Lin Zao’s name—Zao.
The morning greeting—zao.
Though it was the same character, this zao was not that zao.
Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao in his arms and stood before the little window, perched on a long bench. His face flushed bright red in an instant.
This… that…
His toes curled unconsciously, gripping the sole of his cotton shoe tightly.
It was just…
Lin Zao fidgeted restlessly, his eyes darting everywhere, unable to look at Fu Cheng again.
Anyway… ah!
How could he have forgotten what his own name was?
How could he have thought Brother Cheng was saying “good morning” to him?
How could he have…
He hadn’t slept a wink last night and had cried his eyes out again.
His brain must have turned to mush!
Lin Zao bowed his head, wishing he could crawl into a crack in the wall.
He and Brother Cheng had howled “Zaozaozao” at each other for half the day.
He had even sung a song to Brother Cheng. No wonder Brother Cheng had looked so baffled.
The thought alone made him want to faint!
But before he could, Fu Cheng called out to him again from the utility room.
“Zao.”
Lin Zao didn’t know how to face him. He kept his head down and mumbled a response.
“What?”
His voice was so soft it was like a mosquito buzzing.
Not only did Fu Cheng fail to hear it, but so did Lin Xiaobao.
So Lin Xiaobao tugged gently at his sleeve. “Dad, Big Daddy’s calling you again.”
“I heard him,” Lin Zao replied, still hanging his head in embarrassment.
“Then why aren’t you answering Big Daddy?”
“I did!”
Lin Zao lifted his head, shot a quick glance at Fu Cheng, then whipped it away again, not daring to look.
So embarrassing! Utterly mortifying!
Lin Zao clutched Lin Xiaobao and spun around and around.
He looked just like a whirling music box.
Lin Xiaobao asked again, “Dad, do you have fleas?”
“Of course not. Dad’s very clean…”
Lin Zao answered loudly at first, then changed his tune.
“Yes! Dad has fleas, and you’re the little flea!”
“You naughty little flea, always exposing Dad, always ruining his act, making Dad itch all over.”
“I didn’t bite you, Dad.” Lin Xiaobao blinked his big eyes innocently. “You’re the flea, Dad. You’re the big flea, hopping around here just now!”
“I…”
Lin Zao choked for a moment, then covered his little mouth and pinched his chubby cheek.
“Alright, alright, no more. Keep it up, and Dad’s going to jump right off this bench.”
“Okay.”
Better to spare Dad when you can.
Lin Xiaobao obediently raised his little hand to seal his mouth.
But he still tilted his head up, staring at his dad.
Lin Zao puffed out his cheeks, steadied his mood, and looked back at Fu Cheng.
Fu Cheng was watching him too—or rather, his gaze had been fixed on Lin Zao the whole time, never wavering.
He called out once more: “Zao.”
His voice was still low and raspy, like that of a wild beast just learning to speak.
Lin Zao pressed his lips together and murmured softly in response, “Brother Cheng, it’s me. I’m right here.”
The playful Little Zao who sang songs and dashed about—the quiet Little Zao of now—Fu Cheng liked them all.
The mischievous Little Bao, the clever Little Bao in his pajamas—the curious Little Bao gazing at him now—Fu Cheng liked them all too.
Seeing them filled Fu Cheng with joy.
And Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao felt the same about him.
Whether Fu Cheng could speak properly or not, whether he sang or ran off-key.
Whether he was human or zombie—they loved him all the same.
The family of three gazed at each other quietly through the window.
Fu Cheng would call “Zao,” and Lin Zao would answer, “It’s me,” or “I’m here.”
One call after another, without pause or tiring.
A good while later, amid the calm, two loud rumbles broke the silence.
“Gurgle—”
Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao both looked down at the same time.
“Dad, your stomach growled. Really loud.”
“Little Bao, your stomach growled too. Even louder!”
“Because your stomach called out to it first.”
Breakfast time had arrived. They were both starving!
Lin Zao said goodbye to Fu Cheng. “I’ll head up and make breakfast then. You practice speaking a bit more, but don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I’ll bring some down for you later. Eat up, then practice.”
“From now on, Little Bao and I will teach you together.”
Fu Cheng responded, but not with a roar this time—with “Zao.”
Well, maybe… Fu Cheng had turned it into his catchphrase.
Lin Zao smiled, scooped up Lin Xiaobao, and hopped down from the bench.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs, brush our teeth, wash our faces, and make breakfast.”
“Mm.” Lin Xiaobao asked, “Dad, why does Big Daddy only call your name and not mine?”
“Because…” Lin Zao thought for a moment. “Because Big Daddy’s still learning. Didn’t you think the character for ‘Bao’ was hard too? You can’t write it yet.”
“Makes sense.” Lin Xiaobao nodded. “Big Daddy’s smarts are about the same as mine. I haven’t learned it yet, so he probably won’t either.”
“Is that so?” Lin Zao burst out laughing. “Then you two can encourage each other! When we have time, we’ll come down and teach Big Daddy, okay?”
“No problem!”
The father and son headed upstairs to wash up.
Fu Cheng returned to the corner by the wall. He reached out, tracing the smooth, polished engraving he’d worn down with his touch.
“Zao… Zao… Zao…”
He had learned it! He really had!
Fu Cheng choked up, his chest heaving violently, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Even in his excitement, he didn’t dare slacken for a moment.
He was afraid that if he stopped, he’d forget how to say “Zao.”
He couldn’t stop.
Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao went upstairs.
The father and son quickly changed out of their pajamas, brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and hurried back down to make breakfast.
Grandpa Zhang had given them a bag of rice cakes the night before. They weren’t going out, so they didn’t need travel rations. Eating them now was perfect.
But the rice cakes were so dry, hard to swallow without something to go with them.
Lin Zao decided to make some soup.
He opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of lean pork and a piece of pig liver.
The lean pork was what was left from rendering lard last time, trimmed from the fatty cuts. Not much—just a small bag with a few pieces.
The pig liver was one of the pork offal bits Fu Cheng had brought back from outside.
Lin Zao tied on an apron, washed the pig liver and lean pork clean, placed them on the cutting board, and sliced them thin.
While Lin Zao cut the meat, Lin Xiaobao hugged two stainless steel bowls and stood by his side.
Once the pig liver and lean pork were sliced, they couldn’t go straight into the pot. They needed a quick marinade first.
So Lin Xiaobao was on standby!
“Dad, left bowl for the lean pork, right bowl for the pig liver.”
“We could mix them, since they’ll cook together anyway.”
“No way. They’re different things. They have to be separate.”
“Fine, then you wash the extra bowl.”
Lin Zao held the cleaver in his right hand and swept the sliced lean pork into a pile with his left.
As he went to put it in a bowl, he hesitated. “Hmm…”
Lin Xiaobao wiggled his hips, stuck out his little belly, and reminded him, “Dad, this is the right side!”
“Oh.” Lin Zao dropped the lean pork in.
“Dad, why are you being so dumb today?”
Big Daddy had called out to Dad earlier, and Dad hadn’t understood.
Now he couldn’t even tell left from right.
Lin Xiaobao’s face fell, his expression full of worry as he looked at him.
Lin Zao explained, “I was just wondering—is it your left or my left?”
“Um…” Far from reassured, Lin Xiaobao looked even more concerned. “But my left is the same as your left, Dad.”
“How could it be?” Lin Zao turned to slice the pig liver. “We’re facing each other, so our lefts are opposite, of course.”
“Uh…”
Lin Xiaobao looked down at the two bowls in his arms.
He silently repeated to himself: left side lean pork, left side lean pork.
Then he spun around and stood where Dad had been.
Yes! Left was still lean pork! It hadn’t changed!
Dad had changed.
Lin Xiaobao turned back, watching his dad’s busy back. He said nothing more, just sniffled.
Dad had gotten dumb!
Dad wasn’t the smartest in the family anymore!
How could this happen?
The sky had fallen on their house!
Lin Zao finished slicing the pig liver and turned, meeting Lin Xiaobao’s sad, mournful little eyes.
Lin Zao blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Lin Xiaobao toddled over to his feet, set his little face sternly, balled his fists, and declared gravely.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll definitely protect you and Big Daddy!”
It was the solemn vow of the little mainstay of the family!
“Ah…” Lin Zao nodded and put the pig liver in the other empty bowl. “Okay, thanks, Little Bao.”
Lin Xiaobao’s gaze was resolute, his tone indignant. “I’ll work hard at it!”
“Now help Dad marinate the pig liver and lean pork.”
“Mm!” Lin Xiaobao nodded vigorously.
Lin Zao grabbed the salt jar and sprinkled a pinch into each bowl.
For soup, it didn’t need to be too salty—just enough flavor for the meat.
After salt, he added a bit of water so it wouldn’t dry out.
Lin Xiaobao climbed onto a small stool by the stove, gripping chopsticks in both hands and stirring vigorously.
He mixed the salt evenly until the meat absorbed the water.
Once it was about done, Lin Zao fetched the sweet potato starch jar, scooped in two spoonfuls, and had Lin Xiaobao stir again.
The starch would lock in the moisture, keeping the meat tender.
While Lin Xiaobao worked, Lin Zao lit the stove and brought water to a boil.
When big bubbles rose, he grabbed handfuls of the marinated meat—pig liver and lean pork—and dropped the slices in one by one, scattering them.
He couldn’t dump them in clumps or they’d stick, and he couldn’t stir after adding or the starch would cloud the soup and make it gummy.
Once all the meat was in and set, he gently nudged it with a wooden spatula.
When it was cooked through, he turned off the heat.
If they had goji leaves, he could have tossed in a couple. Instead, Lin Zao tore off two lettuce leaves and blanched them.
The lettuce stayed vibrant green, the pig liver a deep brown, the lean pork pale and pinkish-tender.
Lin Zao eyed the steaming pot of soup, drooling as his imagination ran wild.
“If only we could add a bowl of rice noodles to scald.”
“Pig liver and lean pork noodles, with some crispy fried shallots on top.”
“And a fried egg, soaking up the broth…”
“Dad!” Lin Xiaobao cut him off hastily. “We agreed—rice cakes today! No more rice noodles. We can’t eat it all if we cook too much!”
“We can have it for lunch.” Lin Zao wiped his mouth. “If there’s soup left, we’ll make noodles then.”
“Oh.” Lin Xiaobao sighed, looking at him helplessly.
“Little Bao, what’s with that look?” Lin Zao pinched the little roll of fat on his cheek. “Don’t you trust Dad?”
“No.” Lin Xiaobao shook his head.
He was just worried about Dad.
Dad had gotten dumb—could he still cook?
What if… what if he burned his hand?
He’d been worried sick while Dad made the soup.
Cooking was supposed to be the smartest person’s job in the family.
But he couldn’t do it…
As the little mainstay, he couldn’t cook.
The more Lin Xiaobao thought, the sadder he got. He drooped along behind Dad.
Don’t get dumb, Dad! He didn’t want Dad to get dumb!
Lin Zao had no idea he’d gotten dumb, so he didn’t notice Lin Xiaobao’s sadness.
He just ladled the soup into a big basin.
“Little Bao, let’s go down and eat breakfast with Big Daddy. Sound good?”
“Can we?”
“Of course! Just like when you ate outside Big Daddy’s room before.” Lin Zao assigned tasks. “Dad will carry the soup, you take the rice cakes. We’ll go together.”
“Okay.”
The father and son reached the first floor.
Lin Zao had Lin Xiaobao fetch a piece of cardboard to pad the red plastic chair, then set the soup basin on it.
No heat protection, and the plastic might melt.
“Dad’s going up for bowls and spoons. Bring over the little stool—but don’t touch the soup. It’s hot.”
“Okay.”
Lin Zao dashed upstairs, grabbed bowls, spoons, and a thermos bucket, and came back down.
He filled the bucket with soup, picked three big rice cakes, and took them to Fu Cheng first.
Fu Cheng was still in the corner by the wall, growling and practicing his speech.
“Brother Cheng? Brother Cheng!”
Only when he heard the familiar voice did Fu Cheng turn around.
“Time to eat!” Lin Zao’s eyes crinkled with a grin. “Refuel first, then practice speaking.”
Fu Cheng naturally refused. He couldn’t bear to stop even for a second, terrified he’d forget how to talk.
But the next moment, Lin Zao said, “Little Bao and I will eat out here. The three of us, together.”
Fu Cheng paused, then rumbled from his throat.
“You’re okay with that?”
Lin Zao passed the breakfast down through the little window in the basket.
“Eat up quick then—careful, it’s hot. I’m starving too.”
The family of three ate breakfast together, separated only by the iron door.
Afterward, Lin Zao cleared the bowls and had Lin Xiaobao fetch his children’s character cards and math cards from upstairs.
But three trickier characters weren’t on the literacy cards, so Lin Zao cut three pieces of cardboard and made his own.
Starting today, he would teach Brother Cheng to speak!
Brother Cheng would be the world’s first talking zombie!
Once Brother Cheng could speak and listen, and stopped attacking him or Little Bao, he could open the utility room door and let him out to roam the house.
Then they could live just like before.
The only difference would be their species. Nothing else.
Besides, he and Brother Cheng already had Little Bao. They weren’t planning more kids.
So species barriers weren’t an issue!
