Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]

Chapter 212: Chapter 212 - Kidnapped

”Of course, I need a few new summer clothes. Mom gave me some pocket money,” the original Yunfeng said brightly, a warm, easy smile lighting up his face.

In his ghostly, invisible state, Yunfeng watched him, heart aching with every passing second. He stood silently as the young boy flung open his closet, scattering clothes onto the floor without a care. He finally settled on a white t-shirt and a pair of black pants, holding them up proudly before slipping into them with all the excitement of a normal boy about to spend a simple, happy afternoon.

And then—humming a soft, cheerful tune—the original Yunfeng skipped out of the house, pocket money tucked safely into his jeans.

Yunfeng felt himself being pulled—an invisible tether tugging at his chest, binding him to the boy. He had no control over his movements; he simply followed, helpless, as if the universe refused to let him turn away.

The boy walked along the sunny sidewalks, occasionally glancing into shop windows, his face open and carefree. It was so ordinary, so heartbreakingly normal.

But then—

Out of the corner of his eye—

Ghostly Yunfeng saw it.

A black car.

It cruised slowly behind the boy, its windows heavily tinted, hiding the occupants inside. A cold spike of fear shot up Yunfeng’s spine.

From personal experience—

He knew.

A black car trailing you like that...

It was never good.

”No—Yunfeng, look out!” he cried out, his voice cracking with desperation.

But his words didn’t even stir the air. The boy continued walking, oblivious, laughing softly at something on his phone.

Yunfeng ran forward, tried to grab him, tried to shove him aside—but his hands passed through the boy’s warm, solid body like mist.

He can’t hear me. He can’t feel me.

Panic clawed at Yunfeng’s throat.

The car suddenly accelerated, gliding silently to a stop right beside the boy.

Before Yunfeng could even blink—

The doors flung open.

Two men in black suits leapt out, swift and practiced.

”No! No, no!” Yunfeng screamed, watching in horror.

The young Yunfeng barely had time to look up before they grabbed him roughly by the arms. He struggled—confused, scared—but they shoved him inside the car with terrifying ease, slamming the door shut behind him.

Yunfeng’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter his chest.

He staggered, gasping for breath he couldn’t even feel. His ghostly hands clutched at his hair, nails scraping his scalp uselessly.

This can’t be happening.

No, not him—please, not him too!

But the invisible tether yanked sharply at him, pulling him after the black car as it sped away from the crowded street, weaving through the city with a cold, mechanical efficiency.

Yunfeng followed helplessly, dragged like a leaf caught in a vicious current.

The black car drove for what felt like hours, finally reaching a desolate part of City A—where crumbling warehouses leaned precariously against each other, the ground slick with mud and old rainwater.

The car jerked to a stop beside one particularly run-down building.

The doors opened.

The men in black suits stepped out, dragging the now-unconscious young Yunfeng with them like a broken doll. His head lolled forward, unconscious.

They weren’t alone.

More black cars pulled up, one after another.

From their dark bellies, more unconscious youths were hauled out—boys and girls, maybe fifteen, sixteen years old, all limp and silent, their faces pale in the cold air.

It wasn’t random.

It was organized.

The black-suited men herded the unconscious teens into the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, harsh fluorescent lights beat down on the cold concrete floor. Rows of metal stretchers lined the space, each holding an unconscious young boy or girl, their faces peaceful but eerily pale.

Standing at the center of it all was a man in a white doctor’s coat, clipboard in hand, sharp eyes darting from one body to another with clinical detachment.

”Are they all younger than twenty?” the doctor asked, his voice smooth but cold, devoid of empathy.

”You made sure to nab them from random spots, right? We don’t want anyone sniffing around our research.”

One of the black-suited men gave a brisk nod.

The doctor paused at a young girl’s stretcher, roughly tilting her face to the light to inspect her features.

”I’ll tell Boss about this,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Ghostly Yunfeng crept closer, his heart pounding in his spectral chest.

On a nearby table, he noticed an unlocked phone glowing dimly. His gaze latched onto it.

The date and time shone clearly.

Yunfeng froze.

It was right before he had transmigrated into Lin Yunfeng’s body.

Wait... does this mean—this is real?

This happened before?

Then... what did they do to the original Yunfeng?

A heavy, sickening dread twisted his gut.

He turned his gaze back just in time to see the unconscious teens being wheeled onto stretchers. Their regular clothes were being removed, their bodies stripped carefully, almost respectfully, and replaced with sterile hospital gowns.

The original Yunfeng—his Yunfeng—was among them, his limp figure laid out on a stretcher like a broken doll.

The invisible tether binding ghostly Yunfeng pulled him along, forcing him to follow.

Room after sterile room opened before him—small, cold, heartless places with glass walls and blinking machines.

They separated the kids, locking them inside one by one, each room a tiny, isolated prison.

Panic twisted inside Yunfeng’s chest, clawing and gnawing.

I have to do something—!

I can’t just stand here—!

His hands flailed uselessly in the air, passing through walls and people alike.

Until—

His fingers brushed against a monitor screen.

The surface moved under his touch, the display flickering.

Yunfeng gasped.

I can move the screen... Maybe... maybe I can do something here too.

He frantically looked around for anything—anything—he could use. But before he could make another move, the door to the room creaked open.

Four figures entered, dressed in full-body contamination suits, their faces hidden behind reflective visors. In their gloved hands, they carried a silver-white case, treating it with almost reverent care.

They set the case down gently on a sterile cart, unlatched it, and revealed its contents.

A single syringe, filled with a faintly glowing, sickly green liquid.

Yunfeng’s blood ran cold.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.

One of the suited men spoke in a flat, mechanical voice, reading from a label on the case:

”Subject Y-07. Name: Lin Yunfeng. Weight: 55 kilograms.

Injecting 20 ccs of Tera Virus.”

The syringe plunged into the boy’s vein.

The green liquid disappeared inside him.

The boy on the bed gasped.

A thin whimper escaped his lips. His fingers twitched. His body arched slightly against the restraints.

But he didn’t wake up.

The contamination-suited men noted something on their clipboards, completely unmoved by the boy’s faint, instinctual struggle.

”Monitor vitals. Observe for mutations within twenty-four hours,” one of them said briskly.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Yunfeng alone, staring at the fragile, poisoned body of the original yunfeng.