He Songming turned back just in time to witness the scene, unable to hold back a laugh.

His frantic steps slowed as he exchanged a look with Ruan Mobei. Without hesitation, he retraced his path, raising his fist and landing a punch squarely on the face of a boy about his size.

The two started brawling. Although He Songming was less sturdy than the other boy, his punches were far fiercer, targeting soft spots like the cheeks and stomach. Even when hit back, the pain was insignificant compared to his determination, driving him to strike even harder.

Before long, He Songming had the boy pinned down in the snow, shielding his head and face while wailing for help. But all he got in response was another punch from He Songming.

Ruan Mobei intervened to stop the other kids from joining the fight. By now, he had figured out how to make physical contact with the world around him—it all became easy as long as it was for He Songming.

In this world, Ruan Mobei existed solely for He Songming.

Still, he refrained from using his adult strength unfairly to bully children; his only goal was to ensure the one-on-one brawl didn’t turn into a gang fight.

The boy, scrambling up from the snow, barely had time to stabilize himself before being tripped again—five or six times in total. Bewildered, he looked around but saw nothing, convinced he was encountering a ghost. Terrified, he fled, stumbling over himself.

Another boy was caught by the collar by Ruan Mobei and couldn’t move forward. He could distinctly feel the force gripping him, but when he turned around, no one was there. His face flushed red as he struggled but failed to break free.

Ruan Mobei, holding the boy firmly, glanced toward He Songming. As an adult, managing two kids was a breeze for him.

By now, the one-on-one battle had reached its end. He Songming wiped the corner of his split lip and, panting heavily, climbed off his beaten opponent, who was no longer able to fight back.

Shaking his sore hands, He Songming felt an unprecedented sense of satisfaction.

Two girls were helping the toothless boy off the ground, trembling as they watched from a distance. He Songming shot them a glance and said to Ruan Mobei, “Let’s go.”

Ruan Mobei acknowledged, releasing the boy he was holding. Deprived of the restraining force, the boy, still struggling to move forward, fell face-first into the soft snow, leaving behind a human-shaped imprint.

He Songming picked up the radio again and headed toward the East Zone. Amid the cries of his defeated foes, he and Ruan Mobei walked side by side, leaving the mess behind.

The only thing left in the snow was a trail of footprints belonging to the boy.

“Do you think they’ll call their parents?” Ruan Mobei asked. He could easily handle a group of kids for He Songming, but dealing with adults was another story.

“They’ll definitely tattle, but those people won’t dare do anything to me,” He Songming replied as he unlocked the East Zone door with his fingerprint. Entering with the rush of adrenaline still lingering from his victorious fight, his eyes gleamed with excitement.

This was probably the most exhilarating thing he’d ever done in his life.

In such a good mood, he even responded when the on-duty staff greeted him.

The rare acknowledgment startled the staff member, who quickly fished out a piece of chocolate from their pocket. “Want some?”

“…Thanks,” He Songming replied, accepting it. He wasn’t used to such gestures. The chocolate, wrapped in its small package, had started to melt slightly from the warmth of his hand.

“The doctor should be in the hospital section, but you might have to wait a bit,” the staff reminded him.

“Got it.”

He stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for level -5, and toyed with the chocolate in his pocket.

Ruan Mobei, watching He Songming’s reflection in the elevator wall, commented, “Seems like they’re not all bad to you.”

“They’re just biding their time,” He Songming replied flatly.

As expected, the doctor wasn’t home, nor was anyone else. He Songming placed the radio and a thermal container aside, sitting cross-legged by the door to wait.

“Is this the doctor’s home from yesterday?” Ruan Mobei asked as he sat down beside him.

“Yeah. Auntie Chen works in the dispatch room. She should be off soon; let’s wait a bit,” He Songming muttered, examining his clothes. Spotting a few bloodstains on his sleeves, he clicked his tongue in annoyance—they had rubbed off from the other boy during the fight.

And he had just changed into clean clothes.

True to He Songming’s words, Chen Rui returned shortly. Still in her work uniform, she hurried over when she saw him sitting at the door, quickly unlocking it.

“Feeling better?” Chen Rui pulled He Songming to his feet, touched his forehead to check his temperature, and sighed in relief when she found it normal. “You scared us to death yesterday.”

He Songming pretended not to hear, handing her the radio. “This is broken.”

Chen Rui, used to his attitude, said, “Alright, I’ll have Uncle Zhang fix it when he’s back. What do you want to eat tonight?”

“Anything.”

“Knew you’d say that.” She smiled wryly. “I’ll go make something. You can watch TV while you wait. Ah Lin will be home from school soon.”

As Chen Rui headed into the kitchen, He Songming turned on the TV. In this world, with the media industry long gone, only a few channels remained, endlessly replaying old programs.

Ruan Mobei, still thinking about a documentary he’d seen before, asked, “Are there any documentaries? I saw one about life before the apocalypse at your neighbor’s place. I’d like to see it again.”

“Oh, that.” He Songming flipped through the channels but didn’t find it. “I’ve seen it at school before. I think you need a special disc for that.”

“Ah, I see.” Ruan Mobei sounded a little disappointed but didn’t push. Instead, he caught onto something else. “There’s a school here?”

“Yeah, on level -3. I’ve been there once or twice. Don’t like it. A bunch of kids sitting around listening to adults spout useless nonsense. Waste of time.”

Ruan Mobei chuckled. He Songming’s rebellious attitude made him seem like a typical troublemaking teenager. Who would’ve thought he was a model student in reality?

Surprisingly, the doctor arrived home before Ah Lin. He looked utterly exhausted, dark circles under his eyes betraying his lack of rest. Spotting He Songming on the couch, he hesitated briefly before asking, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He Songming shifted uncomfortably. Overhead, Ruan Mobei remarked, “He looks guilty.”

As he should, He Songming thought to himself. He gestured to the radio on the table. “This is broken.”

“I’ll fix it,” the doctor said. Both tacitly avoided mentioning Kolov. He Songming knew that man wouldn’t die anyway.

While the doctor worked on the radio, Chen Rui’s daughter, Ah Lin, finally came home from school. About the same age as He Songming, she immediately dropped her bag and ignored her homework, dragging him off to play video games.

In this age where the internet was no longer thriving, gaming consoles had become the primary form of entertainment.

As Ah Lin played, she chattered non-stop about her school day. He Songming occasionally replied with a noncommittal “mm” while fiddling with the game console, clearly adept at using it.

“Didn’t know you had friends,” Ruan Mobei commented from the edge of the bed.

“Is that a problem?” He Songming shot back without looking up.

“Huh?” Ah Lin glanced up, confused. “What did you say?”

“You misheard.” He nodded toward her screen. “You’re about to lose.”

With a yelp, Ah Lin scrambled to feed her in-game character before it starved to death.

It wasn’t until Chen Rui called them for dinner that the two finally set the game aside.

Chen Rui had prepared four dishes, with two vegetarian options specifically for He Songming—his previous favorites. But now, his attention was drawn to the meat dishes placed furthest from him. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and grabbed a piece.

“Huh?” Ah Lin voiced her surprise, echoed by the astonished expressions of Chen Rui and the doctor. He Songming, head lowered, quietly ate the piece of meat.

The doctor promptly moved the plate of stir-fried cured meat closer to him. “If I’d known you’d eat it, I would’ve made more.”

Chen Rui stood up. “Should I fry up another dish?”

“No need,” He Songming mumbled through a mouthful of rice. “Next time.”

Sitting on the sofa, Ruan Mobei watched the heartwarming scene.

So, it wasn’t all bad. There were still many people who treated He Songming well. He had just gotten used to rejecting kindness, shielding himself with thorns like a hedgehog.

After dinner, Ah Lin went to do her homework while the doctor called He Songming to his room. Surrounded by medical books, the doctor sat at his desk, studying the boy in front of him. Something about He Songming felt different, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what.

“It’s time I ask you again,” the doctor said, taking a thick book from the shelf and handing it to He Songming. “Would you like to learn medicine from me?”

He Songming opened the book. On its yellowed pages, faded notes were scrawled.

“I pledge to dedicate myself to medicine, to serve the people…”

It was the Oath of Medical Students, the doctor explained. “This book belonged to my grandfather, who was a doctor before the disaster. He passed it to my father, who then passed it to me. Now, I want to pass it to you.”

At the bottom right corner of the page was the doctor’s grandfather’s signature. He Songming gently touched it with his thumb before looking up. “I can’t do it.”

The doctor smiled kindly. “You can, Songming. I’m not the best doctor, but you could be.”

“Because my flesh can heal people?” He asked sarcastically.

The doctor shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Then why?”

“Because you understand the value of life better than anyone else.”

He Songming didn’t respond, but the bewildered look on his face said, Are you kidding me?

The doctor laughed. “You might not understand now, but you will as you grow older. If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

It seemed like He Songming was going to refuse, just like before. But then Ruan Mobei spoke up. “You should consider it.”

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, Ruan Mobei reasoned, “To leave this place, we need more information. The central control room is here, and any updates on the migration team will reach it first. You need a legitimate reason to move freely around the East Zone.”

He Songming glanced at him, admitting inwardly that Ruan Mobei had a point. He needed intel, and that was paramount.

If he agreed to study under the doctor, he’d have an excuse to access normally restricted areas.

Biting his lip, he hesitated. But his burning desire to escape ultimately won. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

The doctor, caught off guard, looked at him in surprise. “Really? What made you change your mind?”

“Nothing better to do.”

A typical He Songming response, which didn’t raise any suspicions. The doctor was too pleased to question it further.

“Rest for the next couple of days. I’ll start teaching you the basics when I’m off-duty,” the doctor said with a grin.

He Songming nodded, already plotting how to use the learning opportunity to gather intelligence.

With the radio fixed, he didn’t linger. After bidding the family goodbye, he returned to the West Zone with it in his arms.

As they left the East Zone, they passed the boy He Songming had punched, now in his mother’s arms as she comforted him softly.

Upon spotting He Songming, the woman glared at him furiously.

Unfazed, He Songming walked past her without a glance, dropping a casual remark, “Hope you never face any accidents in your life.”

A threat. The woman’s glare turned even more venomous.

Ruan Mobei clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

Back in their small room, Ruan Mobei shut the door and commented, “The doctor’s family seems pretty nice to you.”

“They wanted to adopt me once,” He Songming replied, sprawling on the bed in a starfish position. “But I prefer it here. This is my home. My own home. And I don’t have to see people I hate all the time.”

“But the food and living conditions here aren’t as good.”

“Doesn’t matter,” He Songming shrugged. “Security isn’t as tight here. It’s easier to get in and out. Over there, everything needs a fingerprint. If something happens, you can’t even run.”

Ruan Mobei thought of the hidden passage under the bed—a rare act of self-preservation for the boy.

He Songming rolled onto his side to face Ruan Mobei, asking seriously, “Do you think I’m being unreasonable?”

“Huh?” Ruan Mobei wasn’t sure what he meant.

“I mean…” He Songming hesitated. “It’s just a small piece of my flesh. It could save a life. With anesthetics, it wouldn’t even hurt that much. And I heal quickly…”

He trailed off, his voice dropping. “But I just don’t want to.”

“Of course not,” Ruan Mobei interrupted, frowning. He wasn’t surprised by the boy’s inner turmoil. “They only think that way because it’s not their flesh. Don’t believe the words of those who benefit.”

He Songming froze.

No one had ever said that to him before. For countless nights, feverish and wracked with pain, he had questioned himself:

Am I really wrong? Am I selfish? Heartless?

No.

You’re not.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his fists, trembling as he turned his back to Ruan Mobei. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tried to hold them back, but the tears spilled over, soaking into his pillow.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he rasped, his voice thick with suppressed sobs. His shoulders quaked despite his efforts to stay composed.

Ruan Mobei watched silently, his own nose stinging. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently patted the boy’s thin shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll help you. I’ll take you back to that place…where there’s no pain, no struggle.”