Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Positive Factor Is in Hand

“I’ve done all I can for you good people. From now on, your fate is in your own hands.” Song Qing’an glanced at the active agent in her palm, then looked back at Xia Tian, lifeless and still. With a sigh, she melted into the darkness.

The night passed in undisturbed silence.

Chu Xingyu hadn’t spoken a word the entire night. When he finally opened his eyes, it dawned on him that he’d fallen asleep. Startled, he turned immediately towards Xia Tian, only to find her still by his side. He let out a breath of relief.

“Xingyu, you’re awake. Have something to eat.” Lin Xing walked onto the rooftop with some food, noticing Chu Xingyu had just woken up. He stepped forward and placed the food in his hands.

Chu Xingyu said nothing, simply nodded in thanks as he accepted it.

Seeing this reaction, a weight finally lifted from Lin Xing’s heart. Even while eating, Chu Xingyu remained at Xia Tian’s side. Lin Xing pressed his lips together but said nothing. If this lasted only a day or two, it would be fine. But before long, the body would inevitably begin to decay. When that happened, even if Chu Xingyu could endure the stench, he wouldn’t be able to bear watching Xia Tian become less and less herself.

Especially in this suffocating apocalypse with its scorching temperatures.

Lin Xing shook his head and walked off the roof, mindful that downstairs, Jiang Miaomiao had been acting strangely since yesterday.

“Miaomiao, you didn’t eat at all yesterday. Come out and have a bite.” Lin Xing knocked on her door, but there was no response, only silence.

He grew worried about her state, and tried the handle, fearing something might have happened.

“Lin Xing.” At last, Jiang Miaomiao’s voice came from inside. Lin Xing paused, listening as she spoke with her usual calm, as if nothing had happened. “I’m not hungry. Don’t worry about me.”

Lin Xing opened his mouth as if to speak, then simply left the food at her door and tiptoed away.

A long while later, the door opened. Jiang Miaomiao’s eyes were hollow, faintly swollen—she had clearly wept the night through. She had watched everything that happened to Xia Tian the day before, and Chu Xingyu’s state mirrored her own not long ago.

She missed him.

Jiang Miaomiao pressed her lips together, bent to pick up the food, and closed the door again. Soft sobs could be heard from within.

All of this was witnessed by Lin Xing, who stood frowning at the stairwell corner and lingered for a long moment before leaving.

In the Wishful Shop—

“Song Qing’an, where on earth did you go? I only asked you to pick some greens, and you vanished.” As soon as she stepped inside, Song Qing’an was greeted by Lu Shenchen’s exasperated voice.

She shook her head and made her way to the backyard vegetable patch. Despite the outside temperature approaching fifty degrees, the plants here seemed untouched by the heat, thriving as if nothing had changed.

Song Qing’an picked a few vegetables at random and handed them to Lu Shenchen, who was still grumbling.

“There you go. Can you stop nagging for a bit now?” she said helplessly.

Lu Shenchen chuckled, took the vegetables, and strode into the kitchen.

Song Qing’an poured herself a cup of tea, meaning to take a break, but her gaze was drawn to the door of Qin Sheng’s room.

A slight smile crept onto her face. Leisurely, she finished her tea, set down the cup, and walked to Qin Sheng’s door.

She knocked.

“Come in.”

Qin Sheng’s gentle voice floated out.

Song Qing’an nodded and pushed the door open.

“Have you taken your medicine?”

Asking Qin Sheng whether she’d taken her medicine had become Song Qing’an’s daily ritual—three times a day, without fail.

She saw Qin Sheng poring over her book and raised an eyebrow. “Does it make sense now?”

Qin Sheng nodded, then shook her head, replying slowly, “I understand what Xun Feng taught me, but once it’s all put together, it just doesn’t make sense.”

In fact, the more she read, the more confused she became.

She looked up in bewilderment, just as Song Qing’an was bending over her, peering at the book. Their heads met—Qin Sheng’s forehead collided with Song Qing’an’s nose.

“I…” Song Qing’an winced, stepping back in pain.

Qin Sheng looked at her apologetically. “Sorry, does it hurt?”

Song Qing’an steadied herself, grateful at least that her nose was real—Qin Sheng’s strength was not to be underestimated. Even a casual bump was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“How is it?” Qin Sheng asked, guilt twisting her lips as she saw him clutching his nose.

Song Qing’an sighed and slowly raised his head. Seeing her worried expression, he snapped his fingers at his side.

In an instant, his nose began to bleed.

“You’re bleeding!” Qin Sheng cried, seeing the blood. Forgetting her sore waist, she hurried to fetch tissues. “Here, wipe it.”

She handed them to him but winced as pain shot through her waist.

Song Qing’an wiped his nose, frowning when he saw her in pain.

“So I’m bleeding, but have you forgotten your own injury?” he snapped before he could stop himself, his nerves getting the better of him.

Qin Sheng pressed her hand to her waist, rubbing until the pain eased.

“Be careful. I’ll have Lu Shenchen make you some ointment—put it on for a few days and it won’t hurt as much.” Song Qing’an tucked a pillow behind her for support.

“Lu Shenchen? Won’t that trouble him?” she asked, lips pressed together.

Without hesitation, Song Qing’an replied, utterly calm, “He could make a hundred and wouldn’t mind.”

Qin Sheng arched an eyebrow, recalling their usual banter, and couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“What’s so funny?” Song Qing’an asked, puzzled.

She shook her head. “Just reminded me of Miaomiao and the others.”

Song Qing’an’s lips tightened, a shadow flickering in his eyes before vanishing.

“Miaomiao and Lin Xing always bicker like this, and Xingyu and I just watch,” Qin Sheng recalled, a rare smile brightening her face.

Song Qing’an noted it all.

“It’s good,” he said quietly after a long pause.

Qin Sheng sensed something off about him and let her smile fade. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Song Qing’an shook his head, then forced a smile.

She frowned, certain something was wrong.

“It’s really nothing. I’ll go see if Lu Shenchen’s finished cooking.”

With that, Song Qing’an hurried out.

Qin Sheng couldn’t shake the feeling he was keeping something from her, but couldn’t guess what.

It was frustrating.

“Food’s ready, call Qin Sheng to come eat.” Song Qing’an nearly bumped into Lu Shenchen as he left the kitchen.

“You go,” she replied.

Lu Shenchen stared at her in confusion. Normally, Song Qing’an always fetched Qin Sheng for meals and medicine—never his job. Something was definitely off.

“What’s wrong?” Lu Shenchen pulled Song Qing’an aside and lowered his voice.

Song Qing’an hesitated, frowning. “I have the active agent.”

“Isn’t that good?” Lu Shenchen asked, then wondered what this had to do with Qin Sheng. The plan shouldn’t involve her at all.

Song Qing’an pursed his lips. “The agent is in someone close to Qin Sheng.”

Lu Shenchen’s face grew serious as he realized what she meant.

“Which one? The two boys, or Jiang Miaomiao?” he asked.

Song Qing’an shook her head. “Her name is Xia Tian.”

Crash—

The sound of breaking porcelain came from behind. Song Qing’an turned and saw Qin Sheng standing there, though he hadn’t noticed her arrival.

He was at a loss for words.

Qin Sheng composed herself, her eyes drained of color. “What happened to Xia Tian?” she asked softly.

“She was bitten on the neck by a zombie. We couldn’t save her…” Song Qing’an replied, watching Qin Sheng with a pained expression but answering honestly.

Qin Sheng clenched her fists and bent to clean up the shattered china.

“Let me, you’ll cut yourself,” Lu Shenchen rushed to help, quickly tidying up and making himself scarce.

Qin Sheng straightened stiffly, glanced at Song Qing’an, and murmured, “Thank you.”

Then she turned away and retreated to her room.

Song Qing’an stood there, his mouth opening and closing. He wanted to offer comfort, but no words came.

He knew Qin Sheng hadn’t locked the door. He lingered outside for a long time but, with a sigh, decided not to enter.

Anyone would need time to recover from such a blow—especially Qin Sheng.

She had saved Xia Tian once, but was powerless to save her again. Was this truly fate?

Qin Sheng sat by the window, gazing out at the blazing sky, motionless for a long while.

She could still see Xia Tian’s smile in the cafeteria, vivid in her memory, impossible to erase.

Even if Song Qing’an hadn’t explained everything in detail, Qin Sheng knew in her heart that Li Wei was somehow involved.

“Qin Sheng, the manager once saved my life. I can’t just forget that debt.”

Xia Tian’s voice echoed in her ears, resolute, her eyes shining with determination—the same look Qin Sheng herself had worn in her previous life.