Chapter 22

It was the exhaust fan!

Fu Cheng had come out through the window of the exhaust fan!

Lin Zao held Fu Cheng tightly and lifted his head, gazing quietly at the now-empty little window.

He began to speculate, to deduce.

He began to imagine Fu Cheng’s every step.

Fu Cheng had stepped onto the stainless steel table.

Even after turning into a zombie, even after losing his human habits, Fu Cheng still remembered not to dirty the bedsheets that Little Zao and Little Bao had worked so hard to lay out.

So, he had pushed aside all the bedding spread over the table.

He had simply stood on the bare surface, leaving only a few dusty footprints that could easily be wiped away.

Fu Cheng had dismantled the metal exhaust fan with his bare hands.

The robbers were right outside, and Little Zao was out there too. Burning with anxiety, Fu Cheng had wrenched at the fan with all his might. His hand slipped, and before he could pull back, the sharp blades sliced straight down his arm.

That was why there was such a deep, long gash on his arm, nearly spanning the entire forearm.

It had taken tremendous effort to break through the fan, leaving behind a small window.

Fu Cheng had gripped the edges of the window with both hands, trying to climb out.

But the opening was too narrow, and he was so massive. No matter how he curled up, he couldn’t squeeze through normally.

So he had dislocated his bones and joints, snapping his left shoulder to make himself smaller for the passage.

That was why, when he first appeared, his left arm had dangled like a slab of dead meat, hanging limply from his shoulder.

But the exhaust fan hadn’t been fully removed. Without the blades, there were still baffles and jagged connections—razor-sharp. The slightest brush could draw blood.

That explained the various wounds on his shoulder and arm, large and small.

There was also a long gash across his chest, stretching from his shoulder to his waist.

That was how it had happened.

That was how Fu Cheng had crawled out through the exhaust fan window.

Covered in wounds, he had barely touched down when he heard Lin Zao’s call—

“Brother Cheng!”

It was his beloved Little Zao, his most cherished Little Zao, calling for him!

Fu Cheng couldn’t think of anything else. He forgot to reset his shoulder and charged toward Little Zao’s voice.

Hidden by the cover of night, he raced forward and lunged, radiating menace as he slammed down on Baldy’s head.

He still remembered this man, remembered the words “little bastard,” remembered how they had made Little Zao cry more than once.

Fu Cheng gripped the head beneath his hand and shook it hard.

It was lighter than an egg, softer than mud, with sloshing liquid inside.

A little more pressure, and it would shatter.

That had been his original intention.

But then Little Zao’s voice rang out.

Little Zao said he was scared, that he wanted to go home.

So Fu Cheng obeyed Little Zao, tossing Baldy aside.

He followed Little Zao’s every word, utterly compliant only in Little Zao’s presence.

In the utility room—

The overhead fluorescent light and the moonlight streaming through the window shone with equal purity, casting their glow across the space.

Lin Zao and Fu Cheng faced each other.

One stood, the other sat.

But Fu Cheng was so tall that even sitting, his head reached Lin Zao’s chest.

Lin Zao’s heart trembled. Forgetting everything else, he flung his arms around Fu Cheng’s neck and shoulders, hugging him fiercely.

The scene he had imagined terrified him. His face paled, his eyes reddened, and he bowed his head, clutching Fu Cheng even tighter.

He didn’t care anymore!

He didn’t care if Brother Cheng had fully turned into a zombie, or if Brother Cheng might lunge up and bite him.

He only knew that zombies had hearts too.

He had already seen Brother Cheng’s heart.

Brother Cheng’s heart was filled with him and Little Bao.

He wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t scared at all!

Lin Zao trembled faintly as he held Fu Cheng.

He lowered his head, and suddenly his eyes stung. Tears fell.

Fu Cheng sat obediently on the bed, curling up to let Lin Zao maneuver him as he pleased.

He too kept his head down, burying his face in Lin Zao’s chest. Through the military coat, he secretly inhaled the sweet scent of Lin Zao’s body and savored the familiar warmth.

Then, a drop of warm liquid splashed onto the back of his neck.

Beneath a zombie’s neck lay its vital spine.

It was the zombie’s most sensitive spot.

Fu Cheng snapped alert, jerking his head up to attack.

But when he met Lin Zao’s tear-streaked, reddened eyes, he calmed again.

It was Little Zao.

Little Zao’s eyes were raining.

Fu Cheng clearly felt that drop of water trickle down his spine.

One tear was like a knife.

It had landed on his neck, but it pierced straight to his heart.

Mimicking Lin Zao’s movements, Fu Cheng tentatively lifted his rigid arms and wrapped them around his too-slender waist.

Now it wasn’t just Lin Zao holding him—Fu Cheng was holding Lin Zao too.

So this was it.

Pressed together like this, their breaths mingling, their body heat exchanging, their hearts beating in tandem.

He could hear Little Zao’s heartbeat, feel Little Zao’s warmth, gather all of Little Zao into his arms, possess him completely.

No wonder humans loved hugs.

Fu Cheng understood.

And so, the two held each other tightly.

Lin Zao said nothing, and Fu Cheng made no roars.

The room was utterly quiet, filled only with Lin Zao’s soft sniffles and silent tears.

Until—

“Dad, I’m done eating!”

Lin Xiaobao’s cheerful voice rang out.

“I’ve finished all my dinner! Are you done treating Big Daddy’s wounds? Can I come in to see you and Big Daddy? I’m coming in!”

Lin Zao snapped back to reality and hurriedly let go, wiping his tears with his sleeve.

Fu Cheng lowered his head, feeling emptiness in his arms—and in his heart.

Lin Zao sniffled and turned around, trying to make his voice sound normal.

“Not yet. Big Daddy has a lot of wounds, and Dad hasn’t finished yet. Don’t come in. Can you do Dad a favor?”

“Sure, Dad. What is it?”

Lin Xiaobao stopped outside the utility room door.

He clung to the doorframe, peeking inside.

Dad and Big Daddy were hugging! He saw it!

“Big Daddy’s clothes are torn. He needs new ones. Can you go upstairs and get a clean set for Big Daddy…”

Halfway through, Lin Zao remembered something and quickly changed tack. “If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Dad will go with you, and we’ll…”

Little Bao couldn’t be left alone now. Sending him upstairs to the closet would scare him.

He had forgotten.

But the next moment, Lin Xiaobao put his hands on his hips and puffed out his round, full belly.

“No problem! Wait right there, Dad!”

“But…”

Lin Xiaobao turned and dashed upstairs after saying that.

Lin Zao, worried, hurried out after him.

“Little Bao, don’t run right after eating! You might get a tummy ache!”

“I know! Don’t worry, Dad!”

Lin Xiaobao called back as he bolted upstairs.

Truth be told, he was still a bit scared—of the rooms, the closet, being alone.

But… Dad had asked him!

Dad was working so hard. He wanted to help.

So as long as he ran fast and left the bad guys far behind, he’d be fine!

Lin Xiaobao shot upstairs like a little rocket, whooshing to the closet and flinging it open.

He didn’t bother picking—just grabbed some. Big Daddy’s clothes were all the same: tank tops, either black or gray.

Lin Xiaobao clutched the clothes and whooshed back downstairs.

Lin Zao waited below, rubbing his little belly. “Didn’t I tell you not to run? Careful of the tummy ache.”

“It won’t hurt!” Lin Xiaobao declared confidently. “Not at all!”

“No doing that next time.” Lin Zao took the clothes from him. “Stand aside and rest.”

“Can I go in and help now?”

“Well…” Lin Zao glanced at Lin Xiaobao, then at Fu Cheng, and after a moment’s thought, nodded. “You can, but… don’t get too close to Big Daddy.”

“Why?”

“Because… Dad needs to check Big Daddy’s wounds, and if you’re too close, you’ll block the light and I won’t see clearly.”

“Okay.”

Being allowed inside was enough to make him happy!

The utility room door stood wide open.

Lin Zao dipped the bloodstained towel in water, washed it clean, and resumed wiping Fu Cheng’s wounds.

Lin Xiaobao held the medicine bottle and bandages, standing obediently by the door, head tilted as he watched intently.

Just then, Fu Cheng looked up.

Father and son’s gazes met in the air.

Lin Xiaobao blinked, his face full of sorrow.

Big Daddy’s injuries were so severe. So pitiful.

Fu Cheng frowned and let out a “grrr.”

What’s wrong? Why are you crying? I’m fine.

With Little Zao and Little Bao by his side, fussing over him, caring for him so tenderly…

The remnants of Fu Cheng’s human consciousness made the scene feel familiar.

He didn’t just find it warm—he found it…

Comfortable!

He was the head of the household, with his wife and son clustered around him!

This was pure bliss!

Meanwhile, Lin Zao steadied his shoulder, leaned down, and gently wiped his chest.

After two passes, Lin Zao took a cotton swab, dipped it in alcohol, and cleaned the wound.

Dirt, dust, rust—all had to come out.

Cleaning took time and strained the eyes.

Lin Zao sat on the bed, working meticulously, bit by bit.

Fu Cheng felt no pain. He alternated between watching Lin Zao’s focused profile and Little Bao’s concerned face, his heart full to bursting.

This was good.

Tending to Fu Cheng’s wounds took Lin Zao a full two hours.

Just the massive gash across his chest alone consumed an hour.

Once cleaned, he carefully dusted it with powder and wrapped it snugly in bandages.

Only then was it done.

Taking the chance, Lin Zao checked the old scratches on his arm from the zombie attack.

The three claw marks had fully healed.

The new skin was still pale, leaving faint scars.

This proved Yunnan Baiyao worked on zombie wounds too.

With proper care, zombies could heal like humans.

For their family, this was great news.

Lin Zao relaxed and tied a neat bow on Fu Cheng’s chest.

He looked up, eyes curving in a gentle smile. “Brother Cheng, all done. Be careful not to bump it. It’s getting late—Little Bao and I are heading up to bathe and sleep. You rest early too. I’ll stew some soup for you tomorrow to build your strength.”

Fu Cheng couldn’t understand human speech, but Lin Zao’s smile was worth more than words.

Lin Zao gathered the remaining medicine and bandages and stood. “Brother Cheng, we’re off.”

He extended a hand to Lin Xiaobao. “Little Bao, say ‘good night’ to Big Daddy.”

Lin Xiaobao took Dad’s hand and poked his head out. “Good night, Big Daddy.”

Fu Cheng rumbled from his throat: “Grrr—”

It would have to count as his reply.

Lin Zao led Lin Xiaobao out.

Fu Cheng raised his head, red eyes gleaming as he watched them go.

The light flicked off, the door closed.

Outside the small window, the garage lights went dark too.

Soon after, familiar footsteps echoed—Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao heading upstairs.

Fu Cheng grumbled twice but didn’t sleep. Instead, he went to the wall corner and traced the words there.

Continuing his speech practice.

Meanwhile, Lin Zao took Lin Xiaobao upstairs.

As usual, father and son bathed one after the other and changed into pajamas.

But Lin Xiaobao had just endured a nasty scare; he was surely still frightened.

Lin Zao didn’t dare let him sleep so soon.

Kids falling asleep in fear could etch that terror into their subconscious, turning it into nightmares that lingered into adulthood—too damaging to the brain.

He needed to let Little Bao forget it all first.

So Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao’s hand, thinking of something to distract him.

“Got it!”

Lin Zao stepped forward and picked up Lin Xiaobao’s Lettuce Growth Diary from the table.

“Little Bao, haven’t you drawn your lettuce in days?”

“I’ve been too busy lately.” Lin Xiaobao scratched his head.

“No worries. Dad will draw with you.”

“Dad’s drawing lettuce too?”

“Dad’s drawing Big Daddy.”

Smiling, Lin Zao handed him the notebook and pulled out his own lesson planner.

“Come on, let’s draw together.”

“Okay!”

Father and son headed to the second floor.

Lin Xiaobao clutched his notebook and crayons, squatting before a few soda bottles, carefully coloring away.

Lin Zao sat at the dining table, opened his planner, gripped a pen, and began jotting notes.

—Year 3000, February 27th.

—Enemy invasion at a critical moment; Fu Cheng appeared and turned the tide.

—Single-handedly crushed enemy’s skull with immense strength. Obeyed my commands; seems to retain human consciousness.

—Injured climbing through window: arm… shoulder… chest…

—Treated and bandaged wounds. Observed: prior zombie scratches fully healed…

As Lin Zao wrote, his brows furrowed suddenly. Something occurred to him.

This was off!

Zombies—other zombies!

Normally, a couple of shouts from him would draw them shambling over.

But this time, amid all the racket with the robbers—nearly half an hour—not a single zombie showed!

How?

Weren’t they hypersensitive to noise?

Didn’t they come running at the slightest sound?

Lin Zao scowled, set down his pen, and went to the living room’s back window to peer outside.

Before, if he looked away for a moment, the zombies would swarm for Brother Cheng.

They’d circle beneath the exhaust fan, shuffling endlessly.

But not today.

Had they lost interest since Brother Cheng ignored them? Or…

Were they scared? Scared of Brother Cheng?

Did they understand him? Had Brother Cheng told them to stay away, so they did?

Generally speaking, zombies do not retain human consciousness.

But Brother Cheng clearly has a clear mind; he eats and wears clothes.

He could recognize him and Little Bao, understand his movements, comprehend his words, and even protect him in moments of crisis.

Obviously, Brother Cheng is different from the zombies.

So…

Has Brother Cheng mutated? Is Brother Cheng that unique zombie?

Lin Zao’s eyes lit up, and he ran back to the dining table, flipping through the thin few pages of paper.

If he keeps taking care of Brother Cheng like this, will Brother Cheng get better and better?

Yes! It must be!