Jiang Hua felt increasingly restless, his throat rolling up and down as he considered his emotions.
He sat up.
Any emotion beyond his control served as a wake-up call for him.
In his mind, he recalled the words of the golden-haired man: “9527, remember, you don’t need friends.”
Jiang Hua clicked his tongue.
The golden-haired man was the leader of an illegal organization in North America.
Every year, he would acquire abandoned children from various sources to train them, using various cruel methods to induce them to fight and compete amongst themselves.
Through this process of elimination, they were turned into emotionless tools, only to be sold at high prices to other organizations.
When Jiang Hua was 12, this golden-haired man was assassinated.
He was shot in the back of the head, blood staining the Bible on his desk, as if even God deemed such a person unworthy of redemption.
The reason for his murder was simple; the “tools” he had trained were too effective, leading to a surge in violent crimes, making the upper echelons anxious and prompting them to cut off this source.
The organization disbanded.
For Jiang Hua, it was merely a jump from one hell to another.
In the next organization, he no longer needed to engage in internal strife or constantly guard against his teammates, nor worry about waking up to find a child of the same age standing beside him with a dagger, intent on killing him.
He only needed to put on a disguise and eliminate the target assigned to him by the organization.
These targets typically included wealthy businessmen or politicians frequenting glamorous venues—foolish and old, with bodyguards who were mere decorations.
For someone like Jiang Hua, who had risen from a pile of corpses, this was no challenge at all.
As he took on more missions, each executed cleanly and successfully, his reputation and commissions soared.
Then a Chinese employer offered an annual contract to the organization, awakening the bloodline coursing through him.
He set off on the road home.
However, it was not as he had anticipated; even back in his homeland, he could not find a sanctuary for his soul.
His appearance was the greatest obstacle, like two completely different fabrics forcefully stitched together.
He belonged nowhere.
Whether domestically or abroad, it held no meaning for him.
After the apocalypse descended, Jiang Hua even had little emotional reaction; he was already a product of an aberrant environment.
Zombies merely stripped the darkness from hidden human nature, exposing its ugliness all the more directly.
Feeling somewhat frustrated, Jiang Hua rose and took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, casually pushing open the balcony door.
Under the serene moonlight, he turned to find Tong Sui standing on the balcony as well.
In the next moment, he heard his own heart beating abnormally.
Tong Sui seemingly did not react either.
Because the two rooms were adjacent, the distance between the balconies was minimal, and they were semi-open without any security net installed.
One could easily climb over the railing to cross to the other side.
Tong Sui said, “You came out for some fresh air too?”
“Mm.”
Jiang Hua lowered his head, unpacking a cigarette, casually placing one between his lips but not lighting it.
The faint scent of tobacco spread across his tongue.
As he twirled a silver lighter between his fingers, its shell glinted coldly in the night.
He turned his head.
In the nighttime, his eyes appeared deep blue, like a tranquil, boundless sea.
Tong Sui nervously gazed back.
“Team Hua?”
Jiang Hua recalled a Christmas long ago.
The weather was bitterly cold, and the dimly lit room was crammed with children, all covered in wounds.
He squeezed in among them, listening as the golden-haired man proclaimed: “The things here are your holiday gifts; don’t thank God, thank yourselves.”
He fixed his gaze on a crystal ball that resembled a starry sky.
In a room that saw no sunlight, it was breathtaking.
But before he could choose a gift, that crystal ball was snatched away by someone else.
Looking at the remaining gifts, his hands remained empty—he had nothing.
It wasn’t until later during the training that he faced the child who had taken the crystal ball, who by then could no longer be classified as a child.
In the end, he won the training but never reclaimed the crystal ball from his memories.
Yet, Tong Sui before him was even more beautiful than that crystal ball, clean and translucent from head to toe.
Right in front of him, it seemed that with just a gentle reach, he could possess her.
“Team Hua, wait a moment.”
Tong Sui suddenly walked back into the room.
Jiang Hua emerged from his memories, unable to see Tong Sui, growing slightly frustrated as he turned the lighter in his hands.
After a while, Tong Sui came back out, holding a clean, halved apple.
“Here.”
The subtle fragrance of apple lingered around her snow-white fingertips.
More than the apple, the fingertip glistening with dew drew his attention.
Jiang Hua extended his hand.
Under the moonlight, their fingertips brushed, a gentle warmth exchanged.
“Thank you,” Jiang Hua said.
He removed the cigarette from his mouth and bit into the apple half, feeling the frustration dissipate.
They shared an apple, each eating half.
But to Jiang Hua, it did not taste like apple; it felt as though he was biting into a lamb that did not shy away.
Tong Sui finished her half of the apple slowly, and her hair was nearly dry.
“Team Hua, I’m going to rest now. You should get some rest too.”
Jiang Hua stood on the balcony, suddenly feeling the night wind was a bit cold, the apple in his mouth losing its sweetness.
He looked at the distance between their balconies.
With a push of his hand, he could easily leap across; the locks on the balcony posed no challenge for him—he could open them silently in seconds.
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