Murong Han · Chat

【Survivor Base】 The door was deadbolted from the inside. Murong Han stood before the heavy iron door, his fingers still in a knocking position, his knuckles white. Three steps behind him, you stood with your head down, your hood pulled low, obscuring most of your face. You knew you couldn't get too close—that scent of yours that didn't belong to a human could be smelled by a dog from ten meters away. A narrow observation window opened on the iron door, and a pair of cloudy eyes scanned out from within, looking first at Murong Han, then at the modified rifle at his waist, and finally landing on you. Those eyes froze. "What is she?" The person behind the door asked, their voice tight. Murong Han didn't turn back to look at you, but his body shifted slightly by half an inch, just enough to block that gaze. "My sister. She needs shelter." "I asked, *what* is she?" Silence. Murong Han's Adam's apple bobbed once. "...An infected. But she's conscious and won't attack unprovoked." The observation window slammed shut with a "clack." Hurried footsteps and lowered voices came from inside. You couldn't hear the content, but you understood the tone—fear, and the hostility born from it. "Brother," you spoke, your voice very soft. Murong Han didn't answer, but he moved back half a step, his backpack brushing against your arm. This was his habit—when he couldn't reach you, he would get as close to you as possible. The door opened again. This time, it wasn't the person from behind the observation window who came out, but a man in camouflage with a buzz cut, a pistol at his waist, followed by three equally well-armed guards. "Who are you to her?" the buzz-cut man asked Murong Han. "Her brother." "You know the camp rules. No infected allowed inside, period." "She's not that kind of infected." Murong Han's voice was flat, but you could hear him clenching his jaw. "She has the suppression medicine I give her, she won't—" "Rules are rules." The buzz-cut man interrupted him, his gaze piercing past Murong Han's shoulder to pin onto you. "Besides, look at her—you call that human? Brother, you've been fooled by this thing. It's not your sister anymore. Better to—" The muzzle of the gun rose half an inch. Not too much, not too little—exactly half an inch. It went from pointing at the ground to pointing at the man. Murong Han didn't raise his gun fully; the hand holding the weapon just tilted up at an angle, so fast it was almost imperceptible. But the three guards behind the man simultaneously put their hands on their holsters, and the air instantly stretched into a wire that could snap at any moment. "Say that again," Murong Han said. It wasn't a threat. It was a notification. You were all too familiar with this tone—when he gave a final ultimatum, he never raised his voice. The buzz-cut man stared at him for a few seconds, then looked at you. You never looked up. It wasn't out of fear, but because you knew your eyes would glow slightly red in the shadows, and that would only make things worse. You just stood there, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing. "...The camp has its rules," the buzz-cut man finally said, his tone softening by half a degree, but his stance remained firm. "She can't come in. If you want to enter, surrender your weapons and go into isolation—" "Forget it." Murong Han withdrew his gaze and turned around. He didn't look at the buzz-cut man, the three guards, or the tightly shut iron door. He only looked at you. "Let's go." He walked to your side, his arm naturally draping over your shoulder, turning you around to face away from the camp you would never be allowed to enter. His palm was steady, his warmth seeping through your thin jacket. You walked a few steps with him, then suddenly stopped. "Brother." He stopped, not rushing you. "You go in," you said, your voice even softer than before, almost scattered by the wind. "They'll take you. You go in, and I—" "You what?" He wasn't angry. You could tell he wasn't angry, not even anxious. He just asked calmly, cutting your words off in your throat. "I can survive on my own," you changed your wording, clutching your sleeves. "I'm fast, and I'm strong, you don't need to worry about me—" "Are you finished?" You pursed your lips. Murong Han let go of your shoulder, turned around, and faced you. He was much taller than you, but he leaned down slightly to bring his eyes level with yours. His silver-gray hair fell forward, covering one eye. "Listen to me." His voice was low, audible only to you. "If you don't go through that door, I don't go through that door." "But—" "No buts." He gently pressed his thumb against your lips, a gesture a hundred times gentler than his words. "What did I promise you, remember?" You remembered. On the first day of the apocalypse, when he pulled you out of the collapsed living room, he whispered in your ear: "Follow me. No matter what happens, I won't leave you." Back then, the TV was still flickering, and the last line of subtitles had just scrolled past. "I haven't forgotten," you said. "Then don't make decisions for me." He withdrew his hand, stood up straight again, and pulled your hood down a bit more to cover the reddened corners of your eyes. "Move. There's an abandoned underground parking lot ahead. We'll stay there tonight." He turned and walked in front, his pace neither fast nor slow, his rifle slung across his back, the red of his tactical harness particularly striking in the gray ruins. You followed behind, stepping into the footprints he made on the shattered glass. After walking about a dozen steps, you looked back. The iron door was still open a crack, and the buzz-cut man stood behind it, looking at you both with a complex expression. His mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. You turned your head, quickened your pace, and caught up with Murong Han. He reached out his hand, not looking at you, just opening his palm behind him. You slid your fingers into the gaps between his. He gripped tight. "...Brother." "Yeah." "You really won't leave me?" He stopped, turned around, and pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head, his arms circling you so tightly it was as if he were holding something that might shatter at any moment. "I won't." His voice vibrated from his chest, making your eardrums itch. "Even if the whole world sees you as a monster, you're still just my sister." He paused, then added. " I only have one family member, and that's you." The howl of a mutant echoed in the distance, and the wind swirled the dust of the ruins toward you. The iron door of the survivor base slammed shut completely, even the observation window was sealed. Murong Han let go of you and took your hand. "Let's go. Let's go home."