…Who is it?

…Who’s speaking?

Chaotic memories flashed before his eyes. Something in the void kept brushing against his body, the sensation chilling and shiver-inducing. Attachment, adoration, obsession, madness, despair… They surged like tidal waves, crashing against his nerves again and again.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

No idea how much time had passed before Ruan Mobei’s mind finally began to clear——

“Hurry! Get someone else to ask! Blood pressure’s too low!”

Right, he was in the delivery room. He had just embraced the conflicted He Songming, encouraging him to follow his heart and make a brave decision.

At that moment, he had received a soul fragment from the child.

A tiny, glowing yellow firefly-like light, filled with incomprehensibly chaotic images.

Was that… a memory He Songming had lost?

“…I am.”

He Songming slowly raised his hand, staring at the woman’s bloodless face. Amidst the panicked chatter around him, he spoke word by word, “I’m type A blood.”

The delivery room instantly fell silent.

It was only then that the doctor noticed He Songming standing behind him. Startled, he watched as the boy stepped up to the operating table and picked up the scalpel prepared for the C-section.

The blade shimmered like silver, thin as a wing.

He Songming gripped it and slashed across the palm of his left hand.

Blood surged from the clean cut. Pain followed, loyal as ever. He Songming dropped the scalpel and shoved half his palm into the woman’s mouth.

He clenched his fist hard, squeezing the blood out like lemon juice, letting it drip into her mouth. Staring at her face, he reached out his right arm to the doctor. “Give me anesthesia. Don’t make it too painful.”

Ruan Mobei lifted his head and took a deep breath, holding back the tears about to fall.

The boy before him had finally accepted himself. No more running away. And Ruan Mobei had finally found the first fragment of a broken soul and memory.

Maybe soon… he would be leaving.

Lidocaine was injected into He Songming’s right arm. Five minutes later, the doctor used a scalpel to cut out a coin-sized piece of flesh from the inside of his forearm.

He Songming looked at his healing left hand, then at the doctor placing his own flesh into the woman’s mouth. He glanced down at his bandaged arm—no pain, just numbness.

“Blood pressure’s coming up!” a nurse shouted joyfully. Along with it, the heart rate stabilized, and the hemorrhaging was under control. The doctor immediately began instructing the nurses to disinfect the area.

“Prep for C-section.”

Everyone’s attention turned to the mother who’d just escaped danger, and the baby who had been trapped for over an hour. Seizing the moment, He Songming quietly slipped out of the delivery room.

He took off the bloodstained surgical gown, washed his hands, and stood at the doorway for a bit.

A few minutes later, with cheers from inside, the crisp cry of a newborn rang out.

He Songming turned and walked away.

Ruan Mobei accompanied him back to the West Zone. Only when he sat on the small bed did He Songming finally relax completely, slumping back in exhaustion.

“How’re you feeling?” Ruan Mobei asked.

“Pretty good,” the boy murmured, raising his arm to cover his eyes.

It was his first time offering himself willingly.

“Have you changed your mind?”

A few seconds of silence.

He Songming shook his head and sat up. “I still want to leave.”

“Then we’ll go with the original plan.”

He Songming gave a muffled “mm.” This had been his dream for years. No matter how his feelings changed, he was determined to go through with it.

Neither of them spoke for a while. He Songming was still processing everything that had just happened, while Ruan Mobei was figuring out how to say what he needed to say.

On the eighty-first day of arriving here, he had found a lost memory fragment of He Songming.

Which meant… he was about to leave.

“Xiao Ming.” Ruan Mobei softly called his name. “Do you remember what I said when we first met?”

He Songming looked at him. Ruan Mobei’s voice sounded different—tinged with sadness.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember I said I was a ghost, and I didn’t know why I was wandering around here? That maybe, once I remembered the past, I’d be set free?”

“You remembered?! The past?!” He Songming panicked, grabbing Ruan Mobei’s hand, eyes wide with disbelief. “How come all of a sudden…”

“I was always going to disappear one day.” Ruan Mobei smiled and gently held his hand back. The boy was staring at him, eyes brimming with tears, those dark pupils clearly screaming—

You’re lying, you must be lying.

Ruan Mobei didn’t want to say it. But if he didn’t, the sudden goodbye would hurt even more.

He had to help He Songming prepare in advance.

“I’m a ghost, already dead. I don’t belong in this world.” Ruan Mobei spoke gently. “Meeting you was Heaven’s final gift to me. The days I spent with you—I was really happy.”

“Stop it. Stop talking.” He Songming cut him off, clutching his hand tightly, choking out, “Didn’t we agree to leave together? To go somewhere warmer in the south? And raise a little bunny? You promised me so many things… How can you just… leave like this…”

“But there’s nothing I can do. All I can do is help you get ready.”

He Songming stared at Ruan Mobei, then suddenly dove into his arms, silent.

The boy’s once-fragile shoulders now trembled silently. Ruan Mobei gently hugged him, feeling the warmth of tears soak through his shirt.

He ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I should be able to stay with you until we reach the migration team. Once you’re there… please take care of yourself.”

“Wu…”

He Songming whimpered, nodding slowly against his chest.

He had always been too mature for his age. Only now did he deeply hate that he didn’t know how to throw a tantrum.

The one person who truly cared for him… was about to disappear?

Ruan Mobei lowered his head and kissed He Songming’s forehead softly. “We promised—no crying when the time comes.”

“…I’ll try.” He Songming’s eyes were red as he crawled up from Ruan Mobei’s arms and gave him a big, grown-up hug, chin resting on his shoulder.

“I… will never forget you.”

The news of Ruan Mobei’s impending disappearance completely erased the excitement of leaving the base. He Songming even wished that day would come a little later, just so he could see that ghostly figure for a while longer.

Meanwhile, Ruan Mobei busied himself preparing everything for He Songming’s departure. He had to make sure that the He Songming of this world could live happily in the new place before moving on to the next world himself.

No matter how much He Songming prayed otherwise, the day eventually arrived.

The migration convoy from the far north parked outside the East Zone, restocking supplies and taking a rare two-day break. People stretched their legs, while a few black-robed Orthodox nuns looked after the little kids.

He Songming quietly waited for nightfall. Sneaking into a supply truck under cover of darkness was the safest way.

He had taken leave from the hospital. As soon as he said he wasn’t feeling well, the doctor told him to go rest—still zooming around in a wheelchair. The woman who had given birth was stable, but her newborn wasn’t doing so well.

He knocked on the doctor’s door. School was off today, and Chen Lin answered.

“Tomorrow morning, give this to Uncle Zhang for me.” He Songming handed her a small bottle from his pocket. “Make sure it’s tomorrow morning. Don’t open it early.”

It was his last “gift” to the doctor—a way of repaying everything he’d learned.

So mysterious. Chen Lin was curious, but her good upbringing made her nod and put the bottle away. “Okay, I’ll give it to Dad in the morning. Aren’t you going to school today? Wanna hang out?”

“No, I’ve got something else.” He stood at the door, looked at the completely unaware Chen Lin, and said solemnly, “Goodbye.”

Chen Lin waved with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Ruan Mobei knew exactly what was in that bottle. He Songming had secretly taken a vial of anesthetic when asking for leave.

He packed a backpack with enough supplies to last three days—just in case the convoy wasn’t moving too fast, he could stay hidden in the truck a bit longer.

Now all he had to do was wait for nightfall.

Darkness quietly fell.

It was a full moon tonight. The sky was bright, brighter than ever. You could see everything without even turning on a light.

No clouds. Moonlight spilled onto the snow and bounced back coldly.

He Songming slipped past the surveillance cameras outside the base and made his way toward the convoy. Ruan Mobei followed behind, keeping watch.

The target vehicle was up ahead. He Songming’s eyes lit up, and he picked up his pace.

But after just a few steps, the ground beneath him gave way—he tripped into a huge footprint.

Ruan Mobei quickly reached out and pulled him up.

At that moment, a stench hit Ruan Mobei’s nose.

He’d smelled it on Kolov. On the deputy enforcer. On the woman who had just given birth. But back then it was faint, hidden beneath the overpowering scent of blood.

Something was wrong—this footprint was fresh. Like… like that thing had just passed by.

An engine roared in the distance. Ruan Mobei looked up sharply. Something had happened at the convoy—they were moving out early!

“Get going!” He gave He Songming a hard shove. “Run! Run as fast as you can!!!”

He Songming sprinted toward the trucks. The lead vehicle began to crawl forward, heading south.

All the physical training he’d done paid off—he ran like the wind, quickly closing in on the last supply truck.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath his feet——

The stench came rushing in with a growl. Ruan Mobei reacted instantly, yanking He Songming aside by the collar——

The boy was flung sideways, just as a huge grayish-white claw pierced the spot where he’d been standing.

Ruan Mobei finally saw what had made the footprint.

It was a deathly pale humanoid creature. Transparent skin wrapped around tangled bones and visible hearts. It was covered in ice. With reindeer-like antlers, sunken eye sockets, torn lips, and a mouthful of jagged teeth, it reeked of blood and rot.

Exactly the same as the stench he’d smelled before.

It was as tall as a building, breathing greedily, its bloodshot eyes locked onto He Songming in the snow. It slowly reached out a hand, ready to snatch him up——

“Run!” Ruan Mobei shouted, grabbing He Songming’s wrist and sprinting toward the moving convoy.

He recognized the creature.

It was a Wendigo, a monster from Algonquin folklore in North America. Born from humans who had eaten other humans. They devoured everything, especially people. Hidden in the winter woods, they hunted anything that smelled like food.

Their appetite was endless, bottomless, never satisfied.

The stink from the people who had eaten He Songming’s flesh had lured it here! It thought there were more of its kind around!

“Get on the truck! It can’t outrun a moving vehicle!”

Ruan Mobei had never run so fast in his life. He could feel his soul energy burning up rapidly. Even holding He Songming’s hand couldn’t replenish it.

But now wasn’t the time to care.

Under the icy moonlight, with that glowing orb above like a merciless eye, the two fled across the snowy ground. The Wendigo limped after them, each step leaving a crater in the earth.

Yet no one else seemed to see it. Just like before—only the footprints remained. Surveillance would show nothing.

Their hearts pounded, lungs screamed. Finally, they caught up with the last truck. At the very last second, Ruan Mobei shoved He Songming onto the roof. “Hold on! Don’t let go!”

He Songming gripped the ropes tightly. Looking back, he saw the monster’s bone-and-ice hand reaching for him——

And Ruan Mobei stepped in front of him.

There was no slow-motion movie moment, no tearful goodbyes, no fading breaths in someone’s arms.

Ruan Mobei vanished like a gust of wind, torn apart by the monster’s claws.

“NO——!!!”

The convoy sped up, engines roaring, leaving the monstrous thing behind.

And left behind He Songming’s heart-wrenching scream.

His blood felt frozen. His vision swam. The last image burned into his retina was of Ruan Mobei’s determined eyes, pushing him to safety.

—Live.

You must live a happy life.

The monster was left behind. Seeing it couldn’t catch up, it turned back toward the base.

There, it sensed a familiar scent.

Ruan… Ruan Mobei…

Ruan Mobei! Ruan Mobei!!!!!!

Everything went black for He Songming. He finally lost consciousness on that moonlit rooftop.

……

No one knew how long passed.

Sounds slowly trickled into his mind. His awareness floated upward like a bubble from the depths of the sea.

“Oh my God! There’s a kid up here! How did he get on the truck?!”

“Lord, he’s burning up! Get blankets and hot water!”

“Does anyone know whose child this is?”

“……”

Amid the chaos, He Songming struggled to open his eyes. A young nun held him gently, warming his chest with her palm. People surrounded him, taking off their clothes to wrap around him.

He looked around desperately, but all he saw were unfamiliar faces filled with concern. The figure that had always been by his side was nowhere to be found. That gentle voice would never reach his ears again.

—We promised, no crying when the time comes.

The boy blinked, a snowflake landed on his lashes and melted, cold and wet.

I won’t cry, he told himself.

I’ll use the rest of my life to remember you.

Author’s Note:

Next chapter, the system shows up! Xiao Ruan gets a hold of Xiao Ming’s phone—what shocking secret will he discover inside? What changes will the memory fragment bring?

And next up is the story teased in the summary: “The Last Human x Heaven-Sent Savior”! Let’s welcome our wild, mute, clothes-hating jungle boy Xiao Ming with a round of applause!