The object in Niu Xiaoma’s hand was a handcuff key.
It seemed Officer Niu had not intended to deliberately keep Ling Yechen shackled and uncomfortable.
Using the key, he unlocked Ling Yechen’s handcuffs, and the girl indignantly shook her hands.
Regaining her freedom was, by all accounts, a cause for celebration.
However, Ling Yechen found herself plagued by a peculiar association: she felt like a monster unshackled.
During the day, she had frantically followed the minivan to the school, plunging into the horde of corpses; if she hadn’t managed to hide in an office, she might well have died like an animal amidst the undead.
Too many secrets lay hidden within this body, stirring both her curiosity and a subtle unease.
Niu Xiaoma pocketed the handcuffs, chuckling, “That’s just how my dad is. You’ll get used to it.”
“What if he cuffs me again next time?”
Niu Xiaoma patted his chest reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.
My dad is actually quite clumsy.
If a clumsy person is assigned an important role, the only way for them to avoid making mistakes is to strictly adhere to the rules.
This is a conclusion my dad reached after learning a hard lesson.
It’s also true that clumsy people who learn from their mistakes tend to remember them firmly, but they can also be inflexible.
Especially in these damned times, they often become even more anxious, striving to maintain their original patterns of behavior.
If you ask me, even without this disaster, any work at the bureau related to self-media or artificial intelligence—whether it’s publicity or case-related—would give him a headache.
So, while he’s a well-regarded police officer in the community, and it’s natural for everyone to see him as a big brother now, I don’t think he’s suited to be a leader in this era.”
Cao Renshuang, standing nearby, chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like something a son would say.
You’re calling your own father clumsy and unfit to be a leader.”
Niu Xiaoma shook his head, smiling. “No, it’s not like that.
I understand my father.
He’s told me himself that his greatest strength is following rules and solving problems steadily, one step at a time.
However, the ability to instantly recognize a suspect, which people stereotypically expect from a police officer, is something he genuinely can’t cultivate.
Anyone who can truly see problems at a glance, even an ordinary person, would be able to.
This is also one of the reasons my father is so fond of you, isn’t it?
He’s said many times that Teacher Cao’s paintings are incredibly insightful, possessing the keen perception an artist should have, and he hopes to absorb some of your artistic spirit.”
Cao Renshuang’s golden hair trembled as he was praised. “That’s utter nonsense.
He must have some misunderstanding about us artists.”
The two chatted for a few more moments, and as dusk began to fall, Niu Xiaoma prepared to leave.
Just as he was about to step out, Jing Lan called out to him.
“I have a question.
Where did you find the handcuff key?”
The conversation had returned to the handcuffs, and Niu Xiaoma seemed momentarily disoriented.
“Ah… oh, it was on the table in my dad’s room.
He forgot to take it.”
Jing Lan blinked, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, that key should have been part of a whole bunch of keys, right?”
“Precisely!” Niu Xiaoma confirmed. “This one I have was temporarily detached for me to bring.”
Jing Lan pressed on. “Does that bunch of your dad’s keys include any for important rooms?”
Officer Niu’s son replied, “You’re spot on.
There’s a key for the parking lot’s tool warehouse.
Right now, all the important supplies for our entire shelter are in that warehouse.
You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?
But don’t worry, my dad actually considered the possibility that his keys might have been secretly taken to open the warehouse door.
However, we’ve already checked, and nothing is missing from the warehouse.
So, it must just be my dad getting senile, forgetting his things and causing the white-haired girl to be cuffed for so long.”
Calling Ling Yechen the “white-haired girl” caused everyone to burst into laughter.
After seeing Niu Xiaoma off, Jing Lan closed the back door of the convenience store that connected to the parking lot.
The front entrance, a rolling shutter facing the zombie-infested street outside, was, of course, securely fastened.
Regardless, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Although Jing Lan still harbored a rather pressing question that needed answering, seeing the white-haired girl curled up drowsily in the corner, he decided there was no rush; it could wait until tomorrow.
The blankets in the convenience store had already been claimed by those who had fallen asleep first.
All that remained were some snake-skin sacks, though there were quite a few, even several brand new rolls.
The few remaining people spread the sacks out on the ground as mattresses, covering themselves with several layers, and simply slept.
According to Cao Renshuang, most people here slept this way, on makeshift beds.
This wasn’t a hotel, after all; many had rushed in frantically the night the zombie crisis erupted, then quickly sealed the main doors.
The building next to the parking lot was a small office building with no beds, only a few sofas, which were reserved for Officer Niu and a few capable young men.
However, those sofas were already worn out and hardly comfortable.
The others had no choice but to sleep on the floor, using the convenience store’s blankets.
There were quite a few blankets, more than a dozen of them.
“It’s a good thing we’re in the southern part of the south, so it doesn’t get too cold even in winter.”
Cao Renshuang even stretched contentedly within his snake-skin sack.
The group didn’t need to exchange goodbyes; each simply drifted off to sleep.
Jing Lan slept soundly for several hours.
Upon waking, he pulled out his phone, which had been in super power-saving mode, and saw it was exactly midnight.
For some reason, his mind felt completely clear.
He quietly switched on the LED light attached to his small power bank, illuminating the door to the convenience store’s back room—there was no door panel, this spot likely served as storage for goods.
The room contained only empty shelves and a half-meter-tall high-backed chair, probably used as a step to help the shopkeeper reach items on higher shelves.
Jing Lan silently sat on the chair, brightened the power bank’s light by one level, then pulled a small book from his inner jacket pocket and began reading it under the light.
This was the book he had insisted on taking with him a few days prior when their car broke down, after escaping the pursuit of the blood-sucking blankets in the jungle.
After he had been reading for a while, a low, clear voice emerged from the darkness of the room.
“You can’t sleep either?”
Ling Yechen, who had been leaning against the wall near the window, carefully straightened up and slowly walked over.
Jing Lan was somewhat surprised; he usually had a keen perception of people’s presence, yet he hadn’t noticed the white-haired girl standing in the corner.
The two felt like chatting, but no interesting topic seemed to arise.
It wasn’t until Ling Yechen noticed the book in Jing Lan’s hand.
“Hey, is this book very important to you?”
Ling Yechen had actually intended to say “that,” but perhaps her control over the nuances of this body was still lacking, causing her mouth to slip and say “hey” instead.
The accidental use of such a highly ‘otaku’ verbal tic made her let out a soft, embarrassed “uh,” instinctively wanting to raise a finger to cover her mouth.
After all, at home, her parents used to constantly criticize her for engaging with anything related to anime and manga, which had instilled in her a sense of shame about her hobbies.
Jing Lan closed the book he held, an old-looking volume with the title *Distant Starlight* by the Soviet writer, Chukovsky.
Jing Lan suddenly recalled distant memories related to the book; perhaps they could discuss them.
Yet, it struck him as odd.
Why would this girl ask, “Is this book important to you?”
He hadn’t told her that he always carried this book with him, but her question sounded as if she already knew.