After drifting in and out of sleep for a little over an hour, Song Jinhe’s temperature dropped slightly at five in the morning, though a persistent buzzing continued to ring in her ears.
Song Jinhe struggled to put on her coat and donned a face mask before seeking out Cheng Yan. “It peaked at 41.1°C. It’s 39°C now. I took medicine last night; it didn’t work.”
Cheng Yan took the thermometer. Looking at the prominent red capillaries in the whites of Song Jinhe’s eyes, his tone grew heavy. “I’ve never seen an infected person with a fever of 40 degrees whose mind remained as clear as yours.”
They knew too little about the zombie virus. Or rather, they hadn’t had the time to learn.
“Rest for now. We’ll observe for a few more hours.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Song Jinhe took another dose of medicine. When she woke again, Zhang Yi had brought her a bowl of freshly cooked porridge.
Hearing the faint sound of crying outside, Song Jinhe asked, “Wu Dayong and the others who went out yesterday didn’t return?”
Zhang Yi paused, then nodded. “Their families are asking for them. They want us to go out and look for them.”
As Song Jinhe took the stainless steel lunch box, a frantic pounding erupted on the door.
“They only went out because you said the mall had supplies! Now that something’s happened, you’re just going to hide in there and ignore it? Open the door! If anything happens to my husband, how are we supposed to survive as a widow and child?”
“Little Song, it’s Sister Zhou. What will it take for you to go out and find them? We can negotiate. Please, just open the door, okay?”
“Sister Tian, you should know exactly how dangerous it is out there,” Cheng Yan interjected. “No one can guarantee safety. We have no obligation to handle this!“
It was the first time Cheng Yan had spoken so bluntly. The crowd, accustomed to his good-natured side, was instantly rendered speechless.
“Sister Tian, how can you blame Cheng Yan and the others? They don’t owe you anything,” Qiu Ling stepped forward to say. “We only managed to bring back food yesterday thanks to Cheng Yan’s information. Otherwise, we’d be starving today.”
Seeing that no one around her was willing to speak up for her, Tian Hui looked utterly helpless. She left, cursing and crying.
With peace finally restored, Song Jinhe leaned against the lounge bed and closed her eyes. “Go on out. I’ll handle lunch myself; you don’t need to bring food.”
Zhang Yi shook her head. “You need someone here. If there’s a problem, I can notify Cheng Yan immediately. Brother Peng is in charge of the cooking.”
Seeing Zhang Yi’s serious expression, Song Jinhe felt a flicker of complicated emotion. “Aren’t you afraid? I might suddenly turn into a zombie just like those people in the hospital.”
Zhang Yi was silent for a moment. “Initially, I thought I was going to die in the hospital. Before the signal was cut, I called my family. I only heard their screams and them telling me to find a place to hide and not to come home. And the day before that… my mother passed away in her hospital bed from cancer.”
She forced a small smile. “I only saw hope when I escaped the hospital with you. If something happens to you all, I won’t be able to face this kind of world alone.”
“Join the zombie ranks, climb the ladder, and hunt others down—it’s better than being left as a skeleton,” Song Jinhe said softly, opening her lunch box. “I thought the same thing during that day and night I spent in the cabinet.”
But… a healthy body and life were too precious to her.
In her original world, her parents had divorced civilly when she was young and remarried separately. Neither wanted her, but they never let her lack for money. With her congenital heart disease, she hadn’t been a “burden” to anyone for long.
As for this parallel world, everything was much the same, except she didn’t come from a wealthy background and her body had been healthy—until now.
In the hospital, “she” had tried calling her parents too. One call went unanswered; the other was a cacophony of noise on the way to a shelter, followed by a piercing crash and then silence.
“Stop dawdling! Walk faster!”
“Okay, okay.” Wu Dayong shrunk his neck, walking at the very front, trembling with every step.
A hoarse roar suddenly echoed in the dark, cold fire exit. Looking ahead, a group of zombies emerged from a side passage—tattered clothes, ravenous expressions. Everyone’s pupils constricted.
“You motherf—! Are you leading us into a zombie nest on purpose?” The Axe Man flew into a rage, grabbing Wu Dayong by the collar with one hand and raising his axe with the other.
“No! We didn’t, truly!” Wu Dayong’s face was deathly pale, his body shaking as he explained. “We’re here too, how would we dare walk toward zombies? There were no zombies here when we passed through. I don’t know where they came from!”
The Axe Man scrutinized Wu Dayong. Seeing that his terror didn’t seem faked and realizing he was still useful, he released him. At a signal from the burly leader, the Axe Man turned and swung his axe into the neck of the man wearing glasses, Fang Liang’ao.
“AAAHHH!!!”
A blood-curdling scream rang out.
Fresh red blood instantly sprayed across the faces of Wu Dayong and Cao Ji. They were paralyzed with fear as they watched the Axe Man kick the dying Fang Liang’ao toward the zombies.
The scent of blood drove the zombies into a frenzy. They swarmed over him, eagerly tearing into Fang Liang’ao’s body and ripping out his organs.
Wu Dayong and Cao Ji followed the leader’s group in a frantic run. When they finally stopped, the way they looked at each other had changed.
They only needed one guide. If this happened again, it would be one of them. To stay alive, they would have to be the first to push the other out to feed the zombies.
In this state of mutual suspicion and high mental tension, Wu Dayong and Cao Ji led the burly man and his crew a bit further. Any stray zombies they encountered were quickly dealt with by the leader’s men.
“It’s that door up ahead.” Despite his fear, Wu Dayong felt a surge of sycophancy.
He had instructed his wife before leaving to wait by the door and open it for him. The woman wouldn’t dare disobey him.
The burly leader produced a handgun, pointed it at Wu Dayong’s head, and stood to the side, gesturing for him to call out to the door.
Wu Dayong nodded, adjusted his expression, and stepped forward. “We’re back! Open up, quick!”
Tian Hui, having been snubbed by Cheng Yan, had gone outside to seek help, hoping someone would help her find her husband for the sake of her child.
In such a dangerous situation, no one was willing. After a round of asking, Tian Hui stood by the closed iron door, alternating between cursing Song Jinhe and wondering where her husband had gone, using the anger to vent her worry.
Wu Dayong’s wife, Shen Yingxiu, stood nearby with tearful eyes, not saying a word.
Suddenly, a familiar voice drifted in from behind the door. Shen Yingxiu’s expression froze; even she couldn’t tell if what she felt was relief or regret.
“Open the door! Shen Yingxiu, what are you doing?” Wu Dayong pounded on the door panel, his bullying tone carrying a hint of nervousness.
Shen Yingxiu’s arm instinctively flinched. Tian Hui rushed forward to move the tables and chairs, unlatched the bolt, and opened the door—only to see Wu Dayong, Cao Ji, and a group of strange faces.
Tian Hui’s excited expression went cold. She already realized something was wrong, but she still asked with a sliver of hope, “Where is my Old Jiang?”