Chapter 32: The Lifetimes of an Elderly Couple

After Zhang Su and the other two prepared their gear and secured their defenses, each slung an empty large pack over their shoulders and ascended to the ninth floor.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Zhang Su tapped the door of 901 with his hatchet, pressed his ear against it, listened carefully for a moment, then shook his head: “No sound. I never heard footsteps from above when I was home—looks like no one lives here.”

They continued upward. The owner group had no information about any resident on the tenth floor of Building Three, Unit One; the condition of the floor and the two entry doors also confirmed there were no signs of habitation.

As they climbed higher, just as Zhang Su pulled open the safety door to the eleventh floor, his grip tightened slightly on the hatchet handle.

Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshan both swallowed hard.

The door to 1101 was tightly shut, but a large pool of dried, dark blood pooled beneath it, seeping from the gap—its ground mat, inscribed with “Safe Passage,” soaked in the congealed fluid, radiating an eerie hue, while a faint stench of blood drifted through the corridor, stirring unease.

Zhang Su turned to the two women and made a silent gesture, ignoring 1101 entirely, instead pointing toward 1102.

According to the information gathered from the owner group, 1101 should have been empty, with 1102 occupied—but now 1101 clearly showed signs of trouble.

When Zhang Su cautiously rounded the corner and saw 1102, his heart lurched.

The entry door to 1102 stood wide open; a small electric scooter sat just inside the foyer, two pairs of shoes placed neatly on the floor—all seemed perfectly ordinary.

Yet this very ordinariness sent a chill of unease through Zhang Su.

Creak.

The sound of clenched fingers echoed.

Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshan, following behind Zhang Su, simultaneously gripped their weapons tighter.

“Same rule as always: no matter what happens, don’t make a sound. Whoever shouts gets knocked out—immediately.”

Zhang Su kept his eyes fixed on 1102, glancing sideways at the two women as he spoke.

They both gave a quiet “Mm,” their grips on their weapons tightening further.

One step, two steps—the three moved toward 1102. The hallway remained utterly silent, so quiet it made their hearts race.

Finally, Zhang Su’s foot stepped onto the mat inside the door. He sniffed—the air carried a strange odor.

Beyond the foyer lay the living room. Zhang Su advanced slowly, his gaze shifting gradually, first catching sight of a pair of bare feet in socks—the shoes were gone.

His heart skipped. He signaled for the others to wait, then tapped the shoe cabinet with his hatchet.

Thud. Thud.

The dull sound reverberated through the room, striking their eardrums.

Still no movement—but this reassured them somewhat. If a zombie had been hiding, it would have reacted to the noise!

The three moved deeper, taking in the entire living room—and froze.

In the center of the room lay a mangled corpse, its upper torso gnawed beyond recognition, abdominal skin torn open, internal organs exposed, viscera churned into a bloody pulp. From the relatively intact head and streaks of silver hair, they could tell it was an elderly woman.

Most bizarre of all: there were no signs of struggle. It was as if the old woman had willingly submitted to being devoured while still alive.

Zhong Xiaoshan, though shaken, managed to look away with sorrow; Zheng Xinyu reacted more strongly—she felt a surge of nausea, but forced it down.

“Where did the zombie go?”

Zheng Xinyu swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and asked cautiously, her eyes scanning the room’s several doors. Logically, a zombie should have been drawn by the noise—but she couldn’t rule out the possibility of one suddenly lunging from some hidden corner.

Zhong Xiaoshan said nothing, gripping her large wrench tightly—its cold metal had warmed under her palms, ready for immediate action.

Zhang Su was certain the zombie was no longer inside. After careful observation, he quickly pinpointed the wide-open bay window: “The zombie must have climbed out through there…”

“What?”

Hearing this startling conclusion, Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshan were stunned.

“Remember yesterday’s loudspeaker? It must have happened then. Clearly, zombies have no intelligence—only primal urges: chase prey, no matter what.”

Zhang Su walked to the bay window, examined it—the sticky blood on the frame confirmed his guess. He leaned out and looked down: a twisted corpse lay sprawled beside the flowerbed below—without doubt, the zombie that had leapt from the window.

“Close the front door. Check the other rooms.”

Zhang Su turned back to the two women and gave the order.

The three-bedroom, two-living-room apartment had only one bedroom door closed. They checked it quickly—besides the corpse in the living room, no other bodies.

Shhhhh!

Zhang Su pulled the curtains shut, then returned to the bedroom, took a blanket, and draped it over the corpse in the living room. He turned and said: “Hurry and gather supplies. Xinyu, check the kitchen and the spare bedroom. Zhong Xiaoshan, check the master bedroom and the small bedroom. Food, water, tools—take anything useful.”

“Okay.”

“Understood!”

Less than ten minutes later, the three regrouped in the living room.

“Boss, this place probably only had the old man and woman living here… there’s not much here.”

Zheng Xinyu sighed, patting her backpack. She’d assumed an elderly household would have plenty in the kitchen—but once she checked, she realized she’d been wrong.

The kitchen was spotless: a bag of millet left with about two catties, half a bag of flour—four or five catties, an unopened pack of noodles, the fridge holding oil, eggs, and a few jars of pickles—the most convenient item being the packet of black sesame paste…

“From the condition of the bedrooms, aside from the master bedroom used by the old couple, the other two haven’t been occupied in a long time.”

Zhong Xiaoshan shrugged, having found only a few everyday tools—a screwdriver, scissors—and several boxes of chronic medication.

Zhang Su turned off the two old cell phones he’d found in the living room and stuffed them into his pack. He shook the passbook in his hand and said to the two: “All the old folks’ belongings are right here…”

Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshan took the passbook curiously. Its pages were densely filled with deposit records—the last entry, just at the start of this month, showed a steady monthly deposit of five thousand yuan, with a total balance exceeding three hundred thousand!

“This money was saved by the old couple for their grandson’s wedding…”

Zhang Su gestured for them to flip the passbook over. On the back, clearly written: “Grandpa and Grandma wish Hao Tian a happy marriage.”

“They must have planned to give this as a wedding gift when their grandson got engaged. How pitiful—the heart of every parent and grandparent.”

Zhong Xiaoshan’s eyes welled up. She glanced involuntarily at the mound of blanket covering the corpse.

“The old folks lived frugally their whole lives—and now they’ve lost everything. What a damn world…” Zheng Xinyu’s lips quivered. She looked at Zhang Su with a forlorn expression: “Boss, I miss my dad and mom, my grandpa and grandma, my maternal grandparents.”

“Your family’s all intact…” Zhang Su shook his head, soothing her: “Focus first on how you’re going to survive.”

Thank you to book friend Bai Ling Gongzi for the 100 reward!

(End of chapter)