Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]

Chapter 280: Chapter 281 - Led to a trap

It wasn’t just the soup. it was everything. They had been here in this house for about two to three days but no zombie nor military people came to bother them. It had irked him a lot. but he consoled himself that this place was cleared out and that the zombies did not make it out of the school.

but everything matched up now.

Yunfeng sat there for a long while, cradling Muchen’s sleeping form, but his mind wouldn’t settle. Something else had been bothering him—something harder to explain.

The static.

He’d been hearing it ever since they’d arrived at this house. A low, irregular hum in the background. Like the faint buzz of a broken speaker or an untuned radio. At first, he’d brushed it off as his ears playing tricks on him—maybe a side effect of the injection, maybe just stress.

But no. It hadn’t gone away. In fact, it was louder now than ever.

Especially in this room.

As Muchen’s breathing grew deeper, slower against him, Yunfeng held him a little longer. He closed his eyes, letting the moment pass in quiet stillness, but his thoughts were sharp.

He couldn’t afford to ignore these signs anymore.

His instincts told him that there was something else at play...

Carefully, slowly, he shifted his weight and guided Muchen down onto the bed. Muchen stirred faintly but didn’t wake. Yunfeng tugged the blanket over him, brushing his hair aside with a quiet tenderness, and waited a beat to make sure he was fully asleep.

Then he got to work.

His heart beat harder with each movement. Every soft footstep on the floor, every brush of his hand along the furniture—it all felt tense. Like he was being watched. Judged.

He crouched beside the bed frame, running his fingers along the edges, pressing the tips into the gaps between the wood panels and the floorboards. The static was still there, hovering just at the edge of his hearing, like a breath he couldn’t catch.

Then his fingers brushed against something smooth.

Small. Round. Cold.

A wire?

His chest tightened.

He closed his hand around it and pulled.

A tiny device came out with a faint jerk, the wire still attached to the base of the frame. The moment it came loose, the low static hum in his ears spiked. Not painfully, but enough to confirm it wasn’t just in his head.

He held the thing in his palm and stared.

There was no mistaking it now.

This wasn’t some weird echo in his hearing. It wasn’t a side effect from trauma. This was real.

This house was bugged.

His breath caught in his throat as he turned to scan the rest of the room. The corners, the furniture, the light fixtures. Suddenly, everything looked suspicious. Every shadow, every seam in the wall. Who had put this here? Who had brought them to this house in the first place?

Someone had gone out of their way to make them feel safe.

To make them relax.

And now he knew why.

They were being watched. Listened to. Every word spoken here—every private moment, every whisper, every argument—it had all been recorded.

Yunfeng stood up slowly, fists clenched.

His gaze swept across the room, dark and silent now, except for the soft breathing of the man asleep in bed.

He tucked the tiny device into his pocket and took one last glance around the room. A chill passed over his skin.

This had been planned.

Someone had lured them here.

Yunfeng didn’t stop moving after that. The unease had grown into something sharper, something that made his skin crawl with urgency. He started combing through every inch of the room—under the bed, behind the dresser, the corners of the ceiling, beneath loose floorboards.

It was exhausting, slow work, but he kept going. Every time he found another device—a tiny wire tucked behind a socket, a near-invisible disk inside a drawer—his pulse hammered harder.

By the time he was done, he had a small collection of bugs. At least six of them. All different sizes, cleverly hidden. Some were old. Some looked newer. All of them had been placed deliberately.

He stuffed them into a spare cloth bag and cinched it tight, holding it like it might burn him if he let it go too long. Then he turned back toward the bed.

Muchen was still sleeping soundly, his hair a messy halo around his face, one arm loosely draped over the edge of the blanket. Yunfeng hesitated for a second, watching him, then moved forward and gently placed his hand on Muchen’s cheek.

”Muchen,” he whispered, voice low.

No response.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. ”Wake up. We need to talk.”

Muchen groaned in protest and turned away from him, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

Yunfeng nudged his shoulder again, a bit firmer this time.

”Mm—what...?” Muchen sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and frowning. He still looked half-asleep, his movements sluggish.

Before he could say anything, Yunfeng raised a finger and pressed it gently to Muchen’s lips. A silent request.

Don’t talk.

Then, wordlessly, he held up the bag of bugs.

Muchen blinked, his expression confused at first—then slowly, recognition dawned.

His eyes locked on the tiny listening devices packed inside the cloth. The color drained from his face. He didn’t say a word, just stared at them in silence. His sleepy haze was quickly fading.

Yunfeng reached out and took his hand.

And on the soft skin of Muchen’s palm, he began to write with his finger.

They’re listening to us.

Muchen’s body stiffened.

Yunfeng looked up at him, lips tight, waiting for the understanding to settle in.

Muchen’s jaw tightened, but he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He didn’t pull his hand away.

Yunfeng wrote again.

The food is drugged too. Don’t eat it.

This time, Muchen’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes flicked to Yunfeng’s face, searching for any sign of hesitation, any crack that might suggest he was being paranoid. But Yunfeng just looked back steadily, his hand resting gently on Muchen’s.

Muchen didn’t speak.

He just closed his hand around Yunfeng’s fingers and gave a small, tense squeeze. He understood.

Now they just had to figure out what to do next.