Decided what?
Fu Cheng looked up.
“Feed the little dog first! You eat after!”
Little Zao’s voice rang out firm and clear.
His words pierced Fu Cheng’s heart!
Fu Cheng lunged forward a couple steps to stop him, but it was too late.
Little Zao’s footsteps were already retreating.
He took Lin Xiaobao to the dog bed.
Morning sun streamed in from the east.
Lin Zao peeled off the spent heat pack and moved the dog bed under the east window.
A few days ago, he’d dried cabbage there. Now it was puppy-sunning time.
Lin Xiaobao trailed after Dad with the small bowl and milk bottle. “Dad, wait for me.”
“Okay.”
Father and son passed by the utility room door.
Fu Cheng stood behind it, his gaze seeming to pierce the iron, tracking them back and forth.
The little dog got a room change and food, but he was still hungry.
Lin Zao poured the rice soup into the milk bottle and held it to the little dog’s mouth.
Lin Xiaobao squatted nearby, watching. Soon he got inspired too.
“Dad, I learned how. Let me try?”
“Mm…”
Lin Zao glanced back at the iron door, deliberately lowering his voice.
“Sure, come on.”
He shifted aside and handed over the milk bottle.
“Just hold it steady like this. It’ll drink on its own.”
“Okay.”
Lin Zao squatted beside him, watching for a bit.
Seeing Lin Xiaobao handle it well, he relaxed, stood, and tiptoed back to the utility room. He hefted the thermos.
Climbing onto the bench like so many times before, he slowly poked his head in from the window.
What was Brother Cheng up to now?
He wasn’t hiding away feeling sad, was he?
He wasn’t crying again, was he?
But as soon as Lin Zao peeked his eyes over the sill, they met Fu Cheng’s—he was right under the window.
Lin Zao had pulled this little stunt plenty of times; of course Fu Cheng remembered.
But this time, seeing him return, Fu Cheng didn’t lunge. He backed up two steps instead.
He didn’t want to scare Little Zao.
He’d reflected on himself.
Lin Zao knew it was a peace offering. He puffed his cheeks, holding back a laugh.
“Fine, forgiven this once. But no more showing teeth in front of me—it’s scary!”
Fu Cheng nodded, clamping his mouth shut tight, soft lips sealing over his sharp canines.
Lin Zao set the thermos on the windowsill, ready to hand over breakfast.
But when he reached up, he patted down the entire window frame inside and out—no rope for the food basket.
Weird, where’s the rope?
Without it, how could he deliver the food?
Lin Zao scowled. “Fu Cheng, did you take the food basket?”
Fu Cheng’s eyes widened in disbelief.
—Me? I took it?
The next second, Lin Zao’s face lit up. He smacked his own cheek.
“Oh, oh, right—me! I took it!”
He’d repurposed Fu Cheng’s food basket as part of the little dog’s bed.
Too lazy to hunt for another, he’d delivered dinner last night by just opening the door.
He’d forgotten!
Fu Cheng drew a deep breath, staring at him with the look of a man betrayed by his heartless lover.
Little Zao had betrayed him!
Lin Zao looked sheepish, scratching his head. “Sorry, sorry—I didn’t mean to.”
Lin Zao grabbed the thermos, hopped off the bench, fished out the key, and pushed open the iron door again.
“Brother Cheng, I’m here!”
Fu Cheng had sat back on the bed, legs spread wide in a slouch, hands on his knees, ignoring Lin Zao.
“Don’t be mad. I’ll bring the food right to your bedside. Deal?”
Lin Zao knew Fu Cheng recognized him, but he didn’t slack off—helmet and leather gloves on.
Full gear before entering.
After all, Fu Cheng had warned him before: never drop your guard.
Lin Zao brought the thermos right up. Fu Cheng ignored him for a full three seconds—
A whole three seconds!
Finally, Fu Cheng took it.
He unscrewed the lid with practiced ease, grabbed the spoon, and stirred the congee.
Fu Cheng was looking more human by the day.
Lin Zao held out his hand. “You eat first. Let me check your wounds—no attacking.”
Still the old gash from the exhaust fan.
Lin Zao had planned to conserve their limited medicine, changing the dressing every other day.
It was time this morning, so he’d pocketed the ointment and bandages before coming down.
But now…
Lin Zao carefully unwound the bandage on Fu Cheng’s shoulder, layer by layer, revealing his sturdy, muscled torso.
The crisscrossing wounds on Fu Cheng’s shoulder and arms, large and small, had all scabbed over into scars!
Scabbing and scarring weren’t the same.
A scab was just clotted blood—pick it off, and it bled again, the wound still raw underneath.
A scar meant…
He was fully healed!
How many days had it been?
Even the deep gash through his chest had closed up.
Lin Zao stared at him in disbelief. He extended one finger, leaned forward, and gently poked Fu Cheng’s chest.
The moment he made contact, Fu Cheng’s body stiffened.
He set the thermos bucket aside and stopped eating. He simply watched Lin Zao.
Lin Zao’s expression was utterly serious as he stared at the scars on Fu Cheng’s body. His fluffy glove trailed downward, sending a chill across Fu Cheng’s skin.
The scars were a deep brown—not fresh wounds from the past few days, but old injuries. The gashes were massive, the new flesh having knit together unevenly, as if partially torn apart. Fine cracks radiated around the edges.
On Fu Cheng’s wheat-toned, rugged physique, the scars didn’t look out of place. If anything, they blended in perfectly.
“Wow… so rough. Hugging me to sleep would definitely…”
Lin Zao let out an involuntary sigh of admiration.
But he quickly caught himself.
He straightened up, cleared his throat, and struck the pose of a biological expert.
“From my observations, a zombie’s healing ability is dozens—even hundreds—of times that of an ordinary human.”
“This could be related to the rapid cell division in a zombie’s body, or perhaps to their inherently tough constitutions.”
“I think…”
Lin Zao tilted his head back, still pretending to ponder deeply. He didn’t even notice Fu Cheng reaching out toward him.
Through the glove, Fu Cheng gently caught his hand and guided it back to his own chest.
Little Zao liked to touch him.
He would let Little Zao do it. Only Little Zao.
“Hey, hey… this isn’t good…”
Lin Zao jolted in surprise. He started to pull his hand back but then changed his mind and shifted direction instead.
He grabbed Fu Cheng’s wrist and yanked his hand toward himself.
Or rather, Fu Cheng offered no resistance at all, simply letting his hand be drawn forward.
Lin Zao lowered his head and examined Fu Cheng’s hand with intense focus.
If he was going to put a glove on it, he needed to inspect it carefully, of course.
Even back when Fu Cheng was human, his hands had been large. He would casually pinch Lin Zao’s waist without asking permission.
Now that he had become a zombie, his hands seemed even bigger and thicker—practically paws.
As a house-trained zombie, Fu Cheng was naturally clean.
He washed his hands with the water Lin Zao brought in and filed his nails against the wall.
His hands were spotless, and his nails weren’t like those of the zombies outside—long, filthy, and caked with grime from clawing everything in sight.
He really was different from the rest.
Lin Zao was very pleased.
He just wondered if Brother Cheng’s enlarged hands would still fit the gloves he’d bought before.
With that thought, Lin Zao simply spread his own hand and pressed it against Fu Cheng’s palm.
Comparing them directly would tell him everything!
Lin Zao kept his head down, meticulously measuring Fu Cheng’s hand with his own.
Fu Cheng watched him steadily, captivated by his serious expression and downcast eyes. Without realizing it, he leaned in closer, entranced.
He hadn’t drunk any soup today, but a fire still blazed fiercely in his chest.
He remembered Little Zao telling him not to get too close.
But this time, Little Zao had come to him first. It wasn’t his fault.
He wouldn’t hurt Little Zao. Just one kiss.
Little Zao had kissed him before. This was only fair in return.
The next second, Fu Cheng could no longer suppress his primal urges. He lunged forward, aiming straight for Lin Zao’s mouth.
But at that exact moment, Lin Zao looked up!
The two of them collided head-on.
Lin Zao caught sight of Fu Cheng’s approach.
Fu Cheng now had a clear shot for the kiss.
In the second after that, Lin Zao leaned in a little more, as if welcoming him.
Then came a resounding “Clang!”
Fu Cheng slammed straight into the motorcycle helmet’s visor.
Lin Zao’s eyes curved into happy crescents as he burst into delighted laughter.
The helmet was Fu Cheng’s own—the one he’d worn while riding his motorcycle.
Before locking himself in the utility room, he’d repeatedly instructed Lin Zao to wear it no matter what.
Yet he’d forgotten all about it himself and charged right into the transparent face shield.
“Big Zombie, has your eyesight gotten worse?”
Lin Zao grinned radiantly, his eyes forming little half-moons.
Fu Cheng clutched his forehead and drew in a deep breath.
Embarrassing. So embarrassing.
What had been blocking Little Zao’s face? His eyes had been fixed solely on Little Zao—he hadn’t noticed a thing.
Not only had he failed to land the kiss, but now Little Zao was laughing at him.
He turned his head away. His sluggish blood suddenly surged.
His ears turned bright red at the roots.
Lin Zao was still chuckling. He reached out with both hands, grabbed Fu Cheng’s ears, and turned his face back around.
“Who told you to launch a sneak attack like that? If I hadn’t been wearing the helmet, you’d have knocked my teeth out!”
“Grrr—”
The zombie hadn’t meant to. The zombie knew to be careful with its mouth.
It only wanted a kiss, not to bite.
“Dummy.”
Lin Zao scolded him softly. Then he leaned down and, through the helmet’s visor, planted a gentle peck on Fu Cheng’s lips.
“If you want to kiss me, it has to be that light.”
