"Hey, little guy. You've been like this since we got back. It's just some dead bodies—come on, man up. It's not the end of the world."
Bryan pinched Chen Shi's cheek lightly, studying the boy with an amused expression that masked something more thoughtful behind his eyes.
Chen Shi raised his head, dazed, and looked up at Bryan's smiling face. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
His mind kept replaying the moment they'd left the golf course—the sight of the ruined city swallowed by overgrowth, that overwhelming sense of shock. For someone who'd spent his entire previous life in a modern city, seeing the apocalypse with his own eyes was an experience beyond anything he could have prepared for.
But it was the streets that had truly broken him. Bleached bones lying in the road. Decomposing corpses. Bodies with fungal growths blooming across their faces. Each image had slammed into him like a physical blow, battering his young mind until he'd vomited on the spot. Even now, he hadn't fully recovered.
Mia had tried to comfort him on the ride back, but with the language barrier, words were useless. All she could do was rub his back gently—which was probably the only reason he hadn't gotten worse.
Looking at Chen Shi's expression—wanting to speak but unable to find the words—Bryan's lips curved slightly. "This is just the tip of the iceberg," he said softly. "If you can't get past something this simple, then every single day from here on out will be a nightmare. We don't get to choose the world we live in. All we can do is adapt."
His eyes grew distant, layered with complexity. He held the boy's gaze and spoke slowly, as though addressing both Chen Shi and himself: "Since we've already ended up here... survival is our only goal."
Something in those words seemed to reach Chen Shi. The light gradually returned to his eyes. He completely missed the deeper meaning buried in Bryan's phrasing—nor did it occur to him to wonder why anyone would say something like that to a four-year-old child.
Fortunately, Bryan had spoken entirely in Mandarin. Otherwise, the soldiers manning the checkpoint would have given him some very strange looks.
"Mm. I understand!" Chen Shi nodded firmly, took a deep breath, and told himself to be strong. Then, looking slightly embarrassed, he scratched his head. "Um... I still don't know your name."
"I don't use my Chinese name anymore. Just call me Bryan." Seeing that the boy had pulled himself together, Bryan ruffled his hair and said, "Alright, I've got somewhere to be. Stick close and don't wander off. Remember—you can't communicate with anyone, and you're technically undocumented."
With that, he glanced left and right to get his bearings, then started walking toward District A.
Watching Bryan's retreating back, Chen Shi's eyes darted around for a moment before he scurried forward on his short legs, reached up, and grabbed onto Bryan's fingers. "Bryan, if I hold your hand, I won't get lost!"
The small voice, soft and childlike. The warmth of tiny fingers wrapped around his own. Bryan's stride faltered for just a beat. He glanced down at the boy with an unreadable expression, but didn't shake him off. He simply kept walking, leading them both toward District A.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Three crisp knocks echoed through the empty hallway. Two figures—one tall, one very short—stood at a door.
"Who is it?!"
An irritated shout came from inside, followed by the peephole darkening as someone pressed their eye against it from within.
Apparently recognizing the visitor, the door swung open. A towering Black man filled the doorway—stone-faced, rippling with muscle, his chest built like a wall. At well over six feet, he cut an imposing figure that most people would instinctively shy away from.
The man looked at the Asian male standing in the hallway. "Back from a mission? That was fast."
Bryan eyed Amir, who now stood half a head taller than him, and couldn't help feeling a little deflated. "Seriously, what are they feeding you? I swear you've gotten taller again..."
"Oh, it's nothing. Still growing, you know. Perfectly normal." A rare smile cracked across Amir's usually stoic face as he caught Bryan's exasperated look.
Then his gaze dropped to the small Asian boy Bryan was holding by the hand. "What's this—gone for two weeks and you and Sarah already have a kid? Little guy kind of looks like you, actually."
Standing to the side, Chen Shi watched the two exchange words in English. He couldn't understand a thing, but the tall man's teasing expression was unmistakable. Something about that look felt vaguely offensive.
"Cut that out!"
Bryan saw through the deadpan humor lurking behind Amir's cold expression. He cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching, then glanced down both sides of the hallway. "Are you seriously going to keep your guest standing out here?"
"Come in." Amir dropped the banter, knowing there was business to discuss. He turned back into the room. "Close the door behind you."
Amir's apartment wasn't large—standard civilian housing. Three bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. The spacious main area held only a bed, a couch, and a table. The room next door had been converted into a gym, packed wall to wall with exercise equipment.
Bryan dropped onto the couch and felt his entire body unwind. He looked across at Amir. "We brought back a good haul this time. Quality stuff. When you get a chance, move it to the 'warehouse' bit by bit."
"Got it." Amir nodded. This was old routine for him.
His eyes drifted to Chen Shi, who was busy looking around the apartment with open curiosity. "Is it okay to discuss this in front of the kid?"
"He's fine." Bryan waved dismissively. "Doesn't speak a word of English. I wouldn't have brought him otherwise."
"Doesn't speak English?" That surprised Amir, but he didn't press further. Knowing that much was enough.
He moved on. "Moving supplies—that's easy. But I picked up some intel a few days ago. Sounds like the Fireflies are planning something big."
"What?"
Bryan's lazy posture evaporated. He sat bolt upright, his expression sharpening. "Where did you hear that?"
Amir paused at the sudden intensity, then answered, "Some of our stockpiled supplies were about to expire, so I traded them at the black market a few days ago. One of the smugglers let it slip. Cost me some extra supplies to get the full story."
He noticed Bryan's increasingly strange expression. "What is it? Something wrong?"
"When I handed off supplies to Norsen earlier, he told me the exact same thing. Word for word."
"What?" Amir's eyes widened. "What does that mean?"
Bryan pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag while he thought. "If even a patrol soldier like you can get this kind of intel this easily, then chances are anyone in the QZ with half a brain already knows. Maybe not everyone—but anyone with connections."
Amir still looked confused. Like most people, strategic thinking wasn't exactly his forte. "So... what does that mean?"
"It means the intel might be a smokescreen."
Bryan exhaled a plume of smoke, then caught sight of Chen Shi standing nearby. He paused, stubbed out the cigarette, and crossed the room to open a window, letting the smoke dissipate.
"Think about it. If this many people know, do you really think FEDRA doesn't? They'd have to be ready for it. The Fireflies couldn't beat the QZ military even at full strength—let alone when the other side is expecting them. You think they'd just march in to die?"
"Of course not..."
Amir found himself finishing the thought, then asked, "So who's spreading this pointless rumor? I wasted supplies paying for useless information."
Bryan shook his head slowly. "No idea. The whole thing is strange. We don't have enough pieces to see the full picture yet. But I guarantee nobody's doing this for fun—there's something bigger going on behind the scenes. We just can't see it yet."
Amir nodded, agreeing with the assessment. "So what do we do?"
"Nothing."
Bryan shrugged, letting the sunlight streaming through the window warm his face. "Whatever conspiracy is brewing, it's above our pay grade. We look after ourselves. We've got an evacuation plan ready—if things go sideways, we run."
...
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