【Abroad, these things are called “pollution.” They cause various kinds of mutations—what we see as Mushroom Disease and “zombies.” At present, pollution cannot be treated, cannot be defended against, and cannot be resisted. It is almost unsolvable.】
【City order and national governance are collapsing under the impact of pollution. A chaotic apocalypse is about to arrive. Dear Samael, don’t you think this is truly our era?】
Xie Yanhán looked at the phone screen where messages silently popped up, the faint glow reflecting his pale, indifferent face.
【Stop thinking. Join us. What you want, what you wish to do, who you want to kill, what you want to erase—we can help you achieve it all. Let’s build our own dynasty in the apocalypse together.】
【Waiting for your reply—your loving Butcher.】
Without expression, Xie Yanhán deleted all message records. At that moment, another message popped up.
【After all, besides us, who else would accept a cold-blooded freak like you?】
He stared at that line. His fingertip paused.
“Xie Yanhán.” From the kitchen, Jiang Sui’s voice suddenly came. She poked her head out and asked, “Can you eat ginger? I’m going to make stir-fried pork with young ginger.”
His finger pressed down, deleting the message.
He lifted his head. His eyes were dark and heavy.
Jiang Sui was still in a hurry to cook. “Have you never eaten it before?”
He replied flatly, “Mm.”
“Then try it tonight.” She withdrew her head. “I also made pork rib soup. If you don’t eat ginger, just eat more meat.”
Xie Yanhán was too thin—he needed to gain weight quickly. The apocalypse would arrive soon; without enough flesh on his body, he wouldn’t be able to withstand it. And if he got sick, it would only trouble her.
So it turned out he couldn’t eat ginger.
He would swallow it expressionlessly, then his face and ears would flush red from the spice.
Jiang Sui found it interesting. He didn’t even blush when eating spicy chicken earlier, but ginger affected him.
She served him a bowl of rib soup, plenty of meat inside. “Eat this instead. Eat more.”
Hurry up and gain weight, so he won’t become a burden later if he gets too weak.
Xie Yanhán lowered his gaze at the soup. It was winter melon rib soup, the broth clear and light, with a few green scallions floating on top. He had only ever seen this kind of soup on TV dramas.
On TV, he had also seen peeling shrimp and picking fish bones—acts that symbolized care and intimacy.
He looked at the soup for a while, then lifted his eyes to Jiang Sui.
She was eating while scrolling on her phone, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she had seen bad news.
Just as she was about to look up, he quickly lowered his gaze.
“The community group said the opposite residential complex was attacked. Over twenty people were killed by infected individuals.” Jiang Sui said heavily. “That infected one released red mist—many people got a new type of Mushroom Disease.”
The way pollution spreads was always strange and unpredictable.
“I can’t pick up the ribs,” Xie Yanhán suddenly said, changing the topic.
He slowly raised his eyes, watching her reaction.
“Oh, I’ll debone the meat for you then.” Jiang Sui didn’t think much of it at all. She put down her chopsticks, went to the kitchen, brought out a clean bowl and utensils, and started separating the meat for him.
She did it naturally, almost habitually, as if she had done this before—probably when taking care of elderly people.
Xie Yanhán picked up a piece of tender meat, put it into his mouth, and slowly chewed and swallowed.
So this is what it tastes like.
That night, their second night of living together, the temperature dropped.
Jiang Sui curled up on the sofa under a thin summer blanket, feeling cold.
There were only two summer quilts in the apartment. She had forgotten to buy more yesterday, so she quickly ordered blankets and thick quilts through next-day delivery apps.
She draped her jacket over the blanket and continued shopping.
Last night, the group chat was only about supplies and complaints. Tonight, however, people were talking about infected cases.
The opposite building had suffered horrific losses. Their own complex wasn’t much better—yesterday a family of three, and today another household tragedy.
In that case, it was the child who mutated, killing the mother and grandmother before being killed by the father. The father later left the complex with the bodies and never returned.
At first, people still thought the situation could be controlled. Just temporary lockdown measures.
But now, everyone realized things were far worse than expected.
To confirm their fears, the supply chain broke down the next day. Delivery trucks didn’t arrive. Residents grew restless, while distant gunfire echoed more frequently.
“They say those things are getting more and more… everywhere—streets, neighborhoods. They attack supply trucks, overturn them, drag drivers out and eat them alive.”
“I’ve seen those videos too… what if our supplies…”
Jiang Sui’s supply truck never arrived.
A quick search online showed similar reports everywhere.
That night, gunfire had almost never stopped. In the middle of the night, screams echoed again—another household had mutated. Special police arrived and carried out seven or eight body bags.
News about infected outbreaks flooded the internet.
People were mutating, attacking others, vehicles were being overturned constantly.
Despite repeated announcements about lockdown rules, some still tried to flee South City.
Order was collapsing faster than expected.
Without supply chains, hunger and panic would push people into even more chaos.
Residents argued loudly, demanding the property management and security solve the problem. The staff could only helplessly repeat explanations.
It was useless.
Jiang Sui stood at a distance watching. Suddenly, she felt someone looking at her.
It was that same fat man again.
He smiled and walked toward her.
Alert, Jiang Sui pulled a kitchen knife from her bag, gesturing threateningly: come closer and I’ll cut you.
The man stopped, his smile faltering. He turned and approached another girl instead.
That girl, also from the same building, had been harassed multiple times. With desperate frustration, she finally said:
“The girl you were looking at earlier is new. Her boyfriend is in a wheelchair—he’s disabled.”
She continued, “You can go bring her something next time, talk to her more, show concern. She’ll definitely be moved… after all, how can a weak girl like her take care of a disabled man?”
The fat man’s eyes lit up. He grinned.
“You’re right. That makes sense. So… do you need me to take care of you too? I heard your parents aren’t well either. I could come fix your pipes…”