Chapter 213: Memories Surge

"Master, we're refugees from the city—there's really nothing in the cart. Come check if you don't believe me; if there was anything, I'd give it to you!"

A tall, burly man frowned as he explained, his gestures wildly expressive, gesturing incessantly toward the cart, his voice and expression brimming with urgency.

"No, no—our village's rules forbid passage without supplies. Take another route, or cross the riverbed. By our rules, we only guard the bridge, not the river!"

The bridge guards shook their heads vigorously, firm in principle.

"I've got a disabled person with leg injuries here—I can't cross the riverbed. Just let us pass; I truly don't want trouble!"

The burly man's gaze hardened, his hand drifting to his waist—but before he could draw his gun, two muzzle barrels were already leveled at him.

"Don't even think of causing trouble. We, West Great Camp Village, dare collect tolls here precisely because we don't fear troublemakers!"

The bridge guard's face was stern, his musket steady and aimed squarely at the burly man.

"Even if you brought twenty men, we wouldn't flinch. Stay calm," another guard added.

"This fucking…"

The burly man's expression darkened; he turned to look back the way they'd come, clearly fearing pursuit. Just as he reached for the cart door to drive off, he suddenly spotted several figures approaching from afar—and two of them froze him in place.

"You—you're… you…"

The burly man pointed at Zhang Su and Zheng Xinyu as they stepped up to the barricade, speechless, his face etched with disbelief.

"This guy…"

Zhang Su also frowned at the burly man across from him—he looked familiar, but his face bore fresh scars, a diagonal slash across his nose bridge; his appearance had changed so drastically he couldn't place him.

Ma Changshou, seeing the scene, immediately signaled his men to lower their weapons—maybe this man was an old acquaintance of Boss Zhang. At this critical moment, better to avoid trouble. The toll was trivial; he couldn't afford to make enemies with Zhang Su's group over a few scraps.

"Boss Su, he's—he's—holy shit, he's the PE teacher!"

Zheng Xinyu's eyes widened, her baseball bat thrust forward.

"Duan Wuhu?"

Zhang Su blurted it out—and a flood of memories surged into his mind.

The towering figure who suddenly appeared during the battle against zombies at the apartment entrance, standing by the window urging him to take one last look at the house engulfed in flames, handing out instant noodles to Qin Ya to ease the tension…

Those scenes felt like yesterday—but they were already so far away.

"801!"

The burly man was Duan Wuhu, who'd once lived in the same apartment unit as Zhang Su. After so long, he'd forgotten Zhang Su and Zheng Xinyu's names—but he remembered this couple lived in 801!

Like Zhang Su, Duan Wuhu's mind now flooded with memories.

"You're the two from 801!"

Duan Wuhu pointed at Zhang Su and Zheng Xinyu, voice trembling with emotion.

"Quick, clear the way for this boss!"

Ma Changshou, sharp as ever, saw they knew each other and immediately ordered his men to move the barricade.

"Wait!"

But Zhang Su waved his hand, halting the villagers. He looked at Duan Wuhu with complex expression: "You're Duan, right? PE teacher from No. 7 High School?"

"Yes, it's me, young man—I'm sorry, I forgot your name…"

Duan Wuhu awkwardly shook his hands.

Over two months had passed. Zhang Su and Zheng Xinyu's appearances hadn't changed much—just worn, unkept, skin roughened. But Duan Wuhu looked like a different man.

Zhang Su felt a pang of sorrow, and suspicion stirred in his heart—he didn't order the barricade moved right away.

"Teacher Duan, how many of you are there? Where are you from?"

Zhang Su asked cautiously.

Duan Wuhu didn't mind Zhang Su's caution—he'd survived too long in the apocalypse to misunderstand caution. "Brother, just the two of us. A lot's happened. I can tell you slowly. Can I pass first? Find a place, then we talk."

"I'll hand over all my weapons—I swear I won't harm you."

As he spoke, Duan Wuhu pulled a pistol from his waist and, to reassure them, grabbed the barrel and tossed it straight over the barricade.

Zhang Su caught it midair, his eyes locked on Duan Wuhu. Too many betrayals—he couldn't rule out a second gun being drawn during the toss.

Zheng Xinyu, having learned from Zhang Su, grew increasingly suspicious. She tucked her baseball bat onto her backpack and now held her rifle aimed steadily at Duan Wuhu.

"Brother, this lady… I only have one pistol, nothing else. Holy shit, you've got rifles—damn impressive!"

Duan Wuhu shook his hands, patting his entire body to show he carried nothing hidden.

Click.

Zhang Su removed the magazine from the pistol—loaded rounds inside. He reinserted it and said: "Type 64. Military issue. Where'd you get it? Did Qin Ya get it for you?"

"Qin Ya…"

The name seemed to hold some magic—Duan Wuhu fell into thought, murmuring: "No… not Officer Qin…"

Then he lowered his head, silent, lost in memory.

"Boss Zhang, look…"

Seeing the silence, Ma Changshou gestured toward the barricade—should they move it?

Zhang Su, seeing Duan Wuhu's hollow expression, nodded: "Move it."

"Thank you, thank you, brother—what's your name again? And this… this lady with the rifle…"

As the barricade slowly cleared, Duan Wuhu's despair faded.

"Zhang. Zhang Su. You said it yourself."

Zhang Su elbowed Zheng Xinyu.

"I'm Zheng Xinyu—'Xinyu' with the 'yu' meaning 'goodness.' Uncle, if you want to be friendly, at least remember people's names!"

Zheng Xinyu lowered her aiming stance, but still cradled the rifle across her chest—clearly not someone to mess with.

"Yes, yes! Brother Zhang, Miss Zheng—I remember now, I remember it all… damn, don't even mention these past days."

Recalling the scenes from Sheng Qin Garden, then contrasting them with the recent months, Duan Wuhu's eyes grew wet.

Seeing someone he barely knew yet recognized, Zhang Su felt a pang too. When the barricade opened a path, he said: "My vehicle's parked ahead at the village entrance—a motorhome. Drive over there. We'll talk."

"Ah, okay!"

Duan Wuhu readily climbed in, stomped the accelerator, and slowly drove across the bridge.

As the car passed near Zhang Su and his group, through the dark tinted windows, he saw another figure in the back seat. When he looked at that person, the person looked back—due to the tint, their face was indistinct.

"Wait!"

Zhang Su called out, stopping Duan Wuhu's car.

"What is it, Brother Zhang?"

Duan Wuhu replied, startled.

"Is that person in the car your brother?"

Zhang Su didn't remember Duan Wuhu well—but he clearly recalled Duan Sihai, the man who'd driven the train to lure monsters from the underground parking lot.

If not for Duan Sihai, Zhang Su's group would've left Sheng Qin Garden two days earlier—and never met the milkman Wang Guangjun.

"No…"

Duan Wuhu's mood sank. He shook his head: "Not Sihai. A friend. I'll explain later, Brother Zhang—I'll tell you later."

Zhang Su noticed Duan Wuhu's barely perceptible eye signal—guessing he was wary of eavesdroppers—and nodded, pointing ahead to signal him to continue.

He wasn't afraid Duan Wuhu would flee—he saw something in his eyes.

Once the car drove off, Ma Changshou walked up to Zhang Su: "Boss Zhang, you've got friends everywhere, huh? Hah!"

"Did I ruin your business?"

Zhang Su walked forward, teasing.

"How could I? I'm not that petty, Boss Zhang!"

"I believe you," Zhang Su replied with a half-smile.

Early on, Zhao De and Guo Dachao had spotted the approaching vehicle and gone on alert. As Zhang Su neared, they exchanged glances.

"Zhu, Dachao, go with Village Chief Ma and pick up supplies. Choose two decent three-wheelers—no junk!"

"Got it!"

"Understood!"

They glanced at the burly man stepping out of the van but said nothing, shouldering their rifles and following Ma Changshou toward the village. The boss had his business; they had theirs.

"Teacher Duan, your friend in the car isn't getting out?"

Zhang Su tapped on the window.

"Weijun, say hello—Brother Zhang is an old friend. We used to live in the same apartment unit!"

Duan Wuhu leaned into the car and called out.

Creaking, the warped window slid open, revealing a mild-mannered man's face—long greasy hair hung past his shoulders, glasses on his nose, though the left temple was broken and taped up with several layers.

Even so, he carried an air of quiet refinement.

"Mr. Zhang, hello. I'm Fu Weijun. My legs don't work—I won't be getting out. Please understand."

Zhang Su saw Fu Weijun's legs shift slightly—moving naturally, yet completely unsupported—clearly paralyzed below the waist.

"Mr. Fu, hello. Rest well. I'll chat with Teacher Duan in the car."

"By all means."

Fu Weijun nodded with a smile.

(End of Chapter)