Chapter 3

How strange. So very strange.

Under Fu Cheng’s firm insistence, Lin Zao headed alone toward the bedroom.

The hallway lights flickered faintly due to unstable power, casting unsteady white glows along the corridor.

Lin Zao reached the bedroom door and rested one hand on it. He instinctively glanced back at Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng stood there with his arms crossed and feet planted apart, unmoving like a guardian deity, refusing to take a single step forward.

But the more he acted this way, the more off it felt to Lin Zao.

Something was wrong. So very wrong!

Fu Cheng would never wear such a hard-to-maintain wool overcoat. He would never leave the clothes Lin Zao bought him strewn about outside. And he certainly would never speak in such a self-deprecating, humiliated tone about being dirty.

When Fu Cheng came home and saw him, he would never settle for such a simple embrace.

Fu Cheng would hold him—crushing him against his chest with all his strength, as if trying to meld their bodies together in a fierce, stormy hug.

Fu Cheng would kiss him, bite him.

He would pin him close, nuzzling against his ear, their intimacy lasting through the night and still not enough.

Tonight’s Fu Cheng was truly acting so strangely.

What exactly… was he holding back?

With these thoughts, Lin Zao’s expression grew increasingly grave, his gaze filled with more and more doubt.

Meeting Lin Zao’s questioning eyes, Fu Cheng looked distinctly guilty. He lowered his gaze, avoiding eye contact.

He simply raised a hand and waved Lin Zao onward.

—Get inside and put on some clothes.

Lin Zao pressed his lips together, steeling his resolve. He pushed open the door and hurried in.

If he didn’t put on an outer coat, Fu Cheng wouldn’t let it go.

He’d throw it on first, then head right back out.

The wall clock ticked steadily onward.

Lin Zao glanced at it by the light spilling in from the hallway.

It was 1:13 a.m.

Lin Xiaobao clutched a pillow, sprawled on the bed in a deep sleep. He mumbled and hummed in his dreams.

“Dad, I want strawberry-filled tangyuan…”

“Big Daddy, make me another toy car that can really run…”

“Hmm!”

Lin Zao let out a soft sigh, not wanting to wake him, so he didn’t turn on the light.

He fumbled in the dark to the bedside, tucking the covers around Lin Xiaobao. Then he went to the wardrobe and pulled out Fu Cheng’s military coat.

He finished all this in less than a minute.

Clutching the coat, Lin Zao dashed back out the door.

Thank goodness Fu Cheng was still waiting in the same spot.

Lin Zao breathed a sigh of relief and jogged up to him.

Fu Cheng took the coat from his hands and shook it out behind him. “Little Zao, hands.”

Lin Zao glanced back and raised both arms, slipping them into the sleeves.

Fu Cheng was tall—six foot three at least—a full head taller than Lin Zao.

The military coat hung on Lin Zao like a little iron barrel.

Fu Cheng grasped the lapels with both hands, pulling them closed from the bottom up, buttoning them meticulously one by one.

Lin Zao asked softly, “Brother Cheng, are you hungry? Want me to boil some noodles or tangyuan for you?”

“No need. I’m not hungry.”

Fu Cheng gently cupped Lin Zao’s cheek, tilting his face up to secure the final button at the top.

“There’s stuff in the truck. I’m going down to bring it up. Come with me to check it out.”

“Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

“No.”

Fu Cheng was unyieldingly firm this time, immune to Lin Zao’s usual coquetry.

“Fine.”

Once bundled in the coat, Lin Zao followed Fu Cheng back downstairs to the first floor.

The pickup truck sat in the garage, its bed covered by a massive black tarp that concealed everything tightly.

Fu Cheng told Lin Zao to stand aside. He stepped forward, unfastened the clips, and yanked hard.

The tarp fell away, revealing a fortress of rice sacks built right there in the truck bed.

Lin Zao could hardly believe his eyes. They went wide as saucers, and he took two unconscious steps forward.

Bag after bag of fifty-pound rice sacks had been stacked by Fu Cheng like interlocking bricks, piled high.

The jolting ride had wedged them even more securely together.

Lin Zao swept his gaze over them, roughly estimating.

At least fifty bags.

And the packaging varied.

It was clear Fu Cheng had scoured multiple places to gather all this food.

Snapping back to reality, Lin Zao’s heart jolted. He turned to Fu Cheng. “How did you buy so much? Is it really chaotic out there?”

“It’s fine. Don’t be scared.” Fu Cheng lowered the tailgate and hauled down the topmost sack, slinging it over his shoulder.

Lin Zao rushed forward to steady it for him. “Are there… a lot of those things out there now?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Not too many.” Fu Cheng balanced the sack on his left shoulder, then turned to grab another.

“Then…”

“Stock up more, and you and Little Bao won’t have to go out anymore.”

Fu Cheng hefted two sacks, adjusting them with one hand. Without breaking a sweat, he headed upstairs.

Lin Zao gritted his teeth and struggled to hug one sack to his chest, chasing after him. “Then… then just leave it downstairs. Why bring it up?”

“Easier for you and Little Bao to cook without going down.” Fu Cheng took the stairs lightly, one step at a time. “Wealth should not be displayed. Hiding it upstairs keeps you safer.”

He glanced back and saw Lin Zao lugging a sack too. His face darkened.

“Little Zao, put it down. I’ll handle it.”

“No, I want to help you. Hup—”

Lin Zao hugged it tight, but the sack started slipping down his chest. He paused on the stairs, using his knee to shove it higher, leaning back awkwardly.

“With this much rice, how long would it take you alone? We’ll do two trips tonight, save the rest for later.”

“Later—”

There would be no later.

Fu Cheng paused, his expression turning serious. “We’ll finish tonight.”

“Huh?” Lin Zao’s eyes widened even more in shock.

Fu Cheng quickened his pace, powering up the two sacks to the third floor in one go. He looped back, took the sack from Lin Zao’s arms by the corners, and carried it up effortlessly.

Fu Cheng pushed open the door to the children’s room and stashed the three sacks neatly under the small bed where Lin Xiaobao rarely slept.

He eyed the space beside them. “Room for two more.”

Lin Zao stared at him in greater shock. “Brother Cheng…”

Fu Cheng brushed past, squeezing his hand. “I’ll haul from downstairs. Don’t run around after me—it’ll tire you out.”

“Fu Cheng!”

Lin Zao wanted to say more, but Fu Cheng had already headed down.

Up and down, back and forth.

Fu Cheng moved like a perpetual motion machine, two sacks per trip, carrying all fifty upstairs one load at a time.

He hid the rice under beds, in cabinets, beneath tables.

When there was no more space, he even considered prying up the floor tiles to bury it.

Lin Zao trailed behind Fu Cheng, seeing how off he was. He lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “Brother Cheng!”

Fu Cheng froze, meeting Lin Zao’s worried gaze. He rubbed his forehead, snapping out of it. “Right, no prying tiles—you and Little Bao could trip.”

He set down the iron hammer and crowbar, stood, took Lin Zao’s hand, and headed downstairs again.

“Little Zao, besides the rice, I brought back vegetables and fruit too.”

“Fu Cheng, what exactly happened? What’s going on with you tonight?”

Fu Cheng didn’t answer, just led Lin Zao onward.

After who knew how many trips, they reached the garage again.

The truck bed, once a rice fortress, now stood empty. Blue plastic crates and woven sacks of vegetables and fruit came into view.

Fu Cheng unloaded them one by one.

“These two bags are potatoes, these are cabbage, plus carrots and onions. The burlap sacks have long-lasting veggies you can eat slowly. And mung beans and soybeans—for soup or sprouting.”

“This crate’s lettuce, this one’s mushrooms, and tomatoes. The stuff in the boxes won’t keep long, so you and Little Bao eat it quick. But I left roots on the lettuce and mushrooms—they should last. For tomatoes, dig out the seeds and plant them in pots, give it a try.”

“I got a few crates of fruit too. Apples, oranges, and pomelos keep well, so more of those. Two bunches of bananas—eat them fast, you and Little Bao. This bruised banana’s mine.”

Fu Cheng had brought back a ton of goods, piled like a small mountain in the truck, spreading out like an ocean on the ground.

As Fu Cheng unloaded, Lin Zao stood by, watching intently.

He didn’t care how much food Fu Cheng had brought.

What mattered were Fu Cheng’s words.

Every sentence arranged life for him and Little Bao going forward.

Every one said “you and Little Bao,” with no place for himself.

Every one… sounded like a farewell.

Lin Zao stood frozen, staring unblinkingly at Fu Cheng. Beneath the military coat, his body trembled faintly. His hands clenched inside the sleeves.

What was going on?

Why was Fu Cheng planning their future without including himself?

Fu Cheng seemed to sense it. Facing away, his unloading paused for a beat.

But he didn’t turn. He quickly recovered, circling to the other side and opening the rear passenger door of the pickup.

It was stuffed full too.

No doubt, the truck was massively overloaded.

“Eggs over here—I got them straight from a chicken farm. One a day for you and Little Bao, keeps you nourished. Bought two live chickens too, but they flew off on the road. Didn’t chase.”

“Pork too. Weather’s not hot yet, but freeze it in the fridge. Not sure when power cuts hit. No time to cure it now—eat it quick, you and Little Bao.”

“The rest is daily stuff: shampoo, body wash, toilet paper, and…”

—”Brother Cheng?”

Lin Zao called softly, interrupting.

Across the pickup, Fu Cheng finished unloading and paused before continuing. “That’s all the food. Enough for you and Little Bao for a year or two.”

“Those things outside—”

“They look almost human, turned from people, but brainless. They bite on sight. Get scratched or bitten, and in days, you’re one of them.”

—”Fu Cheng!”

Lin Zao’s heart sank, sensing the truth. He raised his voice.

Fu Cheng turned away, scrubbing his face roughly. His voice grew even lower.

“Like that zombie flick I tricked you into seeing on our first date.”

“You were too scared to watch, burrowing into my arms.”

“Little Zao, I know you’ll be afraid, but…”

Before he could finish, Lin Zao dropped what he held and bolted forward.

Like a hunting kitten, he pounced, yanking Fu Cheng’s clothes to pull him close.

Fu Cheng called out, “Little Zao!”

Lin Zao bit his lip, silent but resolute. He slapped Fu Cheng’s hands away and undid the overcoat.

He’d hated that coat from the start!

He’d wanted to rip it off Fu Cheng ages ago!

He’d…

In the next instant, Lin Zao tore open Fu Cheng’s coat.

The force ripped a seam and popped buttons, scattering them across the floor.

Fu Cheng offered no resistance, standing docilely as he bowed his head. “Little Zao.”

And then, Fu Cheng’s right arm—clawed by a zombie—appeared before Lin Zao.

Three deep gashes, bone visible.

Since Fu Cheng had been lifting and moving nonstop, the wounds hadn’t scabbed.

Fresh blood oozed steadily, matting with the fabric.

No wonder.

No wonder Fu Cheng wore a dark coat. No wonder he refused to take it off.

No wonder…

Lin Zao clutched Fu Cheng’s lapels, his face ashen, body shaking uncontrollably.

Why hadn’t he realized sooner? Why hadn’t he noticed?

How could he let Fu Cheng keep hauling things?

He should have done this earlier. He should have spotted the wrongness.

He should have…

Fu Cheng looked down at Lin Zao’s face and softened his tone, murmuring, “Little Zao, don’t be sad. I’m fine.”

As Lin Zao stood stunned, a soft “plink” sounded.

Something slipped from Fu Cheng’s pocket, hitting the ground and rolling away.

In the next moment, Lin Zao looked up, his eyes instantly reddening.

A chocolate candy, wrapped in foil.