Skinwalker Belle – Chapter 572 – A Promise Ten Years Late

Five years had passed since the end of the apocalypse.

In the rebuilt Hangzhou City, the streets were wide and smooth, with vibrant greenery lining both sides. Harsh sunlight spilled onto the asphalt, and not a trace of the stench of rotting zombies lingered in the air. Federal order had been fully restored, and neon lights once again illuminated the towering high-rises.

A black military off-road vehicle came to a stop at the edge of the old city district.

Zhou Ming pushed open the door and stepped out. He wore a crisp black uniform, and the insignia on his shoulder made it clear at a glance that he was now a man of considerable importance in the Federation.

In his early thirties, a faint scar traced the corner of his eye. His gaze was deep and piercing, and every movement carried the cold, hardened edge of someone who had fought through mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

He shut the car door and looked up ahead.

Xingfu Jiayuan Residential Complex.

This area had not been included in the new city’s reconstruction projects. Kept as a preserved zone, a few old buildings still stood quietly, their mottled exterior walls covered in creeping green vines.

Zhou Ming let out a sigh.

For the past five years, everyone had been trying to move forward.

Chu Chen had taken over the entire Federation. Lu Yuan and Zhu Yan had gotten married. Sun Jing was traveling the world.

Everyone was trying to heal from the grief of Lei Jie’s departure.

Today was Zhou Ming’s day off, and for some reason, his mind was flooded with memories of the past.

He thought of that cold, stunning figure holding a Molotov cocktail. He also thought of ten years ago, when the apocalypse had just begun—in a room in this shabby old complex, a girl in a nightgown had cried and told him she wanted to marry him once the apocalypse was over.

He lit a cigarette and walked into the complex.

Familiar stairwell. Familiar steps. The eighth floor.

The bloodstains and scorch marks left by the fight with Knife Scar and his men in the corridor had long been eroded by time.

Zhou Ming’s leather boots struck the concrete floor, each step echoing dully.

When he reached the stairwell landing on the eighth floor, the hand holding his cigarette jerked to a stop.

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Ash fell onto his boot.

He stared hard at the end of the corridor—at the security door.

Apartment 801.

The corridor floor was spotless. No accumulated dust, no cobwebs, and even the handle of the security door was polished to a gleaming shine. This was absolutely not what a place abandoned for five years should look like.

Someone was living here.

Zhou Ming’s eyelids twitched violently, and he instinctively activated his Spatial Ability.

Could it be refugees who hadn’t registered with the Federation?

He lightened his footsteps, pressing close to the wall as he crept forward inch by inch.

His heart pounded wildly, an inexplicable premonition surging through his chest.

Standing before the door, Zhou Ming took a deep breath and raised his hand.

“Thump, thump, thump.”

He knocked three times. The sound rang out with unusual clarity in the silent corridor.

From inside came the light patter of slippers on wooden flooring.

“Click.”

The security door swung open from within.

Sunlight poured through the open doorway into the dim corridor, illuminating the person standing behind it.

Zhou Ming’s mind went completely blank.

He remained frozen in his knocking posture, mouth slightly agape, eyes stretched to their absolute limit, the hand channeling his Spatial Ability suspended mid-air—utterly paralyzed.

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Behind the door stood a woman.

Her features were alluring, her figure bewitching.

Shoulder-length short hair hung loosely, and beneath her fair neck, her delicate collarbones were strikingly beautiful. She wore a purple lace nightgown, its light fabric perfectly tracing the flawless curves of her body.

Her face, her bearing—even this very nightgown.

It was exactly the same, down to the smallest detail, as the scene Zhou Ming had witnessed in the living room ten years ago when the apocalypse first erupted.

Time had left no mark on her face at all.

“Ru… Ruyan?”

Zhou Ming’s voice was trembling, hoarse beyond belief. “You… how could you…”

This was impossible.

During that purge at Fragrant Hills International, Liu Ruyan had been taken by that scar-faced man. How could she possibly still be alive?

From that day on, Zhou Ming had searched for her like a madman, at one point losing all will to live—until Lily pulled him back from the brink.

He had thought she was long dead.

The Liu Ruyan before him had reddened eyes, moisture gathering in her beautiful pupils. There was no fear, no wariness in her gaze—only an unshakable, lingering devotion.

“Ming-ge.” Her voice was soft and sweet, laced with suppressed sobs. “You’re finally back.”

Zhou Ming’s mind went blank with a deafening roar. All reason and caution vanished in an instant.

He strode across the threshold in one swift motion, both hands gripping Liu Ruyan’s shoulders with terrifying force.

Feeling the real body heat beneath his palms, Zhou Ming’s eyes turned crimson.

“Ruyan, is it really you? You didn’t die? Where have you been for these ten years! Your face—how has it not aged a single day in ten years?”

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Liu Ruyan let him hold her, tears streaming down her cheeks in large droplets.

“I did die,” she choked out.

Zhou Ming’s hands went rigid, his scalp tingling. “What did you say?”

“That time at Fragrant Hills International, I really did die at the scar-faced man’s hands. I didn’t even feel the pain—I just lost consciousness.” Liu Ruyan raised her hand, gently tracing the scar at the corner of Zhou Ming’s eye, her fingertips warm.

“But a few days ago, I suddenly woke up in a vast white place.”

“A woman with very long white hair stood before me.”

Zhou Ming’s pupils contracted sharply.

White hair. A woman.

Lily?

Liu Ruyan looked at Zhou Ming’s shocked face and continued: “That woman didn’t say much to me. She just looked at me for a long time, then said one thing.”

“What did she say?” Zhou Ming’s throat was parched.

Liu Ruyan bit her lip, a shyness and blush spreading across her face identical to the one from ten years ago.

“She said, Zhou Ming is a fool, but he’s also a good man. She’s giving this life back to me, and hopes that you… hopes that you can still remember the promise you made in this very room, to marry me.”

Zhou Ming froze.

Memories came flooding back all at once.

That silent night—monsters howling outside the door, a bedroom thick with tension within.

He had been consumed by desire back then, and she had cried in bed, saying she wanted to save her most precious first time for after marriage, for the day official rescue arrived.

He had long assumed Ruyan was dead, had nearly moved past it all in his heart—but he never expected Lily…

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“How could I ever forget.”

Zhou Ming’s tears finally broke free. This iron-blooded man of over six feet was now crying like a fool.

He pulled Liu Ruyan tightly into his arms, his chin resting on her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

“How could I ever forget… I thought you were dead, I thought I’d never have the chance again…”

“Now the rescue has come, and the post-apocalypse is over. Ruyan, don’t worry—I won’t let you suffer a single bit more. I’ll hold the most magnificent wedding for you, and have the whole city of Hangzhou come to watch.”

Liu Ruyan buried her face in Zhou Ming’s broad chest, clinging tightly to his waist.

Her lips found his, and she kissed him deeply.

No hesitation, no reservation—every ounce of feeling poured out in that kiss that bridged life and death.

Sunlight streamed through the glass door of the balcony, falling upon the two of them.

The dust on the coffee table had been scattered by the wind from the door opening moments ago, and the whole room carried a renewed vitality, as if it had come back to life.

It was a long while before the two finally parted.

Zhou Ming turned his head and glanced at the azure sky outside the window.

“Thank you, Lily.”

Zhou Ming murmured the words silently in his heart.

The woman who had given him a second life amidst the ruins, and given him a home—perhaps she would never return.

But he knew that somewhere out there, she was still living on, stubborn and unyielding as ever.

Zhou Ming averted his gaze and looked down at the girl in his arms, whose eyes were filled with nothing but him. His rough, calloused hand clasped hers tightly.

“Ruyan, I’m back.”