Old Cao found himself the eldest among those standing in the hallway.
Apart from himself, only Old Li, in charge of weapons, the man with the crossbow, and the brawny man, Kong Cheng, wielding a javelin remained.
And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Little Ye gently laid Niu Xiaoma’s body flat on the ground before rising to her feet.
During a past psychology consultation, she had learned about a mental disorder called “depersonalization.” Little Ye felt herself to be in such a state now. The entire space, the other standing figures, the survivors huddled in the corner, and even her own body, all seemed to float in a distant, unfamiliar realm, gradually becoming detached.
“White-haired punk!” Old Cao’s shout finally jolted Little Ye partially from her daze.
‘The work isn’t over yet; don’t get distracted.’ She tried to self-suggest, a habit from her days as a diligent student.
“Come over here. I’ll check the remaining people for wounds, and if there are any… you’ll help me deal with them.”
Old Cao tucked his pistol into his waistband, attempting to adjust his posture and demeanor to appear more amiable—an effort that clearly proved futile. No one dared to look at him anymore.
After all, he had just shot a survivor dead.
Old Cao took a step towards the wall where the survivors were crammed, and everyone instinctively recoiled.
Old Cao felt a pang of reluctance to continue, disliking the fear he inspired in others.
A young woman stood up. Old Cao recalled her being an employee of a nearby clothing store.
“I’ve been bitten.” The woman extended her arm, revealing a row of bite marks, though no blood flowed.
It appeared the bite wasn’t deep.
Old Cao recognized her as an employee from the nearby clothing store. Her face bore a scattered, disoriented expression, clearly traumatized.
“I just want it to end quickly. Can you shoot me in the head?”
Old Cao and Little Ye exchanged a glance, though no consensus seemed to be reached.
This woman likely didn’t realize her injury was minor.
Yet, no one could definitively confirm that a minor injury would prevent mutation.
As Old Cao reached for his gun, the woman recoiled in terror.
“She’s not bleeding; let’s observe her first,” Little Ye interjected, halting Old Cao’s motion. “Go to that corner over there, Big Brother. You’re responsible for watching her. If she mutates, then… give her a farewell.”
Ling Yechen had inadvertently coined a term that would later become widely known—referring to the handling of infected individuals on the verge of zombification as “giving them a farewell.”
The man with the crossbow kept a close watch on the bitten woman.
“Is there anyone else?” Cao Renshuang continued to inquire, his voice now imbued with considerably more confidence.
He was now the oldest among the standing individuals, a realization that felt strangely unfamiliar. He always considered himself still young.
Now, however, he had to confront the reality of being past fifty. This fact might even be beneficial, as people instinctively relied on elders.
Someone stirred in the corner.
“Young man, were you bitten?”
The speaker was Old Wu, the elder who had given Little Ye candy earlier.
The flashlight beam swung towards the person Old Wu indicated.
The man had just pulled down his sleeve.
Cao Renshuang yanked the man’s sleeve open, revealing tooth marks and the initial exposure of subcutaneous tissue where he had been torn.
“Jump down yourself,” Cao Renshuang instructed, gesturing towards the window sill with his chin.
However, Little Ye blocked the window. “I don’t recommend that. You might not die from the fall, only to turn into a zombie.”
“I haven’t turned into a zombie! My mind is perfectly clear right now!” The man roared frantically, pointing at the woman being observed in the corner. “What about her? Can I also be observed first?”
As he spoke, Little Ye noticed a flicker of doubt and fear in the man’s eyes—there was no mistaking it; he, too, felt the mutation within his body.
“You feel it, don’t you? Something writhing inside your body. You’re about to become a murderous monster.”
The man desperately shook his head. “You’re talking nonsense! I’m perfectly fine!”
“Then open your eyes wide and look at me. I’ll check your pupils. If there’s no problem, we’ll observe you first.”
The man glared at Little Ye with wide eyes.
‘What could she possibly see in my eyes? She’s just trying to fool me,’ the man thought.
‘As long as she doesn’t see any problems, I can still live—’
Little Ye silently and swiftly raised the arrow in her hand, piercing it directly into the man’s eye.
Those high-heeled boots were surprisingly practical. Without the nine-centimeter boost, she felt the action would have been far more strenuous for her small frame.
The man’s knees buckled inward and outward a few times, and he collapsed heavily to the ground without a sound.
“And that person too.”
The old man then pointed to another woman—a turban-clad woman, likely an employee of a breakfast shop.
The woman’s face was ashen, her shoulder stained with a patch of blood.
She was muttering incoherently.
Suddenly, her mouth ceased its movements, and she snapped her head up, her lips grotesquely splitting into a wide grin.
The arrow accurately struck the woman’s eye socket.
****
Another person stepped aside, creating a path, and pointed to someone on a tattered sofa in the innermost corner.
“That person seems injured as well.”
Little Ye walked forward, people trembling as they maintained their distance from her.
‘What am I doing? Do I truly have the right to do such things?’
Her hand, gripping the arrow, felt somewhat stiff.
The sensation of the arrowhead piercing a brain seemed to carry a hint of pleasure. This was unsettling. ‘Stay clear, remain sober.’
After several such self-suggestions, Little Ye felt she could maintain her composure and approached the sofa.
In truth, she could clearly see who it was from a distance.
It was Du Lan, her waist wrapped in bandages.
Since arriving at the camp, she had been recuperating there.
The arrow wound in her abdomen was not deep, but it was enough to make the pampered woman grimace and lose her appetite.
Upon seeing the white-haired girl, who had once shared a room with her, approach with a sharp weapon, Du Lan frantically thrashed her feet on the sofa in terror.
“I wasn’t bitten! These are old injuries!”
Little Ye continued to advance slowly towards her.
“Don’t come any closer! I… I apologize! What happened before was my fault! But I was forced to—!”
As if sensing the cold displeasure in the white-haired girl’s azure eyes, Du Lan panicked and quickly changed her plea. “No! It was all my fault! I’m an idiot, a bastard, I deserve to die a thousand deaths…”
Little Ye leaned in closer.
“Waaah! Don’t kill me!!”
Du Lan, terrified, covered her eyes, attempting to stand and flee, but a slightly cold hand pressed on her forehead, forcing her back onto the sofa.
“I’m just checking your body to see if you have any bite marks.”
Her words were true, but Little Ye genuinely intended to scare Du Lan.
Seeing this detestable person fear her brought a strange satisfaction to her heart.
After a brief examination, Du Lan did not appear to have been bitten.
As an injured person, she had been protected in the innermost area.
Glancing at Niu Xiaoma’s corpse on the ground not far away, Little Ye glared at Du Lan again with a hint of resentment.
“Oh, oh, oh…” The latter trembled uncontrollably, as if afflicted by Parkinson’s.