The three of them leaped down from the convenience store’s rooftop. Jing Lan gasped, wincing in pain, as he leaned against the wall opposite the alley. He bent down, pressing on the wound on his ankle.
“Oh, right, you have an injury on your leg,” Little Ye recalled, remembering the night at the farmhouse. Jing Lan’s ankle had been bitten, and he had to cut out a piece of flesh with a dagger to prevent infection.
“It’s been treated simply; it’s nothing major,” Jing Lan gritted out. He shone the small light from his power bank around the alley, front and back, to confirm there was no danger. Once assured, he switched the light to a dim red glow.
Red light minimally affects human night vision; special forces and stargazers often utilize red illumination. After turning off a red light, the eyes can swiftly adapt to darkness, avoiding a temporary blindness.
Even though Little Ye, a minor astronomy enthusiast, was aware of this fact, applying it in practice felt different. As she gazed at the outlines of the narrow alley illuminated by the dim red light, and stared into the bottomless darkness ahead, Little Ye was momentarily struck by the unsettling feeling that the path before them led straight to hell.
“Are the safeties on your guns off?” Jing Lan whispered, his voice hushed. ‘In truth, he yearned to ask another question: ‘How did you know about the wound on my leg?’
“Yes, but I believe we shouldn’t fire unless absolutely necessary,” Kong Cheng replied. He held a P22 pistol, with only one magazine left, containing ten rounds. He had never before fired a live weapon. Had it not been for the minimal recoil of this .22 rimfire pistol, it wouldn’t have been entrusted to him.
“Keep the safety on for now,” Jing Lan advised, gently patting Little Ye’s shoulder. “We’ll mainly be relying on you.” “If we encounter a lone zombie, stab it to death with your iron spear.” “Voice any other needs as they arise; your intervention will truly be crucial in this operation.”
‘You never put this much pressure on your teammates when playing *CS*,’ Little Ye thought, grumbling inwardly. However, Jing Lan didn’t linger for her response; he quickly began scouting ahead in the alley. Little Ye immediately followed, both of them striving to cover as wide a field of vision as possible.
Kong Cheng, meanwhile, gripped his pistol tightly as he brought up the rear—though, apart from his physical fitness, he possessed no other particular advantages for the position. Overwhelmed by tension, his limbs stiffened, and his fear of making noise caused his breathing to become erratic.
With the three of them already deep within the danger zone, it was hardly practical to establish new team protocols on the fly.
Despite having traversed nearly fifty meters through the darkened alley, they had yet to encounter a single zombie.
This unexpected quietude only intensified their anxiety, for unseen enemies often instilled greater terror than those in plain sight. Though they understood that zombies weren’t deliberately hiding and that not encountering them was simply good fortune—indeed, it would be ideal to avoid them entirely—the dramatically altered world subtly demanded that people abandon all illusions. Consequently, they found themselves compulsively scanning their surroundings, much like those afflicted with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
After walking a little further, Little Ye finally couldn’t bear it anymore. She raised a hand, signaling them to stop.
“We can’t keep going like this,” she declared.
“I was thinking the same thing!” Jing Lan breathed softly, still sweeping his flashlight around their vicinity.
“This slow, hesitant pace is far too inefficient,” he stated.
“And it’s mentally exhausting; creeping around in such trepidation, we might just end up being startled if we actually encounter a zombie…”
Having now become the vanguard of the team, and no longer feeling as awkward as she did when she was a boy, a curious blend of tension and excitement surged within her. Perhaps, too, her recent experiences, having battled zombies and even executed infected individuals, had left her mind in an altered state.
“Do you have any suggestions, then?” Jing Lan inquired.
Little Ye tightened her grip on the spear. “Let’s move faster,” she proposed. “You know the routes around here, so you lead the way.” “Big Brother will follow, and I’ll take charge of vigilance.”
Kong Cheng interjected, “But what if we get surrounded by a large horde of zombies? That would be disastrous!” “I’m suddenly having second thoughts; maybe we shouldn’t have run out like this?”
Little Ye shot Kong Cheng a displeased glance. “Then you can go back now,” she stated.
“Don’t lose your head,” Jing Lan admonished, hefting his rifle before slinging it onto his back. “No one would dare come out if we went back now.” “Let’s do this: parkour.” “I’ll scout the route, and we’ll primarily move across the rooftops.”
“Like playing *Dying Light*?” Little Ye couldn’t help but recall the zombie game she had played.
“Exactly,” Jing Lan confirmed. “Mengshan County has many low-rise bungalows, and we must make good use of them.” “For instance, look at those tiled houses along the road; we can actually climb onto them.”
Even in this remote town, the roadside houses appeared rudimentary. Cracked brick walls bore faded, sloppily painted advertisements for airguns—a trade Jing Lan knew had largely been eradicated, these ads being relics from a decade past. The houses themselves were twenty or thirty years old; their initial inhabitants must have built them to village specifications, never imagining how rapidly urbanization would spread.
The eaves, three meters from the ground, were not easily reached. Even if one could leap up and touch them, there was no way to get a firm grip.
However, their attention soon fell upon a discarded concrete utility pole not far away.
It was still adorned with a faded surrogacy advertisement and a relatively new lost dog poster: ‘Missing Husky, named ‘Zhongmou.’ ‘
The rough surface of the concrete utility pole made it easy to climb. Most urban residents nowadays hadn’t experienced tree-climbing in their childhoods. Jing Lan and the Keke siblings had specifically practiced it. Kong Cheng, being a few years older, had climbed trees on the outskirts of the city before urbanization reached them.
Little Ye, however, had no memory of climbing. From childhood onward, her family had discouraged her from playing on things like trampolines at amusement parks.
Yet now, the mere thought of ‘climbing’ seemed to send a jolt through her muscles, prompting her limbs to execute the correct movements—
‘Wait,’ she wondered, ‘are these truly the ‘correct movements’?’
Jing Lan, having already reached the rooftop, turned to glance at Little Ye climbing the utility pole and drew a surprised breath.
“Isn’t that just like a monkey climbing a tree?” he exclaimed.
“A monkey climbing a tree?” Kong Cheng echoed, his gaze drawn by curiosity. He instantly grasped what Jing Lan meant.
“This ‘Little Dragon Girl’ is climbing the pole without even pressing her body against it…”
In the border province, a legend of ‘Eighteen Oddities’ circulated. One of these oddities claimed, ‘Eighty-year-old grannies climb trees faster than monkeys’—a clear exaggeration, of course. However, the exaggeration lay in the number of grannies, not the speed; not all grannies could climb trees, but the speed itself was not overstated for those who could.
Indeed, in some areas, extraordinary techniques for rapid climbing were passed down, as they were vital for survival. Fruit and bird eggs found in trees were precious resources.
To climb a tree quickly, one could not rely heavily on the friction between their body and the trunk. Instead, they would use only their hands and feet, treating the tree as a ladder, moving their limbs in rapid succession, much like a monkey. This method allowed for swift ascent and descent, proving exceptionally efficient. Naturally, it required immense physical strength and a keen sense of balance.
And now, this long-haired girl, with her white locks, swiftly scaled the concrete utility pole in precisely this manner.
Kong Cheng, rather astonished, asked Little Ye, “Could your family be from Swallow Cave?” Little Ye was busy rubbing her hands together, which were stinging from the friction.
In the border region, there was a scenic area called Swallow Cave, home to many climbing masters who specialized in collecting swallows’ eggs and were generally adept at monkey-style climbing.
Little Ye had to ponder for a moment before recalling what Swallow Cave was. As for the origin of her climbing ability, she was utterly clueless. Indeed, she had no idea how she came to possess this body at all.
Naturally, displaying her skills in front of her friends brought a small surge of pride. However, there was no time for idle chatter. After a quick assessment of the surrounding buildings, they confirmed they were on a stretch of terraced houses extending for two to three hundred meters, with no dangerous ground-level connections to the rooftops due to elevation changes. They breathed a temporary sigh of relief, but immediately pinpointed the hospital’s direction. With renewed focus, they advanced cautiously but as swiftly as possible across the rooftops.
The rooftops were covered with long, flat tiles, which offered excellent friction but also produced considerable noise when stepped upon. They hadn’t gone far before some rather unpleasant sounds began to echo from beneath the rooftops.
Initially, the three paid little heed. The rooftops offered safety, and the shambling undead below could only hear them, staring up in frustrated helplessness.
Gradually, however, a problem dawned on them.
As the terraced houses neared their end, Jing Lan halted and turned around—no words were necessary, for the cessation of his footsteps immediately alerted the other two.
In the adjacent alley, a multitude of zombies seemed to be gathering, drawn by their presence.
“Are our footsteps too loud…?” Little Ye murmured, lifting her leg to examine her boots.
“There’s nothing to be done about it,” Jing Lan replied, flicking the safety off his AK. “Even barefoot, stepping on these tiles would make noise.” “Come on, let’s check the other side.”
On the other side lay courtyards enclosed by brick and tile houses, many of them abandoned. They could vaguely discern piles of plants, perhaps mugwort, or the invasive purple eupatorium.
“Should we go down and take a look?” Kong Cheng asked.
“Better not,” Jing Lan advised. “Empty houses, likely locked doors.” “And look, there are no ladders to the rooftop in this courtyard.” “If we descend rashly, we might get trapped inside, wasting precious time trying to break a window or door.”
Kong Cheng found his reasoning sound. “Then let’s search along the way for other possible routes,” he suggested. “It can’t be that every direction is swarming with so many zombies.”
Jing Lan shared this sentiment. He was also considering a more hopeful possibility: ‘Could there be survivors in these houses?’
Just as the two men were about to move, Jing Lan noticed Little Ye had frozen. She appeared to be staring at something in the courtyard below the rooftop.
Then, the girl extended her hand.
“Look,” she said, “something’s glowing down there.”