The stars sparkled brightly in the sky, while in a small building somewhere below, the lights burned throughout the night without dimming.
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