After finishing lunch, Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao headed back to their room for a nap.
Fu Cheng covered the empty lunchboxes and thermos, then placed them back on the windowsill. He climbed onto the bed again, standing by the window and gazing up at the sky.
The first floor and the third floor were quite a distance apart, separated by walls and ceilings. Fu Cheng held his breath in concentration, mobilizing every zombie cell in his body. He drew on his abilities as a zombie, searching the air for traces of Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao.
He heard the faint sounds of breathing drifting down from upstairs.
He caught the subtle fragrance carried on the breeze.
Fu Cheng stood by the window for a while, staring at the sun high in the sky until white spots danced in his vision. Only then did he turn and return to his room.
He never took a midday nap.
Instead, he walked to the wall and began his inspection of the small room, carrying out another daily routine.
Fu Cheng raised his hand, pressing his palm against the scattered carvings on the wall.
One “Zao,” one “Bao.”
Another “Zao,” one “Er.”
Yet another “Zao,” one “Bao.”
He had carved all these characters himself.
Afraid he might forget Little Zao’s name, he carved one.
When he couldn’t sleep at night and missed Little Zao, he carved another.
When practicing speech and Little Zao’s name, he carved yet another.
He didn’t care where; any wall, any height, as long as there was space.
Over time, the entire room became surrounded by these scattered “Zao” characters.
The only trouble was that “Bao” was tricky to write. He still hadn’t mastered it completely. He often made mistakes, carving wrong strokes or only half the character.
No matter. He knew what they meant in his heart.
Fu Cheng remembered every carving and its exact location.
He ran his palm over them one by one. For those with shallow grooves or blurry shapes, he deepened them with his claws.
The few screws he’d scavenged for carving had long since been worn smooth and small.
These days, Fu Cheng used his own hands.
Starting from the bed, he circled the room clockwise, inspecting every inch of wall.
By the end of his patrol, the walls bore three more “Zao” characters, along with a “Bao,” a “Bao,” and a backward “Bao.”
None of them quite right.
With his daily task complete, Fu Cheng retreated to the corner. He practiced speaking while recalling the rules Little Zao had set for him.
No scaring Little Zao. No kissing Little Zao. No pouncing on Little Zao.
No bullying Little Zao. No disobeying Little Zao.
So many “no’s.” What was permitted?
Maybe if he acted a bit more human, Little Zao would allow it.
In the winter afternoon, the sunlight was blinding.
The world lay silent, and the house was peaceful too.
Fu Cheng studied how to be human in the shadows, while Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao napped.
A happy, healthy day passed like this…
“No! How is it already five thirty?”
“Dad…”
“Little Bao, wake up. You can’t sleep anymore, or you won’t sleep tonight.”
“But Dad… I’m so sleepy…”
“How did this happen?!”
Lin Zao pounded the bed in frustration, overcome with dismay.
“I finally didn’t stay up late, went to bed early, got up early, slept a full eight hours at night—and now this nap went on forever?”
“Why? Why is this happening?”
Lin Xiaobao sat up in bed under the covers, eyes still closed, his whole little body swaying before collapsing against his dad.
“Because Dad’s a little piggy.”
“Then you’re a tiny piggy, and Big Daddy’s a big pig.”
In the utility room, Fu Cheng suddenly lifted his head, as if sensing something.
No, he wasn’t.
He was diligent. He’d spent the whole afternoon studying!
Regardless, a happy but lazy day slipped away.
Eat, sleep. Sleep, eat.
Eat and sleep, sleep and eat.
All eat and sleep—little pigs ready for market.
Ever since the zombie virus outbreak, aside from the occasional emergency, the little family of three had lived this way.
Lin Zao knew it wasn’t sustainable.
If they kept it up, all three of them would turn into little pigs before long.
Little Bao was still growing and needed exercise, or he wouldn’t grow tall.
Lin Zao himself was only in his twenties. Always slacking off, thinking cooking counted as exercise—he’d grown lazy and sluggish, his reactions slowing too.
Worse still, last time Fu Cheng had tackled him, he’d been utterly helpless!
Back when Fu Cheng was human, Lin Zao could at least put up a fight—kicking his legs in Fu Cheng’s arms, thrashing around.
Now, he couldn’t even thrash!
No! He absolutely wouldn’t let this continue!
Lin Zao steeled his resolve. They had to make a change!
The next morning, unusually, Lin Zao didn’t smack the alarm clock silent and roll over for more sleep.
Worth noting, he’d set three alarms.
So it wasn’t “He got up at the first ring,” but “He dragged himself up after the third.”
It was an overcast day, no sun in sight.
By eight in the morning, father and son had changed into light clothes and sneakers and come downstairs to the first floor.
Fu Cheng heard the unfamiliar footsteps and looked up, following the sound.
Little Zao and Little Bao were up so early? And new shoes? The soles sounded different.
Lin Xiaobao trailed behind his dad, yawning. “Dad, what exercise are we doing today?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Are you gonna use me as a barbell and lift me up? We could do that in the room.”
He was referring to the workouts Lin Zao had done recently, back when he sensed someone spying on their home—preparations for trouble.
After chasing off those robbers, Lin Zao had slacked off. It had been ages since they’d exercised like that.
“We’re doing something different today.” Lin Zao cleared his throat and called out, “Lin Xiaobao!”
“Hm?” Lin Xiaobao looked puzzled. “Dad, are you mad?”
Why else call him by his full name?
Lin Zao sighed helplessly. “You should say ‘Here!'”
“Oh, got it, Dad!”
Lin Xiaobao recalled cartoons he’d seen.
He snapped to attention at once, little hands glued to his sides.
Chin up, chest out, butt sticking, eyes sparkling.
“Lin Xiaobao?”
“Here!”
“We’re doing radio calisthenics now. First, to warm up.”
“Okay.”
Lin Xiaobao had attended kindergarten for half a semester in the tiny tots class.
He just bounced around to music. He had no idea what Bobo Calisthenics was.
Lin Zao cleared a spot in the garage and positioned Lin Xiaobao facing him.
“Seven-Colored Sunshine, beginning now.”
“Prep beat—one two three four, two two three four.”
“Chest expansion—one two three four…”
Lin Zao called the beats while demonstrating.
Lin Xiaobao watched his dad closely and mimicked him earnestly.
“Little Bao, when you start school, you’ll learn this. Practice now, and you’ll be ahead of the other kids!”
“Really? But Dad, aren’t you a kindergarten teacher? How do you know about elementary school?”
“Because Dad went to elementary school too, of course.”
“I get it.” Lin Xiaobao nodded. “I’ll work hard!”
“Good boy.” Lin Zao smiled warmly, deeply pleased. “Now, stretching exercise.”
As Lin Xiaobao spread his arms rhythmically, he recited, “People who went to elementary school can teach kindergarten.”
“People who went to middle school can teach elementary.”
“People who went to college can teach middle school.”
“Right?”
He gazed at Lin Zao with utter confidence.
“Well…” Lin Zao’s smile froze on his lips.
It wasn’t exactly wrong, but…
Lin Xiaobao pressed on. “Second graders can teach first graders. Third graders can teach second…”
“So…”
Lin Xiaobao looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “Dad, you only went to first grade, so you teach kindergarten.”
“Dad, why didn’t you keep going to school?”
“Dad, is Big Daddy even worse off? Did he never even make it to first grade?”
Lin Zao met his sympathetic gaze, at a loss for words. He just fell silent and smacked his forehead.
What a disaster!
Fu Cheng stood behind the door, listening to the adorable father-son banter. He couldn’t help but curve his lips upward.
Just listening wasn’t enough anymore.
So he went to the wall beneath the high window, stood on tiptoe, reached up, and gripped the sill with both hands.
One pull-up!
Fu Cheng launched himself airborne, hanging from the window.
At last, he could see Little Zao and Little Bao!
The big one and the little one wore new clothes today—styles he’d never seen.
Meanwhile, Lin Zao led Lin Xiaobao through the exercises while trying to explain the city’s teacher hiring system.
“Dad went to college. Only college grads can teach kindergarten.”
“Then…” Lin Xiaobao was confused again. “Who teaches college? Super college? Aliens?”
“Well…”
Fu Cheng watched them, his gaze softening in a way he didn’t even notice.
So cute, like two kittens flailing their paws.
As he watched, regret crept in.
If he’d known this window was so easy to climb, he would’ve done it ages ago.
No more waiting for mealtimes to sneak a longing glance.
Next time, he’d watch like this too.
But just then, as Lin Xiaobao turned during a body twist…
“Whoa!”
“Little Bao, what is it?”
Lin Zao hurried over to check on him.
“Neck twist? Or your back?”
Lin Xiaobao pointed at the small window, declaring triumphantly, “Big Daddy’s peeking!”
Lin Zao looked where he pointed and sure enough, Fu Cheng’s head appeared at the window—like a video call thumbnail, just a head!
The sight of him made Lin Zao’s temper flare; his eyes went wide.
He settled Lin Xiaobao, dashed to the window, balled his fist, and jumped to swat Fu Cheng.
“You’re face-stuck again! How are you just like a horror movie demon, always popping up to scare people? Who taught you that bad habit? I’ll kill you!”
Fu Cheng grinned, hands clamped on the sill as his body slowly sank out of view.
Lin Zao fumed, hopping in place under the wall, eager for another shot.
The next instant, Fu Cheng pulled up again, reappearing silently.
Lin Zao blinked, scratching his head.
That move… it seemed familiar.
Like…
Lin Zao snapped out of it, suddenly embarrassed.
He’d done the exact same thing before—standing on a chair to peep at Fu Cheng, so…
Fu Cheng must’ve learned it from him.
Misunderstanding. Total misunderstanding.
Lin Zao tugged at his lips in an awkward smile, his voice softening.
“No peeking. Get down from there.”
Fu Cheng pretended not to understand, staying put and gazing at him quietly.
Lin Zao couldn’t storm in and yank him down, so he let it go.
“Fine, fine. If you’ve got the strength, hang there all you want. Counts as exercise.”
As he spoke, Lin Zao reached up too—no chair—trying to grab the sill.
But he wasn’t tall enough. Even on the stool later, he couldn’t hold on.
The sill was coated in whitewash, slick as could be, no grip.
Lin Zao couldn’t climb up and could only watch enviously as Fu Cheng hung there steadily.
How did he do it?
Human and zombie physiques were worlds apart, after all.
Better stick to human exercises.
Lin Zao puffed his cheeks and returned to Lin Xiaobao.
“Little Bao, ignore Big Daddy. Let’s keep going.”
“Okay.”
They said that, but father and son kept glancing over at Fu Cheng now and then.
Fu Cheng watched them without blinking.
The family of three split into groups, each exercising in their own way.
“Little Bao, almost done. Then we’ll jog two laps.”
“Okay.”
“Closing movements—one two three four…”
Suddenly, the sound of a car driving past echoed from outside.
Lin Zao’s heart skipped. He cut off mid-beat and shushed Lin Xiaobao.
Another car? From the back path this time?
Lin Zao climbed the shelves to the window and peered out.
There—a familiar white minivan rolling down the back lane.
Lin Zao frowned, thinking for a moment before it clicked.
The Tri-Colored Trio were back!
