“In the fridge, there’s a bag of cookies, two bottles of milk, and one steak. I just taught you. Do you know how to turn on the stove now?” Fu Yan asked.
Jiang Xinghuai nodded.
“Drinking water’s here.” Fu Yan pointed at the bottom shelf of the fridge, then pointed toward the bathroom on the first floor. “I filled three buckets of water for daily use and put them in the bathroom. Use those if the water supply cuts off.”
Jiang Xinghuai nodded again.
Seeing that he basically understood, Fu Yan frowned, thought for a moment, but in the end didn’t say the next part out loud.
This food would only last Jiang Xinghuai for at most two days. If, after that, his father still didn’t come, Jiang Xinghuai would starve to death here.
That was too cruel a truth for a boy not yet of age.
Fu Yan had considered whether to take Jiang Xinghuai with him. He had actually wanted to ask last night, but Jiang Xinghuai had been very clear. He was waiting for his dad.
Fu Yan glanced at the time. It was already 8 o’clock. The time he had agreed on with his friend was 10.
The space between them fell silent.
Jiang Xinghuai lowered his head, tugging at the too-long sleeve of the suit. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but at the moment he did, he suddenly felt lost.
Right in front of him, Fu Yan turned and left.
Jiang Xinghuai stayed where he was for a while, the corner of the suit jacket clenched in his palm already soaked through with sweat.
Maybe it was the panic over the spreading virus, maybe it was the unease of being left alone once again. Jiang Xinghuai felt like both his hands and his heart were completely empty.
He wanted to grab onto something, anything at all.
Like a phone call.
“I’ll call my dad again,” Jiang Xinghuai said quietly.
“What?” Fu Yan didn’t catch it, looked up while packing. “What’s wrong?”
Jiang Xinghuai lifted his head, let go of the jacket hem, and repeated it.
“Alright.” Fu Yan handed him the phone.
Jiang Xinghuai dialed the number. Fu Yan turned and walked farther away.
“Doo… doo… doo…”
“Pick up, pick up…” Jiang Xinghuai muttered unconsciously under his breath.
“Doo… doo… Sorry, the number you’ve dialed is temporarily unavailable…”
Jiang Xinghuai hung up and called again.
Still unreachable.
He stared at the phone number until his eyes stung, rubbed at them, then turned and slipped into the bathroom.
Fu Yan finished packing his bag and began winding bandages from his wrist to his palm.
“Here.” Jiang Xinghuai came back over, handing the phone out.
Fu Yan looked at Jiang Xinghuai’s reddened eyes and nose but said nothing.
“…Can I go with you?” Jiang Xinghuai asked softly, then quickly added, “I don’t want to wait for my dad anymore.”
Maybe he won’t come for me after all.
Fu Yan froze for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”
A faint smile appeared on Jiang Xinghuai’s face. His expression was unexpectedly calm.
“Take the food from the fridge.” Fu Yan handed him a bag.
“Can I eat another bag of cookies?” Jiang Xinghuai suddenly asked. Seeing Fu Yan’s startled look, he lowered his voice and added, “…I didn’t get enough to eat this morning.”
“…Go ahead.” Fu Yan said helplessly.
“What should we do next?” After packing up the food from the fridge, Jiang Xinghuai’s spirits began to rise.
“Should we hit Xiao Xu?” He threw a punch toward the air with great enthusiasm. “I’ve wanted to hit him for a long time.”
“Open the door.” Fu Yan, for once, made a small joke to distract him.
“…” Jiang Xinghuai went silent for a while, then let out two chuckles. “Uncle, that joke is so old. I was playing it back in elementary school.”
“…Stop eating.” Fu Yan reached out and snatched the cookie bag from his hand.
“…Petty.” Jiang Xinghuai muttered, pouting.
Fu Yan picked up a solid wooden chair and set it facing the front door, ready and alert. “Open the door.”
“After you.” Jiang Xinghuai, like a host welcoming guests, bent halfway forward, one hand behind his back, and with the other pulled the door open as if in a grand gesture.
The door swung open.
Right outside, Xiao Xu let out a perfectly timed howl before charging in.
After a night of festering, he had become especially manic. His whole face was swollen, crisscrossed with bluish veins.
Fu Yan kicked him back out with one strike. Before he could get up, Fu Yan swiftly pinned him down with the chair, pressing it hard against Xiao Xu’s torso and head.
Trapped under the chair legs, Xiao Xu thrashed and howled violently.
Jiang Xinghuai hurried over and stepped on the one arm still sticking out.
Fu Yan drove a knife into Xiao Xu’s temple. Blood spurted out, and Xiao Xu went still.
“Let’s go.” Fu Yan stood, blocking the corpse from sight. His hand pressed against the back of Jiang Xinghuai’s head, pushing him forward. “Don’t look. Go pack your things.”
Obediently, Jiang Xinghuai kept his eyes straight ahead, unlocked his own door with his fingerprint, and led Fu Yan directly into the bedroom.
“What should I take?” Jiang Xinghuai tugged at his collar and stripped off the wrinkled suit jacket he’d been wearing. From the wardrobe, he randomly pulled out a loose white T-shirt with a snarling anime lion head on the front.
“Change of clothes, daily necessities, food and water, knives or anything that can be used as a weapon,” Fu Yan said.
“This one looks good?” Jiang Xinghuai pointed at the lion on his chest.
“Looks good.” Fu Yan’s expression didn’t change. “But I suggest you wear long sleeves.”
“Right! Adding a jacket makes it cooler.” Jiang Xinghuai snapped his fingers, pulled a black leather jacket from the wardrobe, slipped it on, then looped two silver chains around his neck—one long, one short, one with a skull, the other with a cross. Done, he asked quietly, “Handsome?”
“…” Fu Yan nodded.
When Jiang Xinghuai started taking off his pants, Fu Yan turned and walked out of the messy bedroom.
Ten minutes later, Fu Yan was glancing down at his watch when he heard footsteps. He turned back.
Jiang Xinghuai came out of the room, chewing bubble gum, wearing high-top sneakers, carrying a graffiti-covered backpack that was still more than half empty. He blinked at Fu Yan and said, “Sit down, why are you standing there?”
Fu Yan looked around. The wide sofa was littered with clothes, and the floor was a mess of snack wrappers and several game controllers.
“Sit, don’t be shy,” Jiang Xinghuai added.
“Let’s head out quickly,” Fu Yan said.
“Right away.” Jiang Xinghuai nodded, scooped up a laptop from the floor, and shoved it into his bag, then bent to pick up a few game controllers.
“If it’s for gaming, don’t bring them,” Fu Yan reminded.
Jiang Xinghuai froze, torn.
“They’ll only add weight, nothing else. And I don’t think you’ll be able to get online,” Fu Yan explained.
“…Fine.” Jiang Xinghuai gave in, then picked up a smaller handheld console from the floor.
“What about this one? It’s smaller and doesn’t need internet. Don’t underestimate it. This thing has 66 single-player games.” Jiang Xinghuai pitched it enthusiastically. “We could play together when we have time.”
Fu Yan said nothing, just looked at him.
“…” Jiang Xinghuai silently set it down, his hand drifting toward a stack of comic books.
“Don’t bring comics either,” Fu Yan said.
“No! But you packed a bunch of full suits! And leather shoes!” Jiang Xinghuai finally couldn’t hold back anymore and burst out cursing. “Who the hell runs for their life in leather shoes? And! I even saw you pack shoe polish!”
Fu Yan: “…………”
“You have your spiritual crutch, so I can’t have my emotional support?” Jiang Xinghuai argued righteously.
“…Shoe polish is not my spiritual crutch,” Fu Yan clarified coldly.
“I’m taking my comics.” Jiang Xinghuai puffed up his cheeks in anger.
“Take them,” Fu Yan compromised.
Jiang Xinghuai quickly shoved in a few books and, taking advantage of the moment, slipped the little game console in too.
Fu Yan could only pretend he didn’t see.
Once everything was packed, Jiang Xinghuai looked at the wall full of skateboards. In the end, he chose his favorite one, hugged it in his arms, and turned back to look at Fu Yan with pleading eyes.
“You can bring that,” Fu Yan saw through his thoughts and explained, “It can double as a weapon.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Jiang Xinghuai clutched the skateboard tightly, guarding it with his life. “This is my little wife!”
Fu Yan nodded. “Let’s go.”
Hugging the skateboard, Jiang Xinghuai pushed the door open and took a big step forward, right onto Xiao Xu’s body.
He looked down. Xiao Xu’s eyes suddenly snapped open.
“Ahhh!” Jiang Xinghuai swung the skateboard and smashed it down in one blow.
Xiao Xu closed his eyes.
Fu Yan raised an eyebrow and laughed.
“Let’s go.” Fu Yan walked ahead. After two steps, he realized Jiang Xinghuai hadn’t followed. He turned back.
“…My legs are weak.” Jiang Xinghuai stood frozen, staring at the blood on the skateboard, his hands trembling.
Fu Yan reached out his hand. “Come here.”
Jiang Xinghuai grabbed it, and Fu Yan held on tight.
“Your hand is so big,” Jiang Xinghuai suddenly said.
“Mm.” Fu Yan pushed open the heavy door to the emergency exit stairwell.
Inside, it was unnaturally quiet. The exhaust fans, which usually spun at full speed, were now turning sluggishly.
Fu Yan carefully scanned up and down before pulling him down the stairs.
Jiang Xinghuai was clearly uncomfortable with the suffocating silence. He swallowed and tried to start a conversation: “How old are you, uncle?”
“Uncle’s age,” Fu Yan replied in a very low voice.
“…No way.” Jiang Xinghuai narrowed his eyes like a sly little fox that saw through everything. “You don’t like me calling you uncle.”
“I’m 32.” Fu Yan corrected, hinting that being called “ge” was something his age could well afford.
“Uncle, what did you say?” Jiang Xinghuai didn’t catch it.
“…You—” Fu Yan got halfway through before suddenly stopping. His steps slowed, ears catching a faint snapping sound. He moved in front of Jiang Xinghuai. “Don’t talk.”
“That sound just now was me blowing bubble gum,” Jiang Xinghuai said carelessly. “Where are we going?”
“The parking garage.” Fu Yan glanced at the gum in his mouth and gave a low command. “Spit it out.”
“Why are you talking so quietly?” Jiang Xinghuai realized belatedly and lowered his own voice too.
“From basic observation of Xiao Xu and the situation downstairs, I believe the infected rely on hearing and sight to detect uninfected people and then attack,” Fu Yan explained.
“Got it.” Jiang Xinghuai swallowed nervously.
The stairwell was eerily quiet. After going down two floors in a row, their vigilance inevitably eased.
“We’re on the 15th floor now…” Jiang Xinghuai leaned out to check the floor sign, lowering his voice. “We’re still 15 floors away from the parking garage.”
“Yes.” Fu Yan was scanning the surroundings when, just as he stepped around a corner, he suddenly froze.
He whipped back, shoved Jiang Xinghuai behind him, and pressed them both into the shelter of the stairwell wall, his expression unusually taut.
Jiang Xinghuai was confused. When he looked up and saw the stairwell landing, his heart started pounding like a drum. He instinctively gripped Fu Yan’s hand tighter.
On the snow-white wall at the corner, the sunlight cast long shadows of people. The silhouettes moved slowly, stiffly, with limbs bent at strange angles, unnerving to behold.
Both of them held their breath, afraid to make the slightest move, only daring to lean forward a little to count heads.
Four elderly people, two middle-aged couples, two little girls, and a chubby teenager of seventeen or eighteen.
Eleven in total. Fu Yan recognized them. There were two families who lived on this floor.
He frowned, thinking hard about how to get past them.
Jiang Xinghuai suddenly started signaling with his hands: Did you see the shoes that guy’s wearing?! Those AJ and Off-White collab limited editions! I didn’t even manage to snag a pair that day!
Fu Yan signed back: You can’t go up there, it’s too dangerous. Even if you can run fast, it won’t work. Let me think of another way.
Jiang Xinghuai: So you also think they’d look better on me than on him? Good eye! But seriously, how the hell did he get them when I couldn’t?!
Fu Yan grabbed him in an embrace, still signing: Don’t be reckless. There’s no need for you to distract them. I have a better way.
Jiang Xinghuai, caught in his arms: “???”
“Why are you hugging me?” Jiang Xinghuai asked aloud, confused.
It was already too late for Fu Yan to cover his mouth.
Up ahead, the dozen people—two whole families, men, women, young and old—all turned their heads at once to stare at the two men holding each other.
