Chapter Twenty-Two: The Prison Cell

With a freshly laundered scarf wrapped around his neck and a katana named Muramasa in hand, Fan Li arrived at the entrance to the sixth floor corridor.

Even though he now knew there were beings outside more terrifying than zombies, life still had to go on. This building was Fan Li’s only remaining asset in the apocalypse.

He had a few tens of thousands left in his bank account, saved through years of thrift—a legacy from his family. No matter how frugal he was, he had always needed to eat, drink, and live; after twenty years, the family’s “last” love for him had dwindled to almost nothing.

If only he’d known the apocalypse was coming, he wouldn’t have scrimped and saved. He would have spent that money on things he liked: a watch, a phone, some game discs, perhaps an electric scooter for easy travel; and if nothing else, he could have withdrawn it all and gone on a trip, broadening his horizons.

But there is no “if” in this world. No one foresaw the end; the money cherished by countless people one day was reduced to worthless scraps the next.

Even if the banks still had power, what could Fan Li do after withdrawing his savings? Where would he spend it?

He couldn’t very well buy a batch of zombies from some undead dealer just to satisfy his urge to hack them down and summon his next monster companion.

A wry smile flickered across Fan Li’s face. In this chaotic world, currency had lost its value. He wondered what survivors used for trade: gold? jewels? women? Or did they simply rely on robbery, as he now did?

With experience in exploration, Fan Li was no longer as nervous as he had been at first. He was now familiar with the entire process of kicking in doors and killing.

Regrettably, both apartments on the sixth floor had iron security doors. Without lockpicking tools, Fan Li couldn’t open them by himself.

He could have summoned Ellie, but there was no food nearby, and Ellie’s behavior was odd; Fan Li decided to try on his own first.

[601]

Knock, knock...

Fan Li used the simplest method: knocking on the door.

Knock, knock...

He knocked twice in succession. No sound came from inside, and Fan Li frowned slightly, muttering, “Could I be so unlucky? No one home again?”

With no response, Fan Li turned toward 602, but as he took his first step, a frantic shuffling sounded from behind him, followed by the click of the door unlocking. He spun around and saw a disheveled figure lunge toward him!

His expression tensed as he readied his blade, but the katana did not fall, for he realized this was not a zombie—it was a woman, around thirty years old.

She was covered in filth, reeking of urine and other acrid odors.

The woman grabbed Fan Li’s arm and then looked up, her eyes bright with joy and oblivion, as she said, “Honey, you’re back? Why… why did you take so long? Xin’er’s school is only a few minutes away, why were you gone so long—”

Fan Li tried to push her away, but her words kept him from reacting violently, only deepening his frown.

“I’ve cooked dinner and waited for you. None of you ever come back!” she said.

Suddenly, her expression grew tense, her gaze darting nervously as she peeked outside, wary of something beyond, before whispering, “The TV said there are bad people outside. You and Xin Xin didn’t get hurt, did you? I tried calling you but couldn’t get through. Everyone outside seems crazy, biting anyone they see. You told me to stay home and wait for you, so I did, I waited… Why… why are you only back now?”

“Right… you must be hungry. Let’s eat—eat first!”

As she spoke, she pulled Fan Li into the apartment.

Fan Li’s expression grew complicated. He let her drag him inside, but kept his blade at his side, ready to defend himself.

He hadn’t forgotten his circumstances—caution was the minimum respect for life.

Behind the living room sofa stood a family portrait. The woman smiled sweetly, the man looked honest and gentle, and in their arms was a little girl, about five or six, with twin ponytails, grinning brightly.

This family may not have been wealthy, but they seemed happy. Fan Li had seen them a few times downstairs, exchanging only nods, never words. He vaguely remembered the lady of the house certainly hadn’t looked like this before.

The woman pulled Fan Li to the dining table, where half a chicken, a few pork knuckles, a plate of scrambled eggs, and shredded potatoes were set out—simple, everyday dishes.

A mesh cover shielded the food, clearly to keep insects and dust away.

Every home has its own family meal. It may not look good or taste great, but it’s irreplaceable—the taste of home.

Fan Li had never been a guest here and didn’t know what things tasted like before, but now he could tell these dishes had sat for days, rotting and fermenting. Combined with the stench from the woman herself, even with his scarf, Fan Li felt nauseated, nearly vomiting.

The woman seemed oblivious, sitting down and using her chopsticks to put a piece of pork knuckle in a small bowl, then a chicken wing in another, before picking up the rotten eggs and eating them herself.

The spoiled eggs had turned black and smelled sour, but she ate as if she couldn’t taste it, enjoying every bite.

She smiled as she ate, speaking to Fan Li, “Honey, why aren’t you eating? You have to work this afternoon—you need your strength. Are you angry at me? Angry I didn’t go out to find you?”

“I told you, everyone outside is crazy, I was so scared. I tried to call you and you didn’t answer, so I didn’t dare go out… I just waited at home…”

“I kept calling and you wouldn’t pick up, boo hoo… I was so worried about you, why… why did you only come home now… boo hoo… Where’s Xin Xin? Is she mad at mommy? Mommy’s a coward, mommy didn’t dare go out to find you… But I really worried about you...”

Her tone grew increasingly agitated as she spoke, until she finally broke down, sobbing hoarsely—evidently, she had spent many nights crying alone.

Fan Li stood by the table, gazing at her. There was no doubt—the woman had lost her mind.

This was the first person Fan Li had met up close since the apocalypse, and she was a madwoman—driven insane by the end of the world.

Never doubt how close insanity lies to sanity.

Normal people find it incomprehensible: why someone would strip naked and wander the streets, why someone would scavenge through garbage, why suddenly someone would attack others in a frenzy.

Normal people cannot understand because those suffering have already locked themselves in prisons of the mind.

For this woman, her apartment was her prison.

On one hand, she worried for her husband and child; on the other, she feared the zombies roaming outside. Anxiety, terror, guilt—these feelings crushed her, forcing her to become what she was.

Fan Li could not take her with him. It was hard enough to survive alone—how could he drag along a madwoman?

He looked around and saw the kitchen cupboards open, filled with scattered instant noodles and sacks of rice and flour lying nearby.

Of all the homes Fan Li had searched, the woman’s stores of food were the most abundant.

But he turned away—he would not take the woman, nor any of her possessions.

He was not one of those bloodthirsty zombies outside, nor a savior of humanity. Fan Li was a survivor—a humble survivor in the apocalypse.

He could not care for her, nor could he rob her of her last hope of survival. It was not about pity or morality—Fan Li simply had not forgotten what it meant to be human.

“Xin Xin won’t eat either—is it not tasty? You’re growing, you shouldn’t be picky.”

“Honey, the weather’s turning cold. Tomorrow, go with me to the supermarket and buy some quilts; they’re cheaper in the off-season.”

The woman chattered away, constantly placing food in the empty bowls beside her, discussing family trivialities.

To her, Fan Li was invisible; she remained lost in the memories of a peaceful, happy life.

Bang!

Fan Li could offer her no help. The only thing he could do was close the door—close it on this prison that shielded her from all the horrors of the world.