“So, how do you plan to get us out of here?” Keke asked, her gaze falling upon the large canvas bag on the ground.
“It’s truly a rare sight to behold such an arsenal domestically,” she remarked.
Though her stamina was far from recovered, Keke still leaned down with a touch of interest, her fingers tracing the weapons within the bag.
“Didn’t that Northeastern man, what’s-his-name, Leng Yu, come with you?”
Jing Lan clenched his fist, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “That scoundrel nearly kept me from coming here altogether.”
“Oh? Did you provoke him?”
“I saved his damn life, but his brain seems to be wired differently from normal people,” Jing Lan explained. “He insisted I couldn’t leave his camp. Then, at the dinner that night, he slipped some ‘obedience water’ into my drink.”
Keke let out a sudden burst of laughter.
“How is it that you’re so prone to attracting male attention?” she mused aloud. “Obedience water… gamma-hydroxybutyrate, right? That stuff is clearly used by scumbags to take advantage of women, yet he used it on you…”
Keke’s laughter died, and she leaned closer, a flicker of concern in her eyes.
“Wait a moment, after you drank that stuff…”
“I was out cold for three straight days,” Jing Lan retorted, turning his head away in a fit of frustration.
A heavy silence then descended upon them both.
Keke knew that ‘obedience water’ was a central nervous system depressant, capable of inducing confusion, physical paralysis, and other symptoms in those who ingested it.
It was often employed as a date-r*pe drug, with unscrupulous individuals in disreputable bars clandestinely slipping it into women’s drinks.
For most people, its effects would last only a few hours, perhaps a dozen at most, leading to dizziness, impaired movement, and sometimes even heightened arousal.
Jing Lan, however, was a peculiar case. Due to a past neurological disorder, his hands had been almost paralyzed, forcing him to take the college entrance exam with an agonizingly slow writing speed. He had barely completed any subjects beyond mathematics, and even with a surprisingly strong performance in math—a rare blessing for a humanities student—he had failed to secure admission to a prestigious university.
Subsequently, with no precise diagnosis, he had been subjected to a trial-and-error regimen of medications: oryzanol, gabapentin, mecobalamin…
It was unclear which of these drugs had reacted poorly with his system, leading to a two-month bout of drug-induced schizophrenia. Since the “Adverse Reactions” section of several drug inserts listed “may cause schizophrenia,” and with no way to pinpoint the culprit, he had been forced to discontinue all of them.
After discontinuing the medication, his brain, which had been trapped in a daily cycle of uncontrolled associations, finally quieted.
The doctors had advised him to avoid such medications in the future, especially neuroleptics.
The drugs might have caused subtle, permanent changes in Jing Lan’s nervous system. While he appeared normal in everyday life, even a slight stimulus could now potentially trigger a mental illness.
For instance, gabapentin had been known to cause psychosis and suicidal ideation in patients during clinical trials.
And yet, that accursed Northeastern young master had dared to poison Jing Lan…
At the time, in good spirits and completely unsuspecting, Jing Lan had gulped down the drink. Not long after, he had collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
He had then remained in a vegetative state for three full days.
After listening to Jing Lan’s brief account of his recent ordeal, Keke found herself momentarily speechless.
While she understood the necessity of condemning such an act of poisoning, the image of her brother lying unconscious on the ground in plain sight instinctively made her want to chuckle.
Jing Lan sighed, continuing, “In a sense, Leng Yu also bears a measure of responsibility for the children who perished here.”
“We shouldn’t overthink things,” Keke said, taking another small sip of water. “As for that Northeastern man, I’m not sure how to describe him. He seems like a complete scoundrel, yet I suspect he’ll genuinely thrive in this world. People with a strong desire for control are undeniably annoying, yet they possess a keen competitive spirit.”
Jing Lan was about to elaborate on what had transpired at Leng Yu’s camp, but Keke, listening intently, tugged at his sleeve. “I hear the distinct sound of a car approaching. They might have heard the plane’s roar.”
“Perhaps they are indeed looking for me,” he suggested.
“The Northeasterners sent people to chase you? Good heavens, how could their cars possibly be keeping pace with an airplane?”
“A determined group of individuals, primarily survivors from the granary and a stout man named Wen Hao from the camp, had resolved to abandon Leng Yu’s encampment,” Jing Lan explained. “They drove off in a grain truck, creating a diversion that allowed me to seize the opportunity and hijack the plane.”
“Did you arrange a meeting point?” Keke inquired.
“Two places: Minzu Middle School or Tuanjie Park,” Jing Lan replied. “Many sections of the road are likely obstructed by abandoned vehicles, precluding any direct rescue efforts from them. It might take them a very long time to get here. Tuanjie Park is adjacent to several roads, which might make it easier to access.”
Keke moved to a classroom window overlooking the road, peering down. “Is that them?”
Jing Lan’s gaze fell upon a van parked on the street below the teaching building.
A few zombies, drawn by the commotion, approached, only to be skillfully run over by the adept driver.
‘Wait a moment,’ he thought. ‘Something white is sprawled upon the roof of the van. It looks remarkably familiar.’
Jing Lan narrowed his eyes slightly, finally discerning it was a person with white hair. From their posture, she appeared to be a young girl.
‘White hair again? Are the denizens of the border regions truly so unconventional now?’
Yet, in an instant, a thought flashed through Jing Lan’s mind like lightning.
He slipped his left hand into his pocket, his gaze fixed intently on the car below, which was clearing the area by ramming into obstacles, and the white-haired girl crouching atop its roof.
‘Come save us,’ he silently urged.
Jing Lan repeated in his mind.
Suddenly, the girl on the roof lifted her head, her eyes meeting Jing Lan’s from above.
‘I’ve definitely never seen this girl before,’ he thought. ‘And the only white-haired person I’ve seen recently was that deranged killer in the granary.’
Despite this, with just that one glance, Jing Lan felt an uncanny familiarity in her gaze.
****
Crouching on the van, Ling Yechen once again felt that heavy mental suppression. This time, however, the oppressive force was not only more intense but also carried specific content—it seemed like a command, a cry for help, though she couldn’t discern its language.
This command, delivered in an unknown tongue, had an eerie effect. It seemed to bypass some circuit within her brain, directly overriding her rationality and compelling her with an intense, undeniable urge to respond to the mysterious order.
Even though Ling Yechen repeatedly confirmed that zombies were still nearby on the street, posing a clear danger, the voice in her mind incessantly stressed that she needed to save someone very important.
‘Could the people upstairs truly be Jing Lan and Keke?’ she wondered.
After all, the glasses Du Lan had given her weren’t perfectly suited to her prescription, making it difficult to clearly see the figures in the upstairs window.
‘I truly don’t know if my soul transmigrated into the body of some sickly, studious girl,’ she mused. ‘But a studious girl wouldn’t opt for unconventional white hair, would she?’
As she pondered who might be upstairs, Zhao Long, sitting in the passenger seat, leaned out and shouted up, “Are Xia Hua and Keke here?”
The faint sound of a window being pushed open drifted down from upstairs. It seemed it couldn’t be opened all the way—a necessary safety precaution.
“I am Keke. Xia Hua is dead.”
“Did the plane land on the roof?” Zhao Long asked again.
A male voice echoed from upstairs: “A pilot and I flew here. Keke is my sister, and I’ve come to rescue her.”
“How will you get down?”
“We have guns!”
“What kind of guns?”
Jing Lan lifted a Type 56 assault rifle, brandishing it prominently outside the window. “AK!”
Inside the van below, Officer Niu muttered through gritted teeth, “Where in the world did they acquire a rifle?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that for now,” Zhao Long said, turning his head. “If they possess automatic weapons, we won’t need to go to the trouble of rescuing them.”
In truth, the parking lot camp hadn’t been entirely resolute about rescuing the individuals in the school this time. Officer Niu and his group genuinely lacked significant firepower, possessing only two police-issue Type 92 pistols with limited ammunition, making it impossible to effectively engage if the school were overrun with zombies.
But if those awaiting rescue could indeed handle matters themselves…
“If they possess firearms, they’ve most likely already taken lives,” Officer Niu suddenly declared, his voice sharp.
“Let’s retreat! We absolutely cannot allow them to come to our camp!”
Just then, Jing Lan called out again from upstairs: “Fellow countrymen below, can you lend us your aid? You must possess a shelter. Once we make it downstairs, might we ride with you and join your camp?”
Officer Niu barked at Xiao Sun, who was at the wheel, “Ignore them! We are driving back!”
Suddenly, a commotion erupted on the roof of the van. Ling Yechen leaped down, then sprinted towards the school gate.
The occupants of the vehicle were utterly bewildered.
‘Has that white-haired girl truly lost her mind?’ they wondered.
Zhao Long shoved open the car door, drew his pistol, and gave chase. “Miss, come back!”
Ling Yechen had already reached the school entrance. With a loud clang, the wooden door of the guardhouse burst open, and a pale-skinned zombie in a security uniform lunged, tackling the white-haired girl to the ground with brutal force.