“That can wait. First, seating arrangements.” Gao Lan pulled everyone’s attention back. “We take two vehicles—an SUV and an off-roader, higher clearance, less worry about scraping. The longest driving records here are mine and Brother Chen’s. Brother Chen drives the off-roader with Zihan and Skinny Monkey, leading the way. I drive the SUV with Luyao and Shuyan as rear guard. Any objections?”
Zhang Luyao raised her hand. “If we’re worried about being surrounded, shouldn’t I be in the lead car?”
But Chen Jianxin shook his head. “The rear car has the wider field of view. In the lead, it’s easy to miss what’s behind us. If we successfully lure the Black Tide away, it’s more likely to follow from behind.”
Zhang Luyao’s eyes widened in understanding, and Gao Lan continued, “Once we’re on the Elevated Bridge, if we have explosives to spare, blow the bridge. Whatever’s left goes to blowing up the construction sites on the way up the mountain. First thing after reaching the safe houses: use the Repair Cards and Upgrade Modules. Don’t be stingy. When it counts, survival comes first.”
Heads nodded all around, and Ji Li added, “Once you’re in the cars, open the System Shop right away—so you can buy items to save your lives if it comes to that.”
He paused, then looked at Skinny Monkey. “Brother Monkey, when you reach the safe house, send me a note so I know you made it.”
Skinny Monkey flashed an OK sign. “Relax.”
For the rest of the day, Gao Lan’s group of six studied the buildings in every direction and locked in their targets.
Ji Li sat in on the whole discussion, until around three or four in the afternoon, when he followed the six to the master bedroom to modify the vehicles and refuel.
After sweeping all the furniture in the master bedroom into his bracelet to clear space, and laying down two layers of mattress to dampen vibration, Ji Li pressed his bracelet open—and his gaze suddenly locked onto something amid the dazzling array of supplies.
“Almost forgot these!” He tapped rapidly through the air, and soon a pile of firearms and ammunition appeared on the mattress.
“With everything so urgent, I forgot to divide these. Let me go call the other—”
Before he could finish, Shen Shuyan hauled him back by the collar. The others stepped up in silent coordination, each taking two pistols, one rifle or sniper rifle, and 400 rounds of matching ammunition. The remaining guns and bullets were all handed back to Ji Li.
Ji Li blinked. “We’re not dividing any for Brother Yang and the others?”
Gao Lan glanced at him. “We’ll divide it before the teleportation.”
Ji Li frowned at that but said nothing more.
Guns and bullets stored, he brought out the vehicles first and helped the others mount the High-Powered Flashlights to the headliners. For security’s sake, he even produced a nail gun, drawing a groan from Zhang Luyao:
“Did you come to the apocalypse to stock a general store?”
Ji Li pretended not to hear. After filling the tanks and storing the vehicles, he pulled six Safe House Repair Cards and four bracelets from his bracelet.
“These two bracelets are 64-cubic-meter ones, filled with gasoline—about 128,000 liters. Split it six ways. These two are empty, roughly 200 cubic meters each. Empty out your own bracelets and redistribute among yourselves. Same with the cards.”
Gao Lan was silent a moment, then stepped forward and took the cards and bracelets. “At this point, no point being precious about it. We’ll do as Little Chicken says. Don’t factor me in for bracelet space—he already gave me a big one.”
“Sister Lan, that sounds suspiciously like bragging.” Zhang Luyao stepped forward, took a gasoline-filled bracelet from Gao Lan’s hand, and long-pressed the button. “Whoa! This much? Little Chicken, get over here—pour it all into your space first, we’ll split it once the bracelets are sorted.”
“Could you not call me Little Chicken…” Ji Li grumbled, hauling out a big Soup Bucket and starting the gasoline transfer.
Gao Lan, blessed with the largest space, took the other gasoline bracelet herself. Once the transfer was done, everyone reported their bracelet sizes and began merging and upgrading.
In the nearly seventy-square-meter master bedroom, piles of supplies appeared and vanished in turn. The seven of them worked until past eight in the evening before the bracelets were evened out and the gasoline divided.
Gao Lan wiped the sweat from her brow and held out a bracelet to Ji Li.
“Sister Lan, this is…?”
“The little two-cubic-meter bracelet we used to carry gasoline. Take it. If you’re going to make your fortune, you need starting capital.”
“…I have fuel in my safe house.” Even as he said it, Ji Li accepted the bracelet—and then hugged Gao Lan.
“Sister Lan… safe travels.”
Gao Lan froze, then patted his shoulder. “Go on. Don’t worry.”
Releasing her, Ji Li wiped his eyes, turned, and hugged Chen Jianxin.
“Little Ji, you stay sharp, you hear…”
“Ahem.”
Chen Jianxin caught Gao Lan’s eye and swallowed the rest, silently patting the boy’s thin back.
One hug and farewell after another—just as every eye in the room had gone red, a burst of urgent knocking came from the door. “Sister Luyao! Sister Luyao! The Black Tide’s climbing!”
“Coming! Damn it, an hourly reminder—how scared of dying can you be?” Zhang Luyao grumbled her way out the door, the rest following behind, climbing onto the mattresses to wait for the hour of the final operation.
At ten-thirty, Zhang Luyao donned the Night Vision Goggles and began.
During the bracelet redistribution, Ji Li had already taken back all the Explosive Charges; over two hundred remained, distributed among the four non-drivers. As the lead thrower, Zhang Luyao carried the most.
She lit all ten buildings without a hitch, and at ten-fifty began hurling Explosive Charges.
Ji Li, wearing the other pair of Night Vision Goggles, stood at the window facing the retreat route, watching the Black Tide below.
Gradually, the Black Tide began to recede. A dozen minutes later, the escape route finally lay exposed.
“It worked! Go!”
Seven people bolted for the door. Yu Shen, Yang Haoran, and Qin Xiaoxiao watched their backs in silence—not even a goodbye.
From the thirtieth floor to the first, everyone gave it everything; even counting Chen Jianxin, it took only three minutes.
Ji Li led the pack, reaching the first-floor fire door first, snipping the U-Lock with the bolt cutters, then sprinting out the hotel entrance and producing the off-roader and SUV.
The others piled in behind him at top speed, still roaring back at Ji Li as they went.
“Go back! No dawdling!”
“Get up there!”
“Take care of yourself!”
“You too! Safe travels! Brother Monkey, remember the note!”
Ji Li knew this was no time for lingering farewells. With his last words, he turned and sprinted back into the hotel behind him, the shriek of tires against pavement fading in his ears.
He fought the urge to look back, ran into the first-floor fire stairwell, relocked it with a U-Lock, and began the slow climb.
By now there was no fear of the Black Tide being drawn by his footsteps—the vibrations of the fleeing cars were far greater.
Ji Li had just reached the tenth floor when faint explosions drifted in from outside. Each one landed on his heart, making it ache dully.
“Safe and sound. Smooth and steady…”
Chanting the two phrases like an incantation, Ji Li climbed and rested by turns, taking half an hour to reach the thirtieth floor—but no Paper Note from Skinny Monkey came.
His heart clenched instantly. Ji Li bit down hard on his back teeth, taking a long while to steady himself.
He glanced at the fire door mere steps away, wiped his eyes, pressed his bracelet, took two things from his space and slipped them into his pockets, then brought out Eno.
“Eno.”
Eno: [••]?
“If you fall to the floor later, stand in Daddy’s shadow, okay?”
Eno: [••]ゝ
“Good boy.”
Patting Eno’s big head, Ji Li pushed open the fire door and walked into the Presidential Suite, looking at Yang Haoran and Qin Xiaoxiao on the mattresses.
“Why just you two? Where’s Yu Shen?”
“Right here.”
Cold, round metal pressed against the back of Ji Li’s skull. Yu Shen’s voice came from behind him.
“So you were on guard, huh—asking where I’d gone the moment you walked in. A pity you never imagined I’d be holding a gun, did you?”
Two hours before the operation began, Chen Jianxin had gone back and forth, and finally couldn’t hold it in. He pulled Gao Lan aside and asked in a low voice, “Why wouldn’t you let me warn Little Ji that Yu Shen and the others might turn on us?”
Gao Lan’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “It’s not that he can’t see it. He just doesn’t want to believe it. Brother Chen—words can’t teach a person. Events teach them in one lesson.”
Chen Jianxin grew anxious. “Aren’t you afraid something will happen to Little Ji?”
“Of course I’m afraid. But I’m more afraid Yu Shen won’t act, and leave Little Ji with some dangerous illusion.” Gao Lan looked at him, voice low and firm.
“This is only the beginning. For now, Yu Shen’s group’s skills have no offensive power, and the guns are with Little Ji—danger is at its minimum. But in a new apocalypse? Brother Chen, you understand the danger better than anyone.”
The moment Ji Li mentioned the Main Quest rewards, Chen Jianxin and Gao Lan had understood the importance of the safe houses—and known, too, that Yu Shen’s trio might well turn traitor.
Beyond the sheer richness of the rewards—wealth stirs the heart—there was the hidden danger of World Transition.
The Game had specifically required that players with safe houses be inside them at teleportation, which meant the safe houses themselves would be carried into the new world.
That alone proved it: to players, the safe house was a layer of protection. For players without one, transitioning worlds meant facing the apocalypse’s cruelty head-on.
But beyond the dangers of different apocalypses, world transitions brought man-made disaster besides.
Perhaps because they were all new players, everyone in the zombie apocalypse had started on equal footing—survival was the only concern.
But would the new apocalypse be so merciful? Players abruptly transported into a new world, clutching the rewards of the last one—to Veteran Players, weren’t they simply fat, well-fattened prey?
With a safe house, one could at least hide one’s tracks, and even if exposed, resist a little. How was a player without a safe house supposed to survive?
Short of being strong enough in their own right, there was only one path: surrendering rich supplies to buy their freedom.
And among them all, Ji Li was, without question, the fattest Fat Sheep of the lot.
Chen Jianxin fell silent, and at last sighed deeply. “I just hope Little Ji—and the rest of us—can make it past this trial…”
