As night fell, Lu Chen didn’t take Shen Wanqing back to the neighborhood.
The zombies in the neighborhood had recognized the noise.
At the broken window of Building No.
2, a small patch of blood had accumulated.
It didn’t disperse and looked like they were guarding a feeding spot.
Going back would be like sending oneself into the danger zone.
He led her eastward, walking along the street-facing arcade.
He stopped every step, his ears landing on the ground before his feet.
The street was even quieter than during the day – so quiet that one could hear the soles of shoes scraping against broken glass: one, then another.
Shen Wanqing walked half a step behind him on his right side, her left arm hanging down.
The piece of cloth torn from her white coat had hardened, the blood had turned dark brown, and the edges were pale.
She didn’t say a word, but every twenty or so steps, she would take a very gentle breath.
It wasn’t fear.
It was pain.
“Your wound is burning,” Lu Chen didn’t turn around.
“You also know medicine?”
“I don’t know medicine,” he said.
“I know people.
You’re taking a wrong breath.”
Shen Wanqing was silent for a moment.
“The opening yesterday wasn’t cleaned properly.
Things that got into the wild, if not rinsed and treated within twenty-four hours, will swell.”
“There’s antibiotics in the backpack.”
“Internal use.
It can’t hold the bad flesh.” Her voice was flat.
“It needs to be rinsed.
You need a basin of clean water.”
Clean water.
Lu Chen paused his steps.
He had tasted the water from the faucet – yellow, fishy.
Drinking it would cause diarrhea, and washing the wound would make it worse.
He didn’t dare to take the risk.
“Four hundred meters east, there’s a big supermarket, warehouse-style, two floors.” He said.
“There are water pipes in the back yard, and the warehouse stores rows of water.”
“Are you familiar with it?”
“I’ve had my store on this street for three years,” he said.
“Which rolling shutter door is easy to pick, which back door leads where, I know it with my eyes closed.”
Shen Wanqing glanced at him.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt that this man’s tone when he said these things was steady – like a post driven into the ground.
Halfway there, a zombie emerged from the alley entrance, blocking the two of them.
Its half-face was rotten, and its throat was leaking air in a wheezing sound.
Shen Wanqing tightened her grip on the steel pipe in her hand.
Lu Chen took a step forward first, pulling her back half a step, and already had his other hand on the handle of the knife – he had originally wanted to use the crossbow, but then changed his mind.
He walked towards the zombie.
The zombie pounced quickly, but he saw where it was heading and was half a beat ahead, turning sideways.
In the split second of avoiding it, he used his elbow to strike it behind the neck.
“Crack,” it made a very sharp sound.
That thing was like a piece of wood that had lost its backbone, softening.
Lu Chen stood still, staring at his elbow for two seconds.
Yesterday in the alley, he had used this move too; today, the same move, but he felt – it was light.
It wasn’t like he was hitting bone, but like he was hitting a stack of stacked cardboard.
Shen Wanqing didn’t speak.
She just walked over, lowered her head to look at the misaligned neck bone of the zombie, and looked at him.
“Let’s go.” Lu Chen pushed the knife back into its sheath.
The lights in the supermarket had gone out long ago.
Two emergency lights were still on, dimly illuminating a row of overturned shopping carts at the entrance.
The main entrance was not accessible.
The glass door was shattered by more than half, and corpses were scattered haphazardly inside – both new and old, indicating that the robbery had occurred more than once.
Lu Chen went around to the back alley and found a freight iron door.
A padlock.
He cut the lock frame with the saw blade on the multi-functional knife and pushed the door open.
A smell rushed out.
Not rotten, but sweet.
Sweet to an unpleasant degree, sweet to the point of making one’s stomach churn – dozens or even hundreds of kilograms of rotten fresh produce, slowly fermenting in the dark power outage.
Shen Wanqing covered her nose with her sleeve, but stepped forward a few steps, then immediately retreated, crouched down, and picked up something from the ground and handed it to Lu Chen.
A name tag.
Cashier, surname Zhou.
“There are people inside,” she said, “Don’t step on them.”
The two of them moved along the shelves towards the interior.
On the floor of the fresh produce section, a shadow was curled up, no longer moving, with a thick layer of flies covering it.
Lu Chen avoided it.
He wasn’t afraid of the corpses – the reconnaissance team had seen much worse back then – he just didn’t want to waste energy on a stranger he didn’t know.
When they reached the daily necessities section, suddenly a bell rang in the silence.
Mobile phone.
A very ordinary ringtone was ringing from the pocket of a corpse lying on a shopping cart.
One ring after another.
The light on the screen was shining in the darkness, illuminating the face of the corpse.
Neither of them moved.
The ringtone stopped after the fifth ring.
“…
“No one answered the call,” Shen Wanqing whispered.
“Um,” Lu Chen continued walking forward.
He didn’t stop.
He knew that on the other end of the line, most likely no one was there anymore either.
Most of the shelves in the storage area were empty.
Instant noodles, sausage, biscuits – all gone.
Even the price tags had been torn off – the people who were looting did it quickly and thoroughly.
Lu Chen touched each shelf one by one, his hands never stopping, while calculating in his mind.
He reached for a small medicine cabinet by the wall, the glass had been smashed, and there were only two boxes of band-aids and a bottle of cold medicine that was three years past its expiration date.
“No medicine.” He said.
“As expected.” Shen Wanqing stood in front of a row of empty shelves, her voice lowering.
“Where’s the water?”
Back area.
Fire hydrants, restrooms, staff faucets.
Lu Chen turned on one of the faucets, water gurgled out in a mouthful.
It was yellowish with a tinge of red.
He poured half a bucket, moved closer to smell it.
The stench was even stronger than that in the neighborhood.
He poured the water out, wiped his hands on his pants.
“It can’t be drunk, nor can it be used for flushing.”
Shen Wanqing leaned against the sink, her expression already changing.
She raised her hand to touch her forehead, then felt her pulse, and her eyebrows knitted together.
“38.5 degrees.
I’m right about that.” She said.
“The bad flesh is creeping up on my arm.
You’d better prepare for the worst.”
“What kind of plan?”
“The amputation plan.” She paused.
“Or…
keep me here.”
Lu Chen didn’t respond.
He turned and walked towards the back of the warehouse, saying as he went, “There’s still a cold storage room inside.
I’ll check it out.”
He spoke softly.
Shen Wanqing stood still, watching his back as he disappeared into the shadows of the shelves.
She was accustomed to dealing with life and death, but at that moment, she suddenly wondered – he probably didn’t intend to keep her here.
The cold storage was empty.
The compressor had stopped long ago, the door was open, and there was a thin layer of frost inside.
Lu Chen stood in that cold air, but his mind became clearer.
He pulled out the water bottle from his waist and shook it – it was a small half, filled this morning from the store, with just a few last drops of clean water left.
He came out and handed the water bottle to her: “Drink it.”
“How about you?”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You’re lying.” Shen Wanqing took it, only took a small sip, then handed it back.
“Keep it.”
Neither of them moved the water bottle.
It was placed between them, like a coin that neither of them was willing to claim.
Then, the sound came.
First, a “clang” hit the glass of the main door, then the second and third times, getting closer and closer.
Lu Chen lowered his body and walked back towards the main door, peering through the gap in the shelves –
The entire group of zombies on the street had gathered there at some point.
They were being led by something, crashing into the shattered glass one after another, causing the door frame to creak.
The middle few were abnormal fast, they were runners.
They had learned to avoid fallen companions and squeeze through the gaps.
“The glass can’t hold up.” Shen Wanqing said.
“Retreat to the back door.”
The two retreated.
But the alley outside the back door also transmitted sounds – dragging, water-like footsteps, coming from both ends.
Both entrances were blocked.
Lu Chen quickly scanned around.
He pushed down the shelves one by one, piled them behind the main door; he pushed a whole cold storage to the back door, blocking it stubbornly.
The metal sheet and the ground rubbed against each other, making a harsh, long sound.
Shen Wanqing was on the inside, using a shopping cart and rice bags to build a second wall.
The injured arm couldn’t exert much strength, so she placed the rice bags on her knees, one by one, stacking them up.
Sweat trickled down from her forehead, her back was all wet.
“Don’t push on.”
“Don’t move your hand, you’ll be useless.” She gasped.
“I know my own arm.”
Halfway through building the wall, Shen Wanqing’s legs gave out, and she fell onto the shelves.
Lu Chen stepped over and caught her.
Her forehead was terrifyingly hot.
Her eyes were gone, her lips were dry, her hands grasped his arm tightly.
“Medicine…
is useless…” she stammered.
“Water…
can’t be washed clean…
the poison is inside…”
The glass was being pushed inwards inch by inch.
Glass fragments burst in through the gaps, making a “dingding” sound on the ground.
The first runner pushed in half of its body, roaring and charging towards them.
Lu Chen held her with one hand and pulled out a knife.
Suddenly, he felt that what he had been calculating these days – **calculating water, medicine, and escape routes** – was useless at this moment.
He couldn’t figure out that the hardest part of saving someone wasn’t fighting, but watching her deteriorate inch by inch, and you could do nothing.
Just at that moment when this thought sank into his mind, he blacked out.
That familiar blackness.
Cold, heavy, like a drop of ink dropped into clear water.
But this time, that dark, dark “room” was different.
It wasn’t empty – it was a little larger, the walls receded back a bit.
And in the deepest part, at some point, a little bit of light appeared.
Extremely small, just a dot.
He “walked” over.
It wasn’t fire.
It was a spring – a small pool of water silently gushing out from the bottom of the darkness, so clear it was unbelievable, with a thin layer of white mist floating on the surface.
A thought appeared out of nowhere in his mind, like it had been waiting there all along:
**Spirit Spring.** **
He didn’t know where it came from, but he knew for sure – this pool of water could cleanse and heal.
He had said earlier, “It will increase,” and that was exactly what this referred to.
He had partially lifted Shen Wanqing up, his palm reaching towards the spring.
When he raised his hand again, his palm was holding a handful of water.
The water was cold.
Holding it in his hand, it felt as cold as the early morning of a whole autumn rain, scooped up.
“Drink.” He held her nape.
Shen Wanqing’s consciousness was hazy, but when the water reached her lips, her body recognized what it was before her mind did.
Her throat moved, and she swallowed.
Just one gulp.
Suddenly, she coughed violently, as if something was being pushed out of her lungs.
Her eyelids trembled, opened, and the layer of fog in her eyes faded a little.
“This is…” She spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Clean water you mentioned.” Lu Chen didn’t elaborate.
He poured the remaining water on the wound on her left arm.
The cold water seeped into the pale wound.
The redness and swelling gradually receded at a visible rate.
The blood mixed with the filth was flushed out and flowed on the ground – it was something a doctor like her could recognize at a glance: **The bad flesh is being pushed out.
**
Shen Wanqing stared at her arm, her nails digging into her palm.
She didn’t shout or cry.
She merely slowly, very slowly raised her head and looked at Lu Chen.
In that gaze, for the first time, there was something else – not gratitude, but fear.
It was the kind of fear that arises when you stand in front of someone who, casually, does something beyond common sense, and you suddenly realize that you can’t understand him at all.
“Who are you exactly?”
“Survivors,” Lu Chen said.
“Like you.”
There was a loud bang at the main entrance.
The freezer was pushed back by a foot.
Shen Wanqing stood up, supporting the shelves.
The fever had subsided, and that arm regained its strength.
“Wall,” she said.
“Build more.”
That night, they turned the supermarket into a metal box.
The main entrance, the back door, and the side door were all blocked off, leaving only a tiny observation hole.
Lu Chen was on guard, his eyes fixed on the outside in the dim light, watching as the zombies rubbed their bloodstains on the glass, layer upon layer.
In the late night, Shen Wanqing took over and replaced him to sleep.
Lu Chen only closed his eyes for two minutes before waking up – the strange feeling that was spreading from his bones kept him from sleeping soundly.
He got up in the dark, walked to the observation hole, and took over her shift again.
Shen Wanqing didn’t argue.
She sat down next to the rice bag and soon fell asleep.
Her breathing was very light and steady, like someone who had temporarily put their life on hold.
Lu Chen stood in the darkness for a long time.
Shen Wanqing didn’t sleep for long.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes.
With the dim light from the emergency lamp, she looked at him for a while.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Tomorrow.” Lu Chen said.
“There’s not enough water, not enough medicine, and not enough walls.”
“You’ve been thinking about tomorrow.” She said.
“The living people I know, most of them only think about the next hour.”
“So they all died.”
Shen Wanqing was silent for a moment, then rested her head on the rice bag.
“What if we can’t survive tomorrow either?”
“Then the day after tomorrow.” Lu Chen said.
“Anyway, don’t die today.”
She didn’t say anything else.
In the darkness, only the two of them counted each other’s breaths, waiting for dawn.
He remembered the shelves in the store, and the refrigerator he had lifted today.
He tried bending a section of the iron pipe – it originally needed two people to bend, but with his strength, he twisted it into a small arc.
He put the iron pipe back in place without a word.
As dawn approached, he felt the “table” move again.
Not during the day today – it was the moment before sunrise, when the light hadn’t yet entered.
His limbs felt warm first, then his heart sank, and the old wound on his back gradually loosened.
It was like someone in the darkness was tightening a string for him.
**The next day.
**
Outside the window, the morning light fell on the shelves and on the back of his hand.
He tried to clench his fist – the pressure in his palm was a bit stronger than yesterday.
He raised his hand and grasped the corner of the two-hundred-kilogram freezer, alone, with one hand, and straightened it out.
“Fill up everything that can hold water.” He said.
The kettle, several empty oil drums, and plastic bottles picked up from the ground – he carefully placed each one into that dark space, and when he took them out, they were all filled with clean water.
The water swayed in the container, reflecting the morning light, and was so clean that it seemed unreal.
Shen Wanqing took a bucket from her, weighed it, and said nothing.
She just tightened the lid and moved it to the corner – as if she was adding the first piece of furniture to this “home” that had only existed for two nights.
Shen Wanqing sat on the rice bag and watched him, asking no questions.
She just lowered her head and looked at the half-healed wound on her own body.
“It’s dawn.” She said.
“Um.”
“We survived the second night.”
Lu Chen walked to the observation window.
The zombies outside were scattered in the morning light, moving slowly.
He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and looked at the street…
Then his body froze.
At the end of the street, in the gray morning fog, two lights appeared.
Not firelight.
It was car headlights.
The engine sound grew closer and closer, overpowering the entire dead street, and was now inching towards this supermarket.