POV: Jian Yuche
The pounding on the front door cut through the low moaning outside like a gunshot.
"Open up!" The voice was muffled but unmistakable. "It's Wei Lingyun! He's one of mine. Open the door. Now!"
Jian Yuche was already moving before he finished speaking. He wasn't about to let anything happen to his right hand man. His hand went to his weapon automatically, as he crossed the room in three long strides toward the entrance.
Zhou Chenghai, on the other hand, had already stepped in front of the door before he could reach it.
Jian Yuche stopped short, a low growl vibrated in his throat as he stared down the other man. "Move."
"Not a chance." Chenghai's voice was flat and his stance was solid with both feet planted shoulder-width,. It was clear that he wasn't going anywhere. "Opening that door risks everyone inside. I will not take that chance."
"That's my man out there," snarled Jian Yuche, refusing to back down.
"And there are dozens of those zombie things between him and this entrance," pointed out Chenghai. He didn't raise his voice to get his point across, he didn't need to. His tone carried the weight of tactical assessment, cold calculation, and the strength to know when it was necessary to sacrifice others for the greater good. "You open that door and they will come flooding inside. We can't stop that many before they take us out."
Xu Zhenlan stood near the window, his expression unreadable. He didn't move to intervene and had no plans to order Chenghai to stand down. Rouxi was inside this house, and it was his job to protect her. He wasn't risking her for a stranger.
Zhou Chenghai looked at him for a moment and nodded his head in agreement. Zhenlan's silence was answer enough.
This wasn't his call, it was tactical. And tactically, Chenghai had the last say on everything inside the house.
But Jian Yuche didn't care.
He had ran the numbers in his head—the time it would take to open the door, the number of infected that could push through in those seconds, the risk to everyone inside versus the certainty of Lingyun's death if they did nothing.
His math was just as clear as Chenghai's was. The smart move was to keep the door closed.
But Wei Lingyun had followed him into situations that should have gotten them both killed. He had taken bullets meant for him, he had never once hesitated when Yuche needed him.
And Yuche wasn't leaving him to die on the other side of a door.
"Move," he said again.
"No," replied Chenghai, his gaze turning even colder.
The pounding came again, more desperate this time. Lingyun's voice carried through the heavy wood, sharp with urgency and something that might have been fear. "They're coming! Open the fucking door!"
Jian Yuche pulled his gun.
Chenghai's eyes narrowed. His hand moved toward his own weapon. "You're not—"
The shot was deafening in the enclosed space.
Plaster exploded from the ceiling above Chenghai's head and dust rained down in a white cloud that hung in the air like smoke.
The sound cut through everything else—the moaning outside, the pounding on the door, the low hum of tension that had been building since the moment they'd realized what was happening.
Everyone froze.
The ringing in Jian Yuche's ears was sharp and immediate, but he didn't lower the weapon. His hand was steady. His aim was clear. The message was unmistakable.
"Move. Now. The next shot is between your eyes."
Chenghai stared at him for one long second. His jaw was tight. His expression was unreadable. Then he stepped aside.
Without hesitation, Jian Yuche reached the door and pulled it open.
Only Wei Lingyun wasn't standing where he should have been.
He was on the steps, halfway down, being dragged backward by three zombies that had already gotten hold of his jacket, his arms, his legs.
Their fingers were locked into the fabric with grip strength that looked impossible for bodies that moved so wrong. Their faces were slack, jaws working in that mechanical open-close motion, eyes filmed over with something milky and dead.
More were closing in from both sides, shambling up the steps with that jerky uncoordinated gait that somehow still covered ground with relentless efficiency. Their moaning grew louder as they converged, drawn by movement, by warmth, by whatever instinct drove them toward living flesh.
Wei Lingyun twisted, trying to break free, but their grip didn't so much as slip. One of the zombies leaned in, its jaws snapping inches from his throat.
Jian Yuche stepped forward and raised his weapon.
The first shot dropped the zombie on Lingyun's left. It was a clean headshot causing the body crumpled and the grip loosen as its fingers went slack as it fell.
The second shot took the one on his right. It fell backward, taking another infected with it as it collapsed down the steps in a tangle of limbs.
The third shot cleared the one pulling at Wei Lingyun's jacket. The fabric tore as the body dropped, leaving a strip of cloth still clutched in dead fingers.
Wei Lingyun twisted free and lunged forward, his boots finding purchase on the steps as he ran. Blood streaked his jacket, but it wasn't his own, just spray from the bodies, and his face was pale with exhaustion and adrenaline.
Jian Yuche fired twice more, clearing the path, dropping zombies that were reaching for Lingyun's legs as he climbed the front steps.
The bodies started to pile up on the steps, creating obstacles that slowed the others but it still wasn't enough to stop them. They climbed over the fallen without hesitation, without awareness, driven by nothing but the need to reach what was ahead.
Then Wei Lingyun was through the doorway, stumbling past Jian Yuche into the entrance hall, to where Xu Zhenlan and Zhou Chenghai were already moving.
They grabbed the door from both sides and slammed it shut.
The impact hit immediately.
Bodies crashed against the wood with enough force to rattle the frame.
The moaning grew louder, more insistent, as if the zombies had learned where the opening was and were converging on it with single-minded purpose. The sound was constant now, a low drone that vibrated through the walls and floor.
The door shook.
Xu Zhenlan braced his shoulder against one side while Chenghai did the same on the other side. The wood held, but barely as dust fell from the hinges with each impact.
Jian Yuche turned back toward Wei Lingyun.
His second-in-command was on his knees, breathing hard, his jacket torn and bloodied but his eyes clear. No bites. No scratches. Just exhaustion and adrenaline wearing off in waves that left him shaking.
"You good?" Jian Yuche asked as he holstered his gun.
Wei Lingyun nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah. I'm good."
Another impact hit the door. Harder this time.
The frame groaned under the pressure. A crack appeared in the wood near the top hinge—thin, barely visible, but there. The zombies weren't stopping, they weren't dispersing. Instead, they continued to test the door with a mechanical persistence that suggested they wouldn't give up until something broke.
Zhou Chenghai glanced at Zhenlan. "So much for the doors holding. We were supposed to get steel doors in two days. I guess we're shit out of luck for that. We need to reinforce this. Now."
"Agreed."
They moved in sync, pulling furniture toward the entrance. A heavy oak table went first, dragged across the floor with a scraping sound that set Jian Yuche's teeth on edge. Chairs followed, stacked against the table. A bookshelf got wedged at an angle to brace the whole structure.
And still the bangs kept coming. Each one slightly harder than the last, as if the zombies were learning, adapting, figuring out where to apply pressure.
But despite everything happening, the moaning never stopped. It rose and fell in waves, punctuated by the dull thud of bodies hitting wood.
Jian Yuche watched them work and felt the weight of the decision he'd just made settle over him like a physical thing.
He'd fired a weapon inside a sealed house. Threatened men who weren't his subordinates. Forced a door open that every tactical instinct said should have stayed closed.
And yet, he'd do it all over again to save Wei Lingyun.
Wei Lingyun was his responsibility. His brother in everything but blood. The man who'd followed him into situations that should have gotten them both killed and come out the other side without hesitation or complaint.
Jian Yuche didn't leave his people behind.
Not for tactical assessments. Not for calculated risks. Not for anything.
The door shook again and the crack near the top hinge widened.
It might have been by just a fraction, but it was big enough to notice.
The two of them needed a way out, one that didn't involved Zhou Chenghai or Xu Zhenlan.
But not before he got his weapons.