The world was too still.
Xu Lian's breath caught as she jolted upright, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. Her eyes darted around the dimly lit bedroom, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as if grounding herself in reality.
This was her room. Her old room. The scent of fresh laundry and faint perfume lingered in the air scents that had long been erased by the rot and blood of the apocalypse.
Her fingers trembled as they brushed against her unblemished arms. No scars. No grime. No sign of the struggle that had defined her last moments.
She had died.
Torn apart by a swarm of zombies. The pain, the terror, the helplessness it had all been real. Yet here she was, waking up in a world that should no longer exist.
Her heart pounded as she scrambled out of bed, nearly stumbling in her haste. She rushed to the window, yanking the curtains apart.
Outside, the city was alive.
The roads were busy, filled with pedestrians and honking cars. Storefronts glowed with neon signs, and street vendors called out their wares. There were no screams. No blood. No mindless creatures hunting for flesh.
It was as if the apocalypse had never happened.
Lian's pulse hammered in her ears. She turned sharply, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. The date on the screen made her breath hitch.
Four months.
She had four months before the world collapsed.
Her knees nearly buckled, but she forced herself to stay upright. There was no time to panic. No time to hesitate.
She needed to find Chen.
---
Guo Chen's body moved on instinct, his rifle steady in his hands as he pressed against the concrete wall. The rest of his team signaled ahead, their movements sharp and precise. They had done this a thousand times before—urban reconnaissance, silent infiltration, elimination if necessary.
But something was wrong.
His pulse was erratic, not from adrenaline but from something else. His mind buzzed with memories that didn't belong here memories of a world that had already ended.
His team leader gave the signal to move. Chen followed, but his grip on his weapon was too tight, his thoughts too scattered. The mission details had been clear neutralize a local militia leader threatening government stability. A standard operation.
And yet, as he crouched behind cover, the reality of what was happening crashed over him.
This mission… It had happened before.
His fingers twitched on the trigger as his vision blurred with overlapping images. He remembered executing the target. He remembered returning to base. He remembered… waking up to the apocalypse shortly after.
This was before.
A sharp breath left his lips. He turned his gaze toward his teammates men and women he knew wouldn't survive past the outbreak.
His heartbeat steadied, his grip loosening.
Four months.
Four months before the dead walked.
Chen inhaled deeply, his mind clearing. He had fought for years just to stay alive. He had lost everything his team, his home, his wife.
His wife.
Lian.
His chest tightened. He had mourned her for so long, had carried her memory like a blade in his heart. But if he was here… if time had truly turned back…
She was alive.
A voice crackled in his earpiece, pulling him back to the mission at hand. He pushed down the storm of emotions and forced himself to focus.
One last mission.
Then he would go to her.
This time, he wouldn't lose her.
---