Who? Who was that?
Who was shining a flashlight at their house window?
Lin Zao abruptly threw off the blanket and shot up from the bed. He didn’t even take time to slip on his shoes before dashing to the window where the light had just flashed by.
He reached out and grabbed the curtain, on the verge of yanking it aside, when he suddenly caught himself.
No, he couldn’t do that.
What if there really was someone out there? Pulling back the curtain would expose the entire layout of their home to them.
The intruder had a flashlight. If they shone it on the window again, the light would filter through the curtain and cast Lin Zao’s shadow.
With that thought, Lin Zao quickly stepped aside and pressed himself against the wall.
He took two deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. His trembling hand gently grasped the edge of the curtain and quietly peeled back a narrow slit.
Holding his breath, he slowly turned his head and peered out through the gap.
This was his and Fu Cheng’s bedroom.
Lin Xiaobao was still young, so he always slept with them.
The bedroom was on the third floor, not facing the street-side auto repair shop but positioned near the back door and the perimeter wall.
The window looked out directly onto the wall.
Normally, cars and people came and went from the main street side.
Only a rare few locals familiar with the neighborhood layout—those taking a shortcut on foot or by motorcycle—would use the narrow path in front of the wall.
That path was cramped, with no streetlights.
Tonight, thick clouds blanketed the sky, blotting out even the faintest moonlight.
Hiding behind the curtain, Lin Zao strained his eyes, scanning up and down, left and right. He checked every visible spot three or four times over.
But there was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
It was two in the morning now. The houses in the distance that he could make out had long since gone dark.
Pitch black. Dead silent.
Lin Zao saw nothing. He heard nothing.
No one. Not a single trace.
What was going on?
Lin Zao blinked hard, steadying himself before looking out again.
Still nothing.
Had he imagined it?
No way. He’d been lying in bed with his eyes wide open.
He’d seen it clearly, plain as day.
A beam of white light had swept in from outside the window, flashing right in his eyes.
It was a flashlight—a powerful one that could reach the third floor and pierce the curtain.
Zombies couldn’t use flashlights. They didn’t have that capability.
So it had to be a person.
Someone lurking in the shadows, spying on their home.
Lin Zao lowered his gaze, thinking it through carefully.
The zombie outbreak had been nearly a full month now, give or take.
Even with New Year’s stockpiles in every household back then, that should’ve run out by now.
Fu Cheng had spent five or six days scrounging outside just to gather a few dozen bags of rice in different packaging—a clear sign that supermarkets and shops out there were rationing heavily.
So…
The deceptive calm of the first lunar month was about to shatter.
Someone was already starving enough to start hunting for easy targets.
That beam of light had been a predator sizing up its prey!
Realization hit Lin Zao like a stone in his gut.
Their home had plenty of supplies and a child. They were a prime mark.
He couldn’t just sit there waiting!
He had to do something.
Lin Zao pressed his lips together, let the curtain fall, and clipped the slit shut, sealing the room tight.
He tiptoed back to the bed, pulled on his cotton shoes and coat, grabbed his ever-present iron stick, and slipped out of the room.
Jingling the big key ring for the house, Lin Zao first patrolled the third floor, confirming every window was locked and curtained.
To avoid giving away his movements, he didn’t turn on a single light. Everything happened in the dark.
When they’d built the house, he and Fu Cheng had figured the third floor was too high for thieves to bother climbing, so they’d only installed anti-theft netting on the first- and second-floor windows.
He regretted that now.
Besides their bedroom, the third floor held only Lin Xiaobao’s room and the study.
Lin Xiaobao wasn’t sleeping in his own room, and Lin Zao rarely used the study.
It only stored those few dozen bags of rice now.
After checking, Lin Zao locked the doors.
Even if someone climbed up from below and broke in through a window, the doors would provide another barrier.
Added protection.
With the third floor secure, Lin Zao crept downstairs.
The second floor housed the living room, kitchen, and dining area, with windows on multiple walls for good ventilation.
The only solid barriers were the anti-theft door on the stairs and a sliding glass door between the kitchen and dining room.
That glass door wasn’t sturdy—just meant to block cooking fumes—and since they needed to pass through for meals, Lin Zao hadn’t locked it.
But…
As he left the kitchen, Lin Zao glanced at the trash bin.
He’d always been cautious.
Since the outbreak, he never ran the exhaust fan while cooking and never tossed kitchen scraps outside.
No sense letting others spot the garbage and know they had food.
So that light might not mean they’d already been targeted.
It could just be someone scouting.
As long as they stayed cool and kept their situation hidden, they might hold out.
Lin Zao relaxed a fraction and headed down to the first floor.
The ground level was the auto repair shop and garage.
He’d checked it recently—no issues.
Except… the first-floor windows had no curtains.
Anyone passing by could glance in and see everything at a glance.
No time to waste. Lin Zao set down the iron stick and fetched some cardboard boxes.
He tore them apart along the seams into flat sheets and pressed them against the window glass.
One hand holding the cardboard steady, he grabbed the clear tape with the other, yanked off a long strip.
Rip!
No scissors handy, so he bit it off with his teeth.
Lin Zao taped the cardboard firmly to the window frames, sealing every gap.
He even climbed up to cover the high, narrow window in the garage.
What if someone peered in, spotted the pickup truck, and got ideas?
Working alone, it took Lin Zao over half an hour to cover all the first-floor windows.
He stood in the center of the floor, surveying his handiwork.
Crude, but better than nothing.
The enemy lurked in the shadows while their home was out in the open.
All he could do was fortify as best he could.
Of course, if the intruder knew their setup well or had scoped them out before his precautions… well, they’d meet force with force.
Lin Zao let out a long breath, feeling heat rising in waves across his body again.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head.
Dizzy.
He couldn’t keep wandering around.
If he pushed further, he’d collapse.
Even if they’d been targeted, no one would make a move tonight.
Lin Zao picked up the iron stick leaning nearby, ready to head upstairs to bed.
As he passed the utility room door, something caught his eye, and he paused.
The tall, black iron door stood there unmoving, silent as ever.
A thought struck Lin Zao. He veered toward it and stopped in front.
The next instant, his strength gave out. He pitched forward, slumping against the door and pressing his feverish forehead to the cold metal.
The door wasn’t dirty—Fu Cheng had wiped it down over New Year’s.
Hot skin met icy steel. It felt good.
Lin Zao tilted his head, pressing his cheek to it too.
The chill soothed the fire in his brain.
Like a kitten rubbing against a favorite table leg, he nuzzled up and down, eyes half-closing in bliss.
But then—
A low grrr rumbled from behind the door.
Lin Zao’s eyes snapped open. Had he imagined it?
Brother Cheng?
Was Brother Cheng still awake?
Standing right there on the other side?
Lin Zao leaned down and pressed his ear to the door, listening intently.
Grrr… grrr…
It was the sound Fu Cheng made often after the zombie scratched him.
Like a wolf dog greeting a friend, tail wagging.
Lin Zao’s instincts had been spot on.
Whenever he rested against the door, Fu Cheng stood just beyond it.
In the darkness, Fu Cheng stood ramrod straight, toes pressed to the door panel, inches away.
He wanted to push closer but couldn’t.
Lin Zao heard him, and Fu Cheng surely smelled Lin Zao, heard his breaths.
Like a wolf, Fu Cheng flared his nostrils, sniffing the air, tracking Lin Zao’s scent along the door.
At last, he found the spot closest to Lin Zao and lowered his head, pressing his own forehead to the metal.
Separated only by the iron door—
Lin Zao rested in Fu Cheng’s embrace as Fu Cheng nuzzled his hair.
If the door vanished, Lin Zao would tumble into Fu Cheng’s arms, and they could hold each other without barrier.
But it didn’t.
Fu Cheng unclenched his fists, spreading his hands—only to meet cold steel.
He couldn’t hold him.
Not yet.
The two of them stayed like that, leaning against each other across the door.
The cool touch and familiar rumble drew Lin Zao in deeper.
Too drained to speak, he simply let his guard down again, closed his eyes, and rested there.
He could’ve slept right then.
Chest to chest, cold and heat mingling.
Fu Cheng’s suppressed growls synced with Lin Zao’s steady breaths, rising and falling together.
Both lost in the rare moment of closeness, unmoving.
After some time, Lin Zao drowsed off, but Fu Cheng jolted awake.
The next instant came a heavy grrr, rousing Lin Zao.
Then the iron stick propped nearby clattered to the floor.
Clang!
The crash echoed through the empty garage, jarring in the silent night.
Lin Zao snapped alert and scrambled to retrieve the stick.
He couldn’t sleep here.
He’d nearly dozed off. If not for Fu Cheng’s warning, he’d have toppled over.
No, no.
Lin Zao patted his cheeks, then reached out and gave the door a gentle tap in farewell.
—Brother Cheng, I’m heading out.
Fu Cheng held his position on the other side, rumbling once.
—Okay.
Back upstairs, Lin Zao locked the third-floor anti-theft door and the bedroom door.
He lifted the blanket and eased onto the bed.
The nest he’d left warm had gone cold in his absence.
Lin Xiaobao slept soundly on the far side, undisturbed.
Feeling the mattress dip as someone settled in, Little Bao wriggled over like a little goldfish flicking its tail, latched onto Dad’s arm, and drifted off again.
Lin Zao stroked his soft hair, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Strange.
He’d nearly nodded off standing downstairs.
Now, back in bed, sleep evaded him entirely.
Why?
Lin Zao combed through Little Bao’s fine locks, mind racing.
What to do tomorrow?
Forget the cabbage and lettuce for now.
First, teach Little Bao how to protect himself, how to hide.
One worry led to another, tangling his thoughts into knots.
It wasn’t until four or five a.m., when dawn’s light crept through the window, that Lin Zao finally closed his eyes and drifted into hazy sleep.
Eight-thirty in the morning.
The sun climbed high, beaming brightly.
The world remained eerily quiet.
Lin Xiaobao opened his eyes amid the silence and found himself cradled in Dad’s arms.
Whoa! A morning miracle!
Little Bao flung out his arms, hugging Dad back and rubbing his chubby cheek against the fuzzy dinosaur pajamas.
The little dinosaur snuggled into the medium dinosaur’s warm embrace.
Dad’s arms felt so cozy.
Little Bao savored it quietly for a bit before looking up at Dad.
Dad was still asleep, eyes shut, utterly still—except for a single lock of hair swaying gently.
