Upon taking the phone, Ling Yechen was suddenly at a loss for who to call.
There were many people she knew in the world, but who was she, now?
If she were to speak his name in this girl’s voice, would the person on the other end mistake her for a madwoman?
Should the recipient be someone capable of thought, they might begin to theorize: a girl, having heard Ling Yechen’s name and acquired his contact details, was attempting a scam or prank, mistakenly assuming Ling Yechen was female.
Consequently, they might retort: “Ling Yechen is a man! You idiotic scammer, still trying to con people at a time like this? Will you use your ill-gotten gains to bribe zombies into not biting you?”
To be mocked by Jing Lan in such a way would be too disheartening…
Besides, Du Lan was right there.
What if she blurted out “I’ve turned into a girl!” and was then deemed insane and kicked out?
Call her parents? Even less likely.
Her parents would only understand less than her peers about what gender transformation entailed.
Although the thought of her parents perhaps being consumed by anxiety now made Ling Yechen feel a pang of guilt.
Blood was thicker than water; even if she unconsciously grumbled about her parents sometimes, Little Yeye was, at heart, still a good child.
Then, she would send a text message.
“Dad, it’s Yechen.
I’m in a survivor camp now.
I’m fine, but I lost my phone, so this is someone else’s.
I’m borrowing it and will need to give it back soon, so please don’t reply.
I know you usually love salty braised dishes, but Mom and I don’t touch them.
Mom and I prefer less spicy Sichuan food.
Good luck to you both.
I’m sorry, I was disobedient, and now I can’t come home.
I’ll take care of myself.”
As soon as the message was sent, Ling Yechen stared blankly at the screen for a long moment.
She suddenly regretted sending the message, for it instilled a false hope in her parents that they might still see their son in their lifetime.
Yet the truth was, no matter how much longer Ling Yechen lived, they would never see their son again.
“Only a text message?” Du Lan, who was beside her, opened the computer, clicked on “Dead Steam,” and began playing some game.
“I’ll make a call too,” Ling Yechen said, suddenly recalling a string of numbers she had silently memorized.
It was from the suspicious religious propaganda on the car radio when they fled Mengli Town.
Ling Yechen had no idea why her past self had bothered to jot it down.
It was fortunate her mathematical talent was good; she remembered the entire sequence of numbers perfectly.
Pressing the dial button, after a few unremarkable beeps, a very gentle female voice spoke: “Hello, friend, do you need assistance?”
From the caller’s gentle and calm tone, Ling Yechen detected a subtle attempt to control an anticipated panicked caller.
A wave of suspicion surged within her, prompting her to deliberately adopt an unfriendly tone as she asked, “Who are you people?”
The voice on the other end remained unhurried: “We are the chosen people who survived this apocalypse, guided by the true scriptures revealed by the Holy Lord and the True Son.
Anyone who joins us will receive the same salvation, avoiding becoming a walking corpse, and will ascend to heaven hereafter.”
As the woman spoke of this, her tone became melodiously generous, yet she appropriately reined herself in—someone must have instructed the operator not to become overly self-indulgent.
“Then, how does one join you?” Ling Yechen knew the other party was waiting for that very question.
“Benefactor, I shall first teach you the Ten-Character True Mantra for attracting good fortune and averting disaster: Holy Lord, True Son, Heavenly Righteousness, Earthly Righteousness, Grand Harmony.
Recite it once.”
Ling Yechen frowned, then repeated it.
‘What in the world was this nonsense?’
“Very good, very good.” The woman on the phone seemed pleased with Ling Yechen’s unquestioning repetition, offering satisfied praise.
Perhaps previous callers had sensed something amiss, and now, finally having a promising prospect, she was delighted.
“Tuanjie Park in Mengshan County.
We are here.
We have many people because we possess the method to avoid infection, as guided by the True Son’s scriptures.
We also have knives, guns, and cannons.
Everyone in the military camps and police stations is dead.
With us, you can find the best refuge, do you understand?”
A method to avoid infection—what a compelling claim.
Presumably, it was just some trickery involving prayers and rituals.
Ling Yechen had no true desire to join that organization, but the call was still significant—she now knew there was a group of ‘ape-like humans’ at Tuanjie Park, which counted as intelligence.
Hanging up, Ling Yechen noticed Du Lan watching her intently, as if already privy to her actions.
“You actually called that cult.”
“Just trying it out.
You know about this call too?”
“I just heard it on the radio.” Du Lan was playing *Left 4 Dead*.
On the screen, zombies were being torn apart by bullets, their flesh and blood splattering.
“Oh, right,” Ling Yechen slapped her forehead.
“Can we still get radio reception now?”
“No, it cut out the day before yesterday.
Did you also listen to the Voice of Shambhala?”
“I did! Did anyone call in later with survival clues?”
Du Lan seemed disinclined to continue slaying zombies, exiting *Left 4 Dead* directly.
She picked up a delicate ceramic coffee cup and turned around.
“By the end of that show, the host couldn’t hold it together anymore.
The people who called in earlier would call again before they were eaten, only to start screaming after a few words.
Oh, right, did you hear the call from that girl hiding in the supermarket?”
“The one hiding in Walmart—did she call again later?”
“She was seeking encouragement.
Unable to bear the hunger and thirst, she decided to break out alone, so she called while running out.
She kept asking the host to encourage her as she ran.” Du Lan said, taking a sip from her cup.
“Did he encourage her?”
“The host was saying ‘Keep going, may you escape with your life and be reborn’ but before he could finish, a scream like a pig being slaughtered erupted from the other end of the line.”
Du Lan then mimicked the sound: “Ooh-mm! Ooh-mm-ah-ah-ah!”
Only upon seeing Ling Yechen’s speechless expression did she sheepishly stop.
“Anyway, the host himself was a bit broken.
Because, think about it, no matter how kind-hearted he was, he was broadcasting from an office building, at least not in mortal danger, right?
So he couldn’t truly understand those whose lives hung by a thread.”
Ling Yechen scrutinized Du Lan’s brow, [‘What about you? Do you understand?’]
“Oh, right, I have something good for you.” Du Lan said, getting up and walking towards the wardrobe next to the computer desk, opening it and rummaging through its contents.
“You’re the same, not saying anything even when you don’t have enough clothes.
I’m slow to realize many things; you know your own needs, so you have to speak up about them.”
As she spoke, a cardboard box was lifted out.
When opened, it revealed an outfit in black, white, and blue-green.
“It might be a bit difficult to put on; let me help you.” Du Lan said, picking up the clothes and beginning to dress Ling Yechen.
The outfit was indeed intricately designed, with a zipper at the back, thus requiring assistance to wear.
Over the inner layer was a cicada-wing-like overcoat with a blue-green gradient, adorned with elaborate decorative knots at the cuffs and hem, and a tie at the collar.
After some effort to put it on, Du Lan handed her a pair of blue-black gradient pantyhose.
“You can put these on yourself.”
Never having worn pantyhose before, Ling Yechen struggled for a while before finally managing to put them on.
“Wear these shoes,” Du Lan said, offering a pair of high-heeled ankle boots.
“Why do I have to wear high heels…?”
“There are no other shoes,” Du Lan said, scratching her head with an embarrassed smile.
Upon glancing at the mirror in the corner, black lines practically erupted on Ling Yechen’s face.
This was a cosplay outfit, wasn’t it?
It was the cosplay costume for Firefly from *Honkai: Star Rail*.
Ling Yechen vaguely remembered that this was Jing Lan’s favorite character.
[‘How am I increasingly becoming the type he would like?’] the white-haired girl grumbled inwardly.
Du Lan surveyed Ling Yechen, now clad in the cosplay outfit, with satisfaction.
“I’m really sorry, but I don’t have any other suitable clothes.
Just make do with this.
Look, you don’t even need a wig; your beautiful white hair is so much better than a wig.
Cosplayers rarely manage that naturally.”
After putting on the high-heeled ankle boots and taking a few steps around the room, she seemed surprisingly capable of walking in them—perhaps related to having worn high heels two years prior.
Moreover, her height instantly increased, nearing the familiar vantage point of her male days, which inexplicably instilled a sense of security within her.
Du Lan clapped her hands nearby, continually praising Ling Yechen’s cuteness.
“Little Ye, were you a cosplayer before?
You seem to get right into character the moment you put on this outfit.”
A cosplayer? Du Lan had actually hit the nail on the head.
Two years ago, when she met the other members of the Four-Color Conjecture band at a comic convention, Ling Yechen had indeed been a cosplayer.
However, Ling Yechen didn’t want to bring that up now.
Divulging too much about her past self would only increase the risk of her lies being exposed.
For the remainder of the evening, Du Lan embraced Ling Yechen while playing computer games—this time, it was *Plants vs. Zombies*, grandiosely dubbed “online zombie world life simulation” to help her adapt to the zombie apocalypse sooner.
“The zombies outside aren’t nearly so cute; they even drive ice carts and moonwalk,” Ling Yechen grumbled.
“One step at a time.
You can’t adapt to something too terrifying all at once,” Du Lan said, her fingers stealthily moving to that soft area on Ling Yechen’s chest, beginning to indulge herself.
Had Ling Yechen been born a girl, she would have at least complained a little at this point—even when showing tolerance to a touchy friend, such “expression” was necessary to signify that while she permitted the action, it was with her approval, not an inherent right.
However, Ling Yechen, having overestimated the appropriate level of intimacy between girls, nervously endured Du Lan’s caresses.
Gradually, Du Lan intensified her actions, her fingers inching towards Ling Yechen’s newly installed ‘coin slot’.
“Ah, um, Older Sister, I need to use the restroom.”
Feeling ultimately uncomfortable, she broke free from Du Lan’s embrace.
“The bathroom is in the stairwell.
The metal door downstairs is closed, so no zombies will come up.”
Opening the door, Ling Yechen entered the bathroom, switched on the light, and gazed at her reflection, which now resembled a two-dimensional game character.
Ordinarily, her reflection might prompt the thought: ‘My appearance is unremarkable; girls probably wouldn’t like me.’
She would have looked like a gloomy, damp high school boy.
Lively girls like Keke would definitely steer clear.
Now, however, the reflection staring back was so adorable that it inexplicably filled Ling Yechen with dread.
Yet, amidst the fear, there was also a hint of excitement.
Perhaps from now on, she would be cherished even more.
But by whom?
Frankly speaking, she didn’t particularly care for Du Lan’s affection.
Undeniably, Du Lan’s plain appearance left Ling Yechen’s lingering male aesthetic with no desire to give her high marks.
Du Lan had saved her, and for that, she would remain grateful.
But intuition could not be deceived; Ling Yechen simply couldn’t regard Du Lan as anything more than a good friend.
Moreover, beyond her appearance, Ling Yechen always felt a certain resistance towards Du Lan’s inherent temperament.
What about Jing Lan?
Even when she was her former, good-for-nothing self, Jing Lan had been willing to protect her.
So, if she had transformed into this adorable appearance now…
Ling Yechen suddenly realized that thinking further might lead to questions of whether dating a boy would make her gay, or whether intimacy with a girl would make her a lesbian.
Always one to despise gender politics, she shook her head, dismissing further thoughts, deciding to use the restroom first.
While using the restroom, she nearly stood to urinate, only hastily squatting just before the ‘second coin slot’ was about to spray water, narrowly avoiding a messy situation and getting her shoes wet.
Staring at the high-heeled ankle boots on her feet, Ling Yechen suddenly had a vague feeling that something about the recent events was amiss.
Being suddenly dressed in a cosplay outfit was indeed absurd, but in an apocalyptic era with scarce resources, finding normal clothing was not unusual.
Standing up, she pulled up her pantyhose and tapped the floor with the tip of her shoe.
The shoes fit snugly around her feet, and in that instant, Ling Yechen understood what was amiss.
She was only a petite 150 centimeters tall, yet this cosplay outfit fit her perfectly.
Therefore, this outfit could not possibly belong to the plump Du Lan.