EIP 72

Zhou Jun, wrapped in the metal shell of the truck, was flung high into the air. His head struck something, though he wasn’t sure what, and his vision went dark for a moment. His entire being sank, as if into the depths of the sea. He seemed to hear Yong Jin’s voice, coming from a place he did not entirely recognize. In the dream, he held the man’s waist as they fell back onto a soft bed together.

Yong Jin didn’t look pleased. His movements had left his hair in disarray. The corners of his lips were set in an austere line, his gaze restrained yet burning with an unspoken fire. “Mr. Zhou, you’re being quite rude,” he said. Zhou Jun’s voice, honeyed and low, murmured in response, “So are you going to punish me? But I like you so much. Forgive me, won’t you?”

The words were perhaps ridiculous, even laughable. He watched as the furrow in Yong Jin’s brow gradually smoothed. A hand reached out to touch his face, and Zhou Jun lowered his lashes, cat-like, rubbing his cheek against the palm.

“When we first met, you were just a drunkard. I can’t trust you,” Yong Jin said. Zhou Jun’s cheeks were flushed, his breath warm and heavy. “What can I do to make you trust me?” he asked.

Yong Jin grasped his chin, towering like a monarch looking down from above, his gaze sharp and exacting as if appraising Zhou Jun’s worth. His eyes roved over the man’s face, scrutinizing every detail. With a voice both cold and laced with intrigue, he murmured, “What can you do for me?”

Zhou Jun, as if bewitched, stretched out his tongue and licked the thumb pressed against the corner of his lips. “I can die for you,” he whispered.

Yong Jin’s dark eyes deepened, his expression betraying no belief in those words. Zhou Jun felt the hand withdraw from his chin, and a pang of panic gripped him. On some subconscious level, he realized that Yong Jin wasn’t satisfied, and if that was the case, this fleeting connection would vanish entirely.

Desperate, Zhou Jun caught hold of the hand retreating from his face. His gaze fell on the crimson ring on Yong Jin’s middle finger. He pressed a reverent kiss to the cold gemstone and murmured devoutly, “I am but a wandering soul, willing to stop for you.” In German, he continued, “Is this heart enough?”

Yong Jin chuckled, the sound low and rich. His hand moved away from Zhou Jun’s lips and clasped the back of his neck firmly. “Not enough…” he replied. “You need to live for me.”

The words hit Zhou Jun like a force, violently ejecting him from the dream. He snapped his eyes open, gasping for air, his chest heaving. Pain radiated from every inch of his body. He was trapped inside the overturned truck, surrounded by twisted metal. Nearby, someone was groaning softly. It was Xiao Ren. Outside, the gunfire hadn’t stopped, but it seemed their truck was no longer being targeted.

The enemy soldiers hiding in the shadows had shifted their focus entirely to the checkpoint. Perhaps Zhou Jun and his group had just been unlucky, caught in the crossfire. He struggled to move inside the cramped, overturned cabin, hesitating as conflicting thoughts swirled in his mind. Should he get out? Would stepping outside make him an immediate target?

The drugs in the back of the truck, Boss Xu, countless worries weighed heavily on him. At least his gun was still within reach. Xiao Ren stirred beside him, blood trickling down his forehead as he tried to pull himself together, struggling to climb out of the wreckage.

Zhou Jun hesitated, but the thought of the truck leaking fuel and potentially exploding left him no time to overthink. Life or death, it was up to fate now. The truck door hadn’t warped, and he managed to clamber out of the wreckage, battered and disoriented. Shielding his head with one arm, he crawled free, then turned back and tried to pull Bigfoot and Boss Xu out as well.

Looking inside, he saw Boss Xu still conscious, though in bad shape, while Bigfoot was trapped in the passenger seat, unconscious.

Xiao Ren and Lao Mao had also escaped, both battered and covered in wounds, their appearances as disheveled as his. Zhou Jun scanned their surroundings for cover and spotted a few small mounds in the distance. However, the stretch to reach them was open and exposed. Rushing over without a plan could mean certain death.

Despair washed over him, and he felt utterly defeated. He had no idea if they would survive this ordeal.

He suddenly remembered the brief yet long dream he had just experienced. In a bitter yet somewhat amusing way, he thought that maybe it was the memory of his first meeting with Yong Jin, a memory he had been searching for in one dream after another. As he smiled to himself, his expression hardened with determination. Xiao Ren sat beside him, and Zhou Jun turned to him, saying, “Surviving one day at a time. There’s a mound over there. I’ll try to run for it in a moment. If I don’t die…” Before he could finish, a deafening roar echoed from the end of the road.

Clouds of smoke and dust billowed in the distance, and a few military trucks came speeding toward them. It was a strange sensation, as if every time he saw them, there was a sense of anticipation, an unexplainable connection. This time, it was no different. The two trucks screeched to a halt next to the overturned vehicle, and the officers on board raised their rifles, fiercely firing at the enemy’s position on the mound.

Amidst the deafening gunfire, Yong Jin appeared before Zhou Jun, as if descending from the heavens, standing in the sunlight.

Zhou Jun was covered in dirt and blood, his forehead smeared with red, part of it dripping onto his right eyelid, leaving a deep crimson crease. Yet, his eyes remained wide open, fixed intently on the man before him. Xiao Ren reacted quicker, throwing himself at Yong Jin’s legs, shouting for help. Unfortunately, his plea went unheard amidst the continuous gunfire, and the other two only exchanged silent glances.

The shared glance seemed to last forever, yet it was brief, just a few more gunshots passed before Yong Jin averted his gaze. He reached out, helping Xiao Ren to his feet, and gestured toward the military trucks they had arrived in, ordering them to go over. Xiao Ren thanked him repeatedly and turned to pull Zhou Jun up.

Zhou Jun hadn’t snapped out of his daze yet. He was tugged mindlessly by Xiao Ren, who pulled him by the sleeve and hoisted him from the ground. Yong Jin quickly walked past them, and as he brushed by, Zhou Jun felt a handkerchief slip into his grasp.

They were both placed into the truck, along with the unconscious Big Foot and the bloodied Old Mao. Boss Xu, having lost too much blood, looked ghostly pale. The medic left in the truck was rough as he applied medicine to Boss Xu, causing him to groan in pain.

Zhou Jun sat in a daze, clutching the handkerchief in his hand. Xiao Ren sat next to him, glancing at him a few times before quietly asking, “Do you know the officer from just now?”

Zhou Jun didn’t intend to answer, pressing the handkerchief to his eyelid and wiping off the dried blood. “We’ve crossed paths before,” he muttered. Xiao Ren whispered, “That’s good, then. Looks like this trip won’t be for nothing.”

Not fully understanding Xiao Ren’s meaning, Zhou Jun turned his face. “What do you mean?” Xiao Ren looked around, then leaned closer to Zhou Jun, almost whispering in his ear. “We were saved by these soldiers. The medicine in the truck is definitely going to be confiscated. Didn’t you see Boss Xu’s face? He knows he won’t be getting that batch of medicine back.”

Zhou Jun finally understood Xiao Ren’s meaning and furrowed his brows in a moment of hesitation. Deep down, he didn’t want the medicine to be confiscated, especially since his family was waiting for him to make money and return. But as for Yong Jin’s situation, he had no idea. How could he possibly bring himself to ask for such a thing? There were too many people around, and even if Yong Jin agreed, would letting such a large batch of medicine go have other repercussions?

There was no time for regret now. Xiao Ren already knew, and there was no doubt that Boss Xu would soon demand something from him. Sure enough, not long after, Boss Xu called his name. When Zhou Jun went over, Boss Xu leaned in to whisper in his ear, grimacing in pain as he offered a fifty-fifty split. Originally, it had been a twenty-eighty deal, so fifty-fifty was indeed a significant loss. Even so, Zhou Jun still felt uneasy, his heart in a state of constant worry.

As he hesitated, a group of people entered the truck, and it quickly started moving in an unknown direction. After about half an hour, Zhou Jun was taken to a temporary safe house. The room was far from neat, with a military map spread out on the table, and a half-eaten bowl of noodles sitting nearby. The trash bin contained bloodstained bandages, and next to the water jug, there was a glass jar with only a few anti-inflammatory pills left inside.

The environment was far from ideal, even rudimentary. Zhou Jun felt a bit uneasy as he found a chair and sat down. After thinking for a moment, he stood up again, clutching the handkerchief Yong Jin had given him earlier. He dampened it with some water from the jug, hoping to use a mirror to clean the blood off his face. Unfortunately, despite the small room, it was cluttered, and he couldn’t find a mirror anywhere.

Zhou Jun absentmindedly rubbed his face with the damp handkerchief, only to accidentally press on his wound. The pain made his eyes water, and he instinctively sucked in a breath, feeling a chill run through him.

Just then, the door was pushed open. Yong Jin took off his hat and closed the door behind him. Zhou Jun froze, not daring to move. He had never imagined he would feel so nervous when facing Yong Jin again.

If it was before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to slap the man in the face, but now, he didn’t dare make a move. Whether it was because his life had taken such dramatic turns or for some other reason, he felt paralyzed. Yong Jin frowned at him for a long while, looking displeased, but he didn’t speak.

The midday sunlight poured into the room from the window, too bright, so much so that Zhou Jun could easily read the expression on Yong Jin’s face. Before long, his slightly bent posture straightened, and once again, Zhou Jun regained his composure. However, when Yong Jin’s gaze fell into his chest, the man seemed to lose his usual control, his expression one of surprise. Zhou Jun followed his line of sight, realizing that his pocket watch had somehow slipped out and was now visible on the outside of his clothes.