Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL] Chapter 199 - Shower time [part 2]

Zei, who was still in the bathroom, raised an eyebrow at the absurd performance.

He stood by the sink, towel draped over his neck, his wet hair falling across his face. As Lu Zhi darted past, Zei’s eyes lingered on his own reflection in the mirror.

His hand reached up, tracing a spot just under his cheekbone—the place Yunfeng had burned him.

Even thought it was healed completely he still subconsciously felt like his beauty had been reduced by that wound.

He didn’t feel handso anymore.

His expression darkened slightly as he leaned closer to the mirror. "Did I... lose my charm?" he murmured, fingers brushing his flawless cheek.

The silence didn’t answer him.

Zei stood back, slumping slightly, almost sulking. "I liked being handso..."

Just then, Qiu Yue stepped into the bathroom, having finally decided it was safe. He paused for a mont, hearing Zei’s mumbled words, then walked past him toward one of the stalls without even glancing.

Zei perked up, spotting him. "Hey, good morning!" he said cheerfully, flashing a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Qiu Yue didn’t even spare him a nod. He disappeared into the stall without a word.

Zei blinked, lips parting slightly. "...Ouch."

There was a beat of silence.

From inside the stall, a calm voice finally said, "You should brush your teeth before bathing. Otherwise, your breath’ll rot faster than your skin in this apocalypse."

Zei let out a surprised laugh. "Hey! I do brush!"

"Mm," ca the unimpressed reply.

Still grinning now, Zei stood up and walked out, shirtless, dressed only in a loose pair of dark pants.

Zei stepped out of the bathroom, the chill of the early morning air licking against his damp skin. The mall’s polished tiles were cool beneath his feet.

Jai was standing near the pile of packed bags, pulling on his shirt, still a little damp from the bath. His eyes flicked up just in ti to see Zei approach.

"Ugh, I feel so cold..." Zei drawled, slinging an arm lazily over Jai’s shoulders. His body pressed up close, skin against skin, shaless as ever. "Warm up~"

Jai flinched at the sudden contact and rolled his eyes hard. "Then wear your damn clothes," he snapped, trying to shove Zei off.

But Zei didn’t budge.

To Jai’s surprise, the man’s muscles were firm—his grip unrelenting, like a vice draped in silk. It made Jai blink, startled.

"Seriously, get off—"

Before Zei could respond, a snap of force interrupted them.

A hand grabbed Zei’s arm with lightning speed and ripped it away from Jai’s shoulder.

Zei stumbled back a step, eyes wide, and Jai’s gaze followed the force to the one standing before them.

Shao.

He’d appeared silently, like a shadow.

His face unreadable.

Slowly, he adjusted his glasses with one finger, gaze locked coldly on Zei.

There was no trace of warmth in his expression.

"I suggest you get dressed," Shao said quietly, his voice razor-sharp. "We’re leaving in ten minutes."

Zei stared back, surprised for a mont—but then smirked. "Oh my, you are quite possessive, aren’t you?"

Shao didn’t respond. He simply stepped between Zei and Jai. he was done playing gas.

Zei’s smirk faded, just slightly.

Behind them, Lu Zhi watched it all unfold, towel still clutched tightly in his arms, heart pounding in a strange, unfamiliar rhythm.

’Oh my god what is this feeling.. why does this feel so thrilling to watch.. ughh what is wrong with ...’

He didn’t understand why he felt this way.

Was it because Zei had touched Jai? Or because Shao had reacted so intensely?

Or was it sothing else entirely?

His fingers curled around the towel.

Jai, now standing awkwardly between the two n, exhaled heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "You two done with the dramatics? It’s too damn early for this."

He turned on his heel and walked off.

Zei’s shoulders dropped as he turned to leave too, now wordless.

Shao frowned deeply watching them with an intense gaze.

"brother...." Lu zhi hopped close. "is this what jealousy looks like? Whoa... you must really like that guy..."

Shao stord off. He walked straight to where Muchen stood quietly adjusting the straps on his pack.

Without a word, Shao reached for his own bag and slung it over his shoulder in one sharp motion.

Muchen paused. His eyes lingered on Shao—noticing the way he leaned slightly to one side, not putting full weight on his injured leg.

"How’s your leg?" Muchen asked softly, voice low and careful.

Shao didn’t et his eyes.

He looked down at his leg. Strangely, there wasn’t much pain anymore—just a dull twinge when he pushed too hard. It wasn’t the type of pain that demanded weeks of rest. No... it was healing faster than it should. Much faster.

It unsettled him, but he shoved the thought aside.

"It’s good," he said curtly and walked away again.

Muchen blinked, lips parting slightly as he watched Shao go. It’s good? That was all?

There was no ti to ask more.

A faint vibration thrumd in the air.

Shao had just reached the glass doors of the mall when he heard it. His steps froze.

Rrrrroooooooommmm—!

The sound of an engine roaring to life pierced the fragile quiet of the morning.

Shao’s eyes narrowed.

He stepped to the side of the wide glass entrance and cautiously peeked through the dirty pane.

And then he saw them.

Five motorcycles tore down the cracked asphalt, stopping right outside the mall’s front entrance in a cloud of dust. The riders were dressed in mismatched gear—leather, scavenged armor, thick boots caked in dried blood and mud. They carried weapons. Real ones. Guns.

Ten n in total.

Shao’s stomach dropped.

He ducked back from the window and quickly made a sharp slicing motion with his hand—the universal signal: hide.

His voice was a whisper as he called out to the closest person—Muchen. "Guns," he mouthed with a tense urgency, fingers mimicking the shape of a pistol.

Muchen’s eyes widened.

Within seconds, the group sprang into motion like well-trained shadows. Bags were abandoned, half-zipped. Food scattered. Footsteps grew light. Heartbeats quickened.

Shao tucked himself behind a pillar near the entrance. ’fuck we might have to face them...’