Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]

Chapter 217: Chapter 217 - Semblance of peace

Inside the quarantine room, quiet except for the hum of the old air-conditioning unit, Muchen knelt by Yunfeng’s side. He gently took his lover’s hand—still pale, still weak—and guided it down to rest against his stomach. His other hand covered Yunfeng’s fingers, warm and trembling.

”Our child... is in here,” Muchen whispered, voice cracking. ”The baby is healthy as a horse. Even though I did so many shitty things, even though I bled so much... the baby is safe, Yunfeng. By God’s grace, the baby is safe.”

He bent low, his lips brushing against the shell of Yunfeng’s ear, voice soft enough to tremble against his skin.

”You hear that? You’re going to be a dad... and you’re going to meet our baby.”

And then, suddenly, a flicker of movement—so slight, Muchen almost didn’t believe it. But then Yunfeng stirred again, his brows twitching faintly as his eyes opened just a sliver, glazed and tired but unmistakably his.

”Yunfeng...” Muchen shot upright, peering into those dark, drowsy eyes as if they were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

”How do you feel? Do you feel okay? Are you in pain?” His hands worked fast, dabbing a cool towel over Yunfeng’s forehead, checking his temperature. ”Your fever’s gone down a bit... but you still look exhausted. Shit. You scared me. You always scare me—”

Yunfeng reached up weakly and cupped Muchen’s cheek. ”Why are you crying?” he asked softly, blinking through the haze.

”I’m not crying,” Muchen said, almost childishly. He wiped his face quickly, then rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. ”Why would I be crying? It’s just sweat.”

He forced a grin, one that trembled too hard to hide.

Yunfeng smiled up at him from the makeshift bed, surrounded by faded classroom posters and empty chairs pushed against the wall. ”I’m fine,” he said, voice low but warm. ”Don’t cry.”

Muchen’s lips trembled again. He looked down, helpless, and let out a choked laugh. ”You bastard... why do you keep getting sick? Why do you keep getting in danger?” He sniffled. ”Why does it keep happening to you? You have the worst luck.”

”No.” Yunfeng’s answer was quiet but firm. ”I have the best luck.”

His eyes never left Muchen’s as he continued.

”You know why? Because I got to meet you in this life. I got to love you... and have a child with you. I’m just that lucky.”

Something in Muchen cracked wide open at that. He leaned forward, trembling, and wrapped his arms around Yunfeng—gently, so gently, like he was hugging a breath of air. He held him tight, cheek pressed to Yunfeng’s shoulder, tears wetting the thin cotton sheet.

”You bastard,” he whispered again, his voice shaking. ”You sweet-mouthed bastard...”

A few minutes passed in tender silence, Muchen’s hand curled protectively over Yunfeng’s. His lover’s breathing had steadied, and soon enough, Yunfeng slipped back into sleep—this time without the fever burning through him. His body temperature had finally returned to normal.

Still, none of the stationed doctors dared approach the quarantine room. Their fear of infection or contamination—or perhaps just their own biases—kept them at bay, clustered by the hallway like moths avoiding the flame.

Only one man entered without hesitation.

Qui Yue, in his usual calm and collected manner, stepped in carrying a saline drip. He wordlessly attached the IV to Yunfeng’s arm, checking vitals with a quiet thoroughness that didn’t disrupt the atmosphere.

”He’s recovering well,” he finally said. ”The fever’s broken, and his vitals are stabilizing. As for you...” he paused, looking directly at Muchen, ”...don’t just sit here starving. The cafeteria has some decent food today. Soup, rice, buns. Go get something warm.”

Muchen shook his head instantly. ”I’m not leaving him. Not again.”

His voice was steady but low, guarded. His body was angled protectively toward Yunfeng, like a lion watching over his den. He didn’t trust anyone in this place—not after what happened. The soldiers, the secrecy, the way Yunfeng had been targeted. If someone tried anything again...

Qui Yue watched him for a moment, then sighed with resignation. ”Stubborn as ever.” With that, he packed up his equipment and quietly exited the room.

Not long after, there was a soft knock at the door.

”Am I interrupting the lovebirds? I made sure to close my eyes.” Jiao’s voice floated in, teasing as ever. He pushed the door open just enough to peek in with his hand covering his eyes like a child playing pretend.

Muchen let out a small grin. ”Come on in.”

Jiao entered with a casual swagger, his jacket half-unzipped and his hair messily perfect. He made himself comfortable by sitting on the edge of Yunfeng’s makeshift bed.

”I brought food,” he announced, holding out a small plastic bag. Inside were a few wrapped buns, some biscuits, and two bottled waters. ”Please make sure to eat well, okay? My nephew or niece is in there, and they better not go hungry.” He pouted, half-mocking, half-sincere.

Muchen took the bag from him and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in quiet gratitude. ”Thanks... really.” He meant it. Without these friends—without Shao, Jiao, and the others—he wasn’t sure how he would have made it through the last few days. So many moments, he’d felt like breaking. But they’d held him together with their teasing, their presence, their belief in him.

Jiao shook his leg lazily. ”Go on, eat. I’ll watch sleeping beauty for you.”

With a soft chuckle, Muchen unwrapped one of the buns and bit into it. His eyes widened as the fresh mango cream filled his mouth, warm and fragrant.

”Gods... this is good.”

”Right?” Jiao laughed. ”Can you believe this came from a school convenience store? Mango buns. In the apocalypse. Miracles happen.”

Muchen nodded and took another bite. The comfort of warm food, the soft rustle of packaging, and Jiao’s easy chatter filled the room with something almost like peace. Jiao grabbed one of the buns for himself, munching alongside him in companionable silence.

By nightfall, Yunfeng’s fever had completely subsided. The color had returned to his face, and his breathing was strong and even. As a safety measure, the group was relocated to a small hostel building attached to the school grounds. Each room had four single beds with mismatched bedding, but it was cleaner and quieter than the infirmary wing.

Muchen and Yunfeng shared a room with Shao and Lu Zhi. Meanwhile, Jiao, Kailun, Hana, Zei, and Yuki bunked in another. The military had finally backed off, with most soldiers reintegrating into the central forces stationed nearby. The group was left mostly to themselves, as they preferred.

Qui Yue, due to his status as a highly regarded doctor—a rare and prestigious profession in their broken world—was given a separate room with access to medical tools and privacy.

Muchen had stayed by Yunfeng’s side through it all. And now, curled into a creaky metal bed across from his sleeping lover, he held his stomach lightly in both hands.

Finally they had some semblance of peace.