Chapter Forty-Five: Farewell

Qin Sheng’s gaze slowly fell upon Lin Xing, who was already sobbing uncontrollably. She let out a soft laugh and beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

Lin Xing, paying no heed to the tears streaming down his face, ran to Qin Sheng in hurried strides. He opened his arms, intending to embrace her, but hesitated and let them fall. His words, choked with tears, came out in broken fragments: “Great-aunt, I… I knew you’d be alright.”

Jiang Miaomiao, her eyes also brimming with tears, nodded vigorously in agreement. “That’s right.”

The stone of worry in Qin Sheng’s heart finally settled. In her previous life, had she faced the same predicament, she would have been burned without a trace. But this experience had granted her new understanding.

“Don’t worry from now on. I promise, nothing will happen to me,” Qin Sheng said, her eyes moist. She lifted her hand and patted Lin Xing reassuringly on the shoulder.

It was both a promise and an attempt to set their minds at ease.

Jiang Miaomiao, still clinging to Qin Sheng, said through her tears, “Don’t ever do anything so dangerous again. You don’t know how worried we were.”

Lin Xing wiped his face and nodded earnestly. “Great-aunt, from now on, whatever happens, we’ll face it together. We won’t hold you back anymore.”

Looking at the two before her, who now seemed so much more mature, Qin Sheng knew they had seized this chance to grow. She felt reassured; if anything like this happened again, at least they could now protect themselves.

“Good,” Qin Sheng replied with a smile, glancing around. Not seeing Chu Xingyu, she asked curiously, “Where’s Xingyu? Isn’t he with you?”

The thought unsettled her. If the three of them had been separated, that could only mean trouble.

Jiang Miaomiao and Lin Xing exchanged a glance, and in the end Lin Xing answered helplessly, “Great-aunt, Xingyu was with us, but he’s not in a good state at the moment…”

Qin Sheng’s brows knitted in worry. “What happened? Is Xingyu hurt?”

Lin Xing sighed and, with Jiang Miaomiao, led Qin Sheng to the rooftop.

The first thing she saw was Chu Xingyu’s weary, hollow appearance. Beside him was Xia Tian, who had perished to a zombie’s bite days before. Qin Sheng’s heart clenched.

She knew Xia Tian had saved Chu Xingyu’s life, but hadn’t expected the blow to affect him so deeply.

Chu Xingyu sat like a lifeless puppet, his gaze empty and fixed on the motionless Xia Tian at his side.

What was odd was that, despite having been dead for days, Xia Tian’s body showed no sign of decay, as if frozen in time, without the faintest trace of rot or odor.

Unbidden, Song Qing’an’s image surfaced in Qin Sheng’s mind. Had he done this?

She put the thought aside and walked quietly to Chu Xingyu.

Jiang Miaomiao and Lin Xing, seeing her approach, exchanged a look and then followed close behind.

Standing near, Qin Sheng could see more clearly the lines of exhaustion on Chu Xingyu’s face and the deep shadows under his eyes. He was nothing like the charming, confident, gentle boy she remembered—he seemed aged by years. Even as Qin Sheng stood beside him, he gave no reaction.

Lin Xing was not surprised by this. Chu Xingyu had been this way for days. Even the great-aunt’s return could not rouse him.

Lin Xing was about to call out to Chu Xingyu, as he’d done before, to remind him that Qin Sheng had returned, but Jiang Miaomiao stopped him.

Qin Sheng crouched beside Chu Xingyu, gently patting his thin shoulder.

At first, there was no reaction. The second time, he slowly turned his dazed eyes to her.

The familiar face appeared before Chu Xingyu, and suddenly a light blazed in his eyes, mingled with all the grievance and helplessness of the past days.

“Sheng-jie…” His voice was hoarse and barely audible, parched from days without water or food.

Qin Sheng’s heart ached. She had always regarded Chu Xingyu as a younger brother, perhaps because of Qin Nuo. From the first time he called her “Sheng-jie,” she’d accepted it, embracing him as her own kin.

To see him like this broke her heart.

“Xingyu, I’m back,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving him.

In that instant, Chu Xingyu’s eyes filled with tears. The longing and worry that had weighed on him surged forth, and tears streamed down his face.

Qin Sheng gently gathered the sobbing Chu Xingyu into her arms. The emotions he had bottled up for days burst out in her embrace, like a child lost and suffering finally finding home.

Jiang Miaomiao and Lin Xing watched with aching hearts. This little family could not do without Qin Sheng, nor could it afford to lose anyone.

“Let him cry. These days, Xingyu’s been like a piece of wood,” Jiang Miaomiao sighed, finally able to let go of her own worry.

Lin Xing nodded and, somewhat confused, wondered aloud, “Why doesn’t great-aunt hug me? She’s hugged you both already.”

Jiang Miaomiao glanced at the jealous Lin Xing, shook her head helplessly, and thought how much she wanted to tell Qin Sheng all that had happened during her absence.

“Exactly, great-aunt never hugs me,” Lin Xing complained, looking enviously at the others, feeling quite put out.

“Well, I could tell Sheng-sheng what you’ve been through these last few days. I’m sure she’d be moved and give you a good hug,” Jiang Miaomiao teased.

“Forget it,” Lin Xing instantly conceded. No way could he let Qin Sheng know he’d been so scared and in tears—he wanted to be her pride, to show her that even in her absence, he could shoulder responsibilities and help her.

Jiang Miaomiao chuckled softly. She knew Lin Xing didn’t want Qin Sheng to know, and found his reaction amusing.

After a long while, Chu Xingyu calmed down and released Qin Sheng, wiping his face. “Sorry, Sheng-jie, I dirtied your clothes.”

Qin Sheng didn’t so much as glance at her clothes. She reached up, smoothing his disheveled hair, quietly assuring him that it was nothing.

Their gazes finally rested on Xia Tian, who lay spotless but without the faintest sign of life.

Chu Xingyu’s voice was thick with guilt. “Sorry, Sheng-jie, I couldn’t protect Xia Tian…”

Qin Sheng shook her head and bent to stroke Xia Tian’s face. The cold, rigid touch made her heart ache. She suddenly remembered the little girl who, days ago, had cowered under the convenience store table, shivering, and the one who had been brave, loyal, and would never betray those she cared for.

But she would never smile again.

“Xia Tian, I respect all the choices you made,” Qin Sheng said silently in her heart, just as she had in the cafeteria that day. She would always respect her choices—then and now.

After a long moment, Qin Sheng rose and turned to Chu Xingyu.

Seeing that he was still not himself, she patted his shoulder in comfort. “Honor Xia Tian’s choice. From now on, we must live not just for ourselves.”

Chu Xingyu nodded, and when he looked at Xia Tian again, his gaze was no longer dull but filled with new resolve.

Qin Sheng sighed, glanced up at the sky, and then spoke gently, “Let’s give Xia Tian a proper burial. Let her end where her story began.”

The others nodded, and a heavy silence settled over them.

Chu Xingyu stooped, lifting Xia Tian in his arms, and followed behind Qin Sheng. The four of them walked to the place where Qin Sheng had first met Xia Tian—the convenience store.

“This is where I first met her,” Qin Sheng explained, “but I don’t intend to bury her here.”

Chu Xingyu held Xia Tian even tighter, remembering how she had cut herself to lure zombies away. His heart ached for her selflessness and kindness—the heavens had shown her no mercy, and she had always lived for others.

Qin Sheng glanced back at Xia Tian in Chu Xingyu’s arms, then headed directly for the athletic field.

“Xingyu, lay Xia Tian down,” Qin Sheng said.

Chu Xingyu nodded, gently placing Xia Tian on the ground.

Qin Sheng took a small vial from her pocket and dripped some of its contents onto Xia Tian’s body. In an instant, Xia Tian vanished like the wind, leaving the field behind.

None of them wondered what it was that Qin Sheng had used. They only felt a bittersweet relief—at last, Xia Tian was free, like the wind itself.

Song Qing’an had given this to Qin Sheng before she left, as though he had known she would need it.

She put the vial away and lifted her face to the breeze. Today, the wind was different—warm and gentle, like a spring breeze before the apocalypse, quiet and nourishing.

It was just like Xia Tian.

Perhaps the blazing heat of summer was not as fitting for a gentle, lovely girl called Summer as this warm spring wind.

She had never truly left them. For Qin Sheng and the others, she would always be a friend, always family.

Perhaps the greatest sorrow is not the departure of a loved one, but when she is forgotten.

Chu Xingyu let the wind caress his face and body. He raised his arms, as if to embrace Xia Tian, or perhaps to bid her farewell.

The warmth lasted only a few minutes, and then the chill and silence of the apocalypse swept back in. This fleeting warmth was Xia Tian’s final gift.

“It’s getting late. We should go back,” Qin Sheng said, turning to look at Jiang Miaomiao and the others, her eyes resolute.

“Yes!”

The three nodded and quickly fell in step behind Qin Sheng. Before leaving the field, Chu Xingyu looked back at the spot where Xia Tian had disappeared. A faint smile touched his lips, and he seemed to whisper:

“Thank you…”

With Qin Sheng’s return, the three felt more confident than ever, their spirits lifted far beyond what they had known before.

“Sheng-jie, what should we do next?”