Huang Zitao was lost in his own world as he braved the storm, venturing boldly from his friend's apartment to wherever it was he'd parked his car. As he went, he couldn't help but peek down alleys and in through dark windows, intrigued by the mysterious aura of the empty city late on a stormy night. When he peeped down one of these alleyways his keen eyes could make out a dark shape secluded in the shadows at the back. Thoughts of gangs and murderers crossed Zitao's mind, and he imagined malicious strangers waiting in the shadows to pounce on unwary citizens like him, but he allowed his overwhelming curiosity to get the better of him and he ventured a short distance down the alley. He stopped when he was a fair few metres away from the shape, twirling his umbrella nervously, and was able to make out black fur, or fuzz or whatever it was, slicked down by the pouring rain. Considerate in his own way, Zitao wondered if it was perhaps an abandoned animal, and wondered if it needed help. Even if it was just some abandoned object, he was too curious to leave now, and so he steadily closed the distance between himself and the object until he realised the fur was indeed hair, belonging to a man who lay presumably unconscious in the rain.

 

Stepping lightly, Zitao made his way to the man's side, gulping when he saw a knife sitting in the man's palm. He was some sort of gang member, Zitao guessed, and he figured that the stranger had suffered an attack of some sort. His suspicions were confirmed when a gap in the clouds allowed the moon to illuminate the alleyway briefly, highlighting scarlet blood that the rain churned into the puddles of water forming by the stranger's body. It was at this point that Zitao began a fierce debate in his mind, compassion versus common sense.

 

He probably bought this on himself, just leave him here. It has nothing to do with you. one half of him argued sensibly.

But if I leave him here it's as good as killing him. Just because he's in a gang it doesn't necessarily mean he's a bad person. his compassionate half argued back.

Listen to yourself. Kind ordinary people don't get into knife fights in alleyways. This could be an ambush. How do you know there aren't more of them sniffing around?

That thought made Zitao jump up and glance around wildly. When he turned back to the stranger he stayed motionless for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Inspecting the stranger carefully, Zitao made his decision. I'm going to help him. He wasn't exactly sure why he had made this decision with such conviction, but he at least knew that he wouldn't be able to cope with his conscience if he did leave.

 

He frowned slightly and reached forwards to poke the stranger in the cheek. "Uh... Excuse me sir? Are... Are you awake?" When no response was received, he blushed slightly, feeling a little stupid for expecting a reply. "Okay, uh, listen sir, my name is Zitao, I'm going to help you, so, uh, please don't hurt me if you wake up, okay?" He wasn't sure how it worked, but Zitao was pretty sure he had read somewhere that unconscious people could hear you if you talked to them. Raising his eyes to the now-obscured moon and muttering a quick prayer to the gods, Zitao put down his umbrella and awkwardly hooked the handle through his belt before shuffling around and hoisting the man up, grunting with effort as he slung the man on to his back. He hesitated before scooping the knife up as well. Maybe he could use it to chop vegetables.

 

Zitao took strained steps back to the edge of the sidewalk, already panting. The stranger was bigger than he was, and he was heavy. Zitao wondered how much further it was to his car and whether he could make it, and then banished the thoughts from his mind. He would make it. Failure was not an option. Willing himself on, Zitao blinked in an effort to banish the rain from his eyes and began the slow journey back to his car, trying his best not to imagine the damage blood and rainwater would be doing to his nice jeans and his leather jacket

.

Eventually he did make it to his car and awkwardly let the stranger roll onto the bonnet so he could fumble in his pocket for his keys. Pulling them out triumphantly, he unlocked the car and opened the door to the back seat first, flicking on the light inside the car. Zitao dug around in the boot of the car, thankful to find towels. He normally used them when the dog travelled in the car so that the seats wouldn't be ruined, but he was sure the stranger wouldn't mind.

 

He went around the front of the car and hoisted the man bridal-style into his arms, thankful there was nobody else around. Carefully Zitao laid the man onto the towels and wriggled around him in the cramped space, pulling the doors closed in an effort to keep the car warm. "Ah, sir, you're so hurt..." he muttered worriedly, and the compassionate side of him took over as he did his best to warm up the stranger, ruffling his hair dry and wrapping him in the towels.

 

Zitao leaned back and took stock of the situation, locating two wounds on the stranger; one on his shoulder and one on his lower leg. He muttered a curse as he realised he only had one towel left to wrap up any injuries, and decided to go with the one on his shoulder. After he had done this he hissed in slight irritation, knowing he couldn't just leave the man's leg wound undressed. "Ah, stranger, the things I'm doing for you already..." he sighed and shrugged off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head and tearing it into strips, using the makeshift bandage to dress his leg wound. 

 

Satisfied with his handiwork, Zitao pulled his jacket back on and shivered at the cool leather against his skin. Climbing into the driver's seat, he plugged the keys into the ignition and adjusted the mirror so he could see the stranger. It would be just his luck, he mused, if the stranger woke up while he was driving and decided Zitao would be better off dead. "I'll drive slowly, okay sir?" he called to the unconscious figure. As he started driving carefully back to his apartment, he wondered if taking him to a hospital would be a good idea. Probably not - anybody could recognise the stranger and he could be locked up anyway. Or, even worse, they could disregard Zitao's story and lock him up as a criminal as well. This was an unlikely scenario, he knew that, but he wasn't taking any chances. He had a distant cousin who he knew was a doctor of some sort, and Zitao decided it was better to owe him a favour and have the stranger recover in his house than take any chances with a hospital.

 

"Sir, I have a cousin who knows how to help you, so I'm not going to take you to a hospital just in case. I'm sorry if that's a bad choice, but I just want to help you, sir." Zitao ventured cautiously. "You don't have to worry, my cousin is really good at his job. You're going to be fine, so don't worry at all."

Wufan didn't respond, and once again Zitao felt very foolish for trying to converse with an unconscious person. "Oh, Zitao, what have you gotten yourself into?" he muttered to himself quietly.