Jiang Nuan started the car again. The atmosphere inside was quiet, yet taut with tension.
Heavy rain pounded against the windows, making a dull, muffled roar.
In the back seat, Ye Que sat with his eyes closed, his entire body sinking into the shadows of the seat.
He had lost too much blood. His normally stern profile was now as pale as paper.
If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, Jiang Nuan might have thought he had already died during their escape.
Every so often, she glanced at the vehicles around them through the rearview mirror, making sure no one from the Sweepers was following.
Fortunately, her constant vigilance allowed her to narrowly avoid two vehicles that looked suspiciously like patrol cars.
By the time the car stopped in front of a gray building in the old industrial district, the rain had already eased.
When Jiang Nuan helped Ye Que out of the car, his weight once again pulled her into an unsteady stumble.
Gritting her teeth, Jiang Nuan half-dragged, half-carried him into the elevator.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, a thick blast-proof door came into view.
With considerable effort, Jiang Nuan lifted his wrist and used his terminal to unlock it.
The apartment beyond was dark and silent. Heavy curtains shut out the light rain and neon glow outside.
This top-floor duplex had a private exit leading directly to the rooftop, as well as floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of most of the city.
A perfect home for a sniper.
Jiang Nuan helped Ye Que inside. Behind them, the door clicked shut and locked automatically.
Even indoors, the nerves drawn tight during their escape had yet to relax.
Then—
A lazy “Meow~” drifted out of the darkness.
Something large, soft, and furry brushed against her ankle.
In the darkness, the sensation was amplified tenfold.
It startled her so badly she nearly jumped, making Ye Que, whom she was supporting, sway along with her.
Frantically running her hands over the wall, she finally found the switch.
Warm yellow light burst into life.
Then she looked down at the culprit that had nearly scared her into cardiac arrest.
It was a gigantic orange cat, shaped rather like a gas canister, staring up at her with round, bright eyes.
The chubby creature sat by her feet, its sleek fur gleaming under the light. Its amber eyes gazed up at her, while its tail swayed lazily from side to side.
Jiang Nuan’s mind went blank for a moment.
Ye Que, who had survived more than four hundred days in this forbidden-zone world and even climbed to the top of the bounty hunter rankings…
actually kept a cat.
She raised her head and swept her gaze across the entire living room on the first floor.
There were only the basic necessities of life, with no unnecessary decorations.
Except for a luxurious, enormous cat tree standing against the wall, completely at odds with the style of the apartment and reaching a full two meters high.
Several cans of cat food and a few balls of yarn were scattered beside it.
Suppressing her shock for the moment, Jiang Nuan helped Ye Que over to the living-room sofa.
The moment he touched the cushions, he slumped back against them as though all his strength had left him, his brows twisting in pain.
Jiang Nuan glanced over his injuries.
The wound across his shoulder and back was especially bad. The bandage hastily applied earlier was completely soaked through, and blood was dripping from the hem of his clothes.
The torn flesh was gruesome to behold.
With injuries this severe, they really needed a professional doctor.
She remembered the clinic with its lights still on at a street corner along the way. “Ye Que, wait here. I’ll go find a doctor and bring them back.”
As for what came afterward… she would restrain the doctor here first, then wait for Shen Wu to return and use her psychic ability to erase the doctor’s memory.
“This is just a minor injury. You can treat it,” Ye Que said weakly, shaking his head as though there was no need to make such a fuss. “The medical kit is in the upper cabinet above the kitchen counter. The far-left compartment.”
…A minor injury?
His bones were practically exposed, and he still had the nerve to call it minor?
Jiang Nuan wanted very much to say something, but seeing his utterly matter-of-fact expression, she ultimately swallowed her words.
She turned and went to the kitchen to find the medical kit.
As she passed the cat tree, the orange cat was sprawled on the plush cushion on the second level, licking its paw. When it saw her approach, it blinked at her lazily.
She really wanted to pet it a few times, but this was hardly the time.
She carried the medical kit back to the living room and opened it on the carpet in front of the sofa. It was remarkably well stocked—even anesthetic and suturing needles and thread were inside.
Jiang Nuan knelt beside the sofa and leaned toward Ye Que, who was resting against it with his eyes closed. She first took out the medical scissors and sterilized them with alcohol.
Taking extreme care to avoid the mangled wound, she gently pressed the edge of the scissors against the blood-soaked fabric of his clothes, preparing to cut away the material around the injury.
The fat orange cat, which had been licking its paw on the cat tree, seemed to sense that something new and interesting was happening.
It sauntered over and rudely squeezed into the narrow space between Jiang Nuan and the sofa.
Lifting its furry head, it let out a sweet, nasal “meow,” then repeatedly rubbed its chubby body against Jiang Nuan’s lower leg.
It seemed to be asking to be petted.
Just then, Ye Que’s weak voice came from above her head.
“Jiangjiang, don’t be a nuisance… Go back to the cat tree.”
Jiang.
He had actually given the cat such a… cute name.
She instinctively raised her head and looked at Ye Que.
At some point, he had opened his eyes, though his heavy lids drooped halfway. His long, straight lashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes.
The sharpness had faded from his gaze, dulled by blood loss until only a hazy mist remained.
He was not looking at the cat called Jiangjiang. Instead, beneath his lowered eyelids, his gaze drifted softly down to her.
Jiang Nuan’s breath caught for a beat.
Jiangjiang…
Jiangjiang.
Kneeling on the carpet, Jiang Nuan still held the cold medical scissors in her hand, yet her fingers felt as though they had been singed.
Nearby, the orange cat called Jiangjiang had already leaped back onto the cat tree. It was batting at a ball of yarn, making it roll softly across the floor, utterly unaware of the landslide and tsunami of silence that had overtaken the living room.
And at the very center of that silence was the pair of syllables echoing endlessly through Jiang Nuan’s mind.
Throughout those more than four hundred days of solitude—days so long they were enough to drive a person mad—
Ye Que had secretly kept her name on his lips in a sound only he himself understood.
In your name, I found comfort for my loneliness.
