Lin Yuzhi hurriedly handed the stack of test papers to Xu An, making sure to try and smooth the paper out one last time.
It didn’t make much of a difference; the pages remained as wrinkled as before.
Xu An didn’t seem to mind. He simply took the papers and lowered his head to begin reviewing them.
It was better not to have looked at all. Upon closer inspection, he was actually quite startled. Although the pages were covered in writing, most of it was useless filler. What was even more astonishing were the multiple-choice questions: Lin Yuzhi had managed to miss the correct answer for every single one with surgical precision.
Although no score was written on the papers, Xu An could already calculate the grade just by skimming them. The questions were actually quite fundamental—almost simple—but for Lin Yuzhi, they seemed to be insurmountable. This meant he couldn’t even gauge the man’s actual level of knowledge yet.
After a few moments, he set the papers aside.
Lin Yuzhi was currently sitting on the floor. Everything usable in the room had been moved to barricade the door, so the floor was his only option. He had spent the previous night sitting on a bathroom floor, so a carpeted room felt like a luxury in comparison.
Despite already knowing his score would be dismal, he still felt a bit nervous.
Xu An didn’t mention the grade. Instead, he said, “There is some paper in my wardrobe. I’ll write out a few new problems for you to solve so I can get a better sense of where you stand.”
To tutor Lin Yuzhi effectively, these test papers were useless. He needed to find where the actual foundation was and build it up from there.
Lin Yuzhi retrieved a notebook from the wardrobe and handed it along with a pen to Xu An. “Will it be very hard?”
“No,” Xu An reassured him gently. “If a problem is too difficult, just skip it and move to the next one.”
Lin Yuzhi nodded and stopped bothering him so he could write. Meanwhile, he pulled out his phone to check the Top Student Store.
He had only eaten a single bear cookie the previous night and nothing since. It was already noon, and he hadn’t had a bite to eat. He hadn’t realized that getting into the hospital would take so much time.
But it made sense—the place was crawling with zombies.
Now that he had finally relaxed, his stomach began to growl.
He only had thirty points, so he didn’t exchange them for anything expensive. He settled for three bars of chocolate. At three points per bar, he spent nine points total. Chocolate was high in calories and would keep him full longer.
The bars weren’t small, either; they were large, rectangular blocks. Three points felt like an absolute steal.
He glanced over at Xu An in the wheelchair. There was no cast on his legs as he sat there, head bowed, writing out the problems. His dark hair had grown quite long, partially obscuring his eyes and highlighting his handsome profile.
Lin Yuzhi looked at Xu An’s legs. The cast was off, so he assumed they were mostly healed. However, as his eyes drifted to the bare feet, he noticed several bruises and injuries, likely from bumping into things.
A thought occurred to him. Since he’d arrived, he hadn’t seen anyone else.
“Scholar God,” he asked curiously, “are you all alone here?”
“Just call me Xu An,” Xu An replied, glancing at him before nodding. “Things happened so suddenly yesterday. I’ve been alone the whole time. Fortunately, I was alone.”
He wasn’t wrong. If there had been anyone else with him who had turned, he would likely be dead by now.
Lin Yuzhi was surprised but understood the logic. Xu An clearly couldn’t walk; if he had been trapped with someone who became infected, he would have been defenseless.
Then it hit him: how did Xu An get from the bed to the wheelchair? Did he crawl? Looking at the injuries on his feet, it seemed highly likely.
Regarding his legs, Lin Yuzhi asked, “The car accident… was it really that bad?”
“It was alright. It wasn’t life-threatening,” Xu An said quietly. He didn’t look up, continuing to write. “I just injured my legs and can’t stand up anymore.”
Lin Yuzhi’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
What do you mean “can’t stand up”? Paralyzed?!
How could that be “alright”? That was incredibly serious!
He had assumed Xu An had just had his cast removed and was still weak, which was why he’d struggled to get out of bed. But if he couldn’t stand at all, the fact that he’d managed to crawl into a wheelchair was incredible. He couldn’t imagine the struggle, especially with zombies right outside the door.
Lin Yuzhi felt like slapping himself. Why did he have to ask that? It was like rubbing salt in a wound.
He scratched his pink hair. After a moment, he reached into his chest bag, pulled out two of the chocolates he’d just bought, and held them out to Xu An.
Feeling guilty for bringing up a painful subject, he looked away while handing them over, resting his chin on his other hand as if he were just being casual.
Xu An looked at him, confused.
He saw Lin Yuzhi acting nonchalant while holding out two bars of a brand he didn’t recognize. The wrappers featured a drawing of dark chocolate and a little bear.
Is he giving these to me to eat?
Xu An guessed why Lin Yuzhi was suddenly being so generous—it was likely because of the question about his legs.
“I’m used to it,” Xu An said. “You don’t need to feel guilty. We’re both trapped here; you should keep these for yourself. Don’t waste them on me.”
“How can you call it a waste?!” Lin Yuzhi snapped his head back toward him.
He kept his voice low to avoid alerting the zombies outside. He looked at Xu An, unable to understand why he thought eating chocolate was a waste. He remembered this guy being so high-spirited in high school, always the one giving speeches on stage. How did he end up thinking a piece of chocolate was a waste?
“You’re not throwing it away, so how is it a waste?” Lin Yuzhi argued. “Besides, you’re tutoring me. Think of this as the meal I’m providing. It’s ‘full board’ coverage.”
“Full board?” Xu An hadn’t expected that phrasing. He looked at Lin Yuzhi and saw him nodding earnestly. Understanding the sentiment, he took one bar. “I’ll take one, then. You eat the rest. Thank you.”
Lin Yuzhi beamed as soon as he took it. “Don’t mention it! You’re my teacher now; providing meals is a must. As long as I have a bite, you’ll have a bite, Teacher Xu. Eat up without worries. Oh, do you need water?”
He hadn’t had any water since yesterday either. He had twenty points left, enough for a bottle.
“There’s water right there,” Xu An said, pointing to a corner near the window.
Everything had been moved far away from the door, likely to avoid making noise that would alert the things outside. There was a thermos and a cup nearby, with a small plate covering the cup to keep out dust.
Lin Yuzhi stood up to head over. He was thirsty, and using the available water would save him some points.
However, as he approached, Xu An spoke again. “But… I think it’s better if you don’t drink it.”
Lin Yuzhi froze. He had been wondering yesterday if the water supply would be infected.
“When was this water boiled?” he asked.
The outbreak had started around 4:00 PM the previous day. If it was boiled then, he wouldn’t dare touch it.
Xu An shook his head. “It was boiled yesterday morning. However, this illness seems to have an incubation period. Since we don’t know the exact timeframe, it’s safer not to drink it.”
That was why he hadn’t taken a single sip himself.
“Incubation period?” Lin Yuzhi repeated the unfamiliar term, sitting back down by the wheelchair.
Breaking off a piece of chocolate, he asked, “Scholar God, do you know something?”
He figured someone as smart as Xu An must have deduced something.
Xu An didn’t put down his pen, but he turned to look at Lin Yuzhi. From his position in the wheelchair, he could see the top of Lin Yuzhi’s head—still looking very fluffy.
He began to share his theory. “The outbreak at this hospital peaked around 2:00 PM yesterday. I was resting when I heard the commotion; it was exactly 2:05 PM. At first, I thought it started here, but I checked our high school group chat and realized it was happening everywhere simultaneously. For an outbreak of this scale to happen all at once, the virus couldn’t be instantaneous. There had to be an incubation period.”
“Because it didn’t manifest immediately, no one noticed, and no measures were taken to contain it. The virus spread unknowingly through every region—possibly all of Lin’an, maybe all of China, or even the world. The people brought to the hospital were usually in the late stages, the final phase of infection. But some people came in with only minor symptoms. Regardless, the incubation period was destined to end, and yesterday afternoon was the breaking point.”
“The reason I say the water might be contaminated is because water is an incredibly efficient vector for transmission.”
“Based on videos I’ve seen, people turn almost immediately after being bitten to death. This suggests the infected carry the virus throughout their entire bodies—blood, flesh, possibly even fingernails. Anyone bitten or scratched is infected. But they don’t turn into mindless corpses instantly; that’s the incubation period. If water treatment workers were in that period, or if the blood of the infected entered the sewage system, the water supply could very likely be compromised.”
“Some water systems have reservoirs, but no one wants to gamble on that. It’s better to be cautious.”
Because he couldn’t leave the room, most of his information came from his phone. These were all deductions based on the data he could gather.
“No wonder so many zombies appeared at once,” Lin Yuzhi sighed.
It made sense now. The infected were like time bombs; they seemed fine until the timer hit zero, and then they all went off at once.
He remembered something the pharmacy owner had said. “The pharmacy owner mentioned there were a lot of people with fevers and ‘rabies’ lately. Do you think that was it?”
“Likely,” Xu An said. “I heard similar things from the nurses. The room next door actually had a patient who was admitted for observation after being bitten by someone.” He looked toward the wall shared with the neighboring room.
Lin Yuzhi followed his gaze, but then he thought about the water he’d consumed over the last two days.
“Does that mean… I might be infected too?” he asked frantically.
“It’s actually quite simple to tell,” Xu An explained. “After drinking the water, check if your body temperature rises and stays high. If it does, you can try fever reducers. If the fever breaks, it’s likely just a normal illness. If it doesn’t, the chances of being infected are very high.”
It was the simplest method, but also the most agonizing.
The psychological toll was often worse than the physical threat. A person could be perfectly healthy but scare themselves half to death with constant negative reinforcement. It was like having a sword hanging over your head, waiting for an unknown moment to fall.
He suspected Lin Yuzhi was going through that mental process right now.
But Lin Yuzhi wasn’t thinking about the fear; he was calculating.
After a moment, he said, “I just remembered—I drank ice water this morning. It was water I boiled two days ago and put in the fridge. If I were infected, I should have a high fever by now, but I don’t. Does that mean I’m okay?” He looked at Xu An hopefully.
Xu An expected him to be worried, but found him surprisingly optimistic.
He nodded. “Likely. The water supply is just a hypothesis, though the probability of infection after the outbreak point is much higher.”
He then summarized his conclusions. “The known modes of infection are biting and scratching—close contact with an infected person where the skin is broken. Simply getting blood on the surface of your skin shouldn’t infect you. You’re covered in zombie blood right now; if you haven’t had issues in the last two days, then the infection is limited to those first two methods. It’s best to wear thick clothing when you go out.”
As soon as he said that, Lin Yuzhi felt a sudden chill run through his body.