Mad Dog

Jiang Chao never killed people in the early morning.

Not out of principle—it was because the fog hung thick over the wasteland at dawn, and the blade of his knife would get sticky with moisture, making it unpleasant to swing. He preferred to work at noon—when the light was good, visibility was clear, and he could even see the fear clearly in his target's eyes. But this morning was an exception. Sister Tang's people had come knocking at his door at three in the morning, saying, "Brother Jiang, someone's been killed at the outer edge of the camp," and he knew today wouldn't be a day to lie low.

When he jumped down from the balcony, Sister Tang was watching him.

He didn't look back at Shen An. He walked straight to Sister Tang, the chopping blade still resting on his shoulder, tip pointing downward, blood dripping along the spine onto the dry dirt beneath his feet, quickly absorbed by the sandy soil.

"All cleared," he said. "The ones disguised as infected—eleven in total. I took care of them all."

Sister Tang's expression was colder than Jiang Chao's blade. "I didn't send you to take care of them. I sent you to take a look."

"Looking leads to taking care." Jiang Chao lowered the blade from his shoulder and wiped it on his pant leg, the motion carrying that particular nonchalance unique to the wasteland. "Sister Tang, you know when I stop."

"I know." Sister Tang's gaze moved past Jiang Chao's shoulder to Shen An. "But the people from the Northern Base don't."

Only then did Jiang Chao turn around.

Shen An's gun was still aimed at him.

"I said, don't move." Shen An's voice was flat, but his grip on the pistol didn't loosen.

"Officer, did I move?" Jiang Chao grinned in reply. "When I jumped down from the second floor, your gun was right there. When I walked over, your gun was still right there. You fired a shot—grazed my shoulder—and then what? Then you've been standing here, holding that gun, staring at me like we're in a standoff?"

Shen An didn't answer. He was assessing.

Jiang Chao's physical ability—jumping from the second story without bending a single knee, landing with his center of gravity as steady as a nail; Jiang Chao's reaction speed—before he'd even opened his mouth, the other man already knew he was the deputy squad leader of the Purge Squad; Jiang Chao's judgment—he hadn't moved against the Purge Squad, but had instead eliminated a group of people "disguised as infected" first.

This wasn't the kind of skill an ordinary wandering hunter possessed.

"What's your name?" Shen An asked.

"Jiang Chao." The man dropped his smile. "And you, Deputy?"

"Shen An."

"Shen." Jiang Chao smacked his lips, as if savoring the name. "Which 'Shen'?"

"Shen of Shenyang."

"Oh." Jiang Chao didn't ask further, but the way he looked at Shen An shifted—something inexplicable layered into his gaze.

Shen An noticed. "You know me?"

"No," Jiang Chao turned away. "But I've heard of you. Deputy Squad Leader of the Northern Joint Base Purge Squad, codename 'Qinglan,' zero error rate on missions. They say you're 'the man most like a machine.'"

"The rumors aren't accurate."

"Is that so?" Jiang Chao glanced back with a smile—one that seemed almost blinding in the wasteland's morning light. "From what I saw of that shot you took, you weren't aiming for my heart."

Shen An didn't respond. He hadn't intended to kill Jiang Chao—at least not now. One key piece of information in what Jiang Chao had just said stood out: the "Dawn Project" was still running. If that information was true, its value far exceeded the life of a wandering hunter.

"Dawn's people," Shen An said. "You said those eleven disguised as infected were Dawn's people. Evidence?"

"The evidence is on the bodies." Jiang Chao tossed the chopping blade toward Shen An—not a throw, but a handover, the handle aimed forward. "Look closely at their left earlobes."

Shen An caught the blade. He didn't move. Ji Ming had already stepped out from the formation, cautiously approaching the nearest body. He turned over the man's left ear—on the earlobe was a pinprick-sized black mark, as if something had pierced it.

"What is this?"

"Tracking chip," Jiang Chao said. "Only the Dawn Project's 'products' have these. Every person modified by Dawn—whether infected or not—has a microchip implanted in their left earlobe. The signal originates from the Northern Base's core zone, with a reception range of two hundred kilometers."

Shen An turned to look at Ji Ming. Ji Ming's expression changed. "Deputy, I…"

"You didn't know," Shen An finished for him. "The Northern Base doesn't have this program."

"Exactly." Jiang Chao walked over and pulled the blade from Shen An's hand, his movements as natural as taking back his own belongings. "The Northern Base doesn't know, because Lu Shihan doesn't want anyone other than Lu Shihan to know. He scattered the Dawn Project's 'products' across the entire wasteland, had them disguise themselves as 'infected,' had them attack various camps, and then the Northern Base could use 'purge operations' as a legitimate excuse to take over all camps' resources."

"Do you have evidence for what you're saying?"

"The body I showed you earlier—" Jiang Chao pointed to the one Shen An had first examined. "His left earlobe has it too."

Shen An crouched down and turned over the "bait corpse's" left earlobe—sure enough, there was the same pinprick mark. A thought flashed through his mind: this drifter wasn't from Red Willow Camp. Was he from the Northern Base? Or from Dawn?

"So," Shen An stood up and looked at Jiang Chao, "what's your purpose here?"

"Helping Sister Tang out," Jiang Chao shrugged. "And also to see who the Purge Squad sent today."

"And now that you've seen it's me?"

"Nothing special." Jiang Chao grinned, that roguish wasteland insolence in his smile. "But if what you brought today wasn't 'purge' but 'slaughter,' Sister Tang and your people would all be dead by now."

Shen An fell silent. He knew Jiang Chao was telling the truth. In terms of combat capability, if Jiang Chao alone could take out eleven trained Dawn "products" in ten minutes, taking out his eight people wouldn't be a problem either.

"What do you want?" Shen An asked.

"I want to make a deal with you." Jiang Chao leaned against a nearby abandoned car door, his posture lazy but his eyes sharp. "You don't touch Red Willow Camp today, and tomorrow I'll give you a piece of intelligence about the Dawn Project."

"What kind of intelligence?"

"Who inside the Northern Base is part of the Dawn Project." Jiang Chao's eyes narrowed. "I dare say this intelligence is worth one Red Willow Camp."

Shen An didn't answer immediately. He turned to Ji Ming: "Count our casualties."

"Zero casualties," Ji Ming reported. "But equipment loss…"

"Report it back," Shen An said. "Tell them we encountered unidentified armed personnel, organized and premeditated. Recommend suspending the Red Willow Camp purge mission pending further intelligence."

Ji Ming hesitated. "Deputy, are you—"

"Execute."

Ji Ming said nothing more and turned to send the transmission.

Shen An looked at Jiang Chao. "I accept your deal. But I have one condition."

"Name it."

"Tonight, you come back with us to the Purge Base," Shen An said. "For questioning as a 'key witness.'"

"Fine." Jiang Chao smiled. "But don't let your people get close to me."

"Why?"

"Because they smell like the Northern Base." There was no warmth in Jiang Chao's smile. "I've been allergic to that smell lately."

Shen An turned and raised his hand, signaling the squad to withdraw. After ten paces, Ji Ming asked quietly, "Deputy, do you really trust him?"

"No."

"Then why did you accept the deal?"

"Because I need to know if what he's saying is true." Shen An's voice was very low. "The Dawn Project… three years ago, I thought it was over. But my father once told me something—'Dawn never stops; it just continues in a different form.'"

"Your father…" Ji Ming paused. "That…"

"Don't mention him," Shen An said. "First, find out what that left earlobe mark is all about."

Ji Ming nodded and turned to make arrangements. Shen An looked back at Jiang Chao. The man was still standing by the abandoned car door, holding his chopping blade in one hand, the other hand in his pocket, his posture relaxed. But the way he looked at people—Shen An had seen that look many times in people who survived the wasteland: vigilant, calculating, with a tension ready to strike at any moment. But there was something else in Jiang Chao's eyes.

Shen An couldn't name it, and he didn't dwell on it.

The abandoned gas station, two kilometers from Red Willow Camp's outer perimeter, served as the Purge Squad's transfer point. Jiang Chao had been here before. Three years ago, when the apocalypse first broke out, the gas station owner had fled with his whole family. The underground fuel tanks had been emptied by a group of drifters, and the pumps were smashed. Since then, it had become the most common kind of "shelter" on the wasteland—drafty on all sides, but at least there were walls.

When Jiang Chao entered the building, all the Purge Squad members' eyes locked onto him. He paid them no attention, walked straight to a folding chair in the corner, sat down, leaned his blade against the wall, and crossed his legs. The handle faced outward, and there was still blood on the blade that hadn't been wiped clean—not the black blood of the infected, but bright red.

Shen An sat down across from him. Between them was a paint-chipped folding table with a miner's lamp on it. The lamp had been modified, casting a dim yellow light that picked out the scars on Jiang Chao's face—the kind unique to those who had survived the wasteland.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions."

"Ask."

"How many times have you been scratched by the infected?"

"Once."

"When?"

"Six years ago."

"How old were you six years ago?"

"Nineteen."

Shen An studied him—scratched by the infected at nineteen, three deep gashes on his neck that went down to the bone. He survived. Six years passed, and he was still alive, agile in movement, quick in reaction, with no signs of infection. The Northern Base's medical team had been researching "antibodies" for three years without a breakthrough. If Jiang Chao really carried antibodies—

"The Northern Base would very much like a sample of your blood."

"I know."

"Why haven't you handed it over?"

"Hand it over and I become a lab rat." Jiang Chao smiled, and there was a bitterness in it that Shen An couldn't read. "I don't do lab rat."

"Then what do you want?"

"Freedom," Jiang Chao said. "And the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth about the day my brother died."

Shen An's fingers tightened beneath the table.

"Your brother?"

"Jiang Lan." Jiang Chao looked at him, his gaze fixed squarely on Shen An's face. "Before the apocalypse, he was a researcher at the Military Medical Academy. The official story is that he 'sacrificed himself to save a colleague' during the Dawn Incident three years ago."

Shen An said nothing.

"My brother wouldn't save anyone," Jiang Chao said. "My brother was a selfish person since childhood. He wouldn't sacrifice himself for anyone."

"You doubt the official story?"

"I don't doubt it." Jiang Chao stood up, the motion carrying a long-suppressed anger. "I'm certain of it."

"Evidence?"

"My brother wrote me a letter a week before he died." Jiang Chao recited the contents from memory, every word squeezed out as if between clenched teeth. "He said, 'Xiao Chao, I might not make it back. If I don't, find someone—Shen An. He'll tell you everything.'"

Shen An froze.

"But I didn't go looking for you," Jiang Chao said. "Because when you joined the Northern Base three years ago, I'd already heard your name out on the wasteland. The 'Deputy Qinglan' of the Northern Base. The son of Shen Du, the Dawn Project's overall director."

The air solidified.

"I didn't go looking for you because I wasn't sure," Jiang Chao said, each word deliberate. "Whether the 'everything' my brother mentioned was your father's guilt—or your cover-up."

Shen An took a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"

"What exactly happened the day my brother died," Jiang Chao said. "Whether he was killed by your father, or by the Dawn Project's 'cleanup procedure.'"

Shen An didn't answer immediately. He thought back to three years ago—Jiang Lan lunging forward, pressing him to the ground, blood spraying from Jiang Lan's neck. His father stood at the laboratory door, still holding a silenced pistol.

"It was him," Shen An said. "I saw it with my own eyes."

Jiang Chao's expression shifted. Not anger—confirmation.

"You willing to testify?"

"Testify?" Shen An gave a bitter laugh. "To whom? The Northern Base? Lu Shihan is my father's partner."

"Then testify to the entire wasteland."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell everyone the truth," Jiang Chao said. "Let the Northern Base no longer be the only voice of authority."

Shen An was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "I need evidence. And… I need to first confirm whether my father is still alive."

"Your father is alive," Jiang Chao said. "Right in the Northern Base's core zone."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen him."

Shen An's pupils contracted sharply. "When?""A month ago," Jiang Chao said with a smile that carried an indescribable irony, "he walked out of the core area of the Northern Base wearing a white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses."

Shen An's mind was in turmoil. He remembered the last time he saw his father—it was the night the Dawn Incident broke out three years ago. Jiang Lan had thrown himself on top of Shen An, pressing him to the ground. His father stood at the laboratory entrance, still holding a silenced pistol, covered in blood. Shen An crawled out from under Jiang Lan and watched his father turn and walk away. That back had been the stuff of all his nightmares ever since.

He thought his father was dead.

"When you saw him," Shen An's voice was hoarse, "he…"

"He didn't notice me," Jiang Chao said. "He was in a hurry, accompanied by two researchers in white coats. I was at a scrapyard on the outskirts of the Northern Base making a deal. Watched from three hundred meters away for a while. He'd aged a lot."

"He hasn't changed," Shen An said.

Jiang Chao looked at Shen An. "You don't hate him?"

"I do," Shen An didn't hesitate, "but hate can't solve problems. I need evidence."

"Then we share the same goal." Jiang Chao stood up. "My brother's life, your father's crimes—two leads pointing in the same direction: the Dawn Project."

"Right." Jiang Chao inserted the knife back into his belt. "Deputy Shen, you have two choices now. First, hand me over to Lu Shihan and trade me for your future. Second, cooperate with me and dig out the truth. You don't have a third option—Lu Shihan wants the antibodies in my body, but he doesn't know I have them. If you hand me over, he'll find out, and then you'll become an 'informed person' he'll have to eliminate."

Shen An was silent for a few seconds. "You've blocked every path."

"I left you a way out," Jiang Chao pointed toward the door. "Cooperate."

Shen An didn't say another word. He got up and walked to the doorway, stopping at the threshold without looking back. "Jiang Chao."

"Yeah?"

"That letter your brother wrote you before he died—'He will tell you everything.' That 'he'—why me, of all people?"

Jiang Chao was taken aback. He'd never thought about it, or maybe he had, but hadn't dared to dwell on it.

"I don't know," Jiang Chao said. "I guess… because he trusted you."

"He shouldn't have trusted me," Shen An said. "When my father was about to kill him, I did nothing."

"He knew," Jiang Chao's voice suddenly softened, as if speaking of something long past. "He trusted you, not because of who you were, but because he could see what you were capable of."

Shen An didn't respond. He walked out of the temporary command post. The sky outside had shifted from pitch black to a gray mixed with blue. In another hour, the sun on the wasteland would peek above the eastern horizon. By then, whether the Red Willow Camp's cleansing mission was "completed" or "suspended" would all depend on the report he was about to write.

Ji Ming approached from the side door. "Deputy, you—"

"Don't include today's events in the report," Shen An cut him off. "In the briefing to the Northern Base, only write: 'Encountered unidentified armed personnel attack, recommend mission suspension.' Don't mention Jiang Chao."

Ji Ming hesitated. "Deputy, you're—"

"My father might still be alive," Shen An said softly, so softly it sounded like he was talking to himself. "I need to find out the truth."

Ji Ming asked no further questions. He'd been with Shen An at the Northern Base for two years and had never heard the deputy speak in such a tone—carrying something indescribable, somewhere between anger and fear.

And Shen An himself knew: from this moment on, he was no longer just the "Qinglan Deputy" of the Northern Base. He owed Jiang Chao the truth, and he owed himself an answer.

The first ray of sunlight on the wasteland rose from the horizon, illuminating the battered sign of the gas station. Shen An glanced back into the room—Jiang Chao was still sitting in the corner, the machete leaning against the wall, the old scar on his neck faintly visible in the morning light.

He suddenly remembered something Jiang Lan had once said to him.

"Xiao An, what your father did—someone will hold him accountable one day. But it won't be the law that does the holding. It'll be the human heart."

He hadn't understood it then. Now he did.