A Wasteland Punk’s Whirlwind Wedding

Lin Wanqing couldn't talk him out of it, so she helped him slowly to his feet. Gu Lin's legs were still a little wobbly, and he swayed with every step, like a duckling just learning to walk. Still, he stubbornly kept his back straight, afraid someone would see him and laugh. Returning Heart Valley was bustling. In the clearing at the entrance, several strong young men were building new wooden houses for the refugees who had arrived last week. Nearby, a group of children gathered around a middle-aged man, listening to his stories about the past and bursting into laughter now and then. By the cooking stoves, Auntie Zhang and several women were busy at work. Steam rose in wisps, carrying the savory aroma of food.

It was a scene Gu Lin had never dared to imagine before. Before the apocalypse, he had been a street kid from an orphanage, drifting through each day without a clue where tomorrow would find him. After the apocalypse came, his sole goal had been to stay alive: scavenging supplies, evading demon beasts, and avoiding the ravages of war. He had never thought he could have a “home” like this.