The massive granite lintel that once symbolized the words “Quiet Garden” now sat slanted in a withered flowerbed.
The character for “Quiet” had been worn away until only the “Cyan” half remained, looking like a sigh cut short.
The character for “Garden” had been completely swallowed by a thicket of dark brown wild vines struggling out of the cracks.
Moss and weeds tore through the terracotta paths.
At the bottom of a dried-up Roman fountain, decaying leaves settled in the silt.
In the mouth of the central marble angel’s trumpet, a dandelion was in full bloom.
The so-called “neoclassical” buildings had vanished, their pale plaster reliefs etched with massive tear streaks by the rain.
Only the wind whistled through the hollow balconies, shaking unlatched windows and creating a monotonous rhythmic sound.
“Clack, clack.”
The sound was crisp.
However, that noise was soon drowned out by the sounds of a crowd.
On the other side of the view, separated from this decay by a sharp line, stood a new wall under construction.
It was not the original decorative wall of the neighborhood, but a barrier made of massive, grayish-white prefabricated slabs.
It stood over 3 meters high, topped with coiled barbed wire that reflected a cold glint in the afternoon sun.
A hand clad in a cement-stained work glove hammered a brand-new iron sign that read “Construction Area, No Entry” into a temporary post by the wall.
Beneath the sign was a half-buried, exquisite iron streetlamp from the original estate, its glass shade shattered.
Tang Kezhi sat at an old conference table dragged from some abandoned office, listening to the commotion below.
She tapped her fingers on the table, lowered her head to think for a moment, and then looked up at Lin Mo and Lu Dongnuan.
“Fine, no problem,” she said straightforwardly, “Most of these weapons were retired from the military. The models are a bit old, but they’re good enough for killing zombies.”
Her fingertips brushed over a dried cement stain on the edge of the table, coating her finger in dust, but she casually wiped it off on her pant leg.
“I haven’t counted the specifics, but I know which crate is the best. It has seventeen rifles, nine shotguns, and two light machine guns. It’s just that ammunition is precious. There are only three boxes of belts left for the machine guns, and the rifle ammo is only enough to give each person twenty rounds for backup.” She paused and looked at Lin Mo.
“I have to guard this temporary outpost, so I can spare at most a few rifles and four shotguns for you. As for the light machine guns… I have to keep one to maintain order.”
Lin Mo tapped his fingertips on the table twice.
The rhythm was steady, as if he were calculating something.
“Not enough.”
After Lin Mo spoke, a brief silence fell over the room.
Only the ceaseless sound of pile driving came from outside the window, thudding over and over, like a dull beat for the negotiation.
Dust tumbled slowly in a slanted beam of light.
Tang Kezhi stared at Lin Mo for 2 seconds, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Mr. Lin certainly knows how to calculate. However, guns alone aren’t enough. The rate of ammunition consumption… especially after your Dr. Lu clears an area, there are always loose ends that need manpower to sweep up. It sounds fair, but if a Zombie Horde actually charges the wall, you’ll only have enough for a few volleys. It won’t even be enough to enjoy the noise.”
She leaned forward slightly, her elbows propped on the table, the old leather of her sleeves worn shiny.
“I’m sparing these pieces because we’re all in the same boat right now, and out of respect for Dr. Lu. But even among brothers, accounts should be clear. I’ll give you the weapons and the ammunition according to the numbers I stated. Additionally…”
She turned her gaze toward Lu Dongnuan, who had been sitting quietly the entire time.
Her tone softened slightly, but it still carried the shrewdness of a businesswoman.
“I’ll need Dr. Lu to ensure that the area within at least 500 meters of my temporary outpost is secure at night before we officially move into the designated zone inside the wall. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
Lu Dongnuan and Lin Mo exchanged a glance.
“That’s fine,” Lu Dongnuan replied.
She looked up, her gaze clear as she met Tang Kezhi’s eyes.
Her face remained expressionless.
“500 meters. But if it exceeds that range, or if your people go out and provoke something else during that time, I won’t be responsible.”
Tang Kezhi’s brow furrowed slightly.
‘Something feels off,’ she thought.
To put it bluntly, she had been prepared to sign an unequal treaty.
Why did these two agree so easily?
Lin Mo took over the conversation, “The ammunition allocation will be as you said. In exchange, once the safe zone is officially operational, the first phase of repairing the walls and internal facilities will have priority use of the small generator and tools we brought. Your contribution will be converted into points, which can be prioritized for exchanging life necessity quotas.”
“Deal.” Tang Kezhi agreed readily.
She knew the conditions Lin Mo offered were generous given the current environment.
Generators and tools were hard currency, and “point priority” meant getting relatively stable food and water much earlier.
She extended her hand.
Lin Mo shook it.
His palm was dry and powerful, with thin calluses.
Tang Kezhi’s hand was rough and warm, equally full of strength.
A simple handshake finalized a dangerous cooperation in the Apocalypse.
“Listening to the noise below, they sure are in a hurry to build this wall. It’s like they’re racing to claim territory…” she teased.
With that, she didn’t stay any longer.
She strode out of the room, her footsteps soon swallowed by the gloom of the stairs.
Only Lin Mo and Lu Dongnuan remained in the room.
“She still doesn’t plan on telling us where the crate is?” Lu Dongnuan asked.
“Of course not. If she told us, she would lose her leverage to negotiate.”
Lu Dongnuan remained seated at the dilapidated conference table.
“Isn’t she afraid we’ll figure out the approximate location of the crate?”
“She’s gambling. She’s betting that we can’t spare the manpower right now and that we don’t have the time to aimlessly dig through ruins to find it.”
Lin Mo turned around, half of his face hidden in the shadows as he said, “She’s gambling that we need weapons more urgently to establish deterrence, and that we won’t completely turn against her before the wall is finished and the internal layout is settled.”
“You’re gambling too.” Lu Dongnuan looked up, her clear eyes fixed on him.
“You’re gambling that she won’t be willing to give up the relatively safe environment inside the wall and the priority exchange rights. You’re betting she’ll eventually hand over more for the sake of long-term interests.”
Lin Mo didn’t deny it.
He pulled out the tracking device and placed it in front of Lu Dongnuan.
On the screen, red dots representing backpacks were densely scattered across the entire city of Ruerke.
But when he zoomed in, they discovered that many of the red dots were moving.
Lu Dongnuan’s eyes widened as she looked up at Lin Mo.
“There are still this many survivors?”
Lin Mo nodded.
“That’s secondary. You could find out that much just by going online; there are still quite a lot of people alive. Our goal is to ensure long-term survival—at least 6 years. Ideally, we need to continue growing and achieve self-sufficiency.”
Lu Dongnuan nodded.
Then, Lin Mo pointed at the locator.
“Besides Tang Kezhi’s people, guess if there are any other reincarnators among these dots?”