Fu Yinli, who had almost been treated like livestock, leaned against the widened bed. His eyes were already fully awake.
“…Will I still get a chance like this in the future?”
“Hehe~” Ruan Zhe laughed. “You’re kind of funny sometimes. I meant that next time, we could build a stove in the farm. When we have free time, we can cook there.”
It was also a way to save the RV’s energy. But building a stove required firewood, tools, and materials—and unfortunately, they had none of those.
“If you want it, we can do it,” Fu Yinli said softly, turning his head to look at her lying beside him.
Ruan Zhe didn’t even get to fully process that unusually gentle gaze before everything went dark. Time was up.
When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted by dense tree trunks—straight and tall. Pines and firs dominated the forest. The canopy formed a continuous layer overhead, slicing the sky into fragmented patches.
The air was fresh after rain, mixed with the scent of pine resin and decaying leaves—humid but not unpleasant. Soft sunlight filtered down.
Wait—sunlight?
They had been worried about a heavy storm. They couldn’t choose where the RV stopped. What if supplies weren’t enough? By the time their crops grew, they might already be dead.
It was the combination of torrential rain, earthquakes, and zombies that had been killing people so quickly.
But now… was it not raining anymore?
As usual, they didn’t get out immediately. They observed for a while from inside the RV. Only after confirming nothing unusual was happening did they open the door.
“We’re in a forest,” Ruan Zhe said, stepping onto a thick layer of pine needles. It felt as soft as a luxury carpet.
The RV had stopped at the end of an almost invisible dirt path. Dense forest surrounded them on both sides. Ahead was a faint trail half-covered by fallen leaves. Behind them, the path narrowed into the woods.
It was quiet. No sign of people. Even bird calls were sparse.
They walked a little farther—and the RV soon disappeared from view.
Where the hell had this thing taken them?!
“If we could live here…” Fu Yinli mused, scanning the surroundings. There were resources in the mountains, but he had no survival experience, and everything seemed difficult.
Even Ruan Zhe, who had lived in the countryside before, wasn’t optimistic. In novels, people surviving in forests always had billions of supplies stocked in advance. She didn’t dare be that reckless.
“We?” she pointed at herself. “We’d die very quickly.”
“The RV wouldn’t just bring us somewhere useless. Look on the bright side—at least there are no zombies,” Fu Yinli said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
Ruan Zhe nodded. “Then let’s see what we can collect.”
With no rain, they might be able to find wild vegetables or fruit.
The forest air, washed clean by rain, rushed into their lungs. After days of confinement, both of them took deep breaths of fresh air.
Their steps made no sound on the soft ground, but they could feel their feet sinking slightly. They had changed into rain boots.
Sunlight slipped through the canopy, landing on moss-covered fallen logs and wild mushrooms pushing up from the rotting leaves.
“Pick them or not?” Fu Yinli asked after they walked about fifty meters, where they had already seen several clusters of mushrooms.
Ruan Zhe knew a few types, but not many, and didn’t dare pick randomly.
She looked speechless. “Fu Yinli, the brighter the mushroom, the more poisonous it is. Eat that and we’ll die together right here.”
Fu Yinli coughed awkwardly, masking his embarrassment. He stood up and casually crushed the mushrooms underfoot.
“We should gather firewood. Survival in the wild requires fire.”
Tch. Showing off again, she thought—but still nodded. “Let’s go get tools.”
They had a chainsaw and an axe in the RV, originally intended as weapons.
Fu Yinli took the chainsaw and kept a claw hammer at his waist. Ruan Zhe carried the axe and some rope.
The forest floor was full of dry branches, broken logs, and fallen saplings. Ruan Zhe picked up usable wood, bundling it with rope and leaving it by the path for later retrieval.
Fu Yinli found a log as thick as a man’s thigh.
He grabbed it with both hands and lifted it with a low stance.
What terrifying strength.
Ruan Zhe handed him the axe. “Put it down first—we’ll split it and carry it.”
“Or use the hammer,” she added.
Fu Yinli glanced at the tiny claw hammer—smaller than his palm—then at the log thicker than his thigh.
“You’re joking.”
“Have you ever seen wilderness survival shows? You use the back of the hammer as a wedge. Hammer it in, and the wood splits along the grain.”
Fu Yinli crouched, placed the hammer against one end of the wood, found a stone, and struck it repeatedly.
Nothing happened.
“Did I do it wrong?” he asked.
Only after putting in all that effort did he ask that.
Ruan Zhe stepped forward and examined the grain. “You didn’t do it wrong. You have to follow the growth rings. Hit it from here.”
She adjusted his angle, her hand covering his.
Fu Yinli struck again—and with a sharp crack, the wood split cleanly along the grain.
Admiration and warmth appeared on his face.
“Wife, you know so much. In the apocalypse, I’ll be relying on you.”
He used to call her that often, so she was used to it. She waved it off with a smile. “You learned it?”
He nodded.
“Good. Next time, use the axe instead. Hehe.”
She was just showing off a little, feeling a bit pleased watching someone so capable in business listen to her so attentively.
Fu Yinli laughed softly. He felt she had become more playful lately, but he didn’t mind at all.
They gathered some mushrooms Ruan Zhe recognized, but found very little fruit—whatever existed had been battered by the storm.
A pile of firewood was soon stacked in front of the RV, and they set up a small shelter beside it.
Fu Yinli made several trips back and forth, returning soaked through from rain-drenched branches.
Ruan Zhe wrung out a towel and wiped his sweat, handing him water. “Rest a bit.”
As evening approached, mosquitoes swarmed in thick clouds. One look was enough to make one’s scalp tingle. Exposed skin would likely be drained dry.
Survival in the wild was far harder than imagined.
Ruan Zhe had already cleared a patch of ground and dug a fire pit. A small pot of water was boiling.
“You should rest too,” Fu Yinli said, looking genuinely exhausted for once, but still wiping her sweat with tissue.
Ruan Zhe sighed, reaching for a log beside her. “If only wood could be directly stored in the farm…”
The next second, the log disappeared.