Chapter Forty-Two: Beast

“Qiang, I want to ask a favor of you.” Zou Lin’s cheeks were flushed, her embarrassment evident.

“Go on.” Zhao Qiang’s tone was calm. After hearing her story, he felt both sympathy and a measure of wariness toward this girl, so he didn’t rush to agree.

“I know this might be asking too much, but…” Zou Lin hesitated. Zhao Qiang’s attitude was hard to read, but thinking of her younger brother, she paused, then made up her mind. “I was hoping you could help me find my brother.”

This request was difficult for Zhao Qiang to refuse, but after all this time, who knew if her brother was even still alive? Besides, he still didn’t know where his own wife was. Finding a specific person was no simple task, and from the look on Zou Lin’s face, her brother seemed to be her only hope.

Seeing Zhao Qiang remain silent, Zou Lin thought he was hesitating. She spoke softly, “Qiang, as long as you’re willing to help me, whatever amount you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Zhao Qiang shook his head and managed a bitter smile. “Money can’t fix this.” In times like these, money was worthless; no amount could keep the walking dead outside at bay. And Zhao Qiang wasn’t saving people for the money—he simply felt it was the right thing to do.

Hearing this, Zou Lin’s face darkened. She bit her lip, then unzipped her down jacket. “Qiang, I know I’m not worthy of you, but if you’re willing, I’ll be yours. I’ll do anything.”

Beneath the coat, Zou Lin was nearly naked. Earlier, the thugs, seeking their own pleasure, had left her only a down jacket against the cold; all other clothing had been taken. Her fair skin, full breasts, slender waist, and devilish figure were the stuff of dreams for many men, all the more so under the flickering candlelight. Zhao Qiang swallowed, his eyes drawn to her trembling body—though whether from cold or fear, he couldn’t tell—and he walked over, smiling gently.

Zou Lin squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, bracing herself for what was to come. For her brother’s sake, she would endure anything. With a shrug of her shoulders, the oversized down coat slipped off, and she lay bare on the makeshift bed of cardboard, her long legs slightly apart.

All men are no good! As Zou Lin heard the rustling of clothes, she knew Zhao Qiang was undressing. She’d already walked down the path of selling herself at that small salon, and then, for days, had been used as nothing more than a tool by these brutes. Yet in her heart, she still resisted such things. Only for her brother, who was still in college, did she force herself to go through with it.

A dry, warm hand settled on her shoulder, and Zou Lin’s breath quickened. This man was different from the others. The rest would have been on her by now, but he seemed to be waiting. Lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly pulled upright by Zhao Qiang, who then draped something warm over her shoulders.

Zou Lin opened her eyes in confusion. Seeing that Zhao Qiang had only removed his jacket to wrap it around her—that it was his coat enveloping her, its warmth unmistakable—and that his eyes were clear, his face free of any lecherous intent, she could no longer hold back. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Days of pain and humiliation poured out with her tears.

Zhao Qiang patted her back. He was no saint, no chaste sage; faced with such beauty, he was moved like any man would be. But neither was he the type to take advantage of someone in her darkest moment.

Eventually, Zou Lin cried herself to sleep. Zhao Qiang laid her gently onto the bed, pulled a blanket over her, and stood up.

A small hand grasped the hem of his trousers. “Qiang, please… don’t leave me here alone.”

He turned, crouched down, and patted her hand with a reassuring smile. “Trust me, I’ll be back soon.” Glancing at his watch, he added, “About an hour, give or take.”

He gently pried her hand off and stepped out.

…

Lying on the bed, Zou Lin felt overwhelmed by everything that had happened. She’d known many men—of all sorts—but none had treated her as a person. Only this man, who had refused her even when she offered herself, was different. Was he really coming back? He hadn’t even agreed to help her find her brother. Did he despise her because of what she’d become?

Lost in thought, she inhaled the faint scent of tobacco lingering on Zhao Qiang’s coat and drifted into sleep once more.

She didn’t know how long she slept before hurried footsteps sounded outside. He’s back! Joy surged within her. She leaped up, wrapped herself in Zhao Qiang’s coat, and ran to open the door.

“Qiang!” she called softly, but her smile froze on her lips.

At the door stood a man who, seeing Zou Lin emerge half-clothed, grinned wickedly and licked his lips. Muttering vulgarities, he reached for her chest, recalling how intoxicating she had been. “Well, well, little thing, missed your big brother already, haven’t you?”

Zou Lin screamed, slamming the flimsy wooden door shut and bracing it with her body. Why is it him? She would never forget that it was this man who had dragged her here by force. Of all the men, his cruelty and perversion were the worst. She thought the boss had driven him out for good—how had he survived and returned?

A sharp blade pierced the door, grazing her ear. Terrified, Zou Lin scrambled back into her corner.

“Think you can shut the door on me, you little whore?” the man jeered, yanking the knife free. “But I like you feisty.” With a kick, he broke down the weak door.

Cowering in the corner, Zou Lin clutched her coat tightly to her chest, eyes wide with terror. “Don’t come any closer, please!”

The man didn’t rush. Playing with his knife, he surveyed the room. To have survived among the infected took skill, and spotting the unfamiliar coat on Zou Lin, he quickly noticed the backpack and bottled water Zhao Qiang had left. The bold white letters, POLICE, stung his eyes.

“So, you’ve found yourself a new protector in just a few days?” he sneered, drawing closer. The commotion hadn’t drawn out the owner of the bag—was he dead or had he run away? With that, his fear vanished, and he approached, eager to vent his pent-up frustration after days of hardship.

Zou Lin gripped her collar tightly; hidden within her clothes was a cold Type 64 pistol. The man’s pupils contracted, his breath growing heavy, lust ignited by her resistance. He stabbed the knife into the table and lunged at her with a growl.

“Let go of me!” Zou Lin fought with all her strength, kicking him off her. Her foot landed squarely between his legs. His face twisted, contorted with pain, turning a sickly shade of purple.

“Damn it! You dare fight back, you filthy slut!” he bellowed, slapping her hard. Zou Lin cried out as she was thrown into the corner. Her head struck the wall with a thud, and blood trickled from her lips.

“No wonder you’re so bold—your new lover left you a little insurance.” He bent down and picked up the Type 64 pistol that had fallen from her clothes. “Isn’t this Old Luo’s gun? Ha, your sugar daddy just did me a big favor.”

With the gun, he was even more brazen. Grinning, he tore off his belt and lashed it across Zou Lin’s pale body—a crimson welt blossomed on her chest, the vivid red against her white skin inflaming his desire further.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head toward his groin…