AUS Chapter 72: “I’ve Been Looking for You.”

At that moment, I was completely unaware of what was happening around me.

My attention was entirely focused on the first-aid kit in the corner of the medical cabinet. It was one of the kits originally supplied to the break rooms on each floor. Perhaps because it had a combination lock, it had been spared by the looters.

I dragged the first-aid kit out of the water and placed it on a nearby counter.

I turned the dials on the lock, and the box clicked open. Thankfully, all the medical supplies he needed were inside.

I crouched down and gathered the supplies into my arms. A chill seeped up from the flooded floor, soaking my sleeves and bringing me slightly back to my senses.

As I reached to put the painkillers, stored on the inner side of the box, into my pocket, I suddenly saw something in the reflection at my fingertips.

Someone?

The surface of the water wasn’t clear, muddied by my own frantic footsteps, but an emergency light happened to be positioned right above, allowing me to see clearly the person who had come up behind me.

It was “him.”

—I fell for it.

The very instant I realized this, the figure behind me also reacted. He swung the steel pipe in his hand, and the sound of it cutting through the air whistled past my ear.

In the moment I turned my head, all I saw was the upward curl of his lips, and that face, forever filled with an innocent cruelty.

But what met me was not a dizzying, sharp pain, but a crisp, metallic clang.

My eyes squeezed shut instinctively. All I could feel was that something was now between me and him. Immediately after, a hand reached out from the side, wrapping around my shoulder and steadying my stumbling steps.

—What?

I snapped my eyes open. The first thing I saw was a field of clear, silver-white.

The words associated with white hair immediately struggled up from the depths of my subconscious, but those two words were stuck in my throat, preventing me from uttering them with my simple senses.

The owner of the white hair didn’t look at me. The dagger in his hand had met the impact of the steel pipe. The echo of the clang still lingered, making my insides tremble.

My gaze was fixed on him, unable to move even a fraction.

“Liu Jiang” had clearly not expected anyone to intervene. His smile turned to shock, and after getting a clear look at the newcomer’s face, his expression immediately shifted to a knowing indifference.

He said, “I knew you were here.”

The one “he” was facing was a face identical to “his” own.

The person with the same face remained calm, in no hurry to give “him” any kind of response.

The steel pipe moved away, and he, in turn, retracted his dagger with a flick of his wrist. Then, he spoke a reminder, “If you keep bleeding like that, this body of yours is going to be useless.”

It was the exact same voice as “his.”

It was also the voice that was so incredibly familiar to me, the voice I had longed for day and night.

While confronting us, the wound in “Liu Jiang’s” abdomen had never stopped bleeding. By now, the bright red blood had turned dark. With his every breath, it pulsed outwards.

He took a step back, flipping the steel pipe in his hand around his wrist and tucking it behind him.

His expression showed no pain, but it was easy to see that his movements were a few beats too slow.

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head.

The floor where the infirmary was located had suffered the most damage. Parts of the building’s structure were missing, allowing moonlight to stream in. “He” stood right in the center of the light.

Like a solo in a musical, or perhaps a child of the gods favored by heaven itself—if not for the gaping wound on his side, he would have looked like the very definition of perfection.

The hand holding the steel pipe dropped to his side. He then took another step back, his gaze shifting from the person opposite him to me. He stared at me but didn’t speak his next words.

Then he turned and vanished into the shadows.

“Liu Jiang” had escaped.

The hand on my shoulder didn’t move. The person before me still maintained the posture of shielding me behind him. He gazed at the now-calm surface of the water, then slowly withdrew his hand. The warmth that had lingered on my shoulder began to fade.

I could feel his fingers releasing their grip, one by one, like a dream, yet so incredibly real.

I abruptly grabbed his hand. Through the sheepskin glove, I used all my strength to feel his warmth.

I asked, “Is this a dream?”

He was wearing the same clothes as in the “dream” I had when I fainted—a dark jacket, the hood of his sweatshirt half-pulled over his head. Silver hair spilled out from the edge of the hood, trembling slightly with his breath.

Liu Jiang still didn’t turn to look at me.

I began to feel that he was intentionally avoiding my gaze. We were so close, yet our eyes couldn’t meet. Under the moonlight, his silver hair was like another moon, illuminating me, protecting me, but unable to warm me.

I could feel the warmth draining from my fingertips, but I still held on with all my might. He didn’t struggle, nor did he accept it.

“You’re here,” I murmured, as if talking in my sleep.

I had known all along he was still here.

It was just a feeling, an intuition, an intuition I thought was mere stubbornness—I knew he hadn’t left, wasn’t dead, was still here. I knew he would stand up at some point and tell me that he was still here.

Now he had indeed done so, but I couldn’t feel a shred of joy.

If he was always here, why didn’t he show himself sooner?

If he never left, why did he choose to appear now?

I blinked hard several times to confirm I was in reality.

The hand I was holding his with was trembling. I was using so much force that my already stiff knuckles were beginning to ache with a dull pain.

He must have been uncomfortable too, but he didn’t tell me to let go.

I sucked all my emotions back into my body, trying my best to find a way to describe it all as calmly as possible.

“I’ve been looking for you,” I said, opening my mouth. 

“Did you know?”

He was finally willing to answer me.

With his back to me, I saw his jaw clench slightly, as if he were gritting his teeth.

He said, “I know.”

The emotions I had pulled back from all directions were not stable. They were struggling, spinning, trying to find a place to settle. But his one answer successfully terminated that process.

I thought I could even hear a crisp cracking sound from within my own body.

“You knew I was looking for you, but you were never willing to show yourself, is that right?”

My voice began to tremble, but it still couldn’t get him to turn around.

I asked him, “Is this fun?”

The night had deepened. The weather was clear. A faint breeze blew in through the damaged parts of the building, creating ripples on the water at our feet, as if we were standing in some carefree garden.

But the reality was the exact opposite.

Those emotions found an outlet in my chest. All my feelings rapidly transformed into an inarticulate rage, struggling and clamoring, ready to burst forth at any second.

If it were the old me, I would have just let it all out.

I would have yelled at him, venting all the frustrations I had endured since the apocalypse began. But standing here now, I felt that I wasn’t the only one bearing this grievance.

The hand I was clutching was shaking. He was listening to every word I said, but he wasn’t reacting.

I fell silent, then slowly released my grip.

His hand dropped. It didn’t chase after mine. Instead, it was my own hand that remained suspended in mid-air, as if searching for a sliver of warmth that wasn’t waiting for it.

A moment later, my hand dropped as well.

I lowered my head and spoke again. 

“I know I did a lot of things wrong in the past. I know I disappointed you, and I disappointed myself. I failed to treat you well, and I didn’t even manage to live well after you left. I failed to find you in time.”

I raised my face again and said to him, “But are you willing to give me another chance?”

I felt like I had said this line many times in my regular plans—but those were just rehearsals. Standing here now, for the first time, I said it with force, with sincerity, with substance.

The words I’d said before were like bubbles, popping silently at our feet without making a single ripple. But this time was different. I had a feeling he would respond.

Two seconds later, as I had expected, he quietly turned around to face me.

Our eyes meeting was not as dramatic as I had imagined. There was no slow-motion effect that my mind had added, no sudden shower of moonlight, no sudden gust of wind.

He just turned his head like that and looked at me quietly, his eyes containing something I couldn’t quite decipher.

He said, “I know everything.”

All my feelings were snuffed out in that instant. The clamor that had been swirling inside me quieted down. I looked into those all-too-familiar eyes and took a step forward.

I said, “Let me look at you.”

It wasn’t a demand; it was a plea.

I reached out a hand, terrified he would refuse. Thankfully, he didn’t. He also took a step toward me, his hand pressing over my knuckles from the outside, guiding my palm to his cheek.

I finally understood the difference between “Liu Jiang” and him.

“Liu Jiang” was happy to accept the warmth I offered, regardless of whether I was willing. He only cared about what he felt in that moment and enjoyed it immensely.

But the Liu Jiang before me was different. His cheek pressed against my palm, but his gaze drifted elsewhere. His hair hung low in front of his face, and his expression could even be described as humbled.

Three years had passed since the apocalypse began, but his face was the same as when we parted. His hair was a bit longer, but it was still the silver-white from my memory.

I suddenly felt a little like laughing.

I said, “Everyone says I haven’t aged, and you’re the same. Why are we so alike in this one way?”

My laughter did not bring any joy to his face. Instead, he paused for a moment before slowly raising his eyes. The look he gave me suddenly struck me, freezing the causeless smile on my face until it slowly vanished completely.

It was a very familiar look, filled with helplessness, and even a trace of sorrow.

He said, “I know everything—including the parts that you don’t know. I know them too.”