Chapter 285 - 9.31
Knock, knock, knock.
As night settled over the base, a steady knocking echoed in the quiet corridor outside.
Inside room 303, Ling Zhuang’s eyes flickered open. He had not truly been asleep. He frowned faintly, gaze drifting to the young man curled in his arms. Jiang Jiamian still slept soundly, breath slow and even, the faintest crease between his brows.
Ling Zhuang raised a finger and brushed it lightly against his ear. An invisible wave of energy rippled outward, silencing the knock. To him, the sound vanished completely.
Slowly, he sat up. He adjusted his collar, smoothed his shirt, and finally leaned down to tuck the blanket more securely around Jiang Jiamian’s body. Only then did he move toward the door.
Knock, knock.
The knocking came again, followed by a hesitant voice: "Jiang Jiamian? Jiang Jiamian, are you there? Or... Professor Ling?"
The caller wasn’t sure which of them was inside.
But Ling Zhuang recognized the voice immediately. Chen Ran.
His expression cooled.
Of all people, this one he disliked the most. That gaze Chen Ran sometimes cast toward Jiang Jiamian, he knew it too well. Covetous. Admiring. The kind of gaze that made his chest tighten with irritation.
Furthermore, Ling Zhuang had always suspected that Chen Ran was hiding something, a secret beyond his easy comprehension.
He hadn’t forgotten that it was Chen Ran who had personally recommended him to the City A base.
But there was no clear reason for it.
Chen Ran’s claim that he had chosen him simply because he was a renowned biology professor might have sounded plausible to others, but Ling Zhuang never believed such a flimsy excuse could be the real motive.
On the road, he had watched Chen Ran carefully. He had gathered fragments, clues, and impressions, yet none formed a complete explanation.
Chen Ran seemed to notice things faster than anyone else, slipping in comments that at first felt casual, but on reflection carried a hint of deliberate guidance, as though nudging others without ever seeming to.
Even more troubling, he carried himself with a strange composure. His ease with survival, his preparedness, his almost instinctive understanding of apocalyptic details... they didn’t belong to someone who had lived in this chaos for less than twenty days.
It was as if he had already experienced it, survived it, for far longer than was possible.
All these observations sharpened the unease in Ling Zhuang’s mind. Yet, as a native of this small world, a professor who had spent his years working in a laboratory, the idea of rebirth had never once crossed his mind.
And so, for now, he had no single answer that could stitch these scattered clues together.
He opened the door. "Is there something?"
Chen Ran blinked in surprise, then forced a polite smile. "Professor Ling. Xue Fang is still with Shen Hao and the others. I came to invite you, Jiang Jiamian, and Jiang Qing to discuss arrangements. And... since it’s late, perhaps you could join our Gale Squad for dinner."
His words were smooth, but a flicker of disappointment lingered in his eyes. He had hoped, half expected, to see Jiang Jiamian open the door.
Ling Zhuang’s expression remained calm, his tone faintly aloof. "Xue Fang will not wake without my antidote. Leave him in his own room. I’ll collect him when I’m ready for the lab. As for dinner, it’s unnecessary. Jiang Jiamian also possesses space abilities. Food is not a concern."
Chen Ran’s smile wavered. The refusal was polite, yet sharp as a blade.
On the road, he had at least found moments to speak with Jiang Jiamian. But now, within the walls of the base, it felt as though the distance between them had only widened.
If Jiang Jiamian chose to join another squad... perhaps they would hardly meet again.
No.
That couldn’t happen.
He had to persuade him. He had to make him join the Gale Squad. For practical reasons, yes, they were the most capable team in the base. But deeper, more private reasons gnawed at him. He wanted Jiang Jiamian close.
Chen Ran glanced toward the neighboring doors - 304, 305. "Excuse me, Professor Ling, does Jiang Jiamian live in one of those rooms?"
Ling Zhuang’s eyes narrowed. "303."
Chen Ran froze. "What?"
He looked up at the number above the door. Clear as day: 303.
Forcing a laugh, he said, "Professor Ling, this is 303."
Ling Zhuang’s lips curved slightly. "I never said it was my room. He’s still asleep. Do you need something else from him?"
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Still asleep.
The image came unbidden: Ling Zhuang’s freshly straightened collar, the faint warmth of the room behind him.
Chen Ran’s face drained of color. His heart clenched painfully. He forced a stiff nod. "No... nothing."
Ling Zhuang inclined his head politely. "If there is something, I can pass it on."
"No, thank you!"
Chen Ran retreated quickly, his steps uneven. He didn’t dare look back.
The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.
The smile that had lingered on Ling Zhuang’s lips dissolved instantly. In its place came a thin, sinister curve, cold, sharp, dangerous.
For a long moment, he stood in the silence of the room, listening to his own steady breathing. Then he turned.
Jiang Jiamian still lay nestled in the bed, oblivious to the exchange. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest slow, steady.
Ling Zhuang’s footsteps were soft as he returned to the bedside. His cold fingers brushed across Jiang Jiamian’s face, pinching his pale cheek gently at first, then with increasing pressure.
His voice was a whisper, low and intimate, "Wonderful. Truly wonderful. A face that draws in both men and women alike."
He tilted his head, studying that peaceful expression as if it were a painting. But his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light.
"You’re my work. My masterpiece. My possession. And yet... why is it that random people think they can covet you?"
His thumb stroked over soft skin, a caress edged with menace. "Is it because of your face? Or your power?"
His eyes narrowed further. "If they knew the truth, that you are a zombie, the Zombie King, would they still look at you with desire? Or would they recoil? Fear you. Hate you. Run from you."
His lips brushed against the words, almost tender. "Only I... only I would remain. Only I would stay by your side, no matter what you are."
The thought curled darker.
How to make you mine alone?
One option whispered temptingly: expose him. Strip away his human disguise. Let the others know what he was.
Then none would dare approach him again.
Or... destroy the beauty they desired.
His fingers pressed harder into Jiang Jiamian’s cheek, nails pricking into flesh. He imagined it, shattering the face that drew covetous gazes. Leaving scars no one else could love.
But no. That was his masterpiece. His creation. To mar it would be a sin.
If it ever had to be destroyed, then it could only be by his own hand.
Never another’s.
Ling Zhuang’s lips curved into a maniacal smile as his fingernails sank into Jiang Jiamian’s skin.