franphil Chapter 11 Undercurrents
Chapter 11 Undercurrents
3:17 a.m.
Zhang Xun sat on a folding chair on the second-floor platform, Su Nian's police binoculars resting on his lap. These were pieces of equipment she had brought from the SWAT team; they were twice as heavy as the civilian models he sold in his own shop, but offered a much clearer view. He adjusted the focus, aiming at the end of the street.
The street resembled a gray river under the moonlight, and the infected were like floating debris, moving slowly and aimlessly. There were fewer of them than the night before—they had probably been drawn to other areas by the sounds of the daytime. He counted them; there were eleven within his field of vision, moving slowly and with stiff gaits.
He was about to put down the binoculars when he suddenly stopped.
At the street corner, an infected person slowly turned around. It wasn't a random turn, but rather a definite direction—north. It raised its head, its cloudy eyes gazing towards the government building, and then began to move. Its steps remained stiff, but its trajectory was straight, as if guided by an invisible thread.
Zhang Xun frowned and continued to observe.
The second one. The third one. The fourth one.
They started from different places—some from alleyways, some from under abandoned cars, and some even crawling out of broken shop windows. But they all moved in the same direction—north. There were no roars, no fighting, no attacks. They simply gathered silently and slowly in the same direction.
Zhang Xun put down the binoculars, took out his phone from his pocket, turned the screen brightness to the lowest setting, and typed in the notes app:
「4月15日，03:18。感染者向北聚集（ZF大楼方向）。数量：约20+。行为：规律移动，非随机游蕩。无声音刺激源。」
He saved it, then raised the binoculars again.
The number of infected people gathering was increasing, like some ancient tide, slowly rising and falling in the darkness. They stopped about two hundred meters from the government building, no longer advancing, just standing there like a group of soldiers awaiting orders.
Zhang Xun felt an inexplicable chill.
He recalled what Su Nian had said during the day: "When there are too many people, someone will try to control the water and food." But now, the people controlling these infected people are not human, at least not people he could understand.
He heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Su Nian coming up the stairs. She was wearing the pajamas Lin Xiaotang had lent her—printed with cartoon rabbits, which clashed with her former SWAT officer demeanor. But her steps were still brisk, even with her injured knee.
"Can't sleep?" Zhang Xun raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice.
"Light sleeper." Su Nian walked to his side. "It's a habit of SWAT officers."
She glanced at the binoculars in his hand: "What are you looking at?"
Zhang Xun handed her the binoculars and pointed them at the street: "North."
Su Nian raised her binoculars, scanned the area, and then stopped. Her brows furrowed, and she pointed the lens toward the government building.
"...They are gathering," she said, her voice soft but with a hint of alertness.
"It's not the first time," Zhang Xun said. "I observed it last night too, but thought it was a coincidence. It happened again tonight, and at about the same time—starting after 2 a.m. and continuing until now."
Su Nian put down her binoculars and looked at him: "Did you take notes?"
"I've noted it down. Time, direction, quantity."
Su Nian nodded and raised the binoculars again to observe. Her posture was very professional; she rested her elbows on the railing to reduce shaking.
"It doesn't seem like random behavior," Su Nian said. "I've been watching them on the rooftop for five days, and they've been wandering around randomly. They're densely packed during the day and disperse at night; there's no pattern."
"Now we have it."
The two were silent for a while. The night wind blew up from the street, carrying a kind of rotten sweetness, but it was no longer as pungent as it had been in the first few days. Zhang Xun recalled Qin Wei's words about "olfactory adaptation," how the human nose can develop tolerance to a constant odor within seventy-two hours.
"Infected individuals are sensitive to sound and light, but at 3 a.m. there was no light source and no obvious sound stimulation."
"Could it be some kind of signal?" Zhang asked. "Like ultrasound? Or... some kind of sound we can't hear?"
Su Nian was silent for a moment, then shook her head: "I'm not sure. But this phenomenon needs to be observed continuously."
She put down her binoculars and turned to Zhang Xun: "Continue tomorrow night. If it's the same time and direction again, it means there's some kind of pattern."
"Okay," Zhang Xun said. "If things continue like this, we need to consider what's attracting them to the government building."
Su Nian did not answer. She looked at the government building in the distance, which was just a darker silhouette in the moonlight, without lights or movement, like a lifeless monument.
"Maybe there's someone there," she said, "controlling them in some way."
"Or there's something there," Zhang Xun said, "letting them instinctively draw closer."
The two exchanged a glance. The speculation was too weighty for either of them to voice. If the infected could be drawn to something, it meant they weren't entirely unconscious, that the virus's modification of the nervous system was more complex than previously known, and that the danger they faced might not just be numbers, but also some mechanism they hadn't yet understood.
"Record it first," Su Nian said, "then judge it."
Zhang Xun nodded. This was her approach, and also something he had learned over the years of running his shop—don't rush to conclusions, let the data speak for itself.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you rest, I'll keep watch for the first half of the night. We'll switch shifts for the second half and observe together."
Su Nian looked at him, something flashing in her eyes. It wasn't gratitude, but something more complex—the confirmation of being understood, or rather, the relaxation of being accepted.
"Okay," she said, then turned and went downstairs. Her steps were light, but Zhang Xun noticed something different—she was going slower than when she came, as if some burden had been temporarily put down.
Zhang Xun remained on the platform alone to continue observing.
---
8:03 a.m.
The sky outside the window was already bright, and the grayish-white dawn light seeped in through the gaps in the curtains like a thin layer of mist. Zhang Xun was awakened by a slight noise—it was Lin Xiaotang starting a fire and cooking downstairs, the sound of metal pots clattering together.
He walked to the window and glanced at the street.
The infected have dispersed. The group that gathered in the north last night is now scattered throughout the streets, wandering aimlessly again, as if the early morning gathering had never happened.
Zhang Xun kept this information in mind and turned to go downstairs.
Downstairs, Lin Xiaotang was cooking porridge on a solid fuel stove, steam rising from the pot. Qin Wei sat on the sofa organizing a first-aid kit, while Su Nian leaned against the sofa armrest, a map spread out on her lap—a tourist map of Lanshan City from Zhang Xun's shop, with several locations circled in red.
"Awake?" Lin Xiaotang looked up and smiled. "The porridge will be ready in ten minutes."
Zhang Xun nodded and sat down next to Su Nian: "What are you looking at?"
"The location of the archives," Su Nian pointed to a red circle on the map, "and the route of the armored trucks."
Wei looked up at Su Nian: "What do you want to say?"
Su Nian put down the map, took a deep breath, and glanced at the three people present. Her voice turned serious: "I want to tell you... what exactly happened on the night of April 7th."
These words were like a stone thrown into calm water, instantly silencing the room.
Lin Xiaotang turned off the stove, carried the freshly made breakfast over and sat down; Qin Wei put down the gauze in her hand, her fingertips unconsciously clenching; Zhang Xun sat up straight, his eyes instantly becoming focused.
The four of them sat around a folding table, on which sat the breakfast Lin Xiaotang had prepared—porridge with crumbs of compressed biscuits, and a small dish of pickled cucumbers for each person. This was the last batch of pickled vegetables they had brought from the dessert shop, and Lin Xiaotang was counting down the days to eat them, making sure everyone could taste a little bit of sourness. In this apocalyptic world, this crisp, salty and sour flavor was the only remaining taste of "living."
Su Nian's condition was much better than yesterday. She could sit up on her own, the wound on her knee had stopped oozing, and the new bandage on her wrist had been replaced with a lighter one. After examining her, Qin Wei nodded and said, "You can get out of bed and move around, but don't put weight on anything."
Su Nian nodded, and after everyone was ready to listen, she looked at Zhang Xun again and said, word by word, "Then I'll start by telling you about the mission."
Zhang Xun put down his bowl. The others also stopped, and there was a sense of ritual in the air—this was the first time Su Nian had taken the initiative to tell her story, signifying an exchange of trust.
"At 4 p.m. on April 7th," Su Nian said, her voice soft but each word clear, "our team received an emergency mission to escort a batch of archives from the archives to an underground bunker in the military district. Mission codename: Operation Fireseed."
"The archives are divided into four categories: a citizen identity database, a medical record system, coordinates of material reserve points, and a list of special personnel. These are core data for urban reconstruction—if the city truly perishes, these things will be the seeds of the future."
She paused, her gaze becoming somewhat distant: "Our team consists of six people, two escort vehicles, departing late at night. The planned route is from the archives, via Zhongshan Road and Jiefang Avenue, to the military sub-district. The entire journey is approximately fifteen kilometers and is expected to take forty minutes."
Su Nian's voice lowered: "But the virus broke out ahead of schedule."
"In the early hours of April 8th, we had only driven five kilometers when chaos broke out on the streets. People suddenly collapsed, and others began attacking those around them. We initially thought it was a riot, but we quickly realized... it wasn't. Those people had grayish-white eyes; they weren't human."
Lin Xiaotang clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white.
"The first armored truck broke down at the Zhongshan Road intersection—the driver was infected and lunged at the passenger from the driver's seat. The second truck tried to take a detour, but every street was chaotic. We were stuck on Jiefang Avenue, surrounded by infected people in front and behind us."
Su Nian closed her eyes, as if forcing herself to recall: "The captain ordered a breakout. We got out of the car with the file boxes and tried to walk through the alleys. But there were too many infected... We were separated."
"I covered the rear so the others could go first." She opened her eyes. "During the retreat, I lost my footing and landed on the concrete edge of the flowerbed, scraping my knee raw, blood soaking my trouser leg. My leg was so swollen I couldn't bend it. I dragged that leg behind a trash can and waited for them to pass."
"Then?"
"Then I went back to the archives," Su Nian said with a bitter smile. "I wanted to call for backup, but the SWAT team was finished. Communications were down, and there were infected people everywhere. I could only go up to the rooftop and call out on the walkie-talkie... but no one answered."
She looked down at her hands: "I thought I was protecting the city's future, but those files... some were scattered, some were burned, and I only managed to grab a few pieces of paper. I almost got myself killed too."
Zhang Xun stood up and took Su Nian's backpack from under the counter. He had already checked it last night, but now he wanted to spread the fragments out on the table so everyone could see them.
Three tattered pages, their edges charred and stained with dried blood.
The first page is only half full, and the title is "Distribution Map of Emergency Supplies Reserve Points in Lanshan City". Most of the addresses below have been burned away, and only the words "suburban air-raid shelter" can be made out.
The second page was even more tattered, with the words "Project Fire" followed by gibberish. There were handwritten annotations at the bottom of the page, which were covered by bloodstains, and only fragments of "E series" and "individually packaged" could be seen.
The third page contains a relatively complete "Screening List for Individuals with Special Physical Conditions," a table with names, ages, addresses, and blood types, followed by a series of codes. The paper is very new, and the ink is pure black. However, the page number is "7," and pages 1 to 6 are missing.
The four passed it around. Lin Xiaotang pointed to the "E series" and asked, "What does this mean?"
Su Nian shook her head: "I don't know. It wasn't mentioned in the mission briefing; it's a hidden marker in the file."
Qin Wei frowned, her finger tracing the words "special physical condition screening": "It sounds like some kind of experiment."
"Experiment?" Lin Xiaotang's voice trembled slightly.
"It's just a guess," Qin Wei said, but her expression was very serious.
The room remained silent for a long time. Lin Xiaotang looked down at the list, her fingers unconsciously tracing the corner of the paper. Qin Wei's expression grew increasingly serious; her doctor's intuition told her that something dangerous was brewing.
Zhang Xun looked at Su Nian, "What is the goal of Project Fireseed? To back up data and rebuild cities. But if the data contains a list of people with 'special constitutions,' then what will these people do during the reconstruction?"
Su Nian did not answer. The question was too serious, too serious for her to handle.
Zhang Xun remained silent, recalling Bai Mo's words—"It's related to the government," "Keep it a secret." He looked at the fragments on the table, feeling an indescribable weight. These pieces of paper pointed not only to the "Spark Project," but also to a deeper secret.
"Bai Mo," he suddenly said, then briefly explained the business card that Bai Mo had sent during the days when the disaster broke out.
All three of them looked at him.
"She's a journalist," Zhang Xun said. "She must have specifically investigated government affairs. If these fragments have meaning, she might be someone who knows, she might know what they mean... at least, she knows more than we do."
Su Nian nodded: "If we can find her, perhaps we can unravel some clues."
"But how do we find it?" Lin Xiaotang asked, "The western suburbs are so far away..."
Silence fell in the room once again.
The morning of April 15th, the eighth day of the apocalypse, began quietly. But everyone knew this quiet was false—like the calm surface of the sea before a storm, beneath which undercurrents surged.
---
9:15 a.m.
Zhang Xun sat behind the counter, holding a dark gray business card in his hand. The front read "Bai Mo, Investigative Reporter, Lanshan City Daily."
He stared at that line of text for a long time.
Her words still echo in my ears.
"I rented a safe house in the warehouse district in the western suburbs."
"If anything happens in the city within three days, come find me there."
"Don't bring too many people."
"You be careful too, try to stay home as much as possible these days."
He flipped the business card over: "Protect her, and protect yourself too."
The western suburbs warehouse district. Approximately 15 kilometers from the shop. It takes over three hours to walk there, making the round trip six hours. The route passes through the old city and industrial areas, where the density of infected individuals is unknown. Furthermore, it's uncertain whether Bai Mo is still alive.
Zhang Xun placed the business card on the table and traced its edges with his finger.
"Still no response?" Qin Wei walked over and sat down next to him.
Zhang Xun shook his head: "I tried several channels on the walkie-talkie, but none of them were working. She didn't tell me the specific channels, so I had to try them one by one."
"She might..." Qin Wei paused, "...maybe something happened to her."
"It's possible the walkie-talkie just ran out of battery," Zhang Xun said. "Or maybe she's not in the safe house; she's out gathering intelligence, and she might not even have a walkie-talkie."
"Or maybe the western suburbs are too far away, and the signal can't get through." Su Nian's voice came from the sofa. She was wiping her pistol with a cloth, her movements very practiced.
Zhang Xun looked at her: "What do you think?"
Su Nian put down her gun, walked over, and stopped in front of the counter: "From a tactical perspective, going to the western suburbs is very risky."
She held up her finger and drew a line on the counter: "This is our location. It's in the old town, densely built, with a moderate number of infected people, but the streets are narrow and easily congested."
She drew another line: "This is the route to the western suburbs. It goes through Jiefang Avenue—a main road, an open area where infected people have good visibility and are easily spotted. Then it enters the industrial and warehouse areas, where the terrain is complex, but the density of infected people is unknown."
"The worst-case scenario?" Zhang asked.
"Surrounded by infected people, there's no way out," Su Nian said. "Or you might encounter other survivors—not all of them are friendly."
Lin Xiaotang walked over, carrying four glasses of warm water. She placed the glasses on the counter and said softly, "Brother Xun, it's too dangerous..."
Zhang Xun took the cup and took a sip. The water was at the perfect temperature, with a comforting texture.
"I know," he said.
"But if we don't try," Su Nian said, "those files will forever remain a mystery."
Qin Wei frowned: "Is the mystery more important, or is life more important?"
"What if the mystery is related to our survival?" Su Nian countered. "What if those files contain information about the virus? Clues on how to end all of this?"
That's just speculation.
"All actions were based on speculation." Su Nian's voice remained calm, but her eyes turned cold. "When you went to the hospital, you also speculated that it was safe there. When you came here, you also speculated that Zhang Xun would help you."
Qin Wei's face darkened: "This is different."
"What's different?"
"I..." Qin Wei paused for a moment, "I know Zhang Xun. I trust him."
"Then why don't you trust his judgment?" Su Nian asked.
Zhang Xun raised his hand, interrupting them: "Calm down, both of you."
Both women looked at him.
"Qin Wei is right, the risk is too great," Zhang Xun said. "Su Nian is also right, the files are very important."
He put down his cup and looked at the three people in front of him: "We need intelligence. Without intelligence, any decision is a gamble."
"What should we do then?" Lin Xiaotang asked.
Zhang Xun was silent for a moment, then said, "Let's try contacting the South Street gang first."
"South Street Gang?" Qin Wei frowned.
"The signal Su Nian intercepted yesterday," Zhang Xun said. "The organized trade of goods in the South Street area indicates the presence of a survivor group there. They might know about the situation in the western suburbs, and may have information about Bai Mo."
"What if they're not friendly?" Lin Xiaotang asked.
"That's intelligence," Zhang Xun said. "Knowing they're not friendly is also a kind of intelligence."
Su Nian nodded: "That makes sense. We should first contact external forces, understand the situation, and then decide on the next step."
Qin Wei didn't speak, but her expression softened somewhat.
Zhang Xun looked out the window; the infected were still wandering the streets. They didn't know what "Project Fireseed" was, what "E-Series" was, or what the "South Street Gang" was. They just moved silently and mechanically, like some kind of programmed machine.
He must find a way to survive between these machines and the survivors.
He stuffed Bai Mo's business card into his pocket, close to his chest.
"I'll go prepare." Zhang Xun stood up. "If the South Street Gang responds, we'll make contact tomorrow."
"I'll go with you," Su Nian said.
Your knees...
"We can go," Su Nian said, her eyes firm, "and you need someone who understands tactics."
Zhang Xun looked at her and didn't object. He turned to Qin Wei: "You and Lin Xiaotang stay behind and keep in touch via walkie-talkie."
Qin Wei nodded, her expression still showing concern, but she did not object further.
Lin Xiaotang looked at Zhang Xun, her eyes slightly red: "Brother Xun... be careful."
Zhang Xun smiled and reached out to ruffle her hair. "Don't worry. I promised you I would come back."
This is his promise. He will keep every promise he makes.
Even if it means he has to step into that unknown darkness.
---
Let's rewind to noon yesterday, inside the shop.
Su Nian sat behind the counter, adjusting her police walkie-talkie. This was equipment she brought from the SWAT team; its frequency range was wider than that of ordinary civilian walkie-talkies, allowing it to intercept some official or semi-official communications.
She wore headphones, her fingers slowly turning the tuning knob. White noise, static, occasional muffled voices, but mostly meaningless fragments—cries for help from survivors, chaotic arguments, or just electrical interference.
Suddenly, she stopped.
Amidst the noise, there was a voice. It was indistinct, as if coming from a great distance, but it was definitely a human voice.
"...Sixth Brother...goods...tomorrow..."
Su Nian's fingers froze. She adjusted the frequency, trying to make the signal clearer.
"...South Street...parking lot...change..."
The sound was intermittent, as if it had been cut off by something. But the keywords were clear enough: South Street, parking lot, exchanging goods, Lao Liu.
Su Nian immediately pressed the record button—this was a function of the police walkie-talkie, which could record received signals. Then she continued listening.
A few minutes later,
"...Expanding..." another voice, younger and more tense, "North District...there are guns..."
Su Nian frowned. A gun?
The signal lasted for another ten seconds or so, then disappeared completely, leaving only white noise.
She took off her headphones, looked at Zhang Xun who was standing not far away, his back to her and looking out the window, and coughed lightly. Zhang Xun turned around at the sound and walked straight towards her.
"I intercepted two conversations," Su Nian said. "The first one involved someone organizing a trade of goods in the South Street area, mentioning the name 'Old Six.' The second one involved people discussing an armed group with guns that was infiltrating the North District."
Zhang Xun was shocked. There were other survivor organizations in the city, and they had already formed a powerful force.
"The South Street Gang," Su Nian analyzed, "sounds like a spontaneous civilian organization, bartering. The other force... has guns, is organized, and might be some kind of armed group."
Zhang Xun sat down next to Su Nian: "Can you confirm the location?"
"The exact location in the South Street area is unknown," Su Nian said. "The signal source is about two to three kilometers away from us."
"If the South Street Gang is indeed organizing the trade of goods, it means they have a certain level of order and rules. This could be an opportunity."
"It could also be a trap," Su Nian said.
---
Let's return to the present.
Zhang Xun looked around at everyone: "We need more information."
Without hesitation, he picked up the walkie-talkie, tuned it to the channel where Su Nian had intercepted the signal, and pressed the talk button:
"This is Xunye Outdoor Store. Please respond. We have medical supplies and would like to exchange them for food."
He released the button and waited.
White noise. A hissing sound, like some kind of eternal background noise.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds.
Just as Zhang Xun was about to give up, a hoarse male voice rang out:
"Looking for outdoor adventures? The one in the old town?"
Zhang Xun immediately pressed the call button: "Yes."
"...Bring samples to the South Street parking lot at 8:00 AM tomorrow."
The signal was interrupted.
Zhang Xun put down the walkie-talkie and looked at the others. Su Nian's brows furrowed slightly, Qin Wei's expression was serious, and Lin Xiaotang's fingers were twisted together.
"They responded," Zhang Xun said. "Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, South Street parking lot."
"It could also be a trap," Su Nian said, repeating the same words she had said yesterday.
"Possibly," Zhang Xun nodded, "but this is currently our only source of intelligence."
He looked at Su Nian: "You're coming with me tomorrow."
Su Nian nodded.
"What if..." Lin Xiaotang began, her voice very soft, "...what if they don't want to help us at all?"
Zhang Xun looked at her and smiled, but there wasn't much ease in his smile: "Then let's run. Run as fast as we can."
Outside the window, the infected people were still wandering the streets. They didn't know what the "South Street Gang" was, what a "gun" was, or what a "deal" was. They just moved silently and mechanically, like some kind of programmed machine.
And in some corner of the city, there are others—the living, the organized, the armed.
The world is becoming increasingly complex.
---
2 PM, inside the shop.
The four of them sat around on the living room floor, with the Lanshan City tourist map spread out in the middle. Zhang Xun drew several circles on the map with a red pen: shop locations, South Street parking lot, West Suburbs Warehouse District, and the government building.
"Tomorrow's plan," Zhang Xun said. "Su Nian and I will go to the South Street parking lot to contact the guy called 'Old Six.' Qin Wei and Lin Xiaotang will stay behind, keep in touch via walkie-talkie, and report back every half hour."
Qin Wei frowned: "What if something happens?"
"If the walkie-talkie calls, lock the door immediately and don't come out," Zhang Xun said. "If we don't get a response within two hours... don't come out either."
Lin Xiaotang's face paled slightly, but she didn't say anything.
"That's the first thing," Zhang Xun continued. "The second thing is about Bai Mo."
He looked at Su Nian: "If the South Street Gang has intelligence on the western suburbs, we might need to make a trip there."
"I agree," Su Nian said. "Those files can only be deciphered by someone who knows the ropes."
"It's too risky," Qin Wei interrupted her, her voice calm but tinged with suppressed emotion. "Fifteen kilometers to the western suburbs, a six-hour round trip, with an unknown density of infected individuals along the way. Moreover, it's uncertain whether Bai Mo is even still alive."
"But if she's alive," Su Nian said, "she might be our only clue to unraveling all of this."
"'Possibly.'" Qin Wei repeated the word. "You're using 'possibly' to gamble with four people's lives?"
"So what's your suggestion?" Su Nian retorted, "Sit here and wait to die?"
"My advice is—" Qin Wei's voice rose slightly, "to survive first. Deciphering the files is secondary; without life, everything else is meaningless."
"Without intelligence, we can't survive," Su Nian said. "Do you know how many infected people are outside? Do you know where there are safe water sources? Do you know which areas are controlled by powerful forces?"
"The four of us have survived this long by luck, not skill. Do you think we can always escape unscathed like we did the night before last?"
Su Nian remained silent, her eyes turning cold. She disliked being questioned or judged, especially when her professional abilities were questioned.
Lin Xiaotang was caught in the middle, at a loss. She looked at Su Nian, then at Qin Wei, twisting the rabbit doll's ears with her fingers.
Zhang Xun smoothed things over, took a deep breath, and looked at the two of them: "You're both right. Qin Wei is considering safety, while Su Nian is considering survival."
He pointed to the South Street parking lot on the map: "We'll go here tomorrow to contact the South Street gang and understand the external situation. If they can provide intelligence on the western suburbs, we'll decide on our next step."
"What if they don't have any intelligence?" Su Nian asked.
"Then let's think of another way," Zhang Xun said. "But tomorrow, we'll only go to South Street, not the western suburbs."
Su Nian was silent for a moment, then nodded: "...Okay."
Qin Wei's expression softened a bit, but she didn't smile.
Lin Xiaotang looked at the three people and whispered, "Then... what should I do?"
Zhang Xun looked at her and reached out to ruffle her hair: "You guard the shop. If we call 'rabbit' on the walkie-talkie, lock the door immediately, and no matter what happens, don't open it."
"A rabbit?" Lin Xiaotang was stunned for a moment, then realized—her rabbit doll, her symbol.
She nodded, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the rabbit doll's ears.
"Also," Zhang Xun said, "if...if we're not back by tomorrow night, follow the route we planned before and go to the air-raid shelter on the outskirts of the city."
"What?" Lin Xiaotang's voice suddenly rose, "You wouldn't—"
"It's just a contingency plan." Zhang Xun interrupted her, smiling. "We'll be back. I promised you."
Lin Xiaotang looked at him, her eyes red, but she didn't cry. She just nodded vigorously, her fingers squeezing the rabbit doll's ears out of shape.
Qin Wei watched this scene with a complex expression, swallowing back all the words she wanted to say, and remained silent.
The room fell silent. Each of the four was lost in their own thoughts, but a subtle tension hung in the air—uncertainty about the future, differing judgments about each other, and a mixture of fear and anticipation for the world.
Zhang Xun looked out the window; the infected were still wandering the streets. They didn't know what a "plan" was, what a "disagreement" was, or what "tomorrow" was. They just moved silently and mechanically, like some kind of programmed machine.
The infected people outside the window wander around like pre-programmed machines, with no past, no disagreements, and no tomorrow.
Zhang Xun withdrew his gaze and looked at the three people in the room—they were arguing, they were afraid, they questioned each other yet entrusted themselves to one another. It was this chaos, this uncertainty, this clumsy attempt to think and choose even in dire straits that constituted the final boundary between humanity and the walking corpses outside the window.
The red circles on the map resemble wounds, or perhaps coordinates. When the sun rises tomorrow, some of them may die, some may discover the truth, or some may have simply lived another day in vain. But right now, in the living room at two in the afternoon, four people sit together, using disagreement to fight silence, using plans to fight chance, and using the code word "rabbit" to fight against the entire collapsing world.
That's enough.
Living is never about the body still functioning; it's about recognizing the uncertainty of tomorrow and still choosing to make plans, still choosing to trust others, and still choosing to take the first step despite fear.
Outside the window, machines continue to roam. Inside, humans continue to debate. And "tomorrow" hangs between the two, waiting to be redefined by human courage.
---
Six o'clock in the evening, on the second-floor platform of the shop.
Zhang found Qin Wei standing alone on the platform. She had her back to him, looking at the ruins in the distance, her shoulders stiff.
Zhang Xun walked over and stood next to her: "Still angry?"
"No," Qin Wei said, but her voice was muffled.
"I know you're worried," Zhang Xun said, "but if we don't try, we'll be stuck here forever. We don't know what's outside, what the government is planning, or what those files mean. We can only guess, we can only wait, and we can only waste our resources and patience in uncertainty."
Qin Wei finally spoke, her voice very soft: "I'm not against you going. I'm... scared."
She turned around and looked at Zhang Xun. The setting sun shone through the ruins, dividing her face into light and shadow.
"Eight years, Zhang Xun. I've waited for you for eight years."
Zhang Xun was stunned. This was the first time Qin Wei had clearly expressed her feelings; it wasn't a hint, nor was it waiting—it was a direct statement.
"I'm afraid that if you go, you won't come back," Qin Wei said, her eyes reddening. "I'm afraid that after waiting for you for eight years, all I'll get in the end is..."
She didn't finish speaking.
Zhang Xun reached out and took her hand. Her hand was cold but steady, with the thin calluses typical of doctors.
"I won't die," he said, his voice soft enough for her to hear. "I promised you I would live."
Qin Wei looked at him for a long time, then sighed: "You've promised so many people. Lin Xiaotang, Su Nian... Can you manage to keep up?"
Zhang Xun was silent for a moment, then honestly said, "I can't manage it all. But I'll do my best."
Qin Wei looked at him, her lips twitching as if she wanted to laugh, but she didn't: "That's just how you are, you never leave yourself any room for maneuver."
She leaned lightly on his shoulder, like a silent reconciliation. Zhang Xun put his arm around her shoulder, and the two stood in the twilight, looking at the ruins of the city. In the distance, the shadows of the infected were stretched long, like some kind of ancient mural.
"Qin Wei," Zhang Xun suddenly said.
"Um?"
"Thank you for still being here," he said. "...Thank you for waiting for me."
Qin Wei didn't answer, but simply moved closer.
---
Eight o'clock in the evening, on the first floor of the shop.
Lin Xiaotang sat in a corner on the first floor, her hardcover notebook spread out on her lap. She was taking inventory of supplies, recording each item carefully: how many kilograms of rice were left, how many boxes of compressed biscuits were left, and how many bottles of mineral water were left. When she wrote "mineral water," her pen paused; there was a drop of water on it, spilled that day, causing a bulge on the paper. She didn't tear it off, but continued writing on the bulge, the handwriting slightly blurred.
Su Nian walked over, sat down next to her, and looked at what she had written down.
"Very detailed," Su Nian said.
Lin Xiaotang looked up and smiled, "Brother Xun taught me that. He said, 'Knowing what you have is the key to knowing how long you can hold out.'"
Su Nian nodded and looked at her: "Are you scared?"
Lin Xiaotang paused, the pen tip hovering over the paper, leaving a small blot of ink, then continued writing: "Afraid. But even if afraid, we must do it."
Su Nian's lips twitched slightly: "You're stronger than you look."
Lin Xiaotang lowered her head, her voice soft: "I don't want to hold him back. Xun-ge is already tired enough."
Su Nian looked at her, her gaze softening. "You're not holding us back," she said. "The food you cook... is better than what I ate at the SWAT team."
Lin Xiaotang smiled, her dimples deepening: "Then... I'll make you the dough balls you taught me to make tomorrow?"
Su Nian nodded: "Okay."
Lin Xiaotang slipped the pen back into the clasp of the notebook, her fingertips brushing against the bulging page, gently smoothing out the curled edges. She closed the notebook, the hard cover hitting her knee with a dull thud, while the pages remained softly flat.
"Tougher to keep you from getting hungry," Su Nian suddenly said.
Lin Xiaotang paused for a moment, then smiled, her fingers unconsciously stroking the rough edges of the notebook—the result of repeatedly opening, closing, and kneading it over the past few days; it was soft, but not crumpled.
"Mmm," she said, "a little harder, so it lasts longer."
---
At 10 p.m., Su Nian was on night watch on the first floor of the shop.
She sat at the watchman's post, checking her pistol—only three bullets left. She removed the magazine, checked each bullet individually, and then reloaded it. Her movements were practiced, almost ritualistic.
Zhang Xun walked over and handed her a cup of hot water.
Su Nian took it and took a sip: "Thank you."
Zhang Xun sat down and looked at her: "Thank you for supporting my trip to the western suburbs today."
Su Nian shook her head: "I'm not supporting you. I'm supporting the truth."
Zhang Xun laughed: "You're still the same, so cold and unapproachable."
Su Nian's lips twitched slightly: "That's all I know how to do."
Zhang Xun looked at her and said earnestly, "No matter why you came... thank you for staying."
Su Nian paused for a moment, then looked down at the cup. The hot water swayed gently inside, reflecting the candlelight.
"...I don't want to be alone anymore."
This is the closest she's ever come to saying "need."
Zhang Xun reached out and gently patted her shoulder: "You're not alone anymore."
Su Nian didn't look up, but her shoulders relaxed a little.
Outside the window, infected people still wander the streets. They don't know what "integration" is, what "team" is, or what "belonging" is. They just move silently and mechanically, like some kind of programmed machine.
In this small shop, four people, four pasts, four kinds of waiting are slowly intertwining into something more complex and warmer.
---
Outside the window, there were fewer infected people on the street than during the day, but their movement patterns had changed. They were no longer wandering randomly, but slowly gathering in the same direction—north, towards the government building.
Same as last night. Same as the night before last.
Pattern. This implies a certain pattern.
Zhang Xun picked up his phone and typed in the notes app:
「4月16日，01:07。感染者再次向北聚集。时间：凌晨1点后。方向：ZF大楼。数量：约25+。连续第三晚观察到相同现象。推测：周期性行为，可能与某种信号或设施有关。」
He took out Bai Mo's business card and looked at the words in the moonlight: "Protect her, and protect yourself."
He recalled Qin Wei's worries, Lin Xiaotang's dependence, and Su Nian's trust. He remembered the "E series" and "special constitution" on the file fragments. He remembered Bai Mo and that stormy night.
The walkie-talkie crackled with vague signals from the South Street gang: the threat of armed forces and the unusual gathering of infected individuals. Everything pointed to one conclusion: they could no longer survive in isolation; they had to find the truth.
Zhang Xun gripped the business card tightly, making a decision in his mind:
Tomorrow I'll go to South Street to make contact with external forces and gather intelligence.
The day after tomorrow, I'll go to the western suburbs, find Bai Mo, and decipher the files.
No matter how dangerous it is, we must find out the truth about the "Spark Project".
Otherwise, all clues will be useless, and they will be trapped in darkness forever.
He looked up at the three sleeping people—Lin Xiaotang, Qin Wei, and Su Nian. Their breathing mingled in the darkness, like some ancient incantation, guarding this small space.
He said softly, "I will find the answer. I promise you."
Zhang Xun stuck the business card to his chest and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow will be a new day, and a new challenge.
[End of Chapter Eleven]