Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 154 - Back where it all begane

Yunfeng was drowning in agony. His body burned, his skin felt like it was being peeled away, his muscles twisting and tearing apart. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t tell if he even had a body anymore.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished.

Everything was silent.

He floated in darkness, his body weightless. The crushing agony was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness. There was no sense of time, no ground beneath him, no walls around him—just an endless void.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

A familiar sight met him. His breath caught.

This... was his room.

Not the dingy, cramped space in the 20th century. No, this was his room. The one from his real life, from the future. His expensive furniture, his custom-built wardrobe overflowing with designer clothes—everything was exactly as he had left it.

Even the black coat he had carelessly tossed onto the floor before heading out that day was still crumpled in the same spot.

He blinked. His heart should have been racing, but it wasn’t.

"I’m back...?"

But the momentary relief faded almost instantly. The familiar surroundings didn’t bring the comfort they should have. His mind was still stuck on something—no, someone.

Muchen.

The last thing he remembered was Muchen holding him, his hands shaking as he cradled Yunfeng’s broken body. His face, usually unreadable, had twisted in sheer anguish. His voice had cracked, raw with grief.

Yunfeng could still feel the warmth of Muchen’s hands, the way his arms had wrapped around him so desperately, as if he could stop him from slipping away.

"I didn’t want to leave him," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence.

A soft creak made him freeze.

The door to his room swung open.

Yunfeng turned sharply, and his breath caught in his throat.

His father.

He hadn’t seen him in so long. His once-imposing figure looked smaller, his posture stiff with exhaustion. His hair was a little grayer at the temples, his sharp eyes dulled with something Yunfeng had never seen before—grief.

His father stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he walked to the bed and sat down heavily, exhaling shakily.

Yunfeng barely hesitated. "Father!" His voice trembled as he rushed forward, relief flooding him.

He reached out—

And his hand passed right through.

He froze.

His father didn’t react. He didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence.

Instead, the man reached for something on the bed.

A blanket.

Yunfeng’s blanket.

His father gripped it tightly, bringing it to his face. His shoulders trembled. His breath came out uneven.

"Where did you go, you brat..." His voice cracked. "We’re all worried..."

Yunfeng’s stomach twisted violently.

His father—his father—was crying.

The man who had always been so strong, so unshakable, sat hunched over, clutching a simple blanket like it was the last piece of his son he had left.

Yunfeng’s heart pounded. "Dad, I’m right here!" His voice rose, almost frantic, as he waved his hand in front of the man’s face.

Nothing.

His father didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink.

A cold feeling crept up Yunfeng’s spine.

Slowly, he looked down at his own hands.

They were translucent.

His breath hitched. He turned them over, watching the dim light from the window pass through them.

His stomach dropped.

"No..."

He stumbled back, his legs trembling.

"No, no, no."

His chest tightened. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps as his mind raced. His father couldn’t see him. He couldn’t touch anything. His hands were see-through.

His heart pounded in his ears.

"Fuck! I am a ghost!"

That meant...

His breath hitched as his eyes widened in horror.

"I actually died."

KA crushing sorrow filled his being, but no tears came. There was only a suffocating emptiness.

He crumbled to the ground, staring at his father, who was still hunched over the blanket, his quiet sobs shaking his frame. The sight of it twisted something deep inside him. He had never seen his father cry before—never.

"So, I’m dead...again"

The realization settled in, heavy and suffocating.

"I didn’t even last a day in the apocalypse."

A dry, bitter laugh almost escaped his lips. Jai, his best friend, had always joked that Yunfeng would be the first to die when the world was overrun by zombies.

"That came true, huh? I actually died."

He didn’t know if he should be angry or just laugh at himself.

His feelings were tangled.

He was glad... at the same time a bit regretful.

He had saved Muchen. That much, at least, was something he didn’t regret. If dying meant keeping Muchen alive, he would do it again.

But... at the same time...

"I..... should have tried harder to live."

He clenched his hands into fists, but there was no strength in them.

He had been careless. There were so many things he could have changed. He could have taken a few more soldiers with him when rescuing Hana. He could have been more prepared, fought harder, done something—anything—to survive. But instead, like a fucking idiot, he had rushed in alone with his best friend, thinking everything would go smoothly.

And what did that get him?

It got him killed.

Yunfeng wiped his face with trembling hands. He couldn’t bear to see his father cry anymore.

From the looks of it, his family didn’t even know he was dead yet.

"The kidnappers must have done a good job hiding my body... Who knows, they probably destroyed it too."

That thought made his stomach twist. No funeral. No proper burial. His parents were waiting for him, grieving for him without even knowing that there was nothing left of him to come home.

He forced himself to stand. His legs felt weak, unsteady, but they carried him forward without effort.

His hand reached for the door—only for it to pass right through.

Yunfeng froze for a second, staring at his own hand. His fingers had simply phased through the wood like he wasn’t even real.

Of course.

With a dazed expression, he walked forward, passing through the door effortlessly, moving like a shadow.

The house felt strangely quiet.

He made his way downstairs, following the familiar creak of the wooden steps. It was so normal. So unchanged. Like time had stood still since he had left.

When he reached the kitchen, he stopped.

His mother was sitting at the table, her head slightly bowed, hands moving in slow, careful motions.

She was knitting.

Yunfeng blinked.

"I never saw you knit before, Mom."

He stepped closer, peering at her work. The yarn was tangled, the stitches uneven and messy.

"You suck at this," he muttered with a small, sad smile.

His mother paused for a second, her hands stilling—but only for a moment. Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued knitting, her fingers trembling slightly as she looped the yarn.

And then, in the softest voice, she mumbled, "My baby must be cold... I will make him a sweater. He can wear it to school then."

Yunfeng’s breath caught.

Something inside him cracked open.

He staggered backward, "Mom..."

His mother kept knitting, her lips pressed into a thin line, her face calm—but her eyes... her eyes were red. Swollen.

She had been crying.

Probably every night.

Probably every morning.

And now, she was sitting here, knitting an awful, messy sweater for a son who would never wear it.

"Mom, I’m here!" Yunfeng shouted, reaching for her hands, but his fingers passed through them.

A wretched sound tore from his throat—a sob, a scream, a silent cry.

His hands gripped his hair as he collapsed completely, body shaking.

He wailed.

But no one heard him.

His mother just kept knitting.