The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 156 - Rescue attempts

The sun hadn’t yet risen. The horizon was still cloaked in a deep violet gloom when Jian opened his eyes. the coat had kept him warm all night making him feel all toasty and heaty.

A cold breeze drifted through the ruins of the city, brushing over the sleeping forms around the dying fire. Beside him, Qungya lay curled up peacefully, his tiny fists tucked under his chin, breathing evenly. Jian’s gaze softened for a moment as he watched the child’s face, so still, so innocent despite everything they’d endured.

Careful not to wake him, Jian gently shifted the child into his arms and hoisted him onto his back. Qungya stirred but didn’t wake, his cheek pressing against Jian’s shoulder.

Almost as if they’d only been pretending to sleep, the Farian soldiers immediately sat upright the moment Jian moved. Xing Yu was the first on his feet, his sharp eyes alert. Without a word, he snuffed out the fire, stamping out the glowing embers with practiced ease. The others moved swiftly, packing up supplies and clearing away traces of their rest spot with an efficiency that made it clear—they were trained for this.

Jian adjusted the straps of his backpack and began walking slowly through the shattered streets, his boots crunching over broken glass and debris. The early dawn mist wrapped around them like a ghost, hiding the full horror of the destruction in soft gray swirls.

He raised his voice.

"Anyone alive! Make some noise. I can help you!"

His voice echoed off the broken walls, the twisted steel, and fractured pavement.

"Anyone there?" he called again, walking steadily forward.

Behind him, the Farians followed in formation, their steps quiet but sure. Eren, however, frowned as he caught up with Valen. He nudged the taller Farian beside him with a pout.

"Why is the prince calling out like that? It’s obvious no one would’ve made it in here," he whispered, slightly annoyed.

Valen gave him a disapproving glance and murmured, "Shh. Just listen to our Highness’s orders."

That answer didn’t satisfy Eren in the slightest. He jogged forward a bit until he was walking beside Jian. His ears twitched with curiosity.

"Umm, Prince," he began, a little hesitant. "Mind if I ask you something?"

Jian didn’t respond right away, just kept walking and scanning the ruins. Eren continued anyway.

"Why are you searching for people? I mean... it’s already been, what, almost two days? No one’s gonna survive under this much wreckage, right?"

Jian halted abruptly. His sharp eyes turned toward Eren, making the younger soldier flinch. But when Jian saw the genuine confusion in his expression, the tension in his face softened. He let out a sigh.

"Even if someone is buried under rubble," Jian said quietly, "they can survive. If they’re lucky—if there’s an air pocket, if they’re not crushed—people can hold out for five to seven days." He adjusted Qungya’s weight on his back. "If we can get to them, we can still save lives."

Eren blinked, visibly surprised. Then his mouth curved into a wide, sheepish grin.

"Wow... our prince is so kind. Even to humankind."

That earned him a sharp glare from Jian.

"What do you mean ’even to humankind’?" Jian snapped.

Eren shrugged innocently, scratching his cheek. "Well, humans are known to be kind of mean to their own kind, right? So I’m just surprised you care about them so much."

Jian stopped walking. He looked at Eren steadily, no smile, no softness.

"Because I’m a human," he said.

Eren’s grin faded. "But... you’re a Farian. You have our blood running in you."

Jian’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice was calm, but firm.

"I might have alien blood in me, but I’ll always be human."

For a moment, no one spoke. Eren opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was something in Jian’s eyes—something rooted deep. Pain, pride, and a fierce determination not to lose who he was.

Behind them, Xing Yu glanced over, his eyes unreadable.

The group continued forward in silence, moving through the broken skeleton of what had once been a city. The sky slowly lightened, casting a dull orange haze over the wreckage.

And Jian kept calling.

"Anyone alive? I’m here to help."

A faint sound caught Jian’s ear.

Ting...

It was soft. Metallic. Like something striking the inside of a hollow shell.

He froze.

His eyes swept over the crumbled ruins before him, every muscle tense. Carefully, he bent down and lowered Qungya onto a relatively flat slab of broken concrete. The child stirred in his sleep but didn’t wake, his small form curled up against the early morning chill.

Jian hesitated. His hand lingered on the boy’s shoulder as if reluctant to leave him. Even now, the idea of walking away—even for a minute—filled him with unease.

As if reading his thoughts, Valen stepped forward without a word. He stood tall beside the sleeping child, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade. His calm presence said everything: Go. I’ll keep him safe.

Jian gave him a brief nod of gratitude, then turned back toward the rubble.

He began to dig.

There were broken slabs of concrete, twisted steel beams, and splintered walls scattered like bones. Dust rose around him as he pried at the debris, his hands already scraped and bleeding from hours of the same work. Still, he kept going, ignoring the sting, the ache in his arms.

Beneath a pile of half-collapsed brick and shattered road, he uncovered the crushed remains of multiple vehicles. One by one, he swept debris off them, heart pounding harder when he heard that soft tinging sound again.

He knelt by the most intact car and peered through the filthy, cracked windshield.

There—inside—an elderly couple sat huddled together. The man was the one tapping a rusted piece of metal against the car door, his movements weak but rhythmic. The woman clutched his arm, her eyes wide with fear.

"I’m getting you out," Jian said, more to himself than them.

He worked faster now, hands blistering, shoulders straining as he pried loose a chunk of concrete blocking the door. When it finally gave way, a loud groan of metal sounded—and then the door creaked open.

The old man looked up with wide, trembling eyes.

Tears welled in them instantly.

"Oh my God... thank you. Thank you, young man..."

His voice broke as he reached out, his wrinkled, sun-spotted hands gently clasping Jian’s. Blood from Jian’s palms smeared faintly on the man’s fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice. He held on as though Jian were something holy, something miraculous.

The woman began to cry, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder.

Jian’s throat felt tight. He nodded quietly and helped brush dust and grit off their clothes, patting their shoulders gently.

"Please," he said, voice low and serious. "Leave the city. Take food, water. Stay away from roads where there’s movement. There are alien creatures here now. They’ll kill anything in their path."

The old man wiped his eyes, then looked at Jian with something close to reverence.

"Once again... thank you, young man."

He turned and took his wife’s hand, guiding her carefully through the wreckage. Jian watched them for a long moment, a strange feeling blooming in his chest—equal parts relief and pain.

Then the woman paused.

She turned back.

"I think... I think there was someone else alive in there. I heard noises until last night... a young voice, I think."

Jian’s eyes sharpened.

He nodded. "Thank you."

She gave a soft, exhausted smile and disappeared into the rubble with her husband.

Jian didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees and resumed digging, pushing aside stone and glass with grim resolve.

Someone else was alive.

He had to reach them.

The rubble shifted beside him.

A pair of strong hands joined his own, sweeping debris aside with smooth, practiced movements. Jian looked up sharply.

Xing Yu was beside him, face calm, focused.

A moment later, Eren crouched down on the other side, huffing slightly as he started tossing broken chunks of concrete away. Jian’s brow furrowed.

"I thought you looked down on humans," he muttered.

Eren gave a sheepish laugh, clearly uncomfortable.

"I... I hope the prince doesn’t find my words offensive. But... humans are kind of rude creatures. Violent. Selfish. I mean..."

A cold glare from Xing Yu silenced him.

"Humans raised our prince," Xing Yu said firmly. "They deserve our respect."

Eren cleared his throat and went quiet. Jian stared at them for a second, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this—being supported. Not like this.

It felt... strange.

But not unpleasant.

He turned back to his task, working alongside them. The three of them cleared debris with increasing speed. With their help, the mound quickly thinned.

Then Jian saw it.

Another car.

This one was smaller, more compact. The back half was crushed beneath a chunk of collapsed road, glass shattered, metal twisted like a crumpled can. But the front cabin remained strangely intact.

Jian’s heart sped up.

Someone could be inside.