Then she saw a list of nas.
Scientists. Researchers. Every person involved in this monstrous project.
She barely registered the nas—until her own jumped out at her.
Gu Qingran. Just like in that mory.
Her breath hitched.
Her title: Lead Virologist.
Her contribution: Primary viral research. Virology contest, Year 20XX. Sample utilized for airborne mutation trials.
The words blurred. Her pulse roared in her ears.
She flipped the page in a daze, forcing herself to keep going.
Another na.
Dr. Li Wen. Primary contribution: Human genetic modification. Forced evolutionary adaptation trials. Mutagenic enhancent compounds.
The drug—the one from the truck.
Her fingers tightened around the paper as she turned to the next page.
Dr. Zhao Xincheng. Primary contribution: Synthetic undead developnt. Regenerative necrosis trials. Neurological reprogramming.
The man-made zombie!.
Her chest felt tight. A sickening realization settled in.
They had planned everything. The virus, the mutations, the synthetic undead. This was not an accident, not a mistake. It was a full blown set up.
Then she found the final docunt.
A tiline or was it ti duration.
Qingran skimd through the pages, scanning for the final phase. Projected release date: Year 20XX. Initiation: Phase 3 Deploynt.
She did the math automatically, her brain working faster than she could process.
Five years ago was the start. The final phase...
Her stomach dropped. Twenty-two days from now.
The sa as her system’s countdown.
The world was already dood.
A sharp ringing filled her ears. The weight of it crushed her, suffocating.
Her vision blurred, dark spots creeping into the edges.
She staggered.
A hand caught her wrist before she collapsed.
Feng Yizhou.
His voice was sharp, urgent. "Qingran?"
She barely heard him. The papers slipped from her fingers, scattering across the floor.
Feng Yizhou’s gaze snapped to the docunts. He bent down, eyes scanning them. His expression darkened with every line.
Then he reached the tiline. His jaw tightening.
"...Twenty-two days," he muttered.
Qingran’s fingers clenched into his sleeve.
She forced the words out, her voice shaking.
"It was never an outbreak. The governnt..those bastards."
Feng Yizhou’s eyes t hers, his grip steady even as she trembled.
"It was an apocalypse," she whispered. "And I helped start it."
Feng Yizhou’s grip on Qingran tightened as he felt the way her fingers trembled against his sleeve. Her breathing had turned shallow, unsteady, like she was struggling to pull air into her lungs.
"Qingran," he called her na again, firr this ti, but she didn’t respond.
Her wide, unfocused eyes were still fixed on the scattered docunts, as if she was staring straight through them. Her lips parted, but no words ca out.
Feng Yizhou cursed under his breath. This was bad.
"Qingran, look at ," he said sharply, shaking her wrist just enough to jolt her. "You need to breathe. Now."
But his voice barely reached her.
Her mind was sinking, drowning in the weight of the realization that had just crashed down on her. She had done this. She had helped them. Every sleepless night in that research lab, every formula she had perfected, every breakthrough she had unknowingly given them—it had all led to this.
She gasped, a sharp, choked sound, like she had forgotten how to breathe entirely.
Her chest tightened painfully. Her vision swam. The room tilted.
Feng Yizhou moved instantly, pulling her towards him, but it wasn’t enough. Her knees buckled, and this ti, he barely caught her before she collapsed completely.
"Qingran!"
Her body went limp in his arms.
Feng Yizhou swore under his breath and lowered her carefully to the floor, pressing his fingers against the pulse point on her neck. It was rapid, too fast, but still there.
She had fainted.
His jaw clenched. This was more than just exhaustion. The way she had spiraled—her breathing, the shock in her eyes—she had completely shut down.
His grip tightened slightly around her wrist.
Feng Yizhou didn’t know everything about Gu Qingran’s past, but he knew this—she was not the type to break easily.
So for sothing to shake her this badly...
His eyes flickered to the docunts spread across the floor. It had to be sothing devastating.
His gaze darkened.
He needed to get her out of here.
With one smooth motion, he gathered her in his arms and stood, careful not to jostle her too much. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breathing still shallow, but her body was warm. She would wake up soon.
But when she did, he had a feeling she wouldn’t be the sa.
Feng Yizhou’s eyes swept over the archive room one last ti before he turned and left, carrying Qingran with him.
Feng Yizhou moved quickly, keeping his steps light as he carried Qingran through the dimly lit corridors. The facility was silent apart from the hum of machinery in the distance, but his senses remained sharp, alert for any sign of movent.
She had yet to wake up. Her breathing was steadier now, but her face was still pale, and the way her fingers twitched slightly against his arm told him that even in unconsciousness, her mind was still trapped in whatever nightmare she had uncovered.
What the hell had she seen?
He had caught a glimpse of those docunts, but not enough to piece everything together. He only knew that it had been bad enough to break through Qingran’s ironclad defenses—bad enough to make her, the woman who faced death without blinking, collapse in shock.
His jaw tightened. He would find out soon. But right now, his priority was getting her out of here.
[What happened?]
It was Caocao. The system’s usual smugness was absent, replaced by sothing that almost sounded like concern.
"She passed out," Feng Yizhou murmured under his breath as he turned a corner. "Shock, maybe. I don’t know yet."
[Damn. That’s not like her.]
"No, it isn’t," he muttered grimly.
He reached the stairwell and carefully adjusted his grip on Qingran before descending. They couldn’t risk taking the elevator. If anyone was monitoring the facility’s systems, they would notice.
The exit was near.
As he reached the lower level, a soft noise stirred against his shoulder.
A sharp inhale.
Then, a weak murmur. "...Yizhou?"
His arms instinctively tightened around her. "I’m here."
Qingran’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. For a brief second, she looked lost—disoriented. Then, as if reality crashed back down on her all at once, her body tensed.
She pushed against his chest, trying to free herself. "Put down."
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