Before leaving the tomb, Qin Zhen thought Fu Qi was a tomb raider with questionable morals. After emerging, her perception of his identity shifted—she now suspected he might be an archaeologist with some martial arts skills. However, her opinion about his lack of virtue remained unchanged.
She reasoned this way for two reasons: first, Fu Qi possessed extensive knowledge of archaeology-related subjects like geology, air currents, and ancient clans; second, he maintained an intense curiosity toward zombies.
While waiting for rescue inside the tomb, Fu Qi had even stared unblinkingly at Qin Zhen’s wound for over five hours, determined to observe her healing process with his naked eyes.
He also tested Qin Zhen’s sensitivity to temperature, as well as the strength of her five senses—hearing, smell, and so on. After leaving the tomb and securing supplies, he made sure to share some food with her after eating his fill.
Qin Zhen took a bite and asked if Fu Qi was tricking her with mud.
Fu Qi denied it, explaining they were eating vanilla-flavored ration biscuits scavenged from an A-country national’s backpack.
That was how Qin Zhen learned zombies had no sense of taste.
What a pity. At least they retained their sense of smell.
By the time the faint outline of a city appeared beneath their glider, they had been airborne for hours—long enough for even a zombie to grow bored. Qin Zhen had closed her eyes and fully embraced her role as a corpse, letting Fu Qi take her wherever he pleased.
What snapped her back to awareness was a foul stench.
Before she could wonder about the source, Fu Qi said, "Hold tight. We’re landing."
Qin Zhen instinctively opened her eyes just as Fu Qi released the safety lock. The next moment, weightlessness seized them, and they plummeted downward.
She immediately shut her eyes again, swallowing a scream—there was no point. Fu Qi had angled the glider so low before impact that they touched down almost instantly.
Momentum and self-preservation sent Fu Qi rolling with Qin Zhen in his arms. Before she could react, he let go and stood up.
Qin Zhen wanted to ask who had taught him this landing technique—did he have no regard for safety?
She also wanted to demand why he hadn’t chosen a cleaner spot. It reeked!
But after enduring so much hardship, the sight of human technology filled her with excitement. She took a moment to steady herself before eagerly opening her eyes.
Before her stretched an orange-tinted twilight sky. They stood on a large, dilapidated rooftop littered with debris, its corners sprouting weeds. The rusted guardrail, dented as if from an impact, fared no better.
This was an abandoned rooftop.
A sound came from behind. Qin Zhen turned to see Fu Qi unsheathing the distinctly B-country-style long knife strapped to his backpack.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Fu Qi raised the blade and tilted his chin toward the rooftop entrance. "Explain later."
No sooner had he spoken than several shadowy figures burst from the dark doorway, lunging at him.
Fu Qi swung the knife in a swift arc. The silver blade caught the sunset’s glow, sending a flash of gold across Qin Zhen’s vision—followed by splatters of dark red blood and an overpowering rot.
Then a grimy, grayish head rolled to a stop at Qin Zhen’s feet.
Qin Zhen: "……?!"
After swiftly dispatching the zombies that had charged onto the rooftop, Fu Qi secured the entrance’s metal door before finally turning to Qin Zhen.
Dazed, she stammered, "Wh-what was that?"
Fu Qi didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward the rooftop’s edge, dirty knife in hand, and said, "Like I told you, none of your worries about being a zombie matter."
Qin Zhen followed him without thinking.
The apartment building was tall, offering an unobstructed view. From the edge, the fading sunlight revealed collapsed structures, wrecked cars littering the streets, and shambling, corpse-like figures moving through the ruins below.
"See? Zombies like you are everywhere," Fu Qi said calmly, watching Qin Zhen as the wind ruffled his clothes. "Welcome to the apocalypse, sweetheart."
Qin Zhen: "……Huh?"
Still reeling, a series of loud bangs erupted from the rooftop entrance.
Qin Zhen spun around to see several blood-smeared figures slamming against the metal door, their guttural growls piercing the air.
She stared blankly. "What… are they… doing?"
"Salivating over my flesh," Fu Qi replied, then added helpfully, "Literally."
Qin Zhen: "……"
She fell silent.
After a long pause, she managed, "You humans… gone mad?"
"Not mad. The dead mutated." Ignoring the drooling zombies behind the door, Fu Qi rummaged through his backpack as he explained, "Five years ago, corpses worldwide reanimated simultaneously and began attacking the living. Those bitten were either devoured or turned into the same monsters within hours…"
The catastrophe struck swiftly. Within three days, hundreds of thousands perished.
A week later, over a dozen small nations fell.
These creatures felt no pain, heat, or cold—but their hearing and smell were unnaturally sharp. Their only weakness was the head.
People called them zombies.
Within another half-month, global transportation, communication, healthcare, and production systems collapsed. The world was forever changed.
"…It wasn’t until six months into the disaster that humanity regrouped. Surviving scientists concluded it was a global virus—every human carried the infection…"
"You… you… you…!" Qin Zhen pointed at Fu Qi.
Pulling a rope from his bag, Fu Qi grinned. "Of course I’m infected too. Don’t worry, the virus only activates after death or a zombie bite. I’m perfectly healthy—no mutation here."
Qin Zhen suddenly recalled the bullet he’d put in that lifeless foreigner’s skull.
Fu Qi remembered too and added casually, "If you hadn’t collapsed into the water after being shot in the heart, I’d have given you the same treatment."
Qin Zhen: "……"
Should she thank him?
Briefly distracted, Qin Zhen quickly refocused on humanity’s grim reality. The evidence was undeniable, yet she struggled to accept it. "No government control?"
"Couldn’t hold it."
Governments never stopped trying—dispatching rescue teams, establishing survival bases, even achieving temporary successes. But rebuilding civilization proved impossible.
Humanity’s reliance on technology became its downfall. Restoring past glory required reclaiming data, equipment, and facilities—all now buried in zombie-infested cities. Every retrieval mission risked injuries and deaths… which only expanded the hordes.
What was even harder to accept was that even humans within survival bases who had no contact with zombies could still die or mutate due to illness, accidents, or conflicts, leading to internal infections and the eventual fall of the base.
The only way to completely eradicate the zombies was to develop a corresponding vaccine.
Yet, after five years, aside from Country A's temporary breakthrough—a feign-death drug that could briefly mask human presence from zombies—there had been no further progress.
To Qin Zhen, all of this felt like some absurd, surreal tale. She was so stunned she didn’t know what to say.
Seeing her nearly short-circuit, Fu Qi advised her to stay on the rooftop and process everything slowly, warning her not to wander off.
"Wh-where are you going?" she stammered.
Fu Qi had already secured a rope to the railing. "To find an empty room downstairs. Where else would we rest tonight?"
With that, he slid down the rope and vanished. Qin Zhen rushed to the railing, catching only a glimpse of him crashing through a window below, followed by a horde of zombies drawn by the commotion.
She watched for a while, then turned back in a daze, noticing that as Fu Qi disappeared, the frenzied zombies outside the iron gate gradually calmed down.
Standing there lost, Qin Zhen had no idea what to do next.
Her mind had been pushed to its limits lately, and now, bombarded with overwhelming information, it was struggling to cope.
It wasn’t until sunset, when Fu Qi returned to fetch her, that she snapped out of her thoughts about humanity’s plight—and noticed the contradictions in his words.
"If c-communications are cut off… then the watch?"
"That’s post-apocalyptic tech from Country A, among the world’s most advanced. There are probably no more than ten in existence."
Qin Zhen fell silent for a moment before pressing further. "Androids? Consciousness extraction? Space travel?"
Fu Qi looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"…" She emphasized each word. "High-tech. You. Told. Me."
"I told you?"
"You. Did!"
"Humanity has advanced quickly, but we’re nowhere near achieving sci-fi fantasies like those," Fu Qi said calmly. "If I really said those things, it must’ve been the delirium of someone trapped underground too long. You know how fragile the human mind can be."
Without missing a beat, he added sincerely, "I apologize for misleading you."
Qin Zhen: "…"
Her brain short-circuited again.
Fu Qi softened his voice apologetically. "With cities overrun, zombies everywhere, and countless people displaced, most technology is useless now. But don’t worry—once order is restored, I’ll find you a new grave, get you a computer, and set up internet. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"
Qin Zhen: "…O-okay?"
"You’re such a generous, kind-hearted zombie," Fu Qi praised without hesitation. "Now, let’s head downstairs? I found some expired but usable makeup. We can disguise you as human so no one recognizes you."
"…Alright…"
Qin Zhen followed Fu Qi down the rope into the apartment below.
The outer units were mostly single-room studios, chaotic inside—bloodstained, ransacked, but with functional locks, at least offering temporary safety.
In the apocalypse, people cared only for food and water. As Fu Qi had said, the makeup remained scattered on the vanity, untouched.
He handed her the cosmetics to study while he snacked on compressed biscuits, then tore open his pant leg to tend to his wounds—bullet grazes and bruises from fights.
Only then did Qin Zhen realize he had been injured; he’d just hidden it well.
Clutching a makeup bottle, she alternated between squinting at the tiny instructions and glancing at Fu Qi. After half an hour, she set it down, walked over, and pressed her hand over his as he held the gauze.
Fu Qi looked up, smiling. "What, you wanna help?"
She nodded. "I’ll do it."
Leaning closer, she examined his injuries, then met his eyes. "Hurts. Don’t move."
"Fine, I won’t."
Qin Zhen gave a solemn nod—then dropped her knee onto his uninjured leg, pinned his right arm, and swung her fist straight at his face.
"You. Lying. Bastard!"
