Chapter 31

The Pandora Flower 

Pedro had a restful sleep, and when he opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he saw was a bruised and swollen face staring back at him. 

“Boss, here’s breakfast. Everything from our room is here—please, enjoy it.” The boy quickly stepped aside as soon as Pedro woke, spreading his arms to present the scene before him. 

The beds in the room had been rearranged: two beds were stacked on top of each other to serve as a makeshift table, with the bedding removed to make space for several food trays. Though each tray contained identical portions, the sheer number of them made the display look surprisingly abundant. 

The remaining beds were placed around the “table,” forming seats. The one closest to Pedro had extra layers of blankets, making it thicker and softer than the others—clearly more comfortable. 

“Boss, please have a seat,” the boy said, gesturing toward the special bed.

Pedro ran a hand through his messy hair, wrapped himself in his blanket, and climbed out of bed. He sat down in his “seat” and glanced at the food, but he didn’t start eating. Instead, his gaze shifted toward the window.

“Boss, breakfast isn’t usually as good as dinner, but if you give it a try, it’s actually not bad…” The boy mistook Pedro’s silence for dissatisfaction and quickly tried to explain. 

He and the other boys stole glances at each other, quietly swallowing their hunger. They hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and now they had voluntarily given their breakfasts to the new “boss.” They were starving.

Pedro said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the window. After a while, the window swung open from the outside, and a bright smile immediately spread across his face. 

It was Juan, carrying a meal box. 

The other boys were dumbfounded—this guy really liked climbing through windows. He did it at night, and now again during the day. They couldn’t understand why—if Juan walked just a bit further down the path outside the window, he’d find the stairs! 

Unbothered by their thoughts, Juan jumped down from the window ledge, closed the window behind him, and walked over to the table. He placed the meal box in the empty spot and opened the lid. 

At the sight of the food inside, everyone except Pedro audibly gasped.

It was a feast—braised pork, black fish soup, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, a plate of leafy greens, steamed rice, and even a can of milk! 

It was extravagant beyond belief.

Juan pushed the food toward Pedro. “Eat,” he said. 

“I waited until they handed out their meals before I came,” he added.

Pedro didn’t start eating immediately. Instead, he looked up at Juan and asked, “Aren’t you going to eat?” 

Juan shook his head. “I can’t.”

Pedro instantly understood. Blinking a couple of times, he said no more. Picking up his chopsticks, he started with the braised pork, eating with obvious pleasure. 

“This pork is delicious! A little sweet—it goes so well with the rice!” he exclaimed as he ate. 

“These greens are great too. Who knew cooked vegetables could taste this good?”

“Is this fish soup? I wish I had known fish could be cooked like this—I’ve raised so many fish…” 

“And these scrambled eggs… That green stuff tastes just like the veggies I grow. Are they rare around here? There’s barely any in this dish…” 

Pedro devoured the food at an astonishing pace, practically inhaling it. 

It was understandable. For years, he had resisted eating properly, afraid that someone might try to poison him. Now, freed from that fear, he ate ravenously. Even the standard-issue nutrient packs tasted delicious to him, so these gourmet dishes were an unimaginable treat. 

Indeed, the food Juan had brought was nothing short of gourmet. 

The ingredients were top-quality, freshly purchased from the market that morning on the doctor’s orders, and the meals were prepared by the owner of a small restaurant behind the clinic. Before the apocalypse, the owner’s father had been the head chef at a renowned hotel. Without any supernatural abilities to rely on, the father had passed down his culinary skills to his son, who now survived on his cooking talent alone—a skill honed to perfection.

After finishing Juan’s food, Pedro also cleaned up his portion of the nutrient packs, patting his stomach contentedly. “Finally, I’m full,” he sighed.

Hearing this, the other boys breathed a collective sigh of relief. Finally, we can eat!

Since Pedro was done, they could now retrieve their own food and start eating.

Carefully, the boys sat down around the “table” and began eating their breakfasts in slow, deliberate bites. Normally, they ate like Pedro—rushing through their meals like starving wolves. But today, for the first time in their lives, they ate with an almost ceremonial grace.

Juan, unaware of their usual eating habits, watched them quietly. His gaze eventually landed on a body that Pedro had set aside. He seemed lost in thought.

The boy leading the group noticed Juan’s stare and remembered what Juan had mentioned the day before. Quickly finishing the last of his milk, the boy hesitantly spoke up. 

“Uh…”

He wanted to address Juan, but he didn’t know what to call him. He had already started calling Pedro “Boss,” so how should he address Juan? Calling him “Second-in-Command” didn’t feel right—Pedro clearly respected Juan a lot.

He hesitated.

“Juan. My name is Juan,” Juan said plainly, cutting through the boy’s uncertainty.

The boy nodded and continued smoothly, “Juan, I remember you mentioned yesterday that you wanted to bury… well, that body. We happen to know a good place.”

He pointed at one of the boys. “Xiaolu’s ancestors were geomancers—really skilled ones. Before the apocalypse, even big companies would consult his great-grandfather before choosing a location for their offices. That skill’s kind of fallen out of use these days, but Xiaolu still knows a bit about it. He knows a perfect spot for a burial. They say that anyone buried there will have a great next life—wealthy, long-lived, and successful.”

Feng Shui? I’ve never even heard of it… Pedro listened quietly to the boy’s words. 

However, as soon as Juan heard the description, his black eyes locked onto the boy’s gaze, and he said solemnly, “Please, tell me the location.”

The boy was startled by Juan’s sudden seriousness but nodded after a brief pause. He pulled over a small, thin boy and introduced him: “This is Xiaolu.”

Xiaolu was the one who suggested the burial spot yesterday, which had earned everyone a beating. He was also the one who explained the medicines’ uses to Juan after the boys collected them. 

Hearing the introduction, Xiaolu scratched his head bashfully. 

“I’m Chen Hai, but you can just call me Ah Hai,” the boy continued, introducing the others. “That guy next to me is Feng Ruixuan, and the one over there is Wang He. The one beside him is Tony.” 

After introducing everyone, Ah Hai turned toward Pedro, who was still sitting on the bed, and asked cautiously, “And may I ask your name, Boss?”

At that moment, Pedro recalled what Juan had told him when giving him his name.

Juan had said his own name was the result of divination—chosen after using all his assets to get a good name. 

Thinking back to Juan’s earnest expression when feng shui was mentioned, Pedro realized he was learning more about Juan little by little. 

Then, he heard Ah Hai’s question about his name. 

Pedro didn’t look at Juan. Though Juan seemed renewed now, that didn’t erase the hardships they had endured. 

He thought of how Juan had carried him through those dark, narrow pipes, moving slowly but determinedly, and of the calm voice with which Juan had introduced himself. 

A slight smile curled Pedro’s lips as he answered, “My name is Pedro. It’s a very good name—one my teacher divined for me with all his savings.” 

Ah Hai was taken aback. “Wait, foreigners use divination for names too?” 

He noticed Pedro seemed eager for him to ask more, so he cautiously inquired, “May I ask who your teacher is?”

Pedro proudly stretched out his arm, pointing at Juan. “This is my teacher!” 

Seeing Juan’s black hair and dark eyes, Ah Hai immediately understood. No wonder.

“Don’t worry—Xiaolu’s pretty skilled, too. He might not have any special abilities, but his predictions are quite accurate. Last time, our big brother followed Xiaolu’s advice to take the southern route, and that’s the only reason he made it back alive.”

Ah Hai patted his chest confidently, vouching for Xiaolu’s abilities.

He was about to lead Juan to the burial site when Juan stopped him. 

“No rush,” Juan said, glancing out the window. “Before that, I need to go somewhere else.”

—

Together with the boys, Juan and Pedro carried the body marked 485345 out of the building. They weaved through the vegetable gardens and alleyways until they arrived at the clinic—the same one where Juan was currently staying.

Instead of seeing the doctor, Juan went straight to the office of the assistant who had stitched up his current body. 

Juan remembered the man’s excellent stitching skills. 

Staring intently at the thin assistant, Juan unwrapped the plastic-covered body, revealing the boy’s bruised face and the severed neck that had been clumsily reattached. 

“Could you stitch this wound for me?” Juan asked, his tone calm.

After a moment’s thought, he added, “Don’t worry about the cost. Dr. Lin said all my expenses here will be covered.”

The assistant opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a pause, he silently motioned for the boys to place the body on the examination bed. He then pulled out his needle and thread and began to sew.

As Juan had expected, the man’s stitching was flawless. Not only did he repair the boy’s neck, but he also tended to the other injuries, ensuring the body looked less gruesome. After finishing his work, the assistant inspected everything carefully before saying, “240 points. Will that do?”

Juan nodded. “That’s fine.”

With that, he was ready to take the body. 

But before Juan could move, Ah Hai and the others stepped in, covering the body carefully and lifting it once more. They carried it toward the door. 

At the entrance, Juan paused and turned back to the assistant. “Thank you,” he said.

The assistant gave him a slight nod, and only then did Juan leave.

—

Since the boys were familiar with the base and its guards, they weren’t questioned as they carried the body out. 

Following Xiaolu’s lead, they treaded carefully across the snowy terrain, crossing a small hill until they reached a flat expanse covered in white. 

To Juan, it looked no different from the places they had passed along the way, but the spot felt right.

“This is the place,” Xiaolu said, pointing to a spot ahead. 

Without hesitation, Ah Hai and the others pulled out shovels and began digging with enthusiasm.

This time, Juan didn’t let anyone else handle the body. He personally placed the boy into the grave.

Pedro, holding a shovel, stood beside him. Once the body was laid to rest, Pedro joined Juan in filling the grave with soil.

The final scoop of dirt settled into place, forming a gentle mound over the body.

Standing before the freshly made grave, Juan began to recite a blessing.

His voice was deep and resonant, more like the sound of the wind and snow than a human voice. 

Ah Hai listened in awe and, after a moment, asked, “What language is that?”

Juan answered plainly, “Dragon tongue.”

“Oh…” Ah Hai replied, though he still didn’t really understand.

Pedro, on the other hand, gave Juan a long look after he finished speaking. Then, with a solemn expression, he summoned a magical book.

“Thank you for bringing my teacher and me together,” Pedro said softly. “We met through this magic book, so in this final moment, let me read a page from it for you.”

Pedro flipped open the book to a certain page and began to recite softly. 

The language he used was different from Juan’s, but Ah Hai was too stunned to ask about it. 

As Pedro chanted, the eyes of the boys widened in disbelief. Before their eyes, flowers began to bloom on the newly made grave!

No—not just the grave. With the grave at its center, the entire wind-sheltered clearing sprouted tiny seedlings. The seedlings shot upward rapidly, unfurling green leaves, and at the center of each, a delicate pink flower blossomed. 

Every seedling bore a single flower, and soon the entire snowy expanse was transformed into a sea of flowers. 

In just the blink of an eye, the snowfield had become an ocean of blooms.

“These are Pandela Flowers,” Pedro said, gazing at the vibrant grave. “They’re the second-most beautiful flower I know, and I think they’re perfect for this moment—to adorn his resting place and bid him farewell.” 

He closed the book, and the instant it shut, the magic book vanished from his hands. 

Juan stood silently beside him in the sea of flowers. The wind blew through their hair and clothes, carrying with it a gentle fragrance—not the biting cold from before, but a warm floral scent.