Chapter 13: Zombies, and Former Regrets

She lowered her voice. “Be careful of the people from the Bian family. Don’t let your temper get the best of you and end up making stupid mistakes—you might get played without even realizing it. Still, in the beginning, sticking with the family group will be safer. It’s up to you. Also, make sure to train yourself well. Always stay alert and cautious, no matter what. Soon, the signal will be gone, the power will go out, and the water will be contaminated and unusable. Just be prepared.”

There was a pause on the other end, then the breathing grew heavier. “Xiaoxi…”

“Don’t ask me how I know, and don’t worry about me. I’ll manage better than you will. That’s all.”

She hung up the phone and sat in a daze for a while. In her previous life, Bian Kuang had also been out partying with friends the night the apocalypse began, but he still managed to awaken his wind ability within the first three days and made it back to the family estate safely. Later, he became one of the strongest among the younger generation of the Bian family. Now, with her warning, there shouldn’t be much to worry about.

She had two secrets: her farm and her rebirth. She really didn’t want to travel with anyone else, but otherwise, sticking with Bian Kuang might not have been a bad idea.

Besides Bian Kuang, she’d already warned Bai Heng and Chen Yisha. Only one person was left.

Gu Xu.

Setting aside those ambiguous feelings, she owed him a debt of gratitude—a favor she needed to repay. But ironically, she had no idea where Gu Xu was right now, or how to contact him.

Fate really does like to play tricks on people.

With Bai Heng, she felt regret and concern. With Bian Kuang, it was remorse and pain. For Chen Yisha, she felt sympathy and pity. But for Gu Xu, it was a deep, lingering guilt.

What exactly was her relationship with him?

He was a base commander, she was a healer. They’d gone on missions together, worked as partners. She admired his abilities, and he probably appreciated her independence, at least a little. Who knew. They barely spoke more than strangers, but that one time, he actually came to her for help.

At his most vulnerable and helpless, he’d asked for her company. She hadn’t understood what he was going through, and maybe he was just desperately reaching out to anyone—but in the end, she turned him away.

Years later, when he became a peerless powerhouse, yet remained utterly alone, his eyes as cold and sharp as steel, she could never forget that she’d once driven away someone who had nothing left in the world.

She let out a breath, walked to the living room, and pressed her ear to the front door, listening for a while. After making sure there were no zombies outside, she turned on the light and started packing.

She put two bottles of water, two packs of milk, two packs of compressed biscuits, and some bread into her hiking backpack, along with a few packs of chicken legs, marinated eggs, sausages, and chocolate. She also packed a change of clothes, a pair of binoculars, some bandages, and basic medicine.

She wrapped the rosewood straight-blade knife in cloth, tied it with a strap, and slung it across her back. At first glance, it just looked like a stick about fifty or sixty centimeters long—nothing conspicuous. She put one of the two leg knives in her boot, and strapped the other to the outside of her right thigh.

Once everything was ready, she made sure all the containers in the house were filled with water. She curled up on the sofa and dozed for a while. Just before dawn, she woke up, cooked herself some rice and steamed egg custard, ate a hot meal, then warmed up and digested for a bit. When daylight finally broke, she carefully opened the front door, checked both ways, and slipped outside.

The hallway was cold and deserted, with no unusual signs. She glanced at the door across from hers. She hadn’t heard any major commotion from there last night—just a few panicked screams—so the people inside were probably still okay.

She looked away and slowly walked toward the stairwell.

Since it was a new apartment complex, there weren’t many residents. Bian Changxi had asked the landlord before: there were about seven people per floor, and the building had fifteen floors, so about 105 people in total. If one in ten turned into zombies, that would mean about ten zombies. But that wasn’t quite right, since the first wave of zombies were mostly flu patients, and most of them had been sent to the hospital. That was the real hell on earth. In the residential area, the ratio should be more like one in twenty, or even less.

Bian Changxi lived on the third floor. If she was lucky, she might not encounter a single zombie on her way down. If not… Well, zombies weren’t smart and couldn’t open doors, but they could still go up and down stairs.

With these thoughts in mind, she crept downstairs. The stairwell was empty and silent; she didn’t make a sound. She made it safely to the second floor, then the first. At the locked glass door of the apartment building, she finally saw a pile of remains on the ground. Judging by the clothes, it was a fashionable young man. Flesh and bone were scattered everywhere, with intestines spilled all over the floor. There were even blackened chunks of organs and handprints smeared on the glass door, a testament to how desperately he must have struggled. It was almost too gruesome to look at.

Bian Changxi glanced at it without changing expression, then looked up. Sure enough, not far away, a female zombie was wandering around.

The first batch of zombies didn’t all turn at the same time.

That is, about one-tenth of the population didn’t all become zombies at midnight. People with weaker immune systems would turn into zombies gradually over the next three days.

As for the dead man and the zombie by the glass door, Bian Changxi guessed they were a couple who’d been out late. When the outbreak started, they rushed back to the apartment in a panic. The woman turned into a zombie on the way, and since the glass door downstairs was locked, the man couldn’t open it in time and was eaten.

Zombies had poor eyesight, but their hearing and sense of smell were sharp. Generally, a zombie was extremely sensitive to the scent of living creatures and blood, but they were also lazy by nature. If they didn’t detect other targets, even after finishing one victim, they’d just wander nearby instead of actively hunting for more.

Of course, that only applied to low-level zombies. Higher-level zombies would eventually develop intelligence and do all sorts of things that would leave people shocked and hopeless.

As soon as Bian Changxi spotted the female zombie, she froze, careful not to startle it.

Zombies were two or three times as strong and tough as they were when alive, and they didn’t feel fatigue or pain. Without some combat skills, fighting one head-on was just wishful thinking.

Bian Changxi wasn’t particularly strong or fit, but she had plenty of experience and mental preparation, and she was calm enough. After seven years in the apocalypse, killing zombies was as routine to her as chopping vegetables. Plus, she had sharp enough weapons now, and zombies were slow to react and move.

She still had a fighting chance.

The real problem was if there were other zombies nearby.

She looked down and found a leftover tile in the corner from the building’s construction. She opened a window and threw it outside.

The tile shattered with a loud crash. The female zombie slowly shuffled over to investigate, and when she realized it wasn’t food, she just stood there stupidly. Bian Changxi waited a while, but no other zombies appeared. She let out a quiet sigh, opened the glass door, drew her straight-blade knife, and carefully stepped around the corpse and out the door.

When she was seven or eight meters away, the female zombie suddenly sensed something and slowly turned around.

She was far more decayed than the zombie on the fourth-floor balcony yesterday. One eyeball was hanging out, strips of facial muscle drooped down, and thick, yellowish pus dripped from her rotting mouth. Bits of flesh still clung to her sharp teeth. It was as disgusting as it could get.

The truth was, many people didn’t have the courage to fight zombies mostly because of how revolting they were. Just imagining that rotten flesh and pus splattering on your face was enough to make anyone sick.

******

Suddenly, she thought of a new idea for a joke, and realized it might make things even more interesting, so..."