Before Ling Yechen could even utter a sound, the shadow curved slightly, revealing black and white stripes under the light. Though he had never encountered such a creature in reality, Ling Yechen instantly recognized its form.
A five-step viper, its black tongue flicking, poked its head through the broken window and sank its fangs into Uncle Lü’s elbow. He cried out in alarm, reaching to pull the snake off, but his hand recoiled as if shocked, and his entire body stiffened for a moment, losing its agility.
Jing Lan stepped forward, seizing the snake by its neck. He plunged the Night Goddess Blade down fiercely, twisting the blade to press against the snake’s spine, then sawed back and forth, severing its neck until only a single tendon remained connected.
The snake’s tenacious vitality was evident; even nearly decapitated, it refused to release its bite. Jing Lan had to press his thumb firmly on its lower jaw before it finally let go. He quickly picked up the snake’s head, still attached to its body, and flung it far away. To his astonishment, the severed head continued to twitch on the ground, and its body writhed in a disturbing manner—its spine was broken, no longer controlled by the brain, merely thrashing in chaotic spasms.
At this moment, Uncle Lü’s face was utterly pale, his eyes vacant and wide with shock. He trembled against the doorframe, his previous composure having vanished completely.
Jing Lan suddenly understood the underlying reason. More than a decade ago, while dining at this very relative’s home, a dish of braised snake meat was served. Uncle Lü had specifically offered some to Jing Lan. Jing Lan, remarking on the snake meat’s nourishing properties, had urged, “Uncle, you should have it.” It was then that Uncle Lü revealed his past: during his time fighting the Vietnamese, he had been bitten by a five-step viper on a mountain. A comrade, skilled in traditional medicine, had swiftly gathered seven or eight centipedes from a nearby hackberry tree and made Uncle Lü swallow them, thus saving his life. That comrade later became a monk, known by the dharma name Master Daosheng. From that day forward, Uncle Lü had harbored a deep fear of snakes, let alone the thought of consuming them.
Snakes are inherently timid creatures, seldom venturing into human settlements. It was baffling, even sinister, how this one had gathered here, seemingly drawn by the same inexplicable force as the crazed individuals outside.
Jing Lan fixed his gaze on the dying, severed snake on the ground. Its head twitched once more, its eyes staring blankly, as if imbued with a malevolent curse.
‘Damn it! This thing seems infected too!’ Jing Lan’s scalp tingled. Beside him, Uncle Lü, trembling, spoke haltingly, “My boy, this viper is wrong; it seems poisoned! Not snake venom, but it feels very similar to when Old Wang bit me just now. This thing is also infected! Be careful from now on, for even animals might carry the sickness!” As he spoke, he struggled to sniff, as if already experiencing difficulty breathing.
Lui Si and Jing Lan exchanged a glance, the latter reversing his grip on the Night Goddess Blade, holding it tightly. Lui Si then suggested to Uncle Lü, “Perhaps you should lie down and rest?”
Uncle Lü gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. His face was already swollen and shadowed, presenting a terrifying sight. “No!” he rasped. “Haven’t you seen Lan is ready to stab me with that knife? I should have died when that snake bit me all those years ago. A Fei saved my life; now that he’s become Master Daosheng, a monk, I’ll simply find his disciple to repay him with my own life.”
As he spoke, he gripped Jing Lan’s shoulder, his eyes blinking erratically—likely beyond his control. “I’ll go out now,” he declared, “and block those madmen for you. You two get in the car quickly, go wherever it’s safe. My boy, your mother was a biologist, and you’re capable too. First, save your own lives; then, whatever you can accomplish later, do it!”
Without waiting for anyone’s response, he turned, twisted open the door, and leaped out in a single bound.
Ling Yechen noticed a fleeting tremor pass through Jing Lan the moment Uncle Lü mentioned his mother. Had the light been brighter, Ling Yechen believed he would have witnessed Jing Lan’s pupils suddenly dilate.
Although this tremor was fleeting, Jing Lan slung his bag over his shoulder, held his dagger horizontally, and pulled Ling Yechen out the door. Lui Si, holding Little Lamai, followed closely behind.
Uncle Lü roared curses in dialect, brazenly provoking the infected Dao Shangzou and the several zombies close behind him. He swung a punch, connecting with Dao Shangzou’s chin. The latter stumbled but, to their surprise, wasn’t knocked down by the veteran’s fist. As Uncle Lü prepared another punch, another madman appeared and sank their teeth into his arm.
“Run! What are you dawdling for!” Uncle Lü bellowed, entangled with several infected individuals. His loud cries attracted four or five more, who quickly surrounded him.
The group piled into Jing Lan’s car, rolling up the windows. A figure suddenly darted to the passenger seat window, screaming and pounding furiously on the glass. Ling Yechen, seated there, was so terrified he almost shrank into the driver’s seat.
Immediately after, from the rear of the car, Uncle Lü’s shouts and curses finally gave way. His “You motherf…” barely escaped his lips before transforming into pained moans of “Aiyoyoyoyo!” Eventually, only frenzied, dry howls remained.
In the back seat, Little Lamai was held tightly by Lui Si, panting heavily. He mumbled, “Dad… Uncle Lü…”
Lui Si, meanwhile, seemed to observe the swarming infected behind the car with a hint of morbid interest through the window glass. She even appeared to make eye contact with one, which let out a dry howl and began to sprint towards the car.
Jing Lan started the car and sped away. Along the town roads, the dim yellow streetlights still glowed, as if everything was perfectly normal.
Ling Yechen gazed at the faint lights emanating from the bungalows along the roadside, suddenly wondering if everything was merely a dream. Could it be that behind those lights, people were still living their lives as peacefully as ever?
A white figure flashed, darting into the center of the road. Jing Lan instinctively slammed on the brakes. Illuminated by the headlights, the figure’s ghastly pale face bore two particularly glaring streaks of splashed blood. Its gums were inexplicably inverted, covered in viscous fluid that hung down in sticky strands.
“Aoo!” The infected roared at the car. Ling Yechen, terrified, instinctively covered his face. The car suddenly accelerated, pushing him back into the seat. With a resounding thud, the infected individual was struck and sent flying, then immediately run over by the wheels, letting out a chaotic wail.
“This one must have had some traffic safety education, right?” Lui Si commented blandly, though it didn’t seem she was intentionally trying to tell a dark joke to lighten the mood.
All three recognized the victim: it was the groom from the wedding earlier.
The lively wedding had only ended two hours ago, the lingering taste of the feast still on their lips. Yet, everything was now hurtling in an unforeseen and terrifying direction.
Ling Yechen lowered his hands from his face. The car’s headlights illuminated the trees along the road, which flashed by one after another. Only the stark bloodstains on the car window remained, a gruesome mark that obliterated any lingering doubt about whether this was all a dream.
Jing Lan extended his right hand, covering Ling Yechen’s and gently squeezing it. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “There’s always a way. They’re just zombies; it’s not the first time we’ve seen them—I mean, counting those in art, of course.”
“Senior… I don’t want to die…” At this moment, Ling Yechen felt a strange curiosity within himself. He, who had contemplated suicide countless times, now found his heart filled with an overwhelming, visceral fear of death.
Lui Si chuckled softly, as if she had long transcended all fear. “Relax, Little Yeye,” she said, “trust Little Lanlan. He’s very strong.”
As soon as she spoke, Little Lamai in the back row seemed to finally lose control and burst into tears with a wail.
Before Lui Si could offer comfort, Little Lamai suddenly choked back his sobs. “Big Brother,” he stammered, “could you please go to my house? My mom is still there!”
Driving a car offered a measure of safety from the zombies. Jing Lan chose a road and turned into the small town, heading towards Little Lamai’s house as instructed.
He had expected to encounter other refugees on the way, but to his surprise, the figures that darted out one after another were all zombies. The deeper they ventured, the more densely packed and chaotic the screams became.
They drove until they reached an open-air recreation area. Inside, a group of elderly men and women were dancing wildly. At first glance, it appeared as though their usual square dancing had morphed into an impromptu Michael Jackson tribute.
But as soon as they heard the car, they all turned around. At first glance, they looked exactly like the “Dancing Zombie” troupe from Plants vs. Zombies.
Little Lamai in the back seat leaned forward for a few glances, then his body went limp and he slumped back, utterly paralyzed by fear.
Jing Lan said nothing more, pressing the accelerator again.
Suddenly, another figure burst out of the alley, shouting, “Stop the car!”
Jing Lan eased off the accelerator and checked the rearview mirror, where a man was chasing after them.
“It’s… it’s Dao Shangpao! Dao Shangzou’s brother, Big Brother, please take him with us,” Little Lamai stammered indistinctly.
Dao Shangzou’s brother? Jing Lan had seen this man earlier and almost gotten into an argument with him over hitting a dog.
Fortunately, they hadn’t continued arguing. Otherwise, Dao Shangzou might have transformed into a zombie right before his eyes, which would have complicated things immensely.
And this brother of his, whether or not they shared the same mother, seemed like nothing but trouble.
If they took him along, there was no telling what further trouble he might cause.
Jing Lan pressed the accelerator, the car rumbled to life, and sped away.
“You son of a b*tch! I’ll haunt you even as a ghost!” Dao Shangpao cursed loudly, then vanished into the dark curtain behind the rapidly receding car.
Silence fell heavy within the car.
“Why…” After a long while, Little Lamai finally uttered three words, as if speaking to himself.
All four were in a state of profound numbness. Perhaps in the eyes of the other three, Jing Lan remained unnervingly calm and composed, driving steadily. In reality, Jing Lan’s mind was remarkably clear at that moment; he was simply focused on driving, a state that was likely a profound stress response. A torrent of emotions stirred in the depths of his subconscious, but before they could surface, he had to concentrate, to find a place of refuge.
This might have been due to Uncle Lü’s mention of his mother earlier. It wasn’t strange for his mother’s affairs to be known, but Jing Lan wondered why Uncle Lü chose to bring it up in his final moments. It seemed Uncle Lü knew it would provoke a reaction in Jing Lan. Perhaps he had never taken Jing Lan’s apparent composure in stride too seriously, knowing it couldn’t be equated with the true temperament of a seasoned warrior.
The car drove along the desolate mountain road. There were no other vehicles, and the trees on both sides of the road were alternately illuminated by the headlights, creating an eerie spectacle, as if the car was traversing a giant skeleton, with rows of ribs on either side.
Silence lingered in the car. Little Lamai’s crying had stopped, though he still sniffled occasionally.
After a long while, Ling Yechen, who had been hunched over the driver’s console with his hands clasped, finally lifted his head, gazing blearily at the road ahead.
“Where are we going now?”
“Observation Station 115.”
“Observing what? An observatory?”
“Forest fires. Also, if a herd of wild elephants passes through here, someone will be on duty.”
Ling Yechen lowered his head, not wanting to look at the pitch-black road ahead.
He felt as though he was plummeting into a dark abyss. Even his companions around him might quickly abandon him.
Who else could he rely on? Or rather, did he even need to rely on anyone?
‘Am I truly so useless, incapable of anything? I was a good student, not entirely worthless…’
But then he immediately realized he was still using a laughable grading system to evaluate a person, and Ling Yechen suddenly felt a strange urge to laugh.
Call his parents?
Ling Yechen suddenly imagined his parents saying smugly, “We told you not to mess around in those places; now look, how are you going to come back?”
Perhaps his parents weren’t truly that heartless, but a vengeful feeling suddenly simmered within Ling Yechen, making him unwilling to contact them.
Perhaps dying directly was the best option?
Maybe if it weren’t for this whole mess, he would have jumped from the balcony after failing the college entrance exam.
Then Jing Lan and Keke’s band would write a song about him, ‘Kill the Depressed Patient,’ and it would be sung across the land…
Even that would be better than being bitten to death by a zombie.
Uncle Lü’s tragic howls echoed in his ears once more.
Wait, Keke…
The short-haired girl’s warm smile suddenly surfaced in his mind.
The countless times he had fantasized about it—being hugged and comforted by that sister, who was more handsome than beautiful—such a thing might actually happen. They said Keke had comforted Senior Jing Lan in that very way back then…
However, Senior Jing Lan was Keke’s blood relative; perhaps they shared a bond that outsiders couldn’t replicate.
“How about we go rescue Sister Keke?” The words were barely out of Ling Yechen’s mouth before he regretted them. Such a suggestion was too abrupt. Would going into the city now be too dangerous?