The alley fell into silence again, just the scrape of gravel under his boots as he changed direction, cutting through a collapsed storefront and slipping between overturned shelves and cracked tile.
He didn't look back. He had to look forward, for Qingran's sake.
The sky dulled further into a bruised gray, early sun beginning to settle. If he didn't pick up his pace, he would be forced into a more exposed region.
The further east he went, the more unstable the ground became, roads broken, buildings caved in, old explosions and shifting soil marking the territory of things that did not die quietly.
His footsteps echoed steadily. His breathing was even. But his thoughts were anything but calm.
He remembered the last time Qingran had smiled at him.
Not the mocking one she used on others.
Not the weary, tired one she hid behind exhaustion.
But the small, soft one, when she'd leaned on his shoulder and murmured "Don't go too far ahead. I can't catch up."
