Chapter 30: Homebound Kindergarten & Zombie University, Open for Business!

Homebound Kindergarten & Zombie University, Open for Business!

—Our school has hired a large number of outstanding teachers, with incredibly strong faculty.

Principal: Lin Zao

Kindergarten Teacher: Dad

Zombie University Professor: Wife

—Our school boasts a large support staff to ensure smooth learning and living for all students.

Security: Little Zao, wielding an iron stick

Dorm Supervisor: Little Zao, patrolling in a military coat

Cafeteria Chef and Server: Little Zao, apron-clad and brandishing a spatula

—Our school offers three major academic courses to promote well-rounded development in morals, intellect, physique, aesthetics, and labor.

Literacy class, housework class, speech class.

At eight-thirty in the morning, morning reading officially began.

Lin Zao stood on a stool, peering through the little window with homemade literacy cards in hand.

“Bao—this character is Bao—”

For every character he read, he held up the card and slowly spun around on the stool, showing it to his two students.

Lin Xiaobao sat on a small stool nearby, tilting his little head back with his mouth wide open, obediently repeating after Dad.

“Bao—Bao—”

“Little Bao is so smart. Here’s a reward, a reward.”

“Thanks, Dad Teacher!”

Lin Xiaobao beamed, flashing Dad a sweet smile.

Lin Zao gave him a thumbs-up, thrusting it right in front of him.

But the other student wasn’t nearly so well-behaved.

Fu Cheng lounged with one leg propped up, sitting on the floor.

He lifted his head too, but he wasn’t looking at the literacy card—he was looking at Lin Zao.

His eyes were dark and brooding, fixed unblinkingly on Lin Zao’s face. In his hand, he clutched something, dragging it back and forth across the wall.

Fu Cheng’s posture was casual, but his expression was deadly serious, his gaze intensely commanding.

Little Zao had truly underestimated him.

He was a zombie, not an idiot, and certainly not mentally challenged.

He knew his characters, could speak, understood human speech, and had his own thoughts.

He just…

Sometimes deliberately ignored Little Zao.

He didn’t need lessons or teachers. What he needed was his wife!

He wasn’t a good student who loved learning. He was the bad kid slouched in the back row of the classroom.

He ignored the teacher in class, skipped homework after, cut classes, got into fights, and even wanted to bully the teacher. He was utterly incorrigible!

Just like now—Fu Cheng stared at Lin Zao without blinking.

Staring at his eyes, his lashes, his cheeks, and…

And that soft, rosy mouth of his.

Lin Zao widened his eyes, meeting Fu Cheng’s gaze head-on without a hint of politeness.

—What are you looking at? The teacher’s teaching you to speak, and you’re staring like that?

—Don’t look at me like that!

Fu Cheng gazed at Lin Zao in a daze, suddenly recalling how Lin Zao had kissed his forehead that morning—the soft, warm touch.

It was a sensation utterly unique in the world.

Fu Cheng didn’t dare think about it, yet he couldn’t stop.

What if that feeling landed on his lips? How incredible would that be?

Little Zao had kissed him, but he hadn’t kissed Little Zao back.

So unfair.

If he could do it over, he’d pounce forward and pin Little Zao down.

Like a beast claiming its prey, he’d pull Little Zao into his arms and kiss him back—just like Little Zao had done to him.

No, not just one kiss.

At least three to start, five would be fine, eight ideal, minimum ten.

Kissing for a lifetime would be even better.

As these thoughts swirled, the fire in Fu Cheng’s chest burned hotter and hotter.

He didn’t need a teacher. He needed his wife.

Little Zao shouldn’t be teaching him characters. Little Zao should be teaching him how to kiss.

Just then, Lin Zao noticed Fu Cheng’s odd expression and followed his line of sight downward.

What was Brother Cheng looking at? Had he spilled soup on his clothes?

What was so fascinating that he kept staring?

The next second, realization dawned on Lin Zao.

This dead ghost was looking at him! At him personally!

Lin Zao straightened up at once, raising his right hand as if to strike.

“Brother Cheng, no looking at me! Look at the literacy cards!”

Fu Cheng tilted his head, still staring fixedly.

With those skinny little arms and legs, and no weapon in hand, he thought he could hit him?

If Little Zao dared come in, he’d dare to kiss Little Zao.

Lin Zao truly couldn’t bring himself to hit, nor could he win anyway.

He could only grind his molars, wave his raised hand in the air a bit, and finally lower it.

Fine, just great! Fu Cheng had learned to be naughty!

He couldn’t bear to hit Fu Cheng, but he could leave!

Lin Zao lifted his chin, looking at Fu Cheng fearlessly.

“Fu Cheng, you’re done for!”

Hearing that familiar voice call his full name, enunciating each syllable, made Fu Cheng’s heart skip a beat.

It was as if some deeper memory had been stirred awake.

Suddenly, he felt terribly nervous, anxious from the depths of his soul.

The next second, Lin Zao raised his hand, waved it vigorously, then slammed the window glass shut and turned away.

“Class dismissed! Bye-bye! See you tomorrow!”

No!

Now Fu Cheng was truly panicked.

He scrambled up from the floor and let out a couple of roars.

Little Zao! Little Zao! Don’t be mad!

He wouldn’t act up anymore! He wouldn’t tease his wife anymore!

Don’t go!

Through the door and wall, Lin Zao packed up his teaching aids and took Lin Xiaobao’s hand.

“Little Bao, let’s go!”

“Dad, where are we going?”

“Upstairs to sleep! Watch TV! Eat snacks!”

“What about Big Daddy? Weren’t you going to teach Big Daddy to talk?”

“He’s too naughty. He’s a super naughty, super wicked bad student. Dad’s decided to lock him in confinement for the whole day.”

“Poor Big Daddy.”

“He’s not pitiful at all. He…”

He’d teased Teacher Little Zao—grave sin, heinous crimes, unforgivable!

“Let’s go!”

Lin Zao didn’t hesitate any longer or let his heart soften. He took Lin Xiaobao’s hand to leave.

Lin Xiaobao had no choice but to turn back for one last look at the cold iron door, waving to Big Daddy.

—Bye-bye, poor Big Daddy!

The big one and the little one, like two kittens elegantly flicking their nonexistent fluffy tails, headed upstairs.

Only Fu Cheng remained, left alone in the utility room. He leaned against the back of the iron door, his wolf-dog tail drooping, filled with deep regret.

He was wrong. He knew he was wrong now.

He shouldn’t have zoned out in class, nor filled his head with puppy love, much less teased Little Zao.

Give him another chance—he really did love learning. Don’t abandon him.

Teacher Little Zao, Classmate Little Bao.

Don’t go!

Lin Zao hadn’t slept much the night before.

He’d been busy watching dashcam footage, recording Fu Cheng’s injury timeline, visiting Fu Cheng, and comforting him.

Now that it was over, Fu Cheng was fine and even calling his name, Lin Zao could finally relax.

Once relaxed, drowsiness hit him hard, leaving him woozy.

Lin Zao planned to catch a nap.

Before heading upstairs, he grabbed a bundle of the rice vermicelli they’d stocked, broke off half, and soaked it in cold water.

There were leftovers from the morning’s pig liver lean meat soup—they’d cook it with rice for lunch.

Back in the bedroom, Lin Zao changed into pajamas and flopped onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

Lin Xiaobao hugged his chubby little arms, standing by the bed and looking at him earnestly.

“Dad, I knew it. You must’ve snuck off to see Big Daddy, that’s why you’re so sleepy today.”

“Yep.” Lin Zao lifted his head. “Big Daddy’s a big villain, and Dad still went to see him. What does that say?”

“It says Dad’s been naughty and not sleeping properly.”

“It says Dad’s a ‘big good egg.'”

Lin Zao said it with full confidence.

Lin Xiaobao looked a bit helpless.

“Little Bao, Dad wants to sleep a bit. Do you want to play with toys or watch TV? How about I put on the wedding video of Dad and Big Daddy for you?”

“Uh—” Lin Xiaobao shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Watching TV is noisy.” Lin Xiaobao declared righteously. “Sleeping needs quiet.”

“Oh, right.” Lin Zao cupped his face and pinched his cheeks. “Not for nothing you’re Dad’s kid—you’re a ‘little good egg’ too.”

“Of course.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Um…” Lin Xiaobao thought. “Learn to write!”

“Good, ambitious!”

Lin Zao sat up, grabbing Lin Xiaobao’s wall calendar and crayons.

“Last time we learned ‘Little.’ This time, ‘Bao.’ Put ’em together, and you’ll be writing your own name.”

“Okay.” Lin Xiaobao nodded.

“Want to learn Dad and Big Daddy’s names too?”

“Uh-huh.”

Lin Zao flipped a page and wrote his own name.

His was simple—just strokes and lines.

Fu Cheng’s, though…

“Dad, why’d you stop writing?” Lin Xiaobao asked, puzzled.

“Big Daddy’s name is too hard, not right for you yet. How about just these two characters first?”

Lin Zao gripped the crayon and wrote two characters on the paper.

One “person,” one “horse.”

—Half of Fu Cheng.

As soon as he finished, Lin Zao couldn’t help but burst out laughing and quickly scribbled them out.

“No, no, better start with basic strokes.”

“Okay.”

Lin Zao pulled up the covers and leaned against the pillow.

Lin Xiaobao kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, snuggled against Dad, and listened obediently.

“This is a ‘dot’—the right side of ‘Little’ is a little dot.”

“This is a ‘horizontal stroke’…”

Lin Zao taught Lin Xiaobao the dot and horizontal stroke, then handed him the calendar to practice on his own.

Lin Zao tugged the blanket corner, slid under the covers, and picked up the alarm clock from the nightstand.

“Dad set the alarm. When the hand reaches the two ‘1’s, Dad wakes up.”

“Dad, two ‘1’s is eleven. I get it.”

“Wow, you can count to eleven already?”

“Of course.”

Lin Xiaobao bent his head, diligently drawing little black dots.

He drew a whole row, then turned to look at Dad.

Dad had his eyes closed, lying on the bed, seemingly asleep.

Lin Xiaobao called softly: “Dad?”

“Mm?” Lin Zao mumbled sleepily. “What is it?”

Lin Xiaobao set down the calendar and scooted closer. “Which hand is the left?”

Lin Zao tentatively raised his right hand, thought better of it, and switched.

“Then which is the right?”

Lin Zao raised the other.

“What’s five plus six?”

Lin Zao woke up, holding back a laugh. “Eleven.”

“Yay! Yay yay yay!”

For some reason, Lin Xiaobao suddenly bounced off the bed, cheering loudly.

Dad had aced the super-hard question, passing his “smart test.”

Dad wasn’t getting dumb! Great!

Lin Zao smiled and opened his eyes.

Just then, Lin Xiaobao realized he’d shouted too loud and might wake Dad. He hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth.

But it was too late.

Lin Zao reached out, scooped him up, and pulled him into the covers.

“Little Bao, trying to stump Dad, huh?”

“No way.” Lin Xiaobao looked innocent. “I just worried you’d get dumb.”

“Dad’s the smartest in the house. Come sleep with the smartest guy.”

“No…” Lin Xiaobao wriggled out. “I wanna learn writing, beat Big Daddy.”

“Fine then. Dad’s sleeping alone.”

Lin Zao closed his eyes.

In just one short night of ups and downs, great sorrow and joy, he fell asleep fast.

Lin Xiaobao clutched the calendar, drawing another page of black dots.

As he drew, the dots turned into tiny tadpoles.

He crawled to the bed’s edge, picked up the alarm clock, and checked it.

Dad said wait till the hand…

But this hand was moving way too slow!

Lin Xiaobao stared at it forever, and it didn’t budge an inch!

No wonder it was short and fat—it hated exercise.

Lin Xiaobao set the clock back, picked up the calendar, and drew half a page of short horizontals.

As he drew, they became little twigs.

Lin Xiaobao yawned, mustering his last bit of willpower to lift the covers and burrow into Dad’s arms.

Studying was too easy. He’d rest a bit, then keep going!

Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao close.

Father and son slept straight through until the alarm rang.

Lin Xiaobao quizzed Lin Zao with super tough problems, like six plus five, three plus eight, four plus seven.

All answers: eleven.

Because Lin Xiaobao could only count to eleven using his toes right now.

Lin Zao nailed them all. Only then did the pair get up and head downstairs for lunch.

The rice vermicelli had soaked plenty—half a bundle had swelled to fill a big basin.

Lin Zao fished it out into a plastic basket to drain slowly, fired up the induction cooker for hot oil, and fried three sunny-side-up eggs.

Round and flat, with golden, bubbly, crispy edges; the whites tender, yolks sandy and rich.

Lin Zao fought the urge to sneak a bite, plating them and stacking aside.

Next, he boiled water and started cooking the rice vermicelli.

Rice vermicelli was the easiest thing in the world to cook.

Boil water, toss it in, cook till done.

But someone had to watch the pot, stirring occasionally to flip from the bottom.

Otherwise, it sank, stuck, and scorched.

Five minutes later, it was ready. Lin Zao took the pot off, heated the morning’s pig liver lean meat soup.

They dumped the vermicelli water—too salty, not tasty. They had better soup.

One stove, assembly-line style—lunch was done quick.

Lin Zao fished vermicelli into bowls for himself and Little Bao, ladled soup and meat for each, and set them on the table.

“Lunch time!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Lin Xiaobao sat in the baby chair, gripped his fork, speared the vermicelli, and twirled it round and round.

Chopsticks always let it slip away, slipperier than a pig’s ear, so…

Big Daddy had taught him this trick!

Big Daddy said when he made some money, he took Dad to a fancy Italian place, where everyone ate pasta like this.

He’d passed it to Lin Xiaobao as a family secret!

Oh yeah, speaking of Big Daddy…

“Dad.” Lin Xiaobao looked up. “Aren’t we bringing food to Big Daddy?”

Lin Zao slurped his rice noodles, chewed for a moment, and swallowed.

“Bad guys can only eat our leftovers.”

“Okay, poor Big Daddy.”

“Hm?” Lin Zao glanced at him.

Lin Xiaobao quickly changed his words. “Poor big bad guy.”

Lin Zao burst out laughing.

Only after the father and son had eaten their fill did they grab the lunchboxes and head downstairs to deliver food to Fu Cheng.

Lin Zao didn’t push the door open. Instead, just like before, he stood by the window, placed the lunchbox in a basket, and lowered it with a rope.

He said nothing throughout the entire process.

Even as Fu Cheng called out to him eagerly, Lin Zao turned his head away.

Hmph! That damn Lewd Zombie—he was still mad at him!

After delivering the food, Lin Zao shut the window and hopped down from the stool.

Lin Zao hadn’t slept at all the night before. Even though he’d caught a short nap that morning, he still felt dizzy, as if he were floating on clouds.

He resolved that he would absolutely never stay up late again.

But Lin Xiaobao had slept the whole morning with him.

They definitely couldn’t nap anymore, or they wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

So in the afternoon, the father and son tackled some simple chores.

They washed the dishes, swept the floor, changed the water for the lettuce, and checked on the other vegetables to see if any had gone bad.

Lin Xiaobao shouldered his Golden Cudgel toy and trailed behind Dad, patrolling their household supplies like a vast kingdom under their rule.

Every so often, he twirled the Golden Cudgel. Every so often, he let out a grunt—”Hrrrmph! Hrrrmph!”

He was Dad’s little guard! He would protect Dad!

As they passed through the living room, Lin Xiaobao suddenly heard a faint bark from a little dog.

“Woof…”

“Hm?”

Lin Xiaobao whipped his head around and instinctively looked toward the source of the sound.

“Dad, there’s a little dog!”