“How did it come to this?”
Lu Dongnuan was panting heavily.
“Why have I become so irritable?”
She was completely bewildered.
Although her personality was indeed somewhat eccentric, it shouldn’t have been expressed so blatantly.
Lu Dongnuan raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Her heart hammered against her chest like a drum, and her temples throbbed.
A senseless surge of irritability and violence still surged through her veins, making her fingertips feel numb with a burning sensation.
Something was wrong; this was far from right.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have a temper, but she usually leaned toward sarcasm or cold observation.
This head-on, almost uncontrollable rage was rare, even if it had only lasted for a moment.
She walked up to the fifth floor.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
Lu Dongnuan paused for a second, realizing she shouldn’t knock that way.
“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.”
“Open up, the community is here to bring warmth.”
She waited for a while.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
However, the sound of knocking came from the other side of the door.
A chill rushed from her tailbone straight to the crown of her head, instantly suppressing all previous irritability and violence.
She froze in place, then slowly backed away.
Then, her own voice came from the other side of the door.
“Open up, the community is here to bring warmth.”
The doorknob turned slowly.
“Click.”
***
At the same time, in a block a few streets away.
Lin Mo was responsible for a large area.
He couldn’t simply tell the Zombies to get lost like Lu Dongnuan could, but he was coated in Lu Dongnuan’s blood, which allowed him to pass through unhindered.
He held his breath and squeezed sideways past two bicycles that were so rusted they were practically fused together, his movements cautious and agile.
He had just retrieved half a tin of milk powder and several packs of compressed biscuits from a half-open door—supplies that survivors had failed to take in their hurried departure.
There were signs of struggle and long-blackened bloodstains inside the house, but no Zombies.
Outside this building lay the corpse of a woman.
She was facing toward the building and wearing a bag on her back, which still contained some supplies.
It looked as though she had crawled to this spot.
The window at the end of the corridor was shattered, and the wind blowing in carried the scent of decay.
He left that residence.
He knocked on the door opposite.
“Hello, I am the assistant to Dr. Lu from the Villa Area. I am here to deliver supplies.”
He waited for about a minute, but there was no sound from inside.
He sighed.
This was normal.
Out of ten households, eight or nine were either empty or contained only things that could no longer respond to him.
He skillfully pulled out his tools and began to pick the lock.
The lock cylinder was old and opened without much effort.
He pushed the door open, and a gust of air mixed with dust and a faint smell of mold rushed out.
The furniture in the living room was arranged quite neatly, but it was covered in thick dust.
He scanned the room quickly, his gaze halting at the coffee table.
A half-full cup of water sat there.
The water had turned turbid, with thick, flocculent growth inside.
The bedding on the bed was messy, but no one was there.
The wardrobe door was open, and more than half of its contents were missing, suggesting a hurried departure.
His gaze fell on the bedside table, where an open notebook lay next to a pen.
Lin Mo stepped closer and looked at the notebook.
The latest page had a few lines written on it.
The handwriting had gradually transitioned from neat to messy and crooked.
Before that, however, many pages showed steady and gentle penmanship belonging to a mother.
He flipped back a few pages.
[Xiaojie, listen to Mommy.]
[Medicine is bitter, but if you eat the candy, it won’t be bitter anymore. Keep the candy wrappers tucked inside your favorite picture book.]
[You said they were shiny like stars, so let them hold the light for you.]
[The water at home has stopped, but we have rainwater. The noodles are cooked; you must drink all the soup. You asked if Mommy was eating too? Mommy already ate, truly. You want to feel my stomach? That’s just because Mommy got thinner; it looks better.]
[The noises outside are scary, but don’t be afraid. Push the cabinet over, and the door will be strong. We are the knights guarding the Castle. You are a knight, and Mommy is too. Your green dinosaur is the bravest; even with one ear missing, it’s still majestic. If you’re scared at night, think of the Castle, think of the knights.]
[Mommy counted the biscuits; there are still enough. Daddy will come back once the roads are clear.]
[Do you see the brightest star out the window? When it reaches the very center of the window, Daddy’s car lights will be able to light the way. You have to look every night because it moves every night.]
[Remember, do not look out through the peephole anymore. No matter what you see or hear, none of it is real. Don’t listen to the voices outside the door. Don’t respond to anyone calling you, and don’t open the door for anyone knocking.]
[Mommy must go out once. You stay at home by yourself:]
[One: No matter what, do not open the door. No matter who is outside or what they say—even if it’s Mommy’s voice asking you to open the door—do not open it. The real Mommy will have a key. Remember this well; it is the most important thing.]
[Two: Mommy hid a “secret treasure.” At the very bottom of the cabinet, in the pocket of Mommy’s thick coat, there is a bottle of water and two packs of biscuits. They are yours, and no one else can find them. If you are hungry or thirsty, go get them, but save them and use them bit by bit.]
[Three: If you miss Mommy or get scared, look at that star. Mommy is looking at it too. Mommy looking at it is just like Mommy looking at you.]
[Xiaojie, baby.]
[Mommy loves you. It’s not just a casual kind of love; it’s the kind of love that will hold you through the door, through the walls, and through such a dark night, even if Mommy can’t come back right away.]
[Mommy loves you with so much, much love.]
[You must be okay.]
[You must be okay.]
[Wait for Mommy.]
Lin Mo’s fingertips stopped on the words “Wait for Mommy.”
The edges where the ink had bled were a bit rough.
He closed the notebook, and the pages made a soft thud.
The wind in the corridor was still blowing in, making the back of his neck feel cold, so he stood up, preparing to leave the room.
As his gaze swept past the window, he paused.
Dust had accumulated on the glass, but near the bottom, there were several thin, relatively clean streaks, as if someone frequently rubbed their fingertips there to leave a tiny gap for peeking out.
He walked over, leaned down, and looked out through that small window.
Downstairs, in the open space directly facing this window, withered grass grew from the cracks in the concrete.
A corpse lay facedown there, motionless.
It was a woman, her hair was dry and disheveled, and she wore a jacket whose original color could no longer be discerned.
She still carried a dirty grey backpack on her back, the zipper halfway open.
Lin Mo’s breath hitched.
He remembered the female corpse lying at the entrance of the unit.
He had only glanced at it briefly, hurried as he was to enter and search, without looking closely.
Now, looking down from this height, the style and color of the backpack, and the posture of the woman as she fell toward the unit door, were all perfectly clear.
Lin Mo went back downstairs.
The woman’s body was already stiff and cold, her clothes covered in dust and dark stains.
One of her hands was stretched forward, fingers slightly curled, her fingernails filled with black mud, as if she had used the last of her strength to crawl.
The side of her face was pressed against the cold ground, her eyes half-closed and grey, staring in the direction of the unit door.
Lin Mo closed his eyes, then opened them a moment later.
He gently took the items out of the backpack, and then, with great care, he moved that stiff, forward-reaching hand and placed it gently by her side, making her posture look less like a desperate crawl.
He stood up and took one last look at the fifth-floor window—at that tiny “window” a child had wiped clean to look outside.
The wind kicked up the sand and dust on the ground, sweeping over the woman’s no-longer-heaving body and the sweater she had ultimately failed to deliver.
Lin Mo turned and quickly left the building.
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