In the pickup truck.
Fu Cheng leaned back against the passenger seat, his hands steadily supporting Lin Zao’s waist as his eyes locked intently on Lin Zao’s face.
The corners of his mouth, hidden behind the bite guard, curved upward involuntarily.
Lin Zao straddled Fu Cheng’s lap, cupping his face with both hands and puckering his lips. He leaned in again and again.
Loud, hearty kisses landed one after another on Fu Cheng’s cheeks and forehead.
Lin Zao was methodical about it, carefully noting each spot he’d already kissed.
“Missed a spot here—let me make it up.”
“And here too—another one.”
“You’re toast, Brother Cheng! I’m gonna cover your whole face!”
“Mwah-mwah-mwah—”
Lin Zao bobbed like a little bird, swung like a pendulum, wobbled like a roly-poly doll.
Closer, then away. Away, then closer.
Each approach and retreat brought a single kiss.
Fu Cheng reclined against the seatback, his eyes half-lidded.
Behind the bite guard, his expression seemed impassive, but every time Lin Zao planted a kiss, Fu Cheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly.
He kept count in his mind.
One, two, three.
A hundred kisses in one minute.
An average of 1.666… per second.
In just that one minute, the kisses from Little Zao outnumbered all the ones he’d gotten lately combined.
Had Little Zao smeared some kind of special zombie-targeting potion on his lips?
Fu Cheng’s heart pounded wildly, his veins throbbing with excitement.
The rush of fierce emotion kept him in a state of hyper-arousal.
His arms around Lin Zao tightened instinctively.
His gaze on Lin Zao’s eyes sank deeper and deeper.
Where their bodies pressed together, it felt like everything might burn to ash.
But right then—
Lin Zao planted one final kiss and pulled back, not leaning in again.
The soft, familiar sensation vanished in an instant.
Fu Cheng’s throat tightened as he looked at Lin Zao.
No, Little Zao—what’s wrong? Why stop kissing?
Lin Zao lowered his hands and caught his breath with a small pant. “All done. That wore me out.”
No! Not done!
Fu Cheng leaned forward urgently, tilting up Lin Zao’s chin.
There’s still this spot!
Hadn’t he said he’d kiss Fu Cheng’s whole face? This part was untouched!
The chin, the jawline, the throat…
But Lin Zao raised a hand to rub his own cheek. “No more. My mouth’s cramping up.”
Lin Zao bowed his head and patted Fu Cheng’s arm. “Kissing’s over. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
Fu Cheng, of course, refused. He only hugged Lin Zao tighter.
“Ow! You’re squeezing too hard again! I’m out—it’s late. Time for bed.”
Fu Cheng rumbled a low “grrr” from his throat and turned his head to stare out the car window.
No. He didn’t want to go to bed. He didn’t want to go back to that cold, pitch-black utility room.
The next second, Lin Zao leaned in close with a mischievous grin. “Come upstairs with me and Little Bao. Sleep with us. Sound good?”
Fu Cheng paused, then his eyes lit up. He whipped his head back around.
Yes! Perfect!
Lin Zao’s lips quirked up like a smug little cat.
He knew it!
“Then let go of me first. We’ll go get Little Bao.”
“Roar—”
Finally, Fu Cheng released his grip.
Lin Zao wriggled free from his embrace and hopped out of the truck.
Fu Cheng reached out with both hands, guarding him from behind.
The truck bed was piled high with stuff. It was too late and they were too tired to unpack now, so Lin Zao let it be.
They were home anyway—no danger here.
He could sort it out after a good sleep.
Lin Zao opened the back door and glanced at Lin Xiaobao.
Lin Xiaobao slumped in his car seat, head lolled to one side, tiny nose twitching with each breath, little chest rising and falling. He was out cold.
Lin Zao had spent a full five minutes smooching Fu Cheng in the truck, and it hadn’t woken the kid.
Lin Zao reached to pick him up—then paused, pulling his hand back.
He stepped a couple paces away, to a spot where Lin Xiaobao couldn’t see or smell him, and stripped off his overcoat, shoes, socks, and gloves.
He’d just touched a zombie—not Fu Cheng, but another one.
That zombie had been bleeding. Better safe than sorry.
Like shedding a shell, Lin Zao slipped out of his coat wearing just his sweater. Barefoot, he stepped forward and scooped up Lin Xiaobao.
Lin Xiaobao hadn’t touched any zombies himself, but he’d been in the truck with them.
So Lin Zao peeled off the boy’s outermost jacket too.
They’d wash the clothes tomorrow—leave them here in the first-floor garage for now.
Lin Zao turned back to Fu Cheng, cradling Lin Xiaobao.
Before heading out, Lin Zao had worried Fu Cheng might get grabbed by another zombie.
Even though he was a zombie himself, Lin Zao didn’t want him hurt again.
So he’d made Fu Cheng layer a jacket over his black tank top.
Seeing Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao both stripping down, Fu Cheng followed suit and shrugged off his jacket.
Lin Zao nodded approvingly. “Alright, let’s go upstairs to bed.”
He carried Lin Xiaobao up the stairs.
Fu Cheng cracked his knee joints and mimicked Lin Zao’s steps onto the stairs.
Zombies generally couldn’t climb stairs.
It required constant knee-bending and lifting.
Zombie joints were too stiff, only good for straight-line lurching.
But Fu Cheng could manage. To sleep with his wife and son, he’d snap his joints into place if he had to!
A bit of practice, and he had it down.
Gripping the stainless steel railing, he followed Lin Zao.
It was like coming home for the first time, seeing the second floor for the first time. He glanced around curiously.
This was where Little Zao and Little Bao spent their time when they weren’t down on the first floor with him. Little Zao cooked here. Little Bao played here.
He remembered… but not quite.
Flashes of memory flooded his mind, leaving him momentarily dazed.
Fu Cheng kept up his mechanical stair-climbing, and before he knew it, he reached the third floor with Lin Zao.
Lin Zao fished the key from his pocket and slid it into the lock of the security door.
As he unlocked it, he glanced back and ordered Fu Cheng, “No wandering. Follow my lead. Got it?”
Fu Cheng nodded and rumbled another “grrr.”
Got it.
He understood. He had his wits about him.
Reassured, Lin Zao turned the key and opened the door.
“Come with me. This way to our bedroom.”
“Roar—”
The family of three entered the bedroom.
Lin Zao laid the sleeping Lin Xiaobao on the bed and tucked him in. Then he turned, opened the closet, and pulled out a set of Big Dinosaur pajamas, handing them to Fu Cheng.
“House zombies have to shower and change into pajamas before getting in bed.”
Fu Cheng glanced at the bed and pointed at Lin Xiaobao.
Little Zao, report: This kid hasn’t showered either.
“Little Bao bathed at noon, so no need tonight. And he’s not a zombie.”
Fu Cheng’s brows furrowed. He still thought it unfair.
The long sentence was too much—he couldn’t parse it.
“Don’t worry about him.” Lin Zao grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. “Come on, I’ll take you to Little Bao’s room to wash up.”
Fu Cheng drew a deep breath and shot him a helpless look.
Fine. For sleeping with Little Zao, he’d take a bath.
Their third floor had no shared bathroom—each was inside a bedroom.
Lin Zao opened the door to the children’s room, shoved Fu Cheng into the bathroom, set the pajamas on a rack, and took down the showerhead. He turned on the faucet.
“Here, use it like this. Remember?”
Fu Cheng took the showerhead and twisted the knob—too hard.
Lin Zao slapped his hand away. “You idiot! You’ll snap it off!”
No help for it. Lin Zao tossed the showerhead into a bucket, filled it with water, and left Fu Cheng to wash himself.
He knew Fu Cheng could manage.
Back when Fu Cheng lived in the utility room, Lin Zao would drag the hose over daily, fill a bucket for him to wash up.
Fu Cheng always used it, cleaning himself spotless. It was instinct now.
“Wash up yourself. I’ve gotta go bathe too.”
Lin Zao laid down the law seriously.
“Dry off when you’re done, put on the clean pajamas. Got it?”
Fu Cheng nodded helplessly.
Got it. He was a zombie, not an idiot.
But Lin Zao stared at him like he was one.
Fu Cheng met his gaze steadily, then gripped the hem of his tank top. In one smooth motion, he yanked it off, baring his solid, muscular torso.
Next, he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and unzipped his pants.
Bold as brass, without a shred of shame.
Little Zao’s still standing there. Does he want to supervise my bath? Fine, I’ll wash for you.
Lin Zao jumped, clapping hands over his eyes and spinning away.
“Wash yourself! I’m out! Wait here when you’re done—no running off!”
“Roar—”
Fu Cheng growled softly in response, turned around, peeled off his leather gloves, set them aside, and scooped a ladle of water. He poured it over his head.
He slicked back his slightly overgrown buzz cut and wiped his face.
Bathing was tough for zombies.
For him, not so bad.
He had fragmented memories of it.
Pour water over your head, scrub everywhere.
Little Zao hated dirt. If he wasn’t clean, Little Zao would kick him off the bed, refuse to let him touch.
He vaguely recalled the night before fully turning, hosing off in the garage—for Little Zao.
As the memories surfaced, Little Zao’s figure appeared in them.
He thought: He should bathe with Little Zao.
That would be a real bath.
Meanwhile, Lin Zao returned to the bedroom.
He grabbed a matching set of Medium Dinosaur pajamas and headed into his bathroom.
After running around outside, sweating buckets and touching all sorts of things, he needed a proper wash.
Lin Zao flipped on the heater, stripped off his sweater and thermal undershirt, and looked down.
Sure enough, two fresh bruises bloomed on his waist.
Fu Cheng still couldn’t control his strength.
He’d dent light switches.
Snap faucets clean off.
Hugging? Even worse!
Lin Zao felt like putty in his arms!
Suddenly, he regretted it. In a moment of impulse, he’d brought Fu Cheng back to the master bedroom too soon.
One night like that, and his waist might snap!
Regret. Deep regret.
But too late now.
Lin Zao showered, slipped into his pajamas, and pushed open the door to the bed.
Lin Xiaobao slept in his sweater, probably itchy—he twisted restlessly.
Lin Zao lifted him from the covers, cradled him close, raised his little arms, and changed him out of the sweater into Small Dinosaur pajamas.
Lin Xiaobao stirred midway, squinted sleepily at Dad, then shut his eyes and drifted off again.
So tired.
Exhausted.
Once changed, Lin Zao dawdled a bit longer but finally had to go fetch Fu Cheng.
Fu Cheng had scrubbed himself spotless, donned the pajamas, regloved his hands, and—as ordered—waited patiently in the bathroom.
Lin Zao held out his hand.
Fu Cheng placed his in it and squeezed.
Lin Zao smacked it. “Ow! You always grip so hard! You’ll crush my hand!”
Fu Cheng didn’t get it. He’d thought he was being gentle.
How much gentler?
Reluctantly, he let go, allowing Lin Zao to lead him by the hand.
Back in the bedroom, Lin Zao locked the door, turned, and flopped onto the bed.
It was four or five in the morning now after all that.
Exhausted! Sleepy!
Fu Cheng watched, imitating him, and lunged for the bed.
But Lin Zao shot upright, planting both hands on Fu Cheng’s chest to shove him back.
“Whoa, whoa! You’re too heavy! Don’t flop like I did—the bed’ll collapse!”
Fu Cheng’s eyes drooped, staring at Lin Zao with pitiful grievance.
Then could he sit gently?
“No way!” Lin Zao shot down.
“Before bed, learn to control your strength first!”
Lin Zao lifted his shirt, exposing the massive bruise on his waist and abdomen.
“See? I go out, dodge zombies, and come back hurt—by you.”
Fu Cheng’s gaze darkened on the bruise. He reached out, as if to touch.
Lin Zao swatted his hand. “No touching! It’ll hurt worse!”
He spun around, grabbed a pillow from the bed, and shoved it into Fu Cheng’s arms.
“Hug this. Practice.”
The pillow smelled of Lin Zao. Fu Cheng buried his nose in it, clutching so tight the stuffing nearly burst.
“Hey! Too hard! Is that how you hugged me? You’d kill me!”
Lin Zao gripped Fu Cheng’s arm but couldn’t pry it loose. He snatched another pillow and hugged it himself.
“Like this! Not too tight—just a little indent, a few wrinkles.”
Fu Cheng eyed Lin Zao’s slender arms and eased his grip.
This light? Wouldn’t Little Zao slip away?
Like holding a feather—could he even manage?
“Yeah, like that. Lighter still. Watch the wrinkles—don’t go too deep.”
Lin Zao gaped in a huge yawn.
“Practice on your own. Call me when you think you’ve got it. I’ll check.”
Lin Zao hugged his pillow, flopped back onto the bed beside Lin Xiaobao, and closed his eyes.
“I’ll nap a bit… So tired… Call me when you’re ready. Gotta check, or no bed for you…”
Dawn broke at five a.m., faint light filtering in.
The Small Dinosaur and Medium Dinosaur snored away on the bed.
The Big Dinosaur stood at bedside, clutching his pillow, practicing hug angles and pressure over and over.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Big Dinosaur felt like he’d practiced enough. Lowering his head, he leaned in close to Medium Dinosaur and Small Dinosaur, calling out softly.
“Zao?”
His wife and son ignored him. Instead, they smacked their lips and turned their faces away, a clear sign of their displeasure.
With that, Fu Cheng decided the practice was over.
He threw back the covers and clambered awkwardly onto the bed. Stretching out his arms, he wrapped them around Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao from behind.
Gently, slowly, steadily—he embraced his entire world.
He would learn. For Little Zao and Little Bao, he would learn anything.
At last, the dinosaur family of three was reunited.
