The Tri-Colored Trio had set out the night before last.
By this morning, it had been a full two days.
Lin Zao stood on a shelf, watching the familiar minivan drive past.
He couldn’t see the people inside, only the vehicle itself.
The originally white body was splattered with some bloodstains and dust.
There was also a small dent above the left taillight.
Aside from that, there was no other damage.
It seemed The Tri-Colored Trio hadn’t run into any danger on this outing.
Lin Zao let out a small sigh of relief.
The minivan followed the narrow path along the perimeter wall, driving straight ahead until it stopped outside the back door of Building 5.
Immediately after, Green Hair and Yellow Hair poked their heads out from the left and right windows.
They scanned their surroundings and confirmed it was safe before jumping down.
The two stood back-to-back, forming up in position.
Green Hair handled the door while Yellow Hair held the long-handled wrench in both hands, vigilantly watching all around.
Before long, the door swung open. Green Hair and Yellow Hair pulled back to the sides, allowing Red Hair to drive the minivan inside.
Once the vehicle was in, the rear door closed too.
The whole process was quiet and swift, taking less than a minute.
They moved with impressive coordination—a safe formation they’d likely honed during their scavenging run outside.
Even with Lin Zao peeking from behind the shelf, they hadn’t noticed him.
He figured that made sense. He wasn’t a zombie, wasn’t a bad guy, and posed no threat. It was normal they hadn’t spotted him.
Seeing that The Tri-Colored Trio were unharmed, Lin Zao relaxed completely and hopped down from the shelf.
Lin Xiaobao stood right beside him, both little hands clamped tightly over his mouth as he tilted his head up, staring intently at his dad.
That was because Dad had shushed him.
One “shh” meant be quiet. Two “shh”s meant it’s time to pee. Three “shh”s meant whistle.
He got it!
Lin Zao smiled and raised two index fingers, twirling them in the air before gently tapping the back of his son’s small hand.
“Pew pew pew—”
“Speech ban lifted! Little Bao Bao can talk now!”
Lin Xiaobao dropped his hands and, without even catching his breath, blurted out, “Dad, who came? Bad guys or good guys? People we know, or people we don’t?”
His words tumbled out like the coconut bits in jelly—pop pop pop, nonstop.
“If they’re bad guys, then I don’t wanna hide in the closet. I wanna stay with Dad and Big Daddy. I don’t wanna be alone. I…”
The three-year-old Little Bao Bao rarely spoke so much at once.
He grew more worried and sadder with every word.
By the end, his eyes were red, and his tongue was tripping over itself.
“Anyway, Dad and Big Daddy have to stay with me. I’ll protect you guys… I…”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry.”
Lin Zao quickly crouched down, pulling him into his arms for a gentle hug and reassurance.
“The ones who came aren’t bad guys. They’re the three traffic lights… one traffic light… no, Red, Yellow, and Green—the three big brothers. Remember them? They went exploring outside and now they’re back.”
“Really?”
Lin Xiaobao looked up, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Of course it’s real. Dad saw them with his own eyes just now. It was those three.”
Lin Zao patted his back and took hold of his little hand.
“Even if they were bad guys, Dad wouldn’t leave you home alone again.”
“But…” Lin Xiaobao asked pitifully, “if I stick with Dad, won’t I hold you back?”
“Of course not!” Lin Zao declared confidently. “Because Dad’s not going out to fight bad guys anymore. Dad’ll send Big Daddy out instead. Let Big Daddy handle the bad guys. Sound good?”
Fu Cheng, listening from inside the utility room, let out a grumble.
—Good. Very good. That’s exactly how it should be.
Lin Xiaobao hesitated, though. “Is that… okay? What if Big Daddy gets hurt?”
“He won’t.” Lin Zao soothed him. “Big Daddy’s super strong. He can punch someone straight to the moon. No way he gets hurt.”
The last time Fu Cheng got injured was because Lin Zao had locked him up.
Against normal humans, he had a total advantage.
Lin Xiaobao tilted his head, pondering seriously.
Lin Zao pinched his chubby cheek. “Alright, no more frowning. Keep it up and you’ll turn into a little old man.”
Little old man…
Lin Xiaobao suddenly thought of Grandpa Zhang next door, all wrinkly like a plum candy.
“Hiss—” He clapped a hand over his cheek. “Old grandpa, so sour.”
Lin Zao was stunned. “Little Bao, how do you know what an old grandpa tastes like? Were you a little tiger in your past life?”
“Yeah!” Lin Xiaobao waved his small hands in front of Dad. “Rawr rawr rawr—I’m a little tiger—I’m gonna eat up Dad and Big Daddy!”
But Dad grabbed his tiger paws in one go.
“Come on, little tiger. Time to go upstairs for breakfast.”
“Okay.”
The father and son held hands as they headed up.
Before leaving, they both waved toward the utility room.
“Big Daddy, bye-bye.”
“Brother Cheng, we’ll bring you food after we eat.”
Fu Cheng pitched his voice high and let out a few low roars.
—Roar roar roar! He’s the big tiger! He’s gonna eat Little Zao!
Lin Zao genuinely couldn’t understand him. He led Lin Xiaobao to the second-floor kitchen and ladled out two bowls of congee.
Lin Xiaobao sat in his baby chair. “Dad, I don’t wanna eat congee anymore.”
Lin Zao replied, “Hang in there just a bit longer. We’ll have rice for lunch.”
“Mm…”
Lin Zao was clearly changing the subject, but Lin Xiaobao didn’t know how to call him out on it.
“Dad knows. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have noodles for breakfast.”
“Yeah.”
“Here.” Lin Zao set the congee in front of him and scooped a spoonful of meat floss into his bowl. “Dig in.”
Lin Xiaobao gripped his spoon, scooping up half meat floss and half congee. He pursed his lips and blew.
“Hoo—hoo—”
Lin Zao ate the same way. As he did, he asked, “Little Bao, don’t you feel like we’ve forgotten something?”
Lin Xiaobao looked innocent. “Nope.”
“Dad just has this feeling like we forgot something.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve forgotten, so how can I tell you?”
Lin Zao scooped up a spoonful of congee and popped it in his mouth.
Twenty minutes later, Lin Zao leisurely finished his bowl. He stood with it in hand, ready to get seconds—half a bowl this time.
Only then did it hit him—
“We forgot to run! We forgot our run!”
They’d agreed to jog two laps after exercises, but they’d come straight up for breakfast without doing it!
How did that happen?
Maybe he really wasn’t cut out for exercise.
The Tri-Colored Trio returned early that morning.
Once they got home and locked the door, there was no further activity.
They were probably busy sorting supplies or catching some rest.
They had borrowed stuff from Lin Zao, but he wasn’t the type to hound for repayment—or to spy, for that matter.
As long as they came back safe and unscathed, they could return the items whenever.
By afternoon, the sun had peeked out for once.
The family of three was active on the first floor.
Lin Xiaobao clutched his Lettuce Growth Diary but squatted by the dog bed.
He and Dad had already changed the water for the lettuce that morning, so now he could observe the little dog freely and sketch it.
Dad said the lettuce roots in water hadn’t changed much lately, probably because the weather wasn’t warm enough.
Lin Xiaobao got a bit impatient and had Dad add three words to the diary’s cover—
And Little Dog!
Lettuce and Puppy Growth Diary!
Now he could log them both. What a smart cookie he was!
Lin Xiaobao focused on his drawing.
Lin Zao sat on a stool outside the utility room, holding up the military coat with both hands. He found the spots where Fu Cheng had clawed it and laid it across his lap.
He turned and picked up the Danish Royal Biscuit Tin from the floor.
Opening it revealed not biscuits, but needles and thread.
Heh, everyone did it this way.
The coat was still practically new, with just two tears from Fu Cheng’s claws. A patch job, and it’d be good as new.
Perfect for Fu Cheng to wear.
The military coat was green, but their thread came only in black and white—no fine shades.
Lin Zao held up both colors against the coat.
White was too obvious. Black would blend better, barely noticeable.
Decision made, he donned his glasses and threaded the needle.
The tears were fairly long, with the stuffing poking out.
Luckily, the coat wasn’t a solid piece; it was quilted into grids with stitching.
Only two grids had exposed batting.
Lin Zao stuffed the batting back in, pressed it flat, then stitched the tear closed.
Deep in concentration, Lin Zao sewed with care.
Fu Cheng maintained a pull-up position, sprawled over the small window above, watching silently.
Little Zao could mend clothes.
Little Zao was so good. Little Zao was amazing.
He decided to carve ten “Zao”s into the wall to show his love for Little Zao.
Lin Zao finished mending the coat, folded it neatly, set it aside, and pulled out a pair of leather gloves.
Big, sturdy black leather gloves.
Lin Zao spread his palm over one, sizing it up.
Fu Cheng grew anxious, staring at Lin Zao’s hand with wide eyes.
Whose big black hand was that? How dare it hold Little Zao’s hand?
No way! Absolutely not! He wouldn’t allow it!
—No! Allowed!
Fu Cheng’s eyes glowed red, flashing like an alarm.
Lin Zao noticed nothing. After a quick measure, he turned the glove inside out.
He considered, then snipped a scrap of fabric and stuck it over the finger section.
This glove was for Fu Cheng.
Fu Cheng was strong, but a hug or a pinch wouldn’t spread the zombie virus.
The contagion must be in his fingers!
So Lin Zao planned to reinforce the finger parts.
As long as Brother Cheng’s fingers stayed covered, there’d be no issue.
With that in mind, Lin Zao padded the scrap with batting and sewed it on.
Once done, he tested it himself, poking his finger inside hard.
Pretty solid.
He’d have Brother Cheng try it on next.
If it worked, great.
Ten minutes later, Lin Zao finished one glove.
“Brother Cheng.”
He held it up, meeting Fu Cheng’s gaze through the window.
Fu Cheng’s ears flushed; he ducked back instinctively.
So Little Zao knew he was peeking.
Lin Zao stood, climbed onto the stool, and reached through the window.
“Can you hang there using just one hand?”
—Of course.
Fu Cheng smirked confidently, released one hand, and dangled steadily.
The next instant, Lin Zao unlatched the window and grabbed his wrist.
“Come here.”
He started sliding the glove on, then paused.
“Wait, wrong hand. Switch.”
Fu Cheng, who could understand him now, obediently swapped.
So that black hand was his own.
Little Zao had just been holding his hand.
The black leather motorcycle glove fit perfectly over Fu Cheng’s knuckled palm.
It didn’t scream zombie—more like a biker or hitman.
Lin Zao squeezed his fingers. Felt good.
Fu Cheng liked it too. If Little Zao was happy, he was happy.
Lin Zao tapped the five fingers on the windowsill like piano keys. “Brother Cheng, can you do this?”
Fu Cheng mimicked him, pressing his hand flat, then…
The fingers flailed wildly, each doing its own thing, like they were at a rave.
Lin Zao burst out laughing. “Brother Cheng, you’re a clumsy oaf of a zombie.”
Fu Cheng knew he was being teased and tilted his head. “Grrr—”
“Here’s a simple one.”
Lin Zao thought, then raised two fingers, wiggling them like walking legs. “This?”
Fu Cheng watched and tried. Nope.
Zombie joints were too stiff.
“Alright, then—”
Fu Cheng turned away, staring off at the windowsill.
He wasn’t learning anymore. Little Zao always laughed at him.
No fun…
The next second, Lin Zao made a heart with two fingers and held it up.
“Brother Cheng, this one?”
Fun!
Fu Cheng’s eyes lit up. He whipped his head back.
So much fun!
He wanted to learn that!
Fu Cheng cleared his throat and offered his gloved hand to Lin Zao.
—Little Zao, teach me. Please.
“I knew it—you’ve got that deadpan face again! Like a ghost!”
Lin Zao sighed helplessly, took his hand, and positioned the index and thumb.
“Like this. Super easy.”
Fu Cheng nailed the heart and promptly sent it to Lin Zao.
Lin Zao felt equal parts exasperated and amused. He crossed his arms, teasing on purpose.
“Heart with a black glove? Figures—you’ve got a black heart! Hmph!”
Fu Cheng lowered his gaze, looking all aggrieved.
—Wronged! Little Zao, sir!
It was Little Zao sir who picked the glove himself!
He’d love a red one, but Little Zao sir hadn’t given him any.
Lin Zao chuckled and sneaked a peek at him. “Comfy? I’ll make the other one, so both hands are covered. That way, you won’t scratch me.”
Fu Cheng nodded eagerly.
He knew he wouldn’t hurt Little Zao anyway.
But if the black gloves eased Little Zao’s mind, he’d wear them.
Lin Zao smiled and had no intention of closing the window. He was about to step down.
Just then, two soft taps sounded on the glass from outside.
Lin Zao startled and whipped around.
Grandpa Zhang’s voice followed.
“Little Lin? Little Lin?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Coming right now.”
Lin Zao called back softly, then unceremoniously patted Fu Cheng’s shoulder.
“Down, quick. No noise.”
Fu Cheng clung to the sill and slowly vanished from view.
Gone.
Lin Zao confirmed it, shut the window, hopped off the stool, and ran to the window.
“Coming, coming.”
Lin Xiaobao heard Grandpa Zhang too. He set down his wall calendar and ran after Dad.
“Grandpa Zhang, me too!”
Pushing aside the cardboard that blocked their view, they saw Grandpa Zhang standing in the room next door.
The Tri-Colored Trio, sporting their signature red, yellow, and green locks, stood right behind Grandpa Zhang. They hoisted a hefty sack of flour—a full ten pounds—on their shoulders and grinned ear to ear at them.
“Brother Lin! Brother Bao!”
