Chapter 20
Chapter 20
The group withdrew to the small sitting room on the second floor. Dawn was just beginning to break, and the growing light dispelled some of their unease.
Qingshui remained standing near the door. Her calm gaze swept over Zhou Shaocheng and Fang Shuyao, who were huddled together, before finally settling on Zhou Shaocheng’s face.
“Mr. Zhou, Ms. Fang,” she began. Her voice was quiet, but it carried clearly through the silence. “Lin Hao should have explained the situation to you. We escaped from the university district and happened to pass by here. We thought the villa was empty, so we planned to use it as a temporary shelter.”
She paused before continuing. “We all know what it’s like outside. It’s hell. This place is remote and safe for the moment, but no one knows how long that will last.”
Zhou Shaocheng raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and exhausted. Fang Shuyao held her daughter tightly, her lips pressed together until they turned white.
“We won’t stay long,” Qingshui continued, meeting their eyes frankly. “If the government doesn’t issue any useful rescue information or instructions soon, or if this place becomes more dangerous, we’ll leave and continue north.”
Her words clearly caught the couple off guard. They had not expected her to speak so directly about leaving. Lin Hao opened his mouth as if to say something, but after glancing at Qingshui’s profile, he swallowed his words.
Qingshui turned to her companions: Li Wei’an, Ji Feifan, An Xiaolin, Chen Yuhui, and Lin Hao.
“Of course,” she said, raising her voice slightly to ensure everyone could hear, “whether you come with me is entirely up to you. You can stay, come along, or make other plans. Right now, survival is our only goal. Everyone has the right to choose the path they believe gives them the best chance of staying alive.”
Silence lingered for a moment before they all nodded.
“As for the time we spend here,” Qingshui said, looking back at Zhou Shaocheng and Fang Shuyao, “we won’t freeload. We’ll find our own food and water, clear the surrounding area, and stand watch. You don’t need to worry about us using up your already limited supplies or causing unnecessary trouble.”
Her words were methodical, clearly defining everyone’s responsibilities and boundaries. Surprisingly, that attitude helped Zhou Shaocheng recover a trace of reason after being consumed by fear, grief, and confusion.
Zhou Shaocheng exchanged a look with his wife, Fang Shuyao. She gave a slight nod. There was still grief in her eyes, but now there was also a hint of deliberation.
Zhou Shaocheng took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice. “We don’t actually come to this house very often. We only brought the children here because of the holiday… but then…”
He forced himself to calm down. “We’re not entirely sure how much food is left in the storeroom. Aunt Wang used to… take care of all that.”
“If there’s anything left,” he said, looking at Qingshui with a complicated expression, “we can share it. This place is large enough, and having more people around… really would make it safer.”
“All we ask is that if anything happens, everyone helps each other. After all…”
He trailed off, but everyone understood what he meant. In a world overrun by those madmen, anyone trying to survive alone had little chance of making it.
Qingshui did not agree immediately. After a brief silence, she slowly spoke.
“If we want to survive against those things, hiding won’t be enough. Neither will the strength of one or two people.”
“Trust takes time, and cooperation requires rules.” Her gaze sharpened. “But one thing is already clear: infighting, suspicion, and everyone fending for themselves will only get us killed faster.”
Her eyes passed over every face in the room, including Zhou Shaocheng and Fang Shuyao. “It doesn’t matter whether we knew each other before or whether we’ll eventually go our separate ways. For now, as long as we’re under the same roof, we have to work together if we want to live. Standing watch, searching for supplies, dealing with potential threats… Everyone has to contribute. Everyone has to take responsibility.”
It was the unvarnished law of survival.
Some of the tension eased from Zhou Shaocheng’s shoulders, and Fang Shuyao’s arms loosened slightly around her daughter. Qingshui had offered no hollow promises. It was her blunt demands that reassured them.
“We’ll discuss the exact arrangements tomorrow,” Qingshui said at last. “For tonight, we’ll take turns resting while maintaining a basic watch. Every entrance to this house needs to be inspected and reinforced.”
“We’re all exhausted,” she concluded. “Let’s recover our strength first. We have to stay alive before we can worry about tomorrow.”
“Wei’an, Yuhui, Xiaolin, you three rest first. Ji Feifan, Lin Hao, and I will take the first watch. We’ll rotate every two hours. Mr. Zhou, you and Ms. Fang should get some rest with your daughter as well. We’ll keep an eye on things.”
There were no further pleasantries. Li Wei’an and the other two women practically collapsed onto the sofas. Zhou Shaocheng and Fang Shuyao carried Pingping, who was already drifting off, to a small bed on the other side of the sitting room.
Qingshui walked to the window and lifted one corner of the curtain. Outside, Cuihu Mountain Resort lay so silent that it seemed cut off from the rest of the world.
After a moment, she looked away and sat down beside the sofa to check her phone. The screen’s cold glow illuminated her expressionless face.
The webpage loaded, but… every entertainment app and social media platform had been completely overwhelmed by chaos and despair.
Celebrity gossip and current events had long since vanished from the trending searches. The top ten were a horrifying sight:
#UnexplainedViolenceEruptsAcrossMultipleRegions#
#HospitalsInXXCityCanNoLongerAcceptTheInjured#
#HelpWereTrappedOnTheTopFloorOfAMall#
#WhereIsTheMilitary#
#TheyArentZombies#
#TheyCanTalkTheyCanLaugh#
#IsThisTheEndOfTheWorld#
…
Opening any one of them revealed a torrent of real-time updates: bloodcurdling text posts, short audio clips of people screaming, and fragments of videos horrifying enough to cause nightmares.
The footage was chaotic and shaky, filled with crimson, distorted figures, inhuman laughter, and the agonized screams of the dying.
Some videos cut off abruptly after only a few seconds, leaving behind a black screen and endless room for terrifying speculation.
Desperate pleas for help were everywhere, but few received any replies. Those that did were answered with even greater despair or information that had already become obsolete.
“We’re in Building Three of the XX Residential Complex! They’re breaking down the door! Can anyone save us? None of our calls are going through!”
“My dad was fine just a minute ago, but then he suddenly… suddenly attacked my mom… What am I supposed to do?! I’ve locked myself in the bathroom!”
“Has there been any official word? What the hell are these things? How do we kill them? Going for the head seems to work!”
“The army has entered the city! I saw tanks! They’re on XX Avenue…”
“It’s all fake! They’re lying to us! The government is covering it up!”
“Are there any survivor groups? Add me! We can figure something out together!”
There was an explosion of information, but nearly all of it was noise.
Panic spread at the speed of light. The government’s official accounts had not been updated since the previous day, and their latest posts were still inconsequential routine notices. Some local media outlets tried to publish shelter guidelines, but those posts were quickly buried beneath a deluge of pleas for help and conflicting information.
Qingshui scrolled rapidly, filtering out the useless emotional outbursts as she tried to pick out anything potentially useful: the behavioral patterns of those “lunatics,” their possible weaknesses, and… scattered rumors of so-called “safe zones” around the country.
But the information was too fragmented, too chaotic, and far too unreliable.
She closed several excessively graphic livestreams and exited the apps that kept bombarding her with horrifying alerts.
The internet had not gone down completely, but order had already collapsed. It was no longer a source of reliable information. Instead, it had become a vortex that magnified fear and despair.
She put down her phone and rubbed the spot between her brows. Even she could feel the crushing fatigue after so long spent under intense mental strain and physical exertion. But sleep was a luxury, especially in an unfamiliar place riddled with danger.
Ji Feifan, who was on watch, leaned against the opposite wall with his eyes closed, conserving his energy. His ears twitched faintly, however, making it clear that he remained alert. Lin Hao sat on the floor not far from his cousin and cousin-in-law. His head kept drooping, but he forced himself not to fall soundly asleep.
At the other end of the living room, Zhou Shaocheng and Fang Shuyao held their daughter close. Although their eyes were shut, their bodies remained stiff. They clearly could not truly sleep either.
Li Wei’an, Chen Yuhui, and An Xiaolin were curled up on the sofa. Their breathing gradually evened out, but their brows remained tightly furrowed.
Time crawled by amid the oppressive silence and faint rustling in the distance, which might have been the wind or something else entirely. Every minute felt unbearably long.
About an hour later, just as Qingshui was preparing to wake Li Wei’an and the other two, the exhausted Lin Hao suddenly listed to one side and bumped against the cabinet beside him with a soft thud.
In the silence, the sound was strikingly clear.
Almost simultaneously, Zhou Shaocheng’s eyes snapped open, and his hand instinctively reached for the machete beside him. Fang Shuyao also jolted awake and pulled her daughter tightly against her in terror.
Li Wei’an and the other two women on the sofa opened their eyes groggily as well.
“It’s… it’s nothing. I accidentally bumped the cabinet,” Lin Hao hurriedly explained in a low voice, his face flushing slightly.
But the tension had already ignited.
Zhou Shaocheng’s gaze once again turned restless and wary. He glanced at the night still looming beyond the window, his breathing involuntarily quickening. Fang Shuyao pressed Pingping’s face against her chest, keeping the girl from seeing the adults’ anxious expressions.
Qingshui sighed soundlessly. Building trust was far more difficult than destroying it.
“It’s time to change shifts.” She stood, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Dorm Leader, Yuhui, Xiaolin, you’re up.”
The three women nodded, rose to their feet, and stretched their stiff limbs.
Without looking at anyone else’s expression, Qingshui collapsed onto the sofa. Two years of peaceful campus life had nearly numbed the taut string that had once been constantly stretched tight in her soul. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to make vigilance as natural as breathing.
She closed her eyes, forcibly emptied her mind, and did everything she could to recover her strength.