It's Okay, I'm Here

To the comrade who opens this diary, as always, greetings.

Seeing these words is like seeing me.

Today is the 90th day after the disaster erupted... Food and water in the museum are running low. I highly doubt I can live to the hundredth day.

Those zombies outside still haven't dispersed. They keep making strange noises from time to time.

I don't know if this diary will be found complete or just as fragments, like the books in the museum.

Perhaps one day, my handwriting will also be displayed in a glass cabinet for all to admire.

Will you still recognize the characters of Shenzhou? Will the blood of the Shenzhou people still flow in your veins? Will you...

Still be human?

I probably won't wait for rescue... My wife, to save some food, climbed out the window in the middle of the night... Those few university students left all their food behind and then left...

They won't come back... None of them will come back...

This is pointless... really... I've lived a long life, done everything.

I've been to the Southern Dynasty, fought in America. If you've forgotten those campaigns, it's okay, I can tell you... It was 1950...

...

I've eaten bullets, eaten disciplinary actions, eaten losses.

I always thought of retiring to the mountains, but in the end... I found I'm still someone who likes lively company...

It's starting again... Since morning, those zombies have been howling...

Will they really be eliminated?

...

Forget it, I need to sleep for a while... Hope this sleep lasts until tomorrow morning...

If I can still get up... If I can really see the sun rise as usual on the hundredth day...

I'll leave this place...

I don't want to slumber again with these antiques here.

But... I also don't want anyone to forget them.

May—the world remember us forever.

---||---

The withered hand, illuminated by the last ray of sunset filtering through the window crack, tremblingly wrote the final character.

The old man, leaning gauntly in the corner, closed the black cowhide notebook in his shaking hands and placed it gently on the table.

His deep-set eyes followed the setting sun, gazing towards the most fiery moment on the horizon.

In his youth, he had seen such sights countless times, but he was never willing to linger. He had a more important passion burning within him.

Later... peace came, and he still had countless opportunities to watch such sunsets. But life was too fast then... Things around him updated quickly, and the people around him changed quickly too...

Everyone affectionately called him Grandpa. Every young person tried hard to fill the role of the children he lacked in his life. He had no descendants... His wife had lost the ability to bear children during past missions. He knew she always felt deeply sorry towards him... But he felt it didn't matter.

Enjoying blessings didn't necessarily have to be his own children, right... So many faces... so many new lives... They were all his children...

But now... they were all gone...

The old man withdrew his cloudy gaze. It seemed the only time he was lucid during the day was when holding a pen. The rest of the time, he forced himself into a daze, trying not to think too much.

But... he always couldn't help thinking... What if... he didn't make it through this time?

He dared not think further... He was very hungry now... Fortunately, he had experienced such things many times before, just that his body wasn't what it used to be...

Just sleep...

The old man curled up, shrinking his frail body into a ball, lying under the last rays of the setting sun, and closed his eyes.

Hopefully, he could wake up tomorrow...

...

"Creak—"

The long-sealed door suddenly emitted a harsh noise—the sound of a wooden door being pushed open, a sound very familiar to the old man.

If it were before, when he was young, he would have instantly sprung up, grabbed his weapon, and become alert. No... that's wrong. Should be like the Class President, protecting teammates, not making a single sound even if burned alive by fire...

But now the old man was utterly spent, too weak to react instantly, his stiff body slow to unfold, his eyes heavy...

Yet, instinct made him fumble... He reached out, knocked the notebook from the table onto the floor, crawled over using the posture he knew best, and covered it with his body.

This notebook recording history... it mustn't be destroyed...

The old man thought groggily.

A gust of wind blew in through the open door, washing over him.

He finally mustered a sliver of strength to open his eyes. He saw...

A young figure standing silhouetted against the setting sun in the doorway. The dim yellow light obscured his face. Three golden swords, imbued with strong, ancient Shenzhou elements, shimmered with light, obediently circling the young man.

But what was most striking was the robe he wore. Swaying just right in the wind, the patterns seemed to burn like actual flames!

That's fire... the fire representing the birth of human civilization!

And he stood within the flames, back to the sunset, framed in the long-sealed doorway, looking down at him... What a beautiful picture it was... It rivaled any artifact displayed here.

"Uh..." The old man's eyes widened. His hand lifted slightly, trying hard to suppress its tremor, wanting to point at the young man. He didn't know what to say.

The young man looked back with some surprise, glancing at the crimson flag now fluttering in the wind on the plaza. Then, the three swords obediently returned behind him.

The young man quickly walked towards the old man, knelt beside him on one knee, reached out, and steadied the old man's shoulder.

"It's okay now..." the young man said, his voice like the sun at seven or eight in the morning—warm and reassuring.

From somewhere, strength returned. The old man's complexion improved considerably. He finally managed to utter his first trembling words.

"Run... Run quickly..." The old man tremblingly placed his hand on the young man's. The rough, wrinkled skin contrasted sharply with the young man's smooth, delicate skin.

"Outside... Outside is full of..." The old man tremblingly pointed towards the door with his other hand. Suddenly, he froze.

On the vast plaza, illuminated by the setting sun, lay an endless expanse of corpses.

They were all dealt with? When...

The old man looked up at the young man in confusion, and then heard the young man's reassuring, smiling reply.

"It's okay... I'm here."