"Hey, you still alive?"
The screech of the basement's iron door startled the weak Zhang Lei awake. He dragged himself up from the tattered single bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. Still, he forced an ingratiating smile.
"Sorry, I was just... really tired. What time is it?"
"Ten. Shame you woke up—could've saved me a meal if you'd slept longer."
With that, the man turned to leave. Zhang Lei staggered to his feet and followed.
As they emerged from the basement, Zhang Lei noticed the first-floor windows and doors were all boarded shut. Not a sliver of light seeped through.
"Why not open the windows?" he asked.
"You think letting people see you through the glass is a good idea?"
"Ah... right. Yeah."
"Upstairs. Now."
Huang Jin climbed to the second floor, Zhang Lei trailing behind. The moment they entered, a steaming bowl of noodles greeted them on the table—simple, fragrant, maddening.
Gurgle—
His stomach betrayed him with an audible growl. Zhang Lei flushed. Huang Jin dropped onto the sofa nearby, indifferent.
"Eat. Made it for you."
"Th-thank you..."
Zhang Lei practically lunged at the bowl, shoveling noodles into his mouth like a starved animal. Huang Jin watched, eyebrow twitching.
"How long since you ate?"
"Th-three—cough!—three days—hack!—"
He'd swallowed half-chewed noodles in his haste and now choked violently, spraying bits of food across the table.
"I don't hate manners," Huang Jin said dryly, "but you should learn to respect food first."
"S-sorry..."
Zhang Lei scooped the fallen noodles back into his mouth with trembling fingers. The sight was pitiful.
Huang Jin waited in silence, letting the man's ravenous edge dull. Only when the eating slowed did he speak again.
"You... not eating?" Zhang Lei ventured between gulps.
"I ate hours ago. You think our friendship's worth waiting for you?"
"...Yeah. Right."
Zhang Lei nodded, then inexplicably chuckled.
"What's funny?" Huang Jin frowned.
"Nothing. Just... this feels like school. Back then, you always had that scowling face—like the whole world owed you money. I was pretty much the only one who stuck around."
"Are you pitying me now?"
"No! That's not what I—"
This dance was familiar. Huang Jin's sharp tongue wasn't new; Zhang Lei had grown immune.
Huang Jin had a quirk—not quite a flaw, but noticeable. A mild facial paralysis left him perpetually expressionless. Most saw it as arrogance. In class, rumors swirled:
So what if he's good-looking? That stuck-up act is pathetic.
Only Zhang Lei, the dutiful class monitor, ever bothered with him. Huang Jin didn't mind—free homework was free homework. Over time, they'd learned each other's rhythms.
"Monitor," Huang Jin cut in abruptly, "those supplies you mentioned. Real?"
Zhang Lei's eyes lit up. "You'll help?"
"Take me there after this. If the stash exists, we'll talk."
"Y-yes! Thank you—really!"
Noodles disappeared faster. Huang Jin watched, plans solidifying.
Last night's calculations were clear: two years in this city was enough. Z City called. His stolen stockpile was a setback, but he couldn't waste another two years rebuilding.
Step one: Secure Zhang Lei's supplies.
Step two: Kill Baldie. Have Zhang Lei loot Baldie's hoard.
Two caches. One journey.
A minute later, the bowl was empty. Huang Jin motioned toward the basement's deeper level.
"Why here?" Zhang Lei frowned as they entered a cluttered storage room.
No answer. Huang Jin shoved aside a broken washing machine, pried up a floor tile—and revealed a dark hole.
A tunnel.
"Is this... a war-era escape route?" Zhang Lei gasped.
"War-era? I dug this last year. Move."
Huang Jin jumped in. Zhang Lei followed.
The earthy passage led to an overgrown garden behind an abandoned mansion—a former tycoon's estate. Untrimmed trees since the outbreak concealed the exit perfectly.
They were outside the shelter now, 100 meters from its walls.
Huang Jin moved toward the villa. Zhang Lei, curious, kept close.
"GGRRAAHH—!"
A corpse lunged around the corner. Zhang Lei stifled a scream as Huang Jin's axe flashed.
Thud.
The zombie collapsed, head split. Huang Jin stepped over it. Zhang Lei swallowed hard and hurried after.
In a first-floor bedroom, Huang Jin dragged out a large wooden crate.
"What's inside?" Zhang Lei leaned in. "Guns? Pistols? A sniper rifle?"
"Less Hollywood, more brain."
Huang Jin flipped the lid open.
Two rough, stitched hides lay inside—blackened, reeking.
"Wear these," Huang Jin said. "Masks your scent. Stay a few feet away, and the dead won't touch you. Took me months to make."
"So they're... human skin?"
"Did you earn your IQ points in Bikini Bottom? Yes or no?"
"I—I'll wear it! I'll follow you!"