After Qin Zhen fell into the water, she immediately clutched tightly at the bullet hole in her chest.
Her blood was a thick, dark red—unnatural and unhealthy in appearance. Fortunately, the river water gushed up from underground, rushing and murky. Her blood was scant, and once diluted in the water, it wasn’t as glaringly obvious. Unless someone on the shore took a very close look, it would likely go unnoticed.
Fu Qi had shown some tacit understanding with her on this point. After she collapsed, he cooperated with the foreigners’ threats and moved toward the shore.
But this scoundrel, just before reaching land, loosened the bundle wrapped around the white bones—accidentally dropping it right on Qin Zhen’s head as she submerged.
Water made an excellent barrier, muffling sounds from the shore. Qin Zhen caught only vague fragments—she faintly heard someone asking Fu Qi where he had found something, as if interrogating him about a clue.
Those foreign tongues babbled in a way unlike Chinese, which was ingrained in her bones. She half-understood but couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so she gave up entirely.
She clutched the pile of white bones underwater, waiting.
A few minutes ago, when a gun was pressed against her, Qin Zhen had thought Fu Qi was doomed—running into his enemy in such a dire state spelled disaster. But after she inexplicably took two bullets, she no longer doubted that Fu Qi could escape quickly, even though he was unarmed and hadn’t eaten in days.
Qin Zhen even suspected that encountering those two foreigners was as carefully planned by Fu Qi as the river water rushing in to collapse the stone wall under the shock of the explosion and flood into the ear chamber.
Otherwise, why had he deliberately warned her that humans die from severe gunshot wounds?
—The enemy wanted information from Fu Qi, so they wouldn’t kill him. There was no need for Qin Zhen to take bullets for him.
In her impression, human society was bound by laws, and gun murders simply didn’t happen.
So when the bullets struck her without warning, she was stunned, with no reaction. If not for Fu Qi’s warning, she might have just stood there blankly, waiting for the enemy to empty their magazines.
Doing so would have exposed her non-human identity.
That was extremely dangerous.
Therefore, before leaving the tomb, Fu Qi’s words had already accounted for the possibility they’d encounter those foreigners and that she would be shot.
He was telling her that when faced with unavoidable danger in human society, she had to act like a human—get hurt, even die.
But why would they want to kill her?
She didn’t know them.
Qin Zhen couldn’t make sense of it.
Still, thinking this far was already quite an achievement. To call her “brilliantly clever” would not be an exaggeration. The zombie felt a sense of accomplishment, believing she had used enough brainpower for the day and it was time to give her mind a rest. So she let herself go blank and pulled some water weeds to clean the mud out of the skull, which had been filling with silt.
The sunlight above was too bright; she wasn’t used to it and barely opened her eyes. Underwater, however, she felt at ease. She even spotted several small fish, though the current was too strong—more than once, Qin Zhen nearly got swept away.
She relaxed underwater for a moment, hearing no movement along the riverbank. After a brief pause, she stealthily crept toward the shore, using the concealment of the water plants to peek out. After adjusting to the sunlight, she saw a foreigner pressing a gun against Fu Qi’s head, while another was activating a communication screen, seemingly contacting others.
Behind the three of them stretched a dense, uninhabited forest.
No wonder they dared to shoot so recklessly.
Qin Zhen was sneaking a glance when the big man holding the gun suddenly shifted its barrel toward her. Startled, she quickly ducked her head.
Too sharp-eyed!
“Give me some water and food,” Fu Qi spoke up at just the right moment, drawing the big man’s attention back to him. But all he got in response was a warning, the gun pressing harder against his temple, with no other acknowledgment.
Not only was Fu Qi unfazed, he even sighed and spoke earnestly, “You’ve risked your lives traveling across all of China these past few years. To keep things secret, you kill anyone you see alive. But all that time wasted, sacrificing team after team, killing countless innocents, losing so much equipment—what progress have you made? Now you still have to rely on me for clues. This just shows that missions don’t succeed through brute force alone; you need luck, brains, and cultural knowledge…”
“Shut up!” The foreigner, understanding Chinese, snapped furiously, offended by the personal attack.
Fu Qi looked puzzled. “If you want clues from me, shouldn’t you be encouraging me to talk more?”
Hiding behind the water plants, Qin Zhen dared not peek again, afraid of being discovered. She didn’t know how the two foreigners reacted, but one thing was certain—she was angry! She’d always suspected that this guy’s eagerness to teach her to speak was no good!
She picked up a stone and hurled it at Fu Qi.
“Who’s there?!”
Before the stone even landed, two gunshots rang out—one bullet struck the stone, the other hit Qin Zhen.
At the same time, Fu Qi made his move.
But Qin Zhen didn’t see it. She clutched her wound and flailed back underwater as fast as she could.
When she cautiously surfaced again, the two foreigners on the riverbank lay on the ground. Fu Qi was crouched beside them, fiddling with something, and without turning his head, he praised her over the water sounds, “Well done.”
Qin Zhen shot back, “Better if you got hit.”
Fu Qi seemed busy, smiled faintly, didn’t look back, and said nothing.
Qin Zhen had no choice but to come ashore herself, dragging her drenched clothes as she joined Fu Qi. She saw one big man’s head and heart had been shot through—he was already dead, missing an arm, half his body charred black. The corpse gave off an indescribably eerie feeling.
The other was still breathing but struggling—exhaling more than inhaling, twitching uncontrollably.
Fu Qi knelt on one knee, pressing the other man’s neck with the side of his knee, operating the man’s fingers to manipulate his watch. His eyes were fixed on the dense, scrolling letters reflected on the screen. Even when Qin Zhen came close, he didn’t spare her a glance.
“What… what are you doing?”
Fu Qi quickly glanced at the bullet wound on her chest and the blood still staining her clothes. His hands never stopped moving as he answered, multitasking, “His watch has a live recording function. After death, it uploads everything he saw to the linked device. I’m deleting it.”
Thanks to the sunlight and the river’s flow, when Qin Zhen first emerged from the water, her eyes were squinting, and the droplets on her face refracted the sunlight, masking her true complexion. Meanwhile, the two hostile gazes were fixed solely on Fu Qi, barely sparing Qin Zhen a glance.
But no one could guarantee that some detail wouldn’t be spotted in the footage.
“Is it—safe to delete it?”
“Deleted. Now, let’s sneak a peek at their secrets.”
As the two spoke, the barely breathing foreigner, who had been twitching and glaring at Fu Qi with hatred, suddenly came into Qin Zhen’s view.
Without the harsh light and the river’s cover, her pitch-black eyes snapped open, and the grayish-blue tone of her skin became glaringly obvious. The man’s eyes widened in shock, veins bulging on his neck as blood pooled on the ground with a steady “gurgle.”
Qin Zhen was genuinely afraid of him in this state. She slid over to Fu Qi’s other side and whispered, “Shoot me, shoot me all you want—I won’t be mad. I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m aiming at Fu—Fu Laoqi. Only him.”
“Fu Laoqi” was a name she overheard the two foreigners shouting. Qin Zhen thought it fit Fu Qi perfectly.
“Thanks, thank you so much,” Fu Qi expressed his deep gratitude.
The foreigner let out a sharp gasp, his eyes rolling back as his body went limp.
The watch on his wrist began to flash a green light.
“Step back!” Fu Qi shouted.
Qin Zhen recognized that green glow. Last time Fu Qi’s watch flashed like that, it exploded in three seconds.
She immediately retreated, and Fu Qi quickly moved away as well. Just a second after the silver watch detonated with a loud “boom,” he fired a finishing shot straight into the foreigner’s head.
Qin Zhen knew those two weren’t good people, but the follow-up shot still shocked her. “What’s the grudge?”
“They blew up your neighbor’s grave trying to bury me alive. That’s why I fell into the tomb you’re in,” Fu Qi said slowly, though his hands moved quickly as he rifled through the foreigner’s abandoned backpack. Then, after a quick scan of their surroundings, he made a snap decision: “Get off the river path. Head up to the mountaintop.”
Qin Zhen followed him closely.
They were halfway up the mountain, surrounded by towering, lush trees that offered natural cover. Not far in, the dense foliage concealed them completely.
Fu Qi led Qin Zhen on a winding path. After replenishing their energy with food from the backpack, he explained.
“They’re on a secret mission, five squads moving in a fan-shaped formation from south to north. To keep it covert, they kill anyone they see. If you meet them again, remember to ‘play dead’ quickly—don’t let them notice anything unusual.”
Qin Zhen wasn’t afraid of getting shot, but she dreaded being discovered as a zombie, which would attract the Taoist hunters.
She nodded anxiously and asked, “Do you signal them?”
“Only to them. Because that watch was stolen from their accomplice by me. It was biologically reprogrammed to be usable, but the binding settings weren’t changed.”
Qin Zhen: “…”
No wonder you don’t care at all about blowing it up.
On one hand, Qin Zhen felt that Fu Qi was meticulous, steady, and reliable; on the other hand, she thought he was full of little schemes. They had been through thick and thin together, yet he hadn’t told her earlier, and he didn’t even directly remind her to pretend to be a normal person.
“I thought you were going to use me as a shield, to take the bullet for you.”
Fu Qi raised an eyebrow. “I remember I said I’m a good guy.”
Usually, in movies and novels, ninety percent of the people who say that kind of thing turn out to be villains.
Qin Zhen shot him a glare and said, “What if I didn’t… didn’t react in time?”
“If you don’t react, you’ll expose your identity and trigger their attack. But no matter what, you won’t die. In the end, you’ll draw their fire, and I’ll take the chance to capture them. The outcome won’t change.” Fu Qi had clearly thought this through. “Whether you don’t react or you figure out what I mean yourself, it’ll leave a deep impression, so you’ll remember clearly from now on that ‘you’re human now, and getting shot will kill you.’”
Qin Zhen, relieved that she wouldn’t die, hadn’t considered what she needed to watch out for at all and couldn’t argue, so she just muttered, “I thought saying swear words was illegal and would get me shot…”
Fu Qi: “…”
Qin Zhen then asked, “So, what exactly are you?”
Fu Qi stopped walking, thought for a moment, straightened up, and answered seriously, “Let me reintroduce myself: Fu Qi, current captain of the First Squad, top elite, number one handsome guy, number one tough guy, and maybe in the future, the number one musician, number one movie star, and number one rich guy.”
“…” Qin Zhen looked at his stubbled chin. “You still have that youthful vibe. Are you really… fifteen?”
“That’s called being a little edgy.” Fu Qi offered a better term for her, then added, “Don’t be fooled by everyone else calling me your husband—I’m an adult.”
…Why suddenly expose the zombie’s flaws!
Qin Zhen was at a loss for words, racking her brain until she spotted the mountaintop and came up with a new way to tease him. “‘Fu Laoqi’ sounds like a little lackey.”
She had seen in movies that characters with names like “Old Seven” or “Old Eight” were minor players who didn’t last long.
Fu Qi’s name wasn’t just similar, his behavior matched too—he actually managed to drag a zombie out from underground.
“I think the name’s great—at least it’s better than ‘Snow Princess.’” Fu Qi paused, then sighed, “Ever since the title ‘Princess’ got a bad reputation, it’s been a long time since anyone called themselves that.”
“…Liuli Princess!”
Fu Qi hesitated and said, “See? That’s hard to remember.”
Qin Zhen gave up arguing in frustration, rubbing the skull she held in her arms, and angrily asked, “What’s wrong with the title ‘Princess’?”
Between her and her husband, one of them was a princess, so she couldn’t stand the title becoming a bad word.
Fu Qi said, “It’s not that it’s bad—it’s just men passing the buck, which deserves criticism… Oh, and the term ‘zombie’ is rarely used nowadays either.”
Qin Zhen was shocked.
“It’s not that it’s stigmatized; it’s just seldom used.”
“So, what do we call… us?”
Fu Qi frowned, trying to recall, then said, “After tomb-raiding stories became popular, you were once called ‘Zongzi.’”
That nickname wasn’t exactly flattering, but she could barely accept it.
It was a bit infuriating that the species’ name wasn’t even up to them to decide—this really annoyed the zombies.
Qin Zhen thought to herself, If one day it’s the zombies’ turn to run rampant on Earth, she’d rename humans “steamed buns” and see how they’d like that.
She asked again, “Right now?”
“The current name is similar to ‘zombie,’ but more poetic, carrying a kind of decadent beauty.”
Fu Qi didn’t say it outright. After a brief description, he found a patch of open ground and stopped.
The two of them were nearly at the mountain’s summit, with the wind howling around them. It was probably autumn. Looking down from this height, the bright sunlight illuminated an endless forest, like a spilled palette of colors—golden yellows, vibrant greens, and fiery reds mingled together, forming a breathtakingly vivid autumn scene.
It was a scene full of life, one that naturally made you wonder what the bustling, lively human settlements farther away might be like.
Fu Qi pulled a folding glider from his backpack and looked at Qin Zhen. “You want to know, don’t you? Come on, I’ll take you to human society so you can experience it for yourself.”
