Having slept soundly until six in the evening, Jing Lan found Old Cao and Xia Lang diligently distributing food to the survivors.
The previous night’s chaos had left most survivors dispirited, much like students after a grueling monthly exam. Only two men, however, found solace at a small table, engrossed in a game of ‘Kitten Fishing’ poker.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Xia Lang remarked, shoving a piece of bread—which eerily resembled expired braised tofu—into Jing Lan’s hand as his turn arrived.
“As you can see, our provisions appear sufficient, yet we might consume them far more quickly than anticipated.”
With over a dozen mouths to feed, each meal devoured several kilograms of precious supplies.
“Moreover, we face another predicament: the nearby shops have already been thoroughly scoured.”
Xia Lang then handed another bread to the next person in line, a plump girl.
“Thank you, handsome~”
Du Lan accepted the bread, then offered Jing Lan a saccharine smile. “May your girlfriend return soon,” she purred.
Jing Lan chose to ignore her, though Du Lan’s words highlighted a genuine concern. The team that had escorted Zhao Long to the hospital had yet to return.
“Have you heard any gunshots?” he pressed, turning to Xia Lang once more.
“Gunshots?”
“Precisely. After Keke and the others departed.”
“I’ve been listening intently, but I haven’t heard any gunshots. That’s a positive sign, isn’t it? It suggests they haven’t been pushed to the point of needing to open fire.”
Xia Lang gazed upwards at the sky, a canvas of twilight blue stretching above them.
“It’s highly probable they won’t return today. Night is drawing in. On that note, I believe we desperately need to acquire some radios; otherwise, communication among us will remain impossibly difficult.”
He was right, but, “Where would we even find them?”
Xia Lang drifted into a thoughtful silence for a moment, lost in contemplation.
“Indeed, there are several potential sources. Civil defense shelters, for instance, typically have such equipment. Police stations and armed forces departments would undoubtedly also possess them. Furthermore, I know of the Mengshan County Radio Club… though that’s a considerable distance. In truth, all these locations are quite far; finding anything within a five-hundred-meter radius would be exceedingly difficult.”
Jing Lan nodded in agreement. “Moreover, we should endeavor to acquire non-civilian radios, if possible, as they might allow us to tune into military frequencies.”
Noticing that no one else approached for a meal, Xia Lang sealed the cardboard box and settled back into his vigilant watch.
“Military radios aren’t strictly necessary. Consider this: in a crisis of this magnitude, if the military were still able to broadcast to civilians, they would undoubtedly forgo their secure frequencies and instead utilize emergency bands. For example, a standard radio’s FM band could pick up emergency broadcasts.”
“Furthermore, there’s the International Disaster Relief Radio frequency, or IRDR, which admittedly requires specialized receiving equipment to tune into.”
Jing Lan inquired, “Why wouldn’t dedicated disaster relief radios operate on the same frequency as standard radios?”
“A radio’s FM band transmits ultra-short waves, incapable of global coverage, whereas IRDR utilizes short waves, enabling worldwide communication. I firmly believe that as long as ten million, or even fewer, survivors remain on Earth, someone will inevitably establish radio contact. Perhaps there are safer havens on the other side of the world, and if we could learn of them via radio, we might even attempt to reach them…”
As the words escaped his lips, Xia Lang likely realized the sheer impossibility of his own suggestion, shaking his head with a rueful sigh.
“Let us, instead, concentrate on the immediate present. Our issues with water and food remain unresolved. Our vehicle has been taken, and the nearby supplies are all but depleted. Should we venture a little further out before nightfall to search for more?”
Jing Lan replied, “I’ll go alone. You aren’t in the best of health.”
“It’s not *that* bad. A bit of running poses no issue.”
“Then what exactly would be your role? I’m not implying you’re useless, but if we venture outside, it certainly won’t be for a leisurely stroll.”
Xia Lang cast a glance at the compound bow, a gift from Keke to Jing Lan, resting in the corner.
“I have an idea: you handle the archery, and I’ll be responsible for retrieving the arrows.”
“In that case, we’d best avoid encountering hordes of zombies.”
Had it not been for the dire scarcity of supplies, Jing Lan would have been highly reluctant to agree to such a plan.
Time, however, was a luxury they couldn’t afford. After a brief word with Old Cao, the two prepared to depart.
“Perhaps we should wait a little longer?” Old Cao’s gaze was now tinged with even deeper apprehension. “Forgive my bluntness, but if those who escorted the injured are already lost, and then you two… there will be no one left to lead us here.”
“By tomorrow morning, we will be completely without water. At that point…”
Suddenly, a thought struck Xia Lang.
“Regardless, we must find water now.”
****
Jing Lan meticulously replaced the arrows on his compound bow with willow-leaf-shaped arrowheads, ensuring they were sufficiently sharp yet entirely barbless, allowing for easy retrieval from the undead.
He did, however, retain one exploding arrow. Should they encounter a Night Demon, the willow-leaf arrowheads alone might prove insufficient to inflict enough damage.
Exiting through the small back door of the parking lot, the two set off. Xia Lang suggested a small convenience store roughly eight hundred meters away.
“We haven’t searched that one yet. There might still be something left.”
The journey, surprisingly, proved rather uneventful. Their first encounter with a zombie occurred as they entered a T-junction; spotting the lone undead, Jing Lan swiftly nocked an arrow, drew his bow, and pierced its skull with a single, precise shot.
Before the zombie could even utter a sound, its body listed sideways and collapsed.
Xia Lang immediately rushed forward, intent on retrieving the arrow lodged in the zombie’s forehead.
Abruptly, from a nearby fried dough stick shop, a shadowy figure shrieked and lunged forth, tackling Xia Lang violently to the ground.
“Xia Lang!” Jing Lan, with no time to nock another arrow, instinctively yanked the short knife from his left wrist. With a swift, direct throw, the blade found its mark, plunging into the zombie’s neck from the side.
The zombie’s body, which had been pressing down with immense force, suddenly weakened. With a guttural roar, Xia Lang managed to shove the creature away with both hands. Jing Lan seized the moment, unleashing a second arrow that pierced the attacker’s temple.
A visibly shaken Xia Lang leaned heavily against the nearby traffic light pole, gasping for breath.
“Perhaps we should just turn back?” Jing Lan suggested, extracting the short knife from the zombie’s neck—a weapon Xiao Ye had collected earlier.
“Well, your hidden talent certainly came in handy,” Xia Lang managed a wry smile, continuing to gulp air. It was clear his compromised heart was protesting the sudden exertion.
“Care to hear it? The rhythmic thrum of my mechanical heart?”
Due to a congenital heart condition, Xia Lang’s heart housed an artificial valve, which produced a distinct, audible clicking sound, significantly louder than a typical heartbeat.
“This is no time for jokes. Get startled a few more times, and your heart might just give out.”
“It’s alright. That was my oversight. Let’s press on.”
Following several more skirmishes, battling and advancing, eliminating any potentially threatening zombies, the two young men finally arrived at the entrance of a convenience store.
The shop had clearly been ransacked. Scarcely any food remained, save for a few pieces of moldy fruit. Drinking water, however, was nowhere to be found.
“Holy sh*t! I can’t recall a single other place nearby that might have water,” Xia Lang exclaimed, slumping wearily onto the stool behind the counter, a seat that once belonged to the store owner.
Roadside faucets, naturally, were completely dry, yielding not a drop.
“Who was it? Who stole our water? Who took our food? And who, for God’s sake, killed my sister…”
Jing Lan’s pupils abruptly constricted.
The young man, who typically approached every situation with an air of casual indifference and a relaxed demeanor, now, at last, betrayed a rare and profound fatigue.
“Jing Lan, can we truly survive this?”
“Absolutely,” Jing Lan affirmed, understanding that his companion sought only a reassuring answer.
“I thought so too. Yet, this time, it feels as though fate is truly playing for keeps. I once believed I had made peace with life and death, imagining that perhaps one day my heart would simply give out, and I’d pass away peacefully in my sleep. I never considered myself someone who clung too tightly to life.”
“But… over these past two weeks, I’ve realized something has shifted within me. I yearn to live, particularly after this morning.”
“This morning?”
“Yes. Now that Ling Yechen has also passed away, I suppose I can tell you… The truth is, I like Keke, your cousin.”
“We can discuss this later. And you should have told Keke this morning.”
Jing Lan wasn’t particularly surprised. After all, who wouldn’t be drawn to such a radiant girl?
Xia Lang hunched his shoulders. “You’re right. But I’m terrified I’ll die any moment now, so I’m telling you: if you return and see Keke, you can decide for yourself whether to…”
Jing Lan suddenly seized his companion’s shoulders and shook him vigorously. “Are you lightheaded? You’re spouting nonsense! Pull yourself together! You were the one who insisted on coming to retrieve arrows; the job isn’t finished. Stop whining and let’s quickly search the vicinity again; there might still be something!”
A rare pallor flashed across Xia Lang’s face. “I’m actually still afraid of death, Jing Lan. I… I can’t bring myself to believe in a heaven where Xiaohua awaits me. I’d much rather believe my father is still alive and well at home…”
“Then concentrate fully,” Jing Lan urged, “and we’ll fight our way through this together.”
“What if I still die? If I die—”
“Then so be it, buddy,” Jing Lan uttered, his teeth gritted.
Within the confines of the room, the two young men’s breathing grew ragged and heavy.
No more words were needed. Jing Lan understood that his companion would swiftly regain his composure.
He pressed his lips together, as if steeling himself for a grim decision. Finally, regaining his wits, he used the general store’s curtain to wipe the arrows in his hand before returning them to Jing Lan.
“You’re right. Then so be it. Let’s get back to work.”
****
The swift adjustment of emotions was matched only by the abrupt return of disappointment.
None of the nearby shops yielded any drinking water.
“Could this work?” Xia Lang asked, pointing to a fish tank outside a clothing store. The water hadn’t dried up, and a goldfish floated belly-up on the surface. “I mean… if we could boil it.”
“You might as well collect zombie blood, then,” Jing Lan retorted, frustrated as he rummaged through the shop counter, surprisingly unearthing an unopened bottle of cola.
“Aha~ I don’t know whether to be happy about this.”
This might only be enough for two people to drink, and there was the risk of becoming even thirstier after consuming it.
They couldn’t linger any longer. The outside would become exceptionally dangerous after dark.
The two then searched a few more small convenience stores nearby, only managing to find two bottles of mineral water.
One bottle was discovered beneath a shelf.
Xia Lang, a little curious, asked, “How did you know there was a bottle of water under that shelf?”
Jing Lan remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the convenience store’s beverage aisle.
By observing the state of various objects within a space, one could attempt to infer what might have transpired.
Jing Lan’s father, an avid reader of detective novels, had taught him some basic methods for analyzing problems.
For his father, this wasn’t merely a hobby. His job was in oversight, dealing with many seasoned veterans adept in law and politics. Grasping any subtle clue and striking a fatal blow was a necessary skill.
For instance, by observing the layout of the convenience store now, Jing Lan could preliminarily reconstruct a scene.
When the disaster struck, everyone frantically scrambled for supplies. The provisions were scattered everywhere.
And cylindrical water bottles, prone to rolling, would eventually—
Indeed, a bottle of mineral water lay beneath the shelf.
It seemed a frantic scramble for supplies had indeed occurred.
Now, the question remained:
Where had those who snatched the supplies gone?