Chapter 15

“Fu Cheng, you you you… you bastard!”

Through the window—

Fu Cheng stood frozen in place, his head tilted to one side.

Lin Zao quickly pulled his hand back and checked it over from top to bottom, front to back, left to right, scrutinizing it two or three times.

Only after confirming that the gloves were intact with no tears did Lin Zao finally relax. He raised his eyes again and looked toward Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng was still holding the pose from when Lin Zao had slapped him.

Petrified, he didn’t move a muscle.

Only his eyeballs swiveled around, glancing toward where Lin Zao stood.

Seeing him like this, Lin Zao couldn’t help but purse his lips, his heart sinking a little.

No… it couldn’t be, right?

Had he broken Fu Cheng with that slap?

Were zombies really this fragile?

Lin Zao lowered his head in disbelief and stared at his own hand.

Fu Cheng had been such a sturdy guy, and yet one slap from him…

The next second, Fu Cheng raised both hands and cradled his head.

His movements were sluggish and slow, like a scratched disc stuttering along jerkily.

There came a “crack crack.”

His head turned, bones grinding against each other.

Fu Cheng straightened his lolled head back into place!

Just like one of Lin Xiaobao’s detachable toy mechs!

Lin Zao stared at him in disbelief, his eyes round as saucers.

Without thinking, he reached out a hand, wanting to touch Fu Cheng’s neck and head.

Fu Cheng sensed his intent and took two steps forward, docilely lowering his head to let Lin Zao touch him as he pleased.

But just as Lin Zao’s fingertips were about to brush Fu Cheng’s face again, he snapped back to his senses and yanked his hand away.

No! No no no!

He couldn’t stick his hand in there again!

What if Fu Cheng bit him this time?

No matter how much he looked like an obedient little dog right now…

It was all fake! All a ploy to lure him in!

The moment he reached out, Fu Cheng would lunge and sink his teeth in.

Lin Zao clutched his hands tightly, determined not to fall for it again.

Fu Cheng didn’t understand. He lifted his head and gazed at Lin Zao, his expression puzzled.

What was wrong?

Why wasn’t Little Zao touching his face anymore?

That earlier touch from Little Zao had felt so good.

The fluffy glove had glided over his cheek, chin, and neck, finally shoving his face aside.

He’d liked it a lot.

Fu Cheng seemed to have completely forgotten what he’d done just moments ago.

Or rather, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he’d done.

He liked this young man in front of him. The young man’s hand smelled delicious.

Some primal instinct drove him to open his mouth and take a bite.

What was wrong with that?

Why pull the hand away?

Fu Cheng stared fixedly at Lin Zao, his gaze pure and innocent.

Tentatively, he took a long-legged step forward, trying to get closer.

The next second, Lin Zao raised his hand and barked—

“Don’t come any closer!”

Fu Cheng didn’t understand the words, but he could read the face of the person he liked.

Eyes bulging wide, cheeks puffed out in anger, hand balled into a fist and held high like he was about to strike. His expression was fierce, his tone harsh—he was clearly mad.

So Fu Cheng halted, not daring to advance.

Lin Zao pointed at his feet and commanded, “You stay right there! Don’t come any closer!”

Still didn’t understand.

But so scary.

Seeing Fu Cheng put on that pitiful look again, Lin Zao fumed.

He’d been fooled by that expression just now!

Lin Zao raised his hand once more, neck craned stubbornly. “Still pretending?”

“No more pretending! No more acting cute, no more playing pitiful!”

“You didn’t fake sleep today for once, but now you’ve learned to play pitiful!”

Lin Zao’s tone was firm, his attitude resolute.

“Fu Cheng, I’ve seen through your tricks!”

“Stop trying to tempt me. Don’t even dream I’ll stick my hand in there.”

“Until you learn not to bite, don’t fantasize about any more physical contact with me!”

Still didn’t understand.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to listen or wasn’t trying—it was that he truly couldn’t comprehend.

Fu Cheng stood in place, staring intently at Lin Zao’s mouth as it opened and closed.

Lin Zao jumped in surprise, a bit of color returning to his lips.

Red and soft-looking, they seemed so biteable—probably sweet, too.

One day, he’d have to taste them.

“Bitey devil, unrepentant bastard—”

“Stay here and reflect on yourself! I’m leaving!”

“Hmph!”

Lin Zao flung down those harsh parting words and slammed the window shut.

He hopped down from the bench and turned to leave.

The next second, something caught the corner of Lin Zao’s eye.

A stainless-steel thermos sat quietly on the bench.

This was…

The food. Breakfast.

The breakfast he’d meant to give Fu Cheng.

Lin Zao froze in place and scratched his head.

Why was it still here? Hadn’t he delivered the food?

Fine.

—“Brother Cheng, I’m back again.”

Lin Zao climbed onto the bench for the third time and opened the window.

Fu Cheng stood in place and looked up at the sound, his eyes lighting up.

You’re back!

“Forgot to give you the food.”

Lin Zao flashed him an awkward but polite smile.

“Don’t lunge at me. I’ll hand over the food and go.”

Lin Zao untied the string looped over the window latch and hauled up the plastic basket.

As he pulled on the string, he kept glancing up at Fu Cheng now and then.

His gaze was wary and guarded, afraid Fu Cheng might suddenly pounce.

Seeing how much Lin Zao disliked him, rejection radiating from every pore, Fu Cheng felt a heaviness in his chest, like Lin Zao had his heart in his grasp, toying with it this way and that.

Fu Cheng lowered his eyes, his expression downcast.

“Fu Cheng! You’re doing it again!”

Lin Zao dragged out the words in exasperation.

“I’m sick, bedridden sick, but I still dragged myself here thinking you must be hungry.”

“You weren’t faking sleep today and looked so pitiful, so I wanted to pat your face and comfort you.”

“But you? You tried to bite me, and when you couldn’t, you played pitiful!”

“I’m the one who should be aggrieved!”

Fu Cheng raised his head and gazed at him steadily.

No! He wasn’t sad because he couldn’t bite Little Zao!

He was sad because…

At that moment, Lin Zao hauled the basket up to the window and placed the thermos inside.

“Whatever. At least I delivered the food.”

“Thin noodles today, made by Grandpa Zhang next door. There’s a lot—split it into two meals.”

“I’m sick and need rest, so no lunch delivery. Got it?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the plastic basket dropped back down.

Lin Zao didn’t care if Fu Cheng had understood. He reached up and shut the window.

This time, he was really leaving.

The instant Lin Zao departed, Fu Cheng lunged forward.

No! He wasn’t aggrieved because he couldn’t bite Little Zao!

He was going mad because Little Zao was sick, heartbroken because Little Zao was angry.

He was aggrieved because Little Zao hated him, despised him, and was pulling away!

Sure, he’d always wanted to taste Little Zao, but if Little Zao didn’t want it, he wouldn’t pounce and bite like the other zombies!

He was a rule-following, polite, dignified zombie.

He’d change!

Whatever Wife said, he’d change!

Fu Cheng sniffed the familiar scent and trailed it along the wall all the way to the door.

No further path—he couldn’t get out.

The sound of Lin Zao’s footsteps climbed the stairs, fading into the distance.

Fu Cheng bowed his head, forehead pressed against the door.

He’d upset Wife again.

For some reason, his knees suddenly buckled.

Fu Cheng wallowed in misery for a bit before walking back to the window. He picked up the thermos Lin Zao had brought and unscrewed the lid.

The aroma of thin noodles hit him. Fu Cheng reacted the moment he smelled it.

Someone else had made this.

Not Little Zao, so he wouldn’t eat it.

Fu Cheng resealed the thermos and set it back exactly as before.

He went to the wall, sat on the ground, and pulled out a screw he’d scavenged. Deftly, he began carving into the wall.

After days and nights of practice, it had become muscle memory.

As he carved, he recited silently in his mind.

Stroke after stroke formed a “Zao” character.

Neat and straight, countless “Zao” characters.

Meanwhile, Lin Zao had gone upstairs.

“Little Bao, Dad’s back from delivering food.”

“Why’d you take so long?”

Lin Xiaobao sat on a little stool with his back to him.

In front of him was a small basin of vegetables, and in his hands were the perilla leaves Grandpa Zhang had given them.

Dad had gone downstairs to deliver food, leaving him upstairs to pick the perilla.

Just separate the leaves—super easy!

Lin Xiaobao finished the last leaf and turned around, his face bearing a maturity beyond his years.

“Dad, were you getting all lovey-dovey with Big Daddy?”

The clever Little Bao Bao had seen through everything!

Lin Zao walked over, squatted in front of him, and grabbed a handful of the leaves Lin Xiaobao had picked. “So many! Little Bao, you’re amazing!”

Lin Xiaobao’s face was serious, his tone grave. “Dad, don’t change the subject.”

“No, really.” Lin Zao sighed. “Big Daddy doesn’t recognize me anymore. Far from lovey-dovey—he tried to bite me.”

“What?!”

Lin Xiaobao was outraged. He shot up from the stool with a “clang.”

“How could Big Daddy do that?”

“Right? Right?” Lin Zao nodded vigorously. “Pretty awful, huh?”

“Dad, don’t worry. I’ll go get justice for you right now!”

As he spoke, Lin Xiaobao turned to leave and settle things with Big Daddy.

“Hey hey hey!”

Seeing trouble brewing, Lin Zao hurriedly scooped him up.

“Little Bao, you can’t beat him!”

“I’m not scared!”

“He doesn’t recognize anyone now. He’s basically a monster. Plus, Dad’s quick—I didn’t get bit!”

“That still doesn’t fly! How can he bully Dad?”

“Oh, Little Bao! Forget it! You’re so little—he could punch you to the moon!”

“Huh? That so?”

Lin Xiaobao twisted in Lin Zao’s arms, then came back.

He clenched his little fist, steeling his resolve.

“Fine, I’ll let him off this time. Once I grow a bit, I’ll go sort him out!”

“Alright, alright, don’t be mad.”

Lin Zao tugged his little hand.

“Dad already gave him a good scolding and even slapped him. So no more anger, okay?”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Lin Zao said, “Big Daddy’s hurt now. As his gentle wife and kind little cub, we won’t hold it against him.”

“Fine.” Lin Xiaobao nodded reluctantly. “As the family’s little mainstay, I share the blame for not teaching Big Daddy basic manners.”

Lin Zao stared at him in surprise. “Huh? Little Bao, you…”

Lin Xiaobao shook his head and let out a long sigh. “Sigh—”

“Big Daddy plays pitiful, and you play mature. Just like father, like son.”

Lin Zao picked up the perilla leaves in one hand and grabbed Lin Xiaobao’s little bear hat with the other.

“Come on, time to brew the medicine.”

“Oh.”

Perilla leaves could treat wind-cold flu.

Lin Zao had heard of it but never tried.

Grandpa Zhang said to boil them in water, so it was probably like making ginger soup.

Lin Zao set up the little pot with half a pot of water.

Once it boiled, he tossed in a handful of the perilla leaves Lin Xiaobao had washed.

“Dad, Grandpa Zhang said you can add some ginger too.”

“Okay.”

Lin Zao had simmered ginger soup the day before—the liquid was gone, but the ginger remained.

Old ginger got spicier the more you boiled it.

Lin Zao fished out the ginger chunks and dropped them in.

After about ten minutes, Lin Zao figured it was ready and turned off the fire.

The perilla had no real flavor—just the pungent kick of old ginger.

Lin Zao moved the little pot aside to cool, then set the big iron wok on the stove.

He still had half a bowl of thin noodles left uneaten; he could reheat it for lunch.

But Lin Xiaobao had polished off a whole basin, so no lunch for him—time to make something.

They’d made extra rice the night before; there was still a bowl.

Lin Zao cracked two eggs into the bowl, added a pinch of salt, and had Lin Xiaobao stir it.

He opened the fridge himself, taking out the cold leftover rice and yesterday’s pork oil slag.

You couldn’t eat leftover rice cold, so he’d make egg fried rice.

The pork oil slag had solidified, creamy white and smooth like ice cream.

Lin Zao scooped half a spoonful into the wok. With the fire roaring beneath, it melted quickly.

Hot oil, then eggs—the liquid firmed up instantly, bubbling at the edges.

He scrambled the eggs quickly, then upended the rice into the wok.

With the spatula, he broke up the rice clumps and mixed them with the egg bits, stir-frying away.

Once it was about done, he splashed in a bit of soy sauce.

For Little Bao, keep the flavors light.

The grains separated, each distinct and coated in salty, savory soy.

Still a bit plain.

So Lin Zao added some of yesterday’s pork oil slag, tossing it in and continuing to stir.

While frying, he pressed the rice flat with the spatula, searing the bottom for fragrant, crispy bits.

“Done.”

Lin Zao bent to kill the fire and plated the egg fried rice.

“Lunch will be simple today. Once Dad feels better tonight, I’ll make something new.”

Lin Xiaobao shook his head. “Mmm—”

“What’s wrong?” Lin Zao asked, puzzled. “Don’t want egg fried rice?”

“Mmm—”

Lin Xiaobao dragged it out, shaking his head again.

“Not simple! Dad’s egg fried rice isn’t simple at all!”

So that’s what it was.

Lin Zao smiled and ruffled his hair. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Lin Xiaobao insisted, “Dad, I feel like I’m eating gourmet meals every day!”

“Got it. That’s you praising Dad, right? Message received.”

“Hee hee!”

Lin Zao ate his thin noodles while Lin Xiaobao dug into the egg fried rice.

Lin Xiaobao took one bite and was blown away!

He grabbed a clean spoon, scooped up a bite of rice with pork oil slag, and offered it to Dad.

“Dad, have a bite too.”

“Okay, thanks Little Bao.”

After lunch, Lin Xiaobao nagged Lin Zao to get back in bed.

Lin Zao filled his thermos with the perilla water and followed him upstairs.

Father and son lay side by side under the covers.

“Little Bao, Dad can’t sleep.”

“No way—patients have to sleep!”

“But Dad really can’t sleep.”

Lin Zao stared listlessly at the ceiling, pulling both hands out from under the blanket to start counting.

“Dad went to bed a little after eight last night.”

“And slept straight through until ten this morning.”

“Eight, nine, ten…”

Lin Xiaobao crawled out from under the covers, his face full of shock. “Dad, you only slept three hours!”

“Ah…” Lin Zao was shocked too, his eyes widening. “Ah?!”

Lin Xiaobao grabbed his hand and stuffed it back under the blanket.

“Dad, you’re sick. Your sleep is seriously lacking—you have to go back to sleep right now!”

“No…” Lin Zao tried to struggle free. “Little Bao, didn’t Big Daddy teach you how to count?”

How had Fu Cheng taught him?

Illiterate! A big illiterate teaching a little illiterate!

“Little Bao.” Lin Zao hugged him close. “Time doesn’t work that way. Let me recalculate it for you.”

“It’s from eight at night to ten in the morning. Eight at night is twenty o’clock. See—”

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Lin Zao counted on his fingers, going one by one.

“That’s fourteen hours.”

“Dad slept like a little pig for fourteen hours.”

“Dad’s sleep time has seriously exceeded the limit.”

Lin Xiaobao scrunched up his little face and looked at him dubiously. “Really?”

“Of course it’s real. Why would Dad lie to you?”

“Okay.” Lin Xiaobao thought for a moment. “Then Dad can do a little something else.”

He quickly added, “But you’re not allowed to get out of bed!”

“Alright.” Lin Zao thought it over and glanced around the room.

What could he do?

Teach Little Bao his letters? Play with toys together?

Or…

Lin Zao looked up, his gaze landing on the television right in front of him.

“Little Bao, let’s watch TV? We haven’t finished that New Year’s fireworks disc from last time.”