"Wait—no, I—" the mother began, eyes wide. "He's—?"
"He was first," Feng Yizhou said calmly. "He didn't fight. He just ran."
"But he's just a kid!" the man with the bloodied hands snarled, dragging himself to his feet. "What's he gonna do out there alone?!"
"He's not alone. Has has 139 people with him. I'm sure he'll find."
Feng Yizhou responded. His gaze settled on the man like a quiet warning.
The boy was lifted into the bus.
One hundred and forty mark was finally completed.
The door shut behind him with a soft, irreversible click.
There was a pause, sharp and brutal before the sound of the engine starting filled the air.
The crowd erupted.
Wails. Screams. Begging.
