Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 215 - Quarantine

City X.

Ash still drifted in the wind as they drove through the outskirts—fine, gray powder settling onto rooftops. The streets were eerily quiet, broken only by the occasional flicker of movement behind shattered windows or the low crackle of distant fires.

Their clothes were soaked in blood.

Not just Yunfeng’s, but also streaks and splatters from the zombies they had cut through, the friends they had lost, and the chaos they had survived. Muchen’s sleeves were torn, dark with dried blood that had stiffened the fabric against his skin. His knuckles were raw where he had punched, clawed, and held on too tightly.

Jai clung to Kailun’s side, too numb to speak. Even Shao, ever composed, had a tremble in his hands as he adjusted the bike’s throttle.

Then, the sound of engines reached them—steady, organized, unlike the chaos they had just fled.

A convoy of twenty vehicles approached, each armed, armored, and clearly modified. At the front of the line was an old, sand-colored jeep. The man driving it stood tall even as he sat. He wore a faded military jacket, the kind no longer issued, but treasured. His silver beard was neatly trimmed, his eyes alert beneath a scar running down his left brow. He stepped out as they slowed down, raising one hand in greeting.

"Captain Yan Fei," he said, voice gravelly but calm. "Retired 5th Division. We’ve been sweeping the tunnel’s edge for survivors." His gaze scanned them quickly, catching every detail—the slumped form of Yunfeng, the panic in Muchen’s eyes, the blood-soaked clothes, the fear. "Get in. We’ll take you somewhere safe."

No one spoke. They were too tired. Too hollowed out.

They climbed into the convoy. Inside the jeep, Muchen held Yunfeng in his arms, cradling him carefully against his chest. His shirt stuck to Yunfeng’s fevered skin, but he didn’t move. He only whispered soft things into his hair, words Yunfeng was too far gone to hear. Muchen took a wet towel from the emergency bag and gently wiped his lover’s burning forehead.

"Just a bit longer," he murmured, brushing his damp hair back. "You’ll be okay... You have to be okay."

Shao sat beside them, his voice low. "He’s holding on, Muchen. Look—he’s still breathing." He placed a steady hand on Muchen’s shoulder. "You did good. You brought him out."

But Muchen didn’t answer. His jaw clenched. Tears rimmed his eyes, but none fell.

They arrived at the school shortly after. It had once been a bustling middle school. Now, the halls were dim, windows reinforced with scrap metal and wood. Makeshift cots lined the classrooms, supplies stacked along the gymnasium. Roughly a hundred survivors moved about—some injured, some staring blankly, others helping however they could.

Captain Yan Fei addressed the gathered survivors while pointing to a map on the whiteboard. "We came from City S after the tunnels were cleared. Few made it out alive. This is the last checkpoint before the northern safe zone. Supplies are limited. Help will come, but not fast."

As he spoke, a medic was already guiding Muchen to the nurse’s office.

There, a young woman with a white armband and tired eyes examined Yunfeng. Her hands moved quickly, efficiently—until they removed his shirt to help reduce the fever.

Then she froze.

Three jagged claw marks ran across Yunfeng’s shoulder, fresh but sealed unnaturally—thick, dark, and pulsing faintly beneath the skin. The moment her fingers brushed the edges, she gasped and stumbled backward, dropping the ice pack she had been preparing.

Muchen sat up straight. "What? What is it?"

The doctor’s eyes were wide. "Th-this... these marks... this isn’t from a regular infected. This is a mutation. High-tier. I’ve only ever seen this once and that person didn’t survive..."

Outside the office, a few of the retired soldiers had peeked in, drawn by the noise. Their expressions changed the moment they saw the claw marks. Hands reached for guns. Whispers started.

"He might be turning."

"He’s dangerous."

"We can’t risk the others."

Muchen immediately shielded Yunfeng with his own body. "He’s not turning. He’s had these for days. He’s stable. He’s not like them."

Shao stepped into the room, arms crossed. "Back off. You wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t cleared half the damn tunnel."

But the tension thickened. Even Captain Yan Fei stepped in, gaze unreadable.

"Calm down," the captain said, voice low but commanding. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. Quarantine him if you must—but don’t forget he made it through hell to get here."

Still, Muchen could see it. The fear. The doubt. The way the others looked at Yunfeng—as if he wasn’t human anymore.

He gently took Yunfeng’s burning hand in his own, holding it close to his chest.

"I won’t let them take you from me," he whispered. "Not after everything. Not now."

The room they placed Yunfeng in was cold. Too cold. A converted classroom with blackout curtains drawn tightly across the broken windows. They had cleared it of furniture except for a rusting cot pushed against the far wall, a metal chair beside it, and a table with untouched medical supplies still in their wrappings.

Quarantine.

A word that tasted like betrayal.

Yunfeng lay feverish on the cot, skin clammy, sweat soaking the thin sheet draped over him. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. His lips were cracked. The claw marks on his shoulder pulsed faintly in time with his heartbeat, like some dark omen stitched to his flesh.

Outside the room, the doctors lingered—but not one of them dared step in. Not even to leave the ice packs they had gathered.

"He’s not contagious," Muchen said through gritted teeth, standing at the doorway with his fists clenched. "He’s not turning. He needs help."

But they didn’t answer. Just looked away, murmured excuses, dispersed.

Muchen shoved the door open, stepping in alone.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He knelt beside Yunfeng, gently brushing the damp hair from his forehead. "I’m here," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I’ll stay with you."

He took a cloth from his pocket, soaking it in a cracked bowl of water he’d found earlier. The cloth trembled in his hands as he wiped Yunfeng’s burning skin, inch by inch.

He didn’t notice when Shao entered the room quietly behind him. But Shao’s voice was soft, steady.

"Muchen," he said, "you need to get checked."

Muchen didn’t look up. "Later."

"No," Shao said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now. You’re still bleeding." His eyes flicked down to the dark stain on Muchen’s cargo pants. "You need to check if the baby’s okay."

Muchen’s hand froze mid-wipe.

Blood.

That damned blood. It had dried now, dark and crusted and thick against his thigh, the smell sharp in the small room. He stared at it for a long time, his throat tightening, his vision blurring.

Then, all at once, it hit him. A sob cracked out of his chest—raw, sharp, unstoppable. He fell forward, his head resting against Yunfeng’s hip as his shoulders shook violently.

"I chose him," he choked, clutching at the sheet with trembling fingers. "I knew the risk and I still—God, Shao, I chose him over the baby..."

Shao crouched beside him, reaching out. "Muchen..."

"I didn’t even look back," Muchen whispered. "When I flew up to him, I felt it. Something tearing inside me. I knew. I knew the baby was gone. But I still ran to him. I’m.....I’m a monster."

Silence stretched in the dim room, filled only by Yunfeng’s shallow breathing and Muchen’s sobs.

Then Shao spoke, gentle but firm. "You made a choice in the middle of hell. That doesn’t make you a monster. But you need to make sure you’re okay now. If you’re bleeding inside, we can’t risk losing you too."

Muchen bit his lip, eyes wet and red-rimmed.

"I can’t leave him..."

"I’ll stay," Shao promised. "Five minutes. That’s all it’ll take. Come back right after."

A knock sounded softly behind them. Jai peeked in, pale and hesitant.

"I’ll come with you," Jai said quietly, then smiled a little—shy, nervous. "He’s my brother. That baby... it was my nephew. Or niece. I need to be there too."

Muchen swallowed hard. He knew Jai was only trying to comfort him. Trying to hold something fragile together. But even the attempt made something in him ease, just a little.

He nodded slowly, brushing a final kiss against Yunfeng’s temple.

"I’ll be right back," he whispered.

Then he stood, legs unsteady, and followed Jai out the door.

The room was tense. No one dared approach Muchen.

"I need an ultrasound," he said hoarsely.

The doctors looked at one another, then stepped back.

"He came from the quarantine wing," one whispered.

"He could be infected—look at the blood."

Muchen’s jaw tightened. Jai stood beside him, angry. "Cowards," he muttered.

Just then, Dr. Qiu Yue pushed past the others with a tired groan. "Useless bunch of wimps," he grumbled. he grabbed Muchen’s arm and led him behind a curtain.

"Lie down. Pull your shirt up."

He did. he poured cold gel over his lower stomach. The probe moved over his skin.

Muchen stared at the ceiling blankly.