— Save me!

Before his mind could even make a decision, his body reacted instinctively.

“Let go!”  

Ruan Mobei locked his eyes on the tall, strong man. After a brief step back, he lunged forward and tightly grabbed He Songming!  

The sudden burst of force threw Wilson, who was dragging the boy along, off balance. His forehead hit the doorframe with a loud “thud,” leaving him dizzy and dazed.  

He cursed, utterly baffled by how this scrawny kid suddenly had such strength.  

The grip on He Songming’s arm loosened slightly from the pain, and Ruan Mobei seized the chance, clinging to He Songming and pulling with all his might. Wilson held on for barely three seconds before reluctantly letting go.  

As Wilson’s grip loosened, Ruan Mobei couldn’t control the momentum, tumbling to the ground with He Songming in his arms, rolling a full turn.  

Just before He Songming’s head hit the floor, it was cushioned by Ruan Mobei’s palm.  

He Songming didn’t even notice. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed Ruan Mobei’s wrist and ducked past Wilson, breaking into a frantic sprint.  

“Stop running, damn it!”  

Wilson roared as He Songming bolted past him. His companions, leading the way ahead, hadn’t anticipated that a malnourished boy could escape Wilson’s grasp. That brief moment of surprise allowed He Songming to put five or six meters between them.  

Gripping Ruan Mobei’s hand, He Songming sprinted, his feet pounding through the freshly fallen snow. Behind them, angry shouts echoed as they broke out of the compound, He Songming stepping straight into a snowdrift.  

The path in front of the bunker was cleared, but He Songming deliberately avoided the road, heading for the snow-covered terrain. Each step sank deep, the snow reaching up to his calves. He flailed his arms to maintain balance, moving towards deeper snow.  

Despite this, he kept a firm grip on Ruan Mobei’s wrist. Ruan Mobei wanted to tell him there was no need—he’d always stay by his side due to their bond. But before he could speak, He Songming gasped out between breaths, “Is… is anyone there?”  

Ruan Mobei glanced back. The two men were already chasing them, their larger builds giving them an advantage in the snow. They’d close the gap in less than half a minute.  

“They’re right behind us!”  

He Songming gritted his teeth and kept moving, but his faltering pace told Ruan Mobei that he was nearing his limit. The boy’s body was frail, injured, and still digesting the food he’d just eaten. The fact he’d made it this far was already remarkable.  

Ruan Mobei looked back again. Wilson was closing in fast, just steps away. A single stretch of his arm would catch He Songming.  

Without hesitation, Ruan Mobei scooped up a handful of snow and flung it into Wilson’s face. The unexpected attack startled Wilson, causing him to pause, buying He Songming precious seconds.  

Wilson’s companion, seeing snow inexplicably fly up from the ground and smack Wilson in the face, froze in shock.  

“What the hell? Ghosts?!”  

Another snowball hit Wilson squarely in the face. Cursing angrily, he shielded himself with an arm, no longer caring about the mysterious source. He lunged forward, tackling the struggling He Songming into the snow.  

This time, He Songming’s resistance was weak, almost negligible. Wilson, too, was panting heavily, clearly exhausted. He pinned He Songming under one arm like a lifeless prey, limp and motionless.  

Ruan Mobei could only hold onto He Songming’s dangling hand. It was icy cold, perhaps grazed by frostbitten sores. The fingers twitched slightly before stiffly curling, the pads pressing faintly against Ruan Mobei’s hand, as if trying to hold on. But then, as if realizing something, they went limp again.  

The two men carried He Songming towards the main road in urgent strides. The snow had stopped at some point, and the gray sky bore no sign of the sun.  

Ruan Mobei had no idea where Wilson intended to take He Songming, but the boy’s initial panic, frantic escape, and sheer desperation told Ruan Mobei that nothing good was going to happen next.  

Soon, another compound loomed in the distance. As they drew closer, Ruan Mobei realized its scale far surpassed what he had imagined. It was nearly a steel fortress, its cold, metallic structures embedded into the frozen ground. Its complex architecture suggested it was far more than a simple living area.  

Two young men waited at the compound entrance. Seeing Wilson with He Songming, they quickly stepped aside to lead the way.  

The moment they stepped inside, Ruan Mobei felt the stark contrast between the warmth here and the freezing cold outside. Glancing around, he noticed that, compared to the simple facility where He Songming lived, this place had much better infrastructure. Ventilation systems blew warm air, keeping the temperature comfortable for human activity.  

If He Songming had lived here, his frostbitten hands wouldn’t be so severe.  

Following Wilson and the others through a maze of corridors, Ruan Mobei eventually found himself utterly disoriented. They entered an elevator, its doors sliding shut. Wilson wiped the sweat from his brow and set the now cornered He Songming down.  

As his feet touched the ground, He Songming wobbled unsteadily before Ruan Mobei caught him.  

“Are you okay?” Ruan Mobei asked softly.  

He Songming didn’t answer. His pale face stared straight ahead, his hands clenched into trembling fists.  

“Listen.” Wilson crouched down, locking eyes with He Songming. The man towered over the thirteen-year-old boy, his voice deliberate and firm. “I know you don’t want to, but Kolov will die. You’re the only one who can save him. This is something we owe you. No matter what you ask for, we’ll try to fulfill it.”  

The elevator descended smoothly, stopping at the ninth underground level.  

He Songming stared at Wilson for several seconds, his voice hoarse as he finally said, “You say that every time. Every. Time.”  

The elevator doors slid open with a chime.  

A cacophony of noise and a heavy stench of blood greeted them. Ruan Mobei wrinkled his nose, tightening his grip on He Songming’s trembling shoulder, trying to calm the boy.  

A nurse rushed out of the operating room, her gloved hands smeared with fresh blood. She froze upon seeing He Songming, then broke into a relieved smile, calling out, “Ming!”  

But He Songming showed no reaction. He stood stiffly as the men guarding the elevator blocked any retreat. With no choice, he stepped forward, entering the operating room under their watchful eyes, like a prisoner being led to his execution.  

At least Ruan Mobei stayed by his side.  

On the operating table lay a man, his body turned slightly to one side. A steel rod pierced through his back and out his chest, soaked in blood. Kolov had fallen while repairing a filtration tower, landing on unfinished steel scaffolding below.  

The doctors and nurses hovered around the unconscious Kolov, clearly at their wits’ end. With pre-disaster medical technology, a skilled team could remove the rod and attempt resuscitation. But now? There was little hope.  

Only one professional doctor was in the entire compound.  

When He Songming entered, Ruan Mobei could feel the room’s tense atmosphere ease slightly. Several pairs of eyes turned to He Songming, all filled with relief and hope, as if certain his arrival guaranteed the survival of the man who was barely clinging to life.  

“小明来了。” The doctor in surgical scrubs, only his eyes visible behind his mask, showed more guilt than relief when addressing He Songming.  

“The steel rod punctured his lung, causing fluid accumulation in the chest cavity. It missed the heart, but without immediate intervention, he won’t last half an hour.”  

The doctor hesitated before continuing, “We plan to remove the rod. But since it currently acts as a partial seal, removing it will trigger massive bleeding, potentially leading to immediate death. We need to ensure he survives this step before proceeding.”  

The man on the operating table was deathly pale, one side of his body drenched in blood.  

How could anyone save him?  

Ruan Mobei glanced at He Songming. The boy was staring at the blood-stained rod, breathing heavily.  

The horrifying realization struck Ruan Mobei like a thunderclap. The fear, the avoidance, the desperate escapes, and the revulsion—all of it made sense now, in the most terrifying way possible.  

Time ticked by. He Songming remained frozen. The nurses were too afraid to rush him, while Kolov’s breaths grew weaker. The monitor’s life indicators dropped steadily.  

The doctor spoke again, “Kolov is our best engineer. He… is a worthy man.”  

“What does that have to do with me?” He Songming finally broke his silence, his voice trembling uncontrollably. “If you think he’s worth it, then save him yourself!”  

Pain etched deep into the doctor’s expression. Faced with the boy’s outburst, his only response was a defeated, “I can’t.”  

The shrill alarm of the life monitor cut through

 the room, signaling dangerously low blood pressure. A nurse stepped forward, desperate now.  

“He’s going to die! Are you really going to let him die in front of you? You have the power to save him!”  

“Who says I have to save him?!”  

He Songming’s sudden outburst made Ruan Mobei flinch. The boy glared at the nurse, his voice cracking into a near-scream. “If someone wants this ‘power,’ take it! Why does it have to be me? Did anyone ask me if I wanted this?”  

The intensity of He Songming’s emotions left Ruan Mobei thinking he might lash out physically. Grabbing his arm to calm him, Ruan Mobei was shoved away violently.  

“Xiao Ming!”  

The doctor barked sharply, his tone a mix of pleading and authority. He took a deep breath, walked up to He Songming, and in front of everyone, quietly said, “I’m begging you.”  

Those two words seemed to carry a strange weight. He Songming paused momentarily.  

Another nurse holding a syringe approached cautiously. “It won’t hurt after the anesthetic. I’ll make sure to patch you up properly later.”  

He Songming shot her a glance, his eyes dull with fury and resignation.  

The syringe contained lidocaine, which would numb the nerves, dulling both the pain and the indignity.  

No! Never!  

Before the needle could pierce his arm, He Songming suddenly strode forward, grabbed a scalpel from a nearby tray, and, to the nurse’s screams and the blaring alarms of the monitors, sliced a chunk of flesh straight from his forearm!  

The swift, resolute action stunned everyone, including Ruan Mobei.  

“Xiao Ming!”  

The scalpel clattered to the floor as blood gushed out. He Songming clutched his bleeding arm, his face twisted in agony, gasping sharply as his knees buckled under the pain. Yet, through the haze of pain, his eyes remained cold and defiant.  

“Are you satisfied now?”  

The nurse froze mid-step, her bandages and stitching equipment in hand, helplessly looking toward the doctor.  

The doctor had no time for hesitation. He swiftly tied a tourniquet around He Songming’s upper arm to stem the bleeding. Originally, he’d hoped to take a small piece of flesh with minimal harm. But He Songming’s vehement resistance left the doctor burdened with guilt and tormenting self-loathing.  

Kneeling down, he hugged the trembling boy tightly, whispering, “I’m sorry.”  

But the man on the operating table could wait no longer.  

“Prepare to remove the rod.”  

Returning to the surgery, the doctor placed the warm piece of flesh into Kolov’s mouth, roughly tilting his head to force him to swallow it.  

“One, two, three!”  

With a grating sound, the team carefully extracted the steel rod that had pierced Kolov’s chest.  

Yet, to everyone’s astonishment, there wasn’t a flood of blood. The bloodied rod was discarded as the doctor adjusted the surgical lights, giving rapid instructions.  

“Prepare for thoracotomy!”  

At that moment, Ruan Mobei noticed an odd, foul odor—a stench he’d encountered before on certain people. It permeated the operating room.  

He searched for the source of the smell but found nothing, and no one else seemed to notice it.  

Frowning, he supported He Songming, pressing a hand against the boy’s arm to stanch the bleeding. He Songming leaned weakly against him, utterly drained but still defiant in his stance.  

To everyone’s amazement, his bleeding stopped almost miraculously. A nurse seized the opportunity to inject anesthetic near the wound and quickly bandage it.  

“Take me back,” He Songming murmured faintly, his gaze fixed on a point in the air, his voice so soft only Ruan Mobei could hear.  

Ruan Mobei glanced at the operating table. Under the cold light, the doctor worked tirelessly to repair Kolov’s damaged lung, suctioning blood-stained fluid as the monitors showed signs of stabilization.  

After consuming He Songming’s flesh, the dying man had come back to life.  

Ruan Mobei’s thoughts raced. When he first met He Songming, the wound on the boy’s leg… could it have been the same?  

He didn’t dare dwell on it. Supporting He Songming’s frail body, he whispered, “Alright.”  

Ignoring the nurse’s protests, he took He Songming back to their shelter. The boy quickly succumbed to a high fever, burning with delirium as he lay in bed.  

Ruan Mobei, unable to leave him to fetch medicine, resorted to sponging his body with warm water to bring down the fever.  

When He Songming’s blood-stained clothes were removed, his emaciated body bore crisscrossing scars of varying depths. Fresh muscle always had a tenderer hue, and every patch of discolored skin marked a wound—each a forced sacrifice.  

After the surgery, the doctor came by with his wife. They fed the feverish boy some antipyretics and gave him an injection of nutrients. Ruan Mobei observed everything quietly, noting the genuine concern in their actions.  

In the surgical room, it was the doctor’s heartfelt plea that had ultimately stopped He Songming from resisting further, even as he sliced a piece of himself away.  

After tending to He Songming, the couple left behind clean clothes and departed.  

Not long after, Wilson arrived silently, leaving behind a thermal container. He looked at the boy in bed, rubbed his hands awkwardly, and left without a word.  

The room grew quiet again, save for the sound of He Songming’s ragged breathing as he slept.  

Ruan Mobei lay down nearby, fully clothed, waiting for the boy to wake up.  

It wasn’t until midnight that He Songming stirred for the first time.  

A painful groan escaped his lips as he tried to turn over.  

Ruan Mobei, alert, immediately sat up and stopped him from moving his injured arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.  

“Hungry…” He Songming croaked, his voice weak and hoarse. The lingering effects of lidocaine had worn off, leaving him unable to distinguish whether the pain in his arm or his stomach was worse.  

Ruan Mobei reached for the thermal container on the table. “That woman and the doctor came by earlier, and so did that guy who grabbed you. They left this behind.”  

Opening the container, a warm aroma of meat broth filled the air.  

He Songming’s face turned pale instantly.  

“Ugh—!”  

He violently shoved the container away, leaning over the bed to retch.  

The reaction was so severe, Ruan Mobei hurriedly replaced the lid, pulling the convulsing boy upright just as he nearly collapsed from dry heaving.  

He Songming’s stomach was nearly empty, producing only a few drops of acidic fluid. The sour liquid dripped to the floor as he panted heavily, his whole body trembling.  

Ruan Mobei gently patted his back, understanding the source of He Songming’s visceral reaction. The scent of cooked meat brought a sharp reminder that he, too, had been someone else’s meal.  

When the retching subsided, He Songming swallowed painfully, clutching Ruan Mobei’s hand tightly. He looked at the ghostly figure beside him, the only warmth in his cold, desolate world.  

“Help me,” the boy whispered hoarsely, his pale face hidden in the shadows. His tired eyes burned with desperate resolve.  

“I need to leave this place.”