Song Jinhe responded with a small smile. It really showed how important it was to have a doctor in the group.
Jiang Shian looked at the gruesome wound on her hand. “There’s a dental clinic nearby; they should have anesthetics and surgical sutures there.”
“I have some.” Song Jinhe reached for her backpack, using it as a relay for her space to pull out the supplies. “Lidocaine, threaded needles, and the necessary tools.”
This was the benefit of having stayed in the hospital for so long—when she was hoarding supplies, she had been thorough. While she could compromise on food and daily necessities, medical supplies were something she refused to settle on.
Song Jinhe had thought that peeling off the gauze—which was stuck to the wound by dried blood and tissue fluid—was painful enough.
She only learned what true pain was when the anesthetic was injected. Her entire arm felt as if it no longer belonged to her.
“It’ll be over soon,” a low voice rumbled beside her.
“Are you a doctor too?”
Too? Jiang Shian set down the syringe. His slender fingers, encased in sterile gloves, picked up a pair of forceps to grip the suture needle. “Not exactly.”
Oh… Song Jinhe felt a surge of worry.
“I’ve studied it, don’t worry.” Seeing her avert her gaze from the wound, Jiang Shian didn’t mention that the subject he had excelled at most was anatomy.
The anesthetic took effect, and the suturing process was painless. Jiang Shian’s hands remained perfectly steady as he handled the tweezers and forceps.
Outside the window, clouds swirled, casting flickering shadows over his focused features.
Local anesthetics wear off quickly, and the wound was severe; if he didn’t finish the stitches fast, she would start to feel it. He methodically tied the knots and snipped the thread before setting the tools down and bandaging the wound. “Don’t let it get wet before the stitches come out.”
“Thank you.” Song Jinhe pulled her clothes back on and asked sincerely, “Do you need anything?”
She couldn’t have treated the wound this well herself, so it was only right to offer something in exchange.
“Do you remember the process of your Talent awakening?” Jiang Shian asked, removing his gloves.
Song Jinhe nodded and described the situation at the time. “Is it that those who endure it become Talents, and those who don’t become zombies?”
“Humans become zombies after they die, so you’re not wrong to put it that way. Though there is a connection, they are essentially different. You can see it through DNA and neurological comparisons.”
Jiang Shian lowered his eyes and said calmly, “The people who first showed ‘infection’ symptoms will not become Talents, even if they survived past 48 hours.”
“Only about $1.5\%$ of the human genome actually codes for proteins, while viral fragments account for over $8\%$. Evolution is a complex process. As for where these viruses came from, there is still no definitive explanation.”
He laid the information out plainly, but Song Jinhe didn’t quite follow.
“The original zombie virus had no source of infection; it wasn’t a transmitted disease. It’s a virus that comes from within human genes. You could say Talents are those who won the genetic lottery. Compared to ordinary people, they are better adapted to this world.”
Because they couldn’t face the truth and the state of the world, some of those closest to the discovery chose to opt out in despair, leaving behind suicide notes and donating their bodies for research.
Song Jinhe understood that last part.
It was only at this moment that she truly felt a sense of powerlessness.
Originally, she didn’t have much of a connection to this world; it was already an apocalypse when she arrived. Even though she knew things could never return to the way they were, her only thought was how to survive. It was the same hospital, but two similar yet completely different worlds. Who could say what the reason was?
“By the way, let me remind you—that group from the commercial center has associates in the city. If they see zombies that died in unusual ways, they’ll get interested in your gear.”
Seeing Song Jinhe pick up her backpack to stand, Jiang Shian spoke again. “You’d better stay put for the next two days to keep the wound from reopening.”
Song Jinhe nodded. “What are your plans? It’ll be dark soon.”
“In this situation, two people are always safer than one.”
Song Jinhe couldn’t argue with that. Given her current condition, she wouldn’t get far. Staying together was indeed the best choice. “I’m going ‘zero-yuan shopping’—I mean, looking for supplies. You coming?”
Jiang Shian stood up and walked out of the tavern with her. For some reason, even though it hadn’t rained for two days, the sky was darkening rapidly.
Noticing Song Jinhe beside him, stiff-armed and struggling to shoulder her backpack with a “tenacious-despite-disability” vibe, Jiang Shian said calmly, “You can use an easier way to take things.”
At his words, Song Jinhe’s expression shifted slightly, and her eyelashes fluttered. “You really did see it back then.”
This made things difficult. She likely couldn’t beat him in a fight, and there was no guarantee he wasn’t hiding a handgun or grenades. Setting aside whether she could succeed, it didn’t feel right to betray someone who had helped her twice. Besides, they had a common enemy now, and this man clearly had plenty of his own secrets.
Seeing her pull a knife from thin air didn’t mean he knew everything. As for the fact that she could “drop” her space upon death, Song Jinhe would never tell anyone.
The glass door of the dental clinic was open, and blood stained the pristine white walls. Inside, the zombies caught the scent of fresh food and immediately became active.
As they opened the first surgery room, a zombie covered in blood—its lips torn away to reveal black gums—lunged forward impatiently. Jiang Shian stepped in front, his dagger sinking cleanly into the zombie’s head. The entire process took less than two seconds.
Song Jinhe tried to keep her right hand still, relying on one hand to gather supplies. Her usual efficiency in “zero-yuan shopping” was significantly dampened.
Painkillers, anti-inflammatories, disposable gloves, masks, and surgical instruments were all packed into the bag. She had already checked the remaining capacity of her space; once the wound on her hand improved in a few days, she could search this area more thoroughly.
The pain in her hand was intensifying. Song Jinhe swallowed a painkiller dry and continued forward, kitchen knife in her left hand.
By the time they left the dental clinic, it was very dark. The groans of zombies and the sound of wind rattling doors and windows became clearer. Song Jinhe checked her watch; it wasn’t even 5:00 PM yet, and it didn’t look like rain.
“It’s getting dark early.” She remembered this happening in the past, but not this soon. A bad omen settled in her gut.
The two quickened their pace, returning to the tavern and hauling a cabinet to block the door. The howling wind whistled through the alley, and a familiar, sharp screech sounded like a death knell.
It was the special zombie she had seen that day—and from the sound of it, there was more than one in the area.
Song Jinhe pulled down all the curtains. It was too dark outside; heavy clouds blocked all light as if a shroud had been draped over the world. They could see nothing, hearing only the deathly cries of the zombies.
“How many are nearby?” Jiang Shian asked. He had started a fire in the small kitchen and used the available ingredients to cook two servings of pasta and open a can of meat.
“One that makes that screaming sound, and seven or eight ordinary ones. They’re very close. My perception range is honestly no better than just listening to the noise.”
Song Jinhe wasn’t used to eating with her left hand, but the pasta was surprisingly delicious. An emergency light, dimmed to its lowest setting, sat on the table. Their shadows stretched across the yellowed walls beside the windows, which had been covered with two layers of tablecloths for extra concealment.