Cosmetics are part of technology, evolving rapidly with many products Qin Zhen had never even heard of, let alone used.
Fu Qi wasn’t skilled with them either, but in the age of the internet, even the least attentive person would pick up some knowledge—certainly more than a tomb-dwelling zombie.
Thus, Fu Qi ended up taking on the role of makeup artist.
His technique was lacking, but fortunately, the model’s needs were simple: just cover up her skin tone.
The process was straightforward and went relatively smoothly, except for a minor hiccup during selection.
The moment Fu Qi started applying the foundation, he knew something was off. Glancing at the nearly untouched bottle in his hand, he suddenly understood. "No wonder there’s so much left," he muttered.
Without a mirror in the room, Qin Zhen couldn’t see the result and asked what was wrong. Fu Qi hesitated briefly before replying, "Nothing. I’m just amazed at how well this foundation works. It completely masks your original skin tone."
The zombie was curious but prioritized concealing her appearance. Though skeptical of Fu Qi’s words, she let it slide.
When she finally washed off the foundation and checked in the bathroom, Qin Zhen realized Fu Qi hadn’t lied this time—her pale, ghastly complexion had transformed into a dull bronze, as if she’d undergone a tanning session. It was now impossible to discern her original skin tone, or even her nationality.
This wasn’t entirely Fu Qi’s fault. Both of them were clueless about cosmetics, and he’d chosen that shade purely because there was enough left for the zombie to use multiple times.
The reasoning was sound, but Qin Zhen, still not fully over his earlier deception, suspected he was teasing her. She declared a second breakup with him.
Outside, the rain poured relentlessly, flooding the streets with murky water that lapped at the steps of nearby shops. The apartment door was still being scratched by zombies drawn to Fu Qi’s flesh, their relentless efforts undeterred.
With no way to leave and no desire to engage with Fu Qi, Qin Zhen washed her face and began experimenting with the makeup herself, slowly finding enjoyment in it—until a faint whiff of smoke interrupted her.
She sniffed the air and turned to see Fu Qi intently studying a map, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
Qin Zhen was stunned.
She opened her mouth to protest, then reconsidered given their current strained relationship and stayed silent.
She tried to ignore the smell, but the more she resisted, the stronger it became, as if it were seeping into her lungs.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. "Smoking is b-bad for your health!" she shouted at Fu Qi.
He glanced up from the map, pinching the cigarette between his fingers. "Bad for whose health?"
The room housed two species: a zombie, for whom health was irrelevant, and a human whose world had collapsed, who was hunted by monsters and infected with a mutant virus. Compared to his current existence, smoking was the least of his concerns.
Qin Zhen faltered for a moment before retorting, "M-Mine! My health!"
Fu Qi raised an eyebrow.
She doubled down. "My m-mental health!"
Fu Qi chuckled and shook his head, returning to his map—effectively dismissing her.
Qin Zhen fumed, feeling the acrid smoke clinging to her, making her skin crawl.
Her focus was entirely hijacked by the offensive odor, and even her newfound interest in cosmetics faded.
After enduring it as long as she could, she snapped. Leaping to her feet, she yelled, "The smoke is t-triggering my aggression! I’m going f-feral! I’ll eat you!"
With that, she lunged at Fu Qi, aiming for the cigarette.
He dodged effortlessly, twisting behind her and locking her in a tight hold, his arm around her neck. The cigarette dangled dangerously close to her face, its ember still glowing.
Qin Zhen’s eyes widened as she tried to grab it, but Fu Qi caught both her wrists, pinning them against her chest.
Total defeat for the zombie!
This was Fu Qi’s new strategy, devised after their last scuffle. His height and strength made physical restraint far more effective than defense, and it conveniently prevented biting.
"Such a fierce zombie. You scared me," Fu Qi teased, his voice rumbling above her.
Qin Zhen squirmed, trapped, as the smoke curled toward her face. She jerked her head back, only to bump Fu Qi’s chin.
"Let go! You stink!" she spat, flustered.
Fu Qi finally understood—she just hated the smell.
Truthfully, so did he.
He’d never smoked before the apocalypse. But after civilization crumbled, many turned to vices like cigarettes and alcohol, clinging to remnants of the past. Even the worst habits were part of the world they’d lost.
This zombie adored human culture yet recoiled at tobacco.
If her memories of society came from her human life, Fu Qi mused, she must have grown up in a pristine environment.
With that thought, he flicked the cigarette out the window into the rain. "Better now?" he asked, grinning down at her.
Qin Zhen glared, wrenched free, and stomped back to her makeup, dusting off her clothes.
Cosmetics couldn’t compare to electronics, but for a zombie with no prior exposure, they were fascinating.
Qin Zhen had reluctantly accepted humanity’s regression, yet even now, their lives were infinitely richer than hers.
Since she was already here, she’d take as much as she could back to her tomb.
Makeup, clothes, pencils, notebooks, bedsheets, clothes hangers, a basin—perfect for washing her husband without worrying about him sinking.
The more she looked around, the more everything seemed essential: the trash can, a flattened doll on the floor, even the map she snatched from Fu Qi’s hands as she passed.
Fu Qi: "…?"
Lost in visions of redecorating her tomb, Qin Zhen’s mood lifted—until her gaze landed on a plume of black smoke rising from the ruins across the rain-soaked city.
According to Fu Qi, this city bordered the northern frontier, once famed as a forested retreat ideal for summer escapes. When the zombie virus hit in August, tourists had overcrowded the area, accelerating its downfall.
Five years later, any survivors should have fled to villages or human strongholds. Aside from Fu Qi, no one should remain here.
"Fu Laoqi!" Qin Zhen called.
The once-bearded, 188cm-tall man was inventorying guns and magazines. Without looking up, he corrected, "Don’t call me Fu Laoqi. Call me Princess Fragrance."
Qin Zhen: "…Fu Xiangxiang! Humans!"
In a flash, Fu Qi was on his feet—not to look outside, but to yank Qin Zhen into the shadows.
Moving away from the window, he finally spoke: "No one should be here. The most likely scenario is that those A-country agents are after me, setting a trap to lure me out."
Despite his words, he still peered through the curtains with binoculars before deciding to go.
"Isn't it a... a trap?" Qin Zhen asked.
"It is," Fu Qi admitted, slipping on his jacket and holstering his gun before picking up the slender katana. "But we can't rule out the possibility that someone might genuinely be trapped there." He turned to her, adding, "Stay put and don't wander off."
Qin Zhen had never encountered another human besides Fu Qi—those two A-country agents didn’t count—so the idea of meeting others left her both nervous and excited. She nodded eagerly. "Mhm!"
Fu Qi was about to leave when he paused, glancing at her unnaturally pale face and the colored contacts masking her eyes. "Oh, one more thing," he said, tapping a finger near her heavily powdered cheek. "You know the legend of the White Snake, right?"
Qin Zhen blinked. "Huh?"
"Humans are fragile. Too much shock can literally scare them to death." His tone was dry. "So, if you ever plan on dating one, remember—never let them see you without makeup."
"Got it. Thanks," Qin Zhen replied. Then, hesitantly, she added, "You too... When you... when you fall in love, d-don’t..."
But before she could finish—"don’t let them hear you speak"—Fu Qi had already leaped through the window, vanishing into the gloomy rain in an instant.
