"I packed food in my backpack, Miao. Don’t let anyone else see it. In this situation, we can’t trust anyone."
"The first-class carriage is a disaster zone. There are too many alien creatures breeding here—it’s almost uncontrollable."
"The second-class carriage is still safe. Go there and hide."
Xia Miao asked, "What about you?"
No. 13 paused, looking down at her.
She stubbornly pressed, "You’ve got everything planned out for me, but what about yourself?"
No. 13 smiled. "After I finish killing these monsters, I’ll come get you."
The surroundings were littered with corpses and bloodstains. If the situation weren’t so dire, why would he rush to find her and send her to the safety of the second-class carriage?
Xia Miao tightened her grip on his hand. "I won’t leave you behind."
His eyes flickered, like a calm blue ocean hiding a volcanic eruption beneath—suppressed emotions threatening to spill over, intense enough to tear him apart or even harm her innocent naivety.
"I’ll be fine, Miao. Trust me."
His smile was bright and carefree, no different from usual, as if he were just heading off to complete an ordinary task before returning to her.
At the junction between the first and second-class carriages, chaos reigned.
"Let me through! I can pay you!"
"Name your price—I’ll give you everything I have!"
"Please, just let me pass! I’m begging you!"
…
The wealthy crowded the passage, pounding on the door in desperation. They knew death lurked behind them—no one could tell who was already infected, meaning anyone around them could be the next to mutate.
The alien infestation had struck the first-class carriage, while the second-class remained safe behind its iron doors.
Who would’ve thought the upper-class passengers, once envied by those in second-class, would now be reduced to groveling for their lives?
The second-class passengers barricaded the door, refusing to open it.
A man at the front shouted, "Each carriage has a weight limit! If all of you rush in, none of us will survive!"
Some couldn’t bear it. "Letting in a few people shouldn’t overload it."
Another retorted, "Then who gets to come in?"
"At least let the women and children through! The second-class carriage can still take more—we can’t just watch them die!"
The suggestion was reasonable.
Armed guards, their uniforms stained with blood, arrived to restore order. "Women and children who pass our infection scans can proceed to the second-class carriage!"
The men’s faces fell.
Amid the chaos, Xue Fufu stood at the edge of the crowd, relieved. "Thank goodness you made it over before the crisis hit."
Long Shenting seemed unwell, his face pale, his reactions sluggish. After a pause, he nodded.
Then he looked up and spotted a familiar figure on the other side of the door.
"No! Why should women and children go first? Do you know how much I’m worth?"
A gunshot rang out, and the man’s head exploded.
Screams erupted, only to be silenced by another shot.
A man in a black uniform—his hair bright, his eyes ocean-blue—smiled warmly, his voice light. "If you don’t want to die right now, follow the rules."
The men fell silent, stepping aside resentfully.
Normally, women and children would’ve queued, but No. 13 strode forward, holding Xia Miao’s hand, leading her effortlessly to the passage.
No. 13 exuded an unpredictable danger.
His smile was sunny, his demeanor refreshing, yet his clothes were splattered with blood, and the gun in his hand could end a life without hesitation. He was like a grinning god of death—his contradictions only made him more terrifying.
Some recognized Xia Miao, assuming she’d bribed the guards for special treatment. But what use was money when survival was at stake?
A wilder theory spread.
Their relationship wasn’t just professional!
Xue Fufu gasped, covering her mouth. "So that’s how it is? I always thought it was odd seeing them together, but I never imagined this!"
She glanced at Long Shenting. Everyone knew Xia Miao was rumored to be his fiancée.
Long Shenting frowned. Though he’d never cared for Xia Miao, she was still a figure in high society. How could she stoop to fraternizing with a lowly guard?
With armed personnel enforcing order, the second-class passengers had no choice but to yield.
No. 13 escorted Xia Miao inside, surrounded by women and children scrambling past the screening process. The noise made the scene feel apocalyptic.
No need for pretense now.
He bent down, wiping his hands clean before cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Smiling, he said, "You’ll be safe here. Wait for me."
Behind him stood the rejected—desperate, wounded, the blood-soaked corridor, the relentless gunfire—all rendering his words an obvious lie.
They weren’t the only ones parting. Other couples, deeply in love, wept before separating, one stepping into safety alone.
Even the most foolish knew a fleeting romance wasn’t worth dying for.
But he’d fixed her shoes. The survival supplies in her backpack were his doing. She stood here unharmed because he’d risked his life to find her.
Xia Miao remembered the bouquet of red flowers in her room.
No. 13 turned back to the first-class carriage, ordering, "Seal the door. Continue the cleanup."
He didn’t look back, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.
He strode forward, past the despairing crowd, reloading his gun.
Then gasps erupted behind him.
Familiar footsteps approached.
He spun around just as someone crashed into him.
No. 13 was stunned, staring at her dark-haired head, momentarily unable to process what was happening.
Xia Miao buried her face in his chest, clutching his waist tightly as she muttered, "Are you an idiot? You didn’t even remind me to bring my favorite bouquet! Now I have to go back and get it!"
The iron gate had already shut, sealed tight.
There was no turning back for her.
He stood frozen for a long time.
The moment he realized the choice she had made, the towering man suddenly lost all strength in his body. He bent forward, his tall frame leaning heavily against her petite figure just to stay upright.
His arms wrapped around her, and the hand pressed against the back of her head tightened its grip.
As his chin rested atop her head, the golden strands of her hair caught the light, obscuring the glint in his eyes. His voice came out hoarse and strained as he uttered a single sentence:
"You’re the idiot."
