In the darkness.
Fu Cheng held the thermos bucket in one hand and gripped his chopsticks in the other as he picked up some thin noodles.
A familiar cheerful voice rang out, making his heart skip a beat. He froze in place.
Fu Cheng turned toward the sound and looked up at the small window high on the wall.
There, Lin Zao had both hands gripping the windowsill, his head poking in from outside as he rested his chin on the ledge. He blinked at Fu Cheng, staring intently.
By now, evening had fallen.
The garage’s fluorescent lights were on, casting a stark, blinding white glow from above Lin Zao’s head and behind him. It framed him in a halo like an angel’s.
Fu Cheng stared, lost in a daze for a long moment, unsure how to react.
Only the cold heart in his chest pounded fiercely, thump-thump-thump.
Lin Zao tilted his head and smiled at him, his eyes curving into little crescent moons.
“Hey! Brother Cheng!”
One smile, one sentence.
Fu Cheng’s heart, which had been racing wildly, suddenly stopped again.
Up and down, start and stop.
This was pure torment!
But Lin Zao didn’t see it that way at all.
In his mind, he was just showing concern for Brother Cheng!
Seeing no response, Lin Zao grinned and spoke again.
“Brother Cheng, did you think I’d left?”
“Am I some heartless jerk?”
“You haven’t eaten all day. There’s no way I’d just abandon you.”
Truth be told, when Lin Zao discovered that Fu Cheng hadn’t touched his thin noodles, he’d been a little angry.
Angry at Fu Cheng for not listening to him, and angry that he’d have to eat leftovers again that night.
But then he thought better of it, worried that Fu Cheng might starve.
He’d never kept a zombie before. He didn’t know what zombies liked to eat or if skipping a day would hurt them.
So he’d issued his stern warning, deliberately stomped his feet twice on the bench to make footsteps, then quietly crouched down and hid.
Lin Zao hugged his knees under the window and counted silently in his head.
He reached one hundred.
If Fu Cheng ate the noodles, all was well.
If not, then…
He’d take the noodles upstairs, eat them himself, and bring Fu Cheng a fresh meal.
In the end, Fu Cheng ate obediently, so Lin Zao popped back up.
He leaned on the windowsill, propping his chin in his hands, brimming with confidence.
“Brother Cheng, I knew you wouldn’t let me eat leftovers.”
“Tomorrow, once I’m better, I’ll cook you a proper meal.”
“How’s that?”
Fu Cheng gazed at his face. The heart that had raced and stalled finally settled into a steady rhythm.
With a cold expression and gritted teeth, he forced a low “grrr” from his throat.
—Good.
“Then I’m off. No more sulking.”
“And if any zombies come looking for you, don’t go play with them.”
Lin Zao paused, his eyes darting as he cleared his throat. Then he opened his mouth wide toward Fu Cheng—
“Rawr! Rawr rawr!”
He was imitating Fu Cheng, bidding farewell in zombie-speak.
—See you tomorrow, my dear husband!
Fu Cheng watched his flailing, playful antics and couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his stiff mouth into a smile.
So cute, but…
What did Little Zao’s “haha hehe roar roar blub blub” mean?
He had no idea.
Once he saw Fu Cheng eat, Lin Zao finally relaxed and headed back upstairs.
Lately, he’d been running up and down the stairs constantly.
Dozens of trips a day had left his legs feeling slimmer!
Back on the second floor, Lin Xiaobao sat with his back to him on his special little stool. A bag of fresh green beans in pods lay on the floor in front of him, along with a small veggie bowl.
Lin Xiaobao reached out with his little hand, grabbed a pod, pinched it tight between his fingers, and squeezed hard—
Pew pew pew—
Green beans shot out one by one, pinging into the bowl with sharp “plink plink plink” sounds.
So fun! Just like firing bullets!
Dad had gone downstairs to check on Big Daddy and had asked if he wanted to come along before leaving.
Hmm…
He kind of did. It had been hours since he’d last seen Big Daddy.
But…
He wasn’t tall enough. If he went, Dad would have to carry him.
Dad was still sick—he couldn’t make him work that hard.
So he’d shaken his head and said he’d stay upstairs and wait for Dad.
Dad hadn’t pushed it, promising to be back in minutes and handing him a bag of beans to shell.
Lin Xiaobao clenched his little fists, steeling his resolve.
Big Daddy wasn’t going anywhere anyway.
Seeing him once a day made him happy enough.
Just then, familiar footsteps sounded behind him.
Lin Xiaobao whipped around in delight. “Daddy!”
“Daddy’s back.” Lin Zao hurried over, ruffled his hair, and glanced at the bowl. “Wow, Daddy was only gone five minutes, and you’ve shelled this many already?”
“Of course.” Lin Xiaobao lifted his face proudly. “Give me a bit more time, and I’ll finish the whole bag!”
“But we can’t eat that many.” Lin Zao smiled. “Let’s put them away for now. We’ll shell more next time we want to eat.”
“Okay.”
Lin Xiaobao picked up the bag of beans, hugged it to his chest, and tied it off.
As he knotted it, he accidentally trapped some air inside, puffing it up.
He pressed down with both hands, squeezing the air out.
Lin Zao took an apron from its hook and tied it on. He opened the fridge and pulled out some lap cheong sausage, fresh mushrooms, carrots, and corn.
He cut the corn in half and handed it to Lin Xiaobao. “Little Bao, can you help Daddy shuck the corn kernels?”
“No problem!” Lin Xiaobao agreed eagerly.
“Put them with the green beans. We’ll wash them later.”
“Got it.”
“Once you’re done with the corn, go downstairs and tell Grandpa Zhang that Daddy’s making stewed rice tonight. We’ll bring him some so he doesn’t have to cook.”
“Okay!”
Grandpa Zhang had been so good to them—sending chicken legs, thin noodles, even chasing off zombies.
They had a stack of his iron basins at home from all those deliveries.
It was high time they returned the favor.
Lin Xiaobao dutifully shucked the corn, then headed downstairs to deliver the message.
Lin Zao stood at the stove and got to work.
Stewed rice was simple and quick.
He and Little Bao had eaten it on Lantern Festival night.
Shell the green beans and corn, slice the lap cheong on the diagonal, dice the mushrooms and carrots.
Heat the wok—no oil needed. Toss in the sausage to render its fat.
Once that was going, add the veggies and stir-fry.
When the veggies were mostly cooked, in with the raw rice.
Lin Zao had soaked the grains in water half an hour earlier.
It softened them up, so they’d cook faster and more evenly without staying crunchy.
He drained the rice and dumped it into the wok, seasoning with salt and soy sauce. He stirred everything together.
Finally, he transferred the whole pot into the rice cooker and hit the cook button.
Done and done!
This time, Lin Zao made extra—twice their usual portion.
Not just for Grandpa Zhang, but because…
He didn’t want to cook breakfast tomorrow!
Heh heh!
One big batch for dinner and morning.
Fifteen minutes later, the rice cooker beeped twice, signaling it was ready.
Lin Zao waited another five minutes for the steam to settle before lifting the lid.
Lin Xiaobao, right by his side, took a deep breath. “Wow—”
Lin Zao grabbed the rice paddle and fluffed the hot rice to release the steam.
If he didn’t, it’d condense into water droplets and make the bottom soggy.
He mixed it thoroughly from top to bottom, then filled one of Grandpa Zhang’s old iron basins with a generous helping.
“Let’s go deliver it to Grandpa Zhang.”
“Okay.”
The basin was too hot, so Lin Zao carried it himself.
Lin Xiaobao marched ahead like a little soldier, leading the way.
“Daddy, this is the window where Little Bao and Grandpa Zhang usually meet up.”
“You know the word ‘meet up’?”
“Grandpa Zhang taught me. He said his ears aren’t great and he can’t hear well, so we shouldn’t shout. That way, no one else knows we have good food.”
“Smart.”
Their home was a three-story self-built house.
Grandpa Zhang’s was a single-story bungalow.
The two homes had windows directly facing each other.
Father and son arrived at the window. Lin Zao held the basin with both hands, tilting it to slide it through the anti-theft netting.
He stretched his arm carefully and set it on the opposite sill.
“There.”
Lin Zao let out a breath of relief and tapped the glass lightly as a signal.
Grandpa Zhang must not have heard—nothing stirred inside.
Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao lingered, unwilling to leave. Only when a light flicked on inside did they relax.
“Daddy, Grandpa Zhang’s coming.”
“Let’s head back then. Daddy’s still got a cold—no chatting with Grandpa Zhang.”
“Okay.”
Father and son closed the window and turned toward the stairs.
Just as they reached the stairwell, they glanced back and saw a frail old man with white hair, tall and skinny in a dark blue cotton jacket. He leaned on a cane, shuffling unsteadily toward the window.
Their eyes met—
Father and son saw him.
He saw them.
Through the glass—
Grandpa Zhang waved at them.
Lin Xiaobao stood on tiptoe and raised his little hand high.
Lin Zao lifted his hand too and gave a gentle wave.
—Good evening, Grandpa Zhang!
In these special times, that counted as a greeting.
After dinner and a quick cleanup, Lin Zao got Lin Xiaobao into bed.
Father and son lay side by side, hands folded neatly over their chests.
The exact same serene pose.
Lin Xiaobao asked, “Daddy, can we watch TV? I want to see the wedding video of you and Big Daddy.”
“Not tonight,” Lin Zao explained. “We watched TV for too long this afternoon. Eyes need a rest.”
“Okay then.”
“In a few days, once Daddy sorts out everything at home, we’ll play with toys. Puzzle or little cars?”
“I want to play Plants vs. Zombies.”
“Deal. In a few days, Daddy will boot up the computer and see if it still works.”
Father and son chatted idly like that.
Gradually, Lin Xiaobao’s voice grew softer and faded away.
He’d fallen asleep.
Lin Zao stroked his hair and tucked him in.
Such a mature, sensible little guy—taking care of his sick dad, soothing Big Daddy without his wits, coordinating with Grandpa Zhang for help.
All that running around must have worn him out.
Through his mask, Lin Zao leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Another safe day.
Good night, Little Bao.
Good night, Brother Cheng.
Good night…
No good night!
At midnight, Lin Zao lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
He’d slept too much yesterday and wasn’t sleepy at all now.
Wide awake.
Lin Zao rolled over and grabbed his earphones from the nightstand, slipping them on.
He’d plugged in the player that afternoon and charged it all day.
He pressed play, and Fu Cheng’s booming voice filled his ears—
“Brother’s got a wife, and he loves me so!”
Fu Cheng’s voice was gravelly, and he sang off-key.
He’d never been one for singing, even as a kid.
In over twenty years of knowing him, Lin Zao had only ever heard him sing this one song besides “Happy Birthday.”
Lin Zao pulled his hands from under the covers, pillowed his head on them, and swung his feet lightly.
Single on loop—it wasn’t half bad.
Lin Zao listened to the song, gazing at the ceiling, lost in quiet thoughts.
The cabbage was still drying outside; it should be ready to collect tomorrow.
Laundry needed doing. Maybe figure out a way for Brother Cheng to change clothes.
He still hadn’t written in the Zombie Husband Feeding Diary—better log it tomorrow or he’d forget.
And…
Just then, a bright beam of light flashed through the bedroom curtains, flickering across Lin Zao’s eyes.
In the bedroom, Lin Zao threw off the covers and got out of bed.
In the utility room, Fu Cheng sensed it too and shot to his feet.
—Who?
—Who’s shining a flashlight at their house?!
