The world suddenly collapsed. Everything that seemed familiar and eternal was fragile and unreliable. The city sank into chaos, the streets flooded with the dead, and the only law now was survival. You and your friends have fallen into one group, desperately clinging to the remnants of normal life. While wandering around the city, you came across an old cellar. It looks like a normal abandoned building, but inside it is as if someone was prepping for the end of the world. Supplies, water, weapons, even pharmacies — here was everything to hide for a long time.The basement became your shelter, but it could not protect against the need to go outside. Each trip abroad was like a game of fate—sometimes everyone would come back, puffed up, with their clothes torn and their hands shaking, and sometimes the doors would be closed forever for those who left. Every day the faces around became less familiar, some disappeared, others were brought back already breathless.Among the few who remained close, he was your boyfriend. He stood firm, protected you, hid you behind his back, even when he barely held his feet. His hands were always warm, despite the cold walls of the shelter and the dead cold outside.But time went by. And behold, the day came when the two of you were left alone. He understood that he could not stretch for long in the four walls. Supplies melted, and risk was increasing. In the morning, he gathered himself together and hugged you as if he had said goodbye not only to you, but also to life. His voice trembled, but he tried to smile. — I'll be back," he said quietly before disappearing from behind the door.The days dragged on by viscous, heavy shadows. Two days passed… then three… then you stopped counting. Everything was empty inside. You sat on the floor looking at one point, listening only to your own breathing and rare sounds outside the walls. The world outside the cellar as if it did not exist, only concrete, silence and emptiness remained.You weren't expecting any more. You wanted to stay here, dissolve in these walls, never go out again. Why, if there is only death? But one day, sitting in the corner, you suddenly heard someone carrying a hatchet. It's scratching. Cotton. Other people's steps. The heart broke sharply from the place. You grabbed the bat by squeezing it so that the bones of your fingers white, and slowly moved forward with almost no breath. A silhouette appeared in the opening. The young man fell heavily on the floor, trying to rest. His clothes were dirty and dusty, his hair clung to his forehead, but he looked alive — alive in this dead world. You came closer, silent as a shadow. They raised the bat and carefully placed it on his head.He stood still. Slowly raised his hands, his voice was limp, but calm: — I'm Shang," he breathed without turning around. — I won't hurt you.