Two or three terrible things

Han Bo called out to me from behind, "Hey, I have something to tell you!"

I threw men and women to the back of my mind and walked quickly: "You handle it, stop asking me."

The secretary's office is really nice; it's spacious and bright. The desk is longer than a person, there's a massage lumbar cushion on the leather swivel chair, a water dispenser next to the sofa, and the large imitation mahogany bookcase is full of medical tomes. There are a few withered green plants under the window, and the curtains are even electric.

As I looked, I nodded and said, "Not bad, not bad. A good environment is conducive to the patient's early recovery."

Zhang Yanhuang said gratefully, "Sister Qi, thank you for assigning us a suite. It makes it much easier for me to take care of the company commander."

"Of course, of course."

Pushing open the door to the rest room, he looked up and met those dark, deep pupils again. He didn't lie down, but leaned against a single bed that was 1.2 meters wide. The bedding was brought from home, clean and soft, to ensure that it wouldn't irritate his wounds.

I approached him with a kind smile: "Are you feeling better, young man?" As I spoke, I tucked the blanket around him and pulled up a chair to sit down. I said in a friendly and natural manner, "If you need anything, just tell the nurse. We'll try our best to meet your needs. Your job is not to think about anything and just focus on getting better, okay?"

Zhang Yanhuang stood beside me, glancing at me with surprise, his throat gurgling as if he had phlegm stuck in it. Meanwhile, the company commander on the bed suddenly raised the corners of his still-purple lips, revealing an extremely gentle smile: "Hello, my name is Gao Chen."

Bright sunlight streamed in through the glass window, some of it blocked by Zhang Yanhuang's broad shoulders, leaving only a few beams of golden light falling on him. His slightly long, buzz-cut hair stood proudly upright, beneath which were thick eyebrows, and below those eyebrows, a face a kaleidoscope of colors—red, blue, black, and purple. Through the colors, I keenly saw through to the essence: this man, freed from lifelessness, had become lively and cheerful, and his appearance was far more than just "good-looking."

I pursed my lips, rubbed my hands together, and said somewhat awkwardly, "Hello, my name is Qi Aifeng, and... how old are you?"

As soon as I left the secretary's suite, my amiable demeanor vanished, and I angrily yelled at Zhang Yanhuang, "You child, can't you understand what I'm saying? He wants to see Liu Meili, why did you call me here?"

Zhang Yanhuang felt wronged: "The company commander said to look for the girl who was with him when he was sober yesterday... wasn't it you?"

"It's me." A mouthful of blood choked in his throat, unable to be spat out or swallowed. "But he really did come to Liu Meili. You need to listen to her completely. She wants to get checked out, ask about her condition, and inquire about the aftereffects of traumatic brain injury... Why are you being so indecisive, Company Commander? She's already lost her memory, why is she asking about aftereffects!"

Zhang Yanhuang lowered his head: "He used to be very serious and never smiled. Now he's probably anxious and has forgotten everything. I was the one who told him his name. He doesn't recognize me, he's forgotten Sergeant Chen, he's forgotten how he got injured, and he doesn't even remember that he's a soldier."

Oh, he looks so pitiful. Seeing his low spirits, I couldn't bear to get angry. I patted his shoulder and comforted him, saying, "Being alive is better than anything else."

I came full of enthusiasm but left disappointed. I don't know why I used those two words to describe my feelings, but I can't find any more suitable ones. Although I was a bit disappointed, I still responsibly informed Liu Meili to make rounds. The patient was completely unaware and uneasy, which was not conducive to his recovery.

More than thirty boxes of weapons and ammunition were distributed, with the remainder placed in the medical supplies warehouse. Rice, flour, and cooking oil totaled three tons, which couldn't fit in the canteen's small storage room, so they were all unloaded into the main hall, requiring the removal of two rows of tables and chairs. The miscellaneous supplies collected from the auto repair shop, along with the goods we had previously stockpiled at the supermarket, were diverse, covering all aspects of daily life. If it were just for our group of twenty, it should last for a year or two without any problem.

Yu Zhongjian asked me to produce the charter, but I couldn't. However, when a specific person asked me what they should do, I could always quickly think of a suitable task for them.

My mom, along with Chen Ruonan, Qin Yun, and Ma Li, have already moved into the cafeteria. During the trial run, they cooked rice porridge and noodles, and served each person a large plate of pickled vegetables and salted duck eggs. The feedback from the diners was positive. My dad volunteered to take on the work of counting, storing, and distributing funds. He followed the truck around the whole time, busy with his work. He had a bunch of keys hanging from his belt and a pen tucked behind his ear. His upright and honest image as a custodian was unanimously praised.

Liu Meili continued her work as a full-time nurse and part-time doctor, responsible for patients and managing the pharmacy and medical equipment; Wu Bainian's arm injury hadn't healed yet, so he couldn't handle weapons and I put him on guard duty at the gate. Zhao Zhuobao wanted to work odd jobs in the canteen, but I firmly refused and gave him and Binbin shovels, brooms, bamboo baskets, and walkie-talkies, instructing them to patrol and clean the courtyard, mainly clearing away zombie remains, while also taking care of my second uncle.

Once the logistics were arranged, a sense of hope and tranquility permeated the courtyard, making people feel at ease. Unfortunately, those who didn't come to me for work, including myself, didn't deserve such a comfortable and easy life.

The most practical skill I've learned since the outbreak of the virus is to quickly slap myself twice to wake up whenever I feel at ease and happy, because bad things are just around the corner.

The first thing that's really upsetting is the prisoners. They're sheltered from the elements, have plenty of water and food, and four people to a ward—what great conditions! Yet, after being locked up on the seventh floor for less than three days, they managed to turn those five rooms into places worse than public toilets.

Cookie crumbs, phlegm, urine stains, and feces were everywhere. Although their hands were tied, it didn't affect their ability to put on and take off their pants. There was a chamber pot and a garbage bag in the corner of the room, but they ignored them and urinated and defecated everywhere, displaying it openly. Isn't this a demonstration and provocation?

A truly wicked person is wicked inside and out, from appearance to character; there are only four words to describe them: a deformed melon or a cracked date!

I peered through the small square glass panes in the doors, looking at each room one by one, and picked the one that was the worst damaged. The black man and the fat man raised their guns, and I opened the door with a cold face: "Your good days are over today."

Under the horrified gazes of others, I grabbed a young man with hair that looked like a hoodlum and a burly build, dragged him straight into the corridor, and without saying a word, first grabbed his neck and slapped him several times across the face, then unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, a combination of punches and kicks, beating him mercilessly until he howled in pain.

I grabbed his hair and forced him to look up at me: "Tell me, where did your boss go?"

"I don't know, I don't know anything! Your Majesty, spare me! Your Majesty, spare me!" He babbled incoherently, desperately curling up his body, crying with snot and tears streaming down his face, and the spot on his face where I had slapped him quickly became red and swollen.

I stepped on his inner thigh and sneered, "You don't know? You followed your boss and committed all sorts of evil deeds, including murder, robbery, and humiliation of women. Now you're pretending to be a coward here with me?"

"I didn't! I didn't do anything wrong. I was arrested by you just one day after I started working at the factory. I really didn't do any of those things!"

"Keep making things up, keep making things up."

"Really, I came here to stay with my coworker. I'm new here and don't know anything!"

“Oh, then tell me,” I dragged him like a dead dog as we walked around in front of several wards, “who is the old man? Point out someone you know, and I’ll let you go today.”

"Him! He! He!" The hooligan pointed to a door without hesitation. "Qian Shihui, the one with the scar on his face locked up in that room. He's from the same village as the boss, we're from the same clan. We used to work together."

Village? Blackie and I exchanged a glance. "Which village?"

"Qianjiawa Village, Maotan Township, Luyang County".

After I dragged Qian Shihui out and gave him a good beating, I finally learned the basic information about this scum gang. I wondered why I didn't recognize such wild and unrestrained people. It turned out that they were all villagers from various villages under the jurisdiction of Luyang County. Some of them used to work in the city, while others fled their villages after the outbreak of the virus and sought refuge with their families. Several acquaintances linked up with each other, gathered at the auto repair shop where the leader worked, and began a month-long apocalyptic scum journey.

The leader, Qian Shiqi, was in his early thirties and a former soldier. As soon as chaos broke out, he was prepared to rob guns and food. Once armed, he killed without blinking an eye, was hot-tempered, and ruthless. His gang suffered many beatings for following him. But with food, drink, and women, they did evil deeds without fear of being caught. Gradually, their moral values ​​collapsed, and their depraved thoughts spread like fungus, infecting one person and then another.

Qian Shihui, whom I had beaten into a pulp, spilled the beans, revealing everything about Qian Shiqi's ancestors, including his eight generations back, except for his whereabouts. In his final, half-conscious state, he uttered a rather intriguing statement.

"My brother also said that zombie bites can trigger superpowers, so we'll build a big base and become the king of humans."

I wonder if consulting the I Ching about Qian Shiqi's hiding place might offer some inspiration? After all, they might have been reading the same post-apocalyptic novel, sharing the same ideas, the same dreams, and perhaps even the same level of intuition.

I threw the two pig heads back, and then I went from room to room to inform everyone that if the room was still this filthy when I came to interrogate them again, I would play a game of one-way Russian with the bottle. Whoever the beer bottle landed on had to lick all five rooms clean—yes, with their tongues.

The prisoners looked at me like I was a demon. I didn't care; I stopped seeing them as human beings the moment I stripped them naked.

When I got back to the administration building and wanted to take a break and have a drink of water, the second unpleasant thing happened.

In the reception room, Zhao Zhuobao sat among several unfamiliar women, sometimes touching the shoulder of the woman on his left, sometimes rubbing the arm of the woman on his right, chatting and laughing, seemingly enjoying the company of everyone.

The six people, all in their twenties or thirties, had varying hair lengths, and were all undeniably good-looking. They wore new clothes, but they clearly didn't fit well, and each of them looked exhausted; two were already asleep on the sofa.

Zhao Zhuobao spoke animatedly, while the women sitting on either side of him nodded in agreement, occasionally revealing a forced smile.

My facial muscles, which had only relaxed for a few minutes, tensed up again. What was going on? Did Wu Bainian, the gatekeeper, actually let a stranger in?

I peeked through the crack in the door for ten seconds, then withdrew, intending to find Wu Bainian and ask him for clarification. Just as I turned around, I saw Han Bo appear outside the door carrying a box of cookies.

"Strong wind, perfect timing, I was just about to talk to you about something."

His shout startled the people in the reception room. Zhao Zhuobao saw me inside and excitedly stood up, calling out, "Aifeng, come quickly! Let me introduce you to some of my sisters."

I:……

The women came from an auto repair shop; the youngest was twenty-two and the oldest thirty-six. Before the apocalypse, they were scattered across various districts and industries in the city. Some were already married with children, while others were still studying. Han Bo privately told me about their experiences, and I sighed while expressing my bewilderment.

"The bad guys were all wiped out, so why are they still staying in the factory?"

“Sigh,” Han Bo sighed, “Where are they going? They’re all like Ma Li, with no family left. They were kidnapped while looking for a way to survive. The kidnappers told them that the world was in chaos and going out meant certain death. They’ve seen zombies eating people and don’t have the guts to run away. But when they saw Ma Li being rescued, they thought there was a chance and wanted to come along.”

"It's been so long, our people have been coming and going, why haven't they mentioned wanting to seek refuge with us?"

A strange look of smugness appeared on Han Bo's face: "They've seen me before, spoken to me, and trust me more."

"Believe what? Believe you're a good person? Believe you won't fall into a trap and be humiliated again?"

"Don't talk nonsense, who wants to insult them?" Han Bo glanced at me sideways: "But speaking of which, Da Feng, there's something wrong with your thinking. Throughout history, there have been many virtuous and chaste women, but very few women have used their fists to survive. What era are we living in? Which is more important, chastity or life?"

"Chastity!" I declared sternly. "No, not chastity, but dignity. Whoever tramples on my dignity, I will bite them to death."

Han Bo was speechless and rolled his eyes at me: "Other women are made of water, but you're made of reinforced concrete. Alright, we're all survivors, so take care of us and make some arrangements."

"Why should I make the arrangements? Whoever brought it back should make the arrangements."

"This is your territory, you're in charge, if you don't make arrangements, who will?"

My territory? The person in charge? How come I don't know anything about that!

Han Bo's reminder made me realize that our team, though seemingly complete, was actually in a state of disarray. One group fawned over my father, another clung to my mother, and yet another remained independent, listening to whoever seemed to have the most sense. This didn't seem problematic when we were working together against external forces, but once internal conflicts arose, everyone was likely to speak their own mind and refuse to listen to anyone else.

Just like the arrival of these six women, some people are willing to accept them, like Zhao Zhuobao; but others are not necessarily happy, like me. It's not like I brought them back. I have my own things to do. Why should they shift the blame to me?

At this point, someone is needed to step forward, mediate the conflict, uphold justice, and make the final decision. Just do what I tell you to do, stop talking nonsense, and if you don't obey orders, get out!

You see... this is my way of thinking. Honestly, if someone were to order me around like that, could I accept it? The answer is no.

Therefore, I cannot be the person in charge. I am a savage, rude, and narrow-minded person who is strict with others but lenient with myself. I may be able to mediate other people's conflicts, but when I have a disagreement with someone, I cannot be the one to make unconditional concessions.

We need a leader—someone with management experience, strategic vision, tolerance, the ability to soothe people, a strong sense of the big picture, meticulous thinking, and who doesn't like to cause trouble—to lead everyone through the apocalypse more steadily and safely. As long as my parents are taken care of, I'm willing to be led and controlled by such a person, serving as their vanguard and charging into battle.

But who could this person be?

In the following days, I ignored the affairs of the six women and began to quietly observe everyone around me. I secretly studied, evaluated, and scored them, and after a thorough analysis, I came to only one conclusion: Pah, you don't even deserve it!

That night, while lying in bed with Liu Meili, we talked about this, and I sighed, "With so many of us, how come we can't find one who can shoulder this important responsibility?"

Liu Meili said, "I'll vote for you."

I said, "Let me put it this way, Meili, if I become the leader, and one day you fall in love with some random guy and want to go with him, but I don't want to let you go, guess what I would do?"

"Will they try to persuade me? Persuade him? Appeal to his emotions and reason with him?"

I gave a cruel smile in the darkness: "I'll cut his Achilles tendon and make him stay here with you."

Liu Meili never mentioned voting for me again. Taking advantage of my lingering power, I quickly and without further ado, shifted the blame for the arrangements of the six women onto her. The next day, I picked up a gun and went out with Han Bo and the others to search for funds and pursue fugitives.

For over a week, we split into two groups and drove through every street and alley of Huaicheng. We didn't find Qian Shiqi, but we emptied two liquefied gas stations, drove back a large oil tanker, and rescued about a dozen survivors who had asked us for help. Some of them were trapped alone in their own houses, while others were hiding in twos or threes in roadside buildings. Without exception, they had run out of ammunition and food, and if they didn't come out and risk their lives, they would starve to death.

There were survivors in the Hilton Hotel in the city center, desperately calling out from the 20-something-story building, but we were powerless to help. The hotel's interior was complex, making rescue extremely difficult. As the car drove away, I could almost hear their desperate cries.

"It's not that bad." I didn't quite understand what these people were doing. "There are abandoned vehicles all over the streets. Why are you hiding? You can come out and look for food, you can fight, you can run away."

"Where did you run off to?" a haggard middle-aged man asked. "This disease is so contagious, you'll die no matter where you go. I drove back from Yangcheng a month ago, and there were zombies everywhere. People were eating each other. They were impossible to kill. The living were terrified and no one dared to come out. There are fewer people in Huaicheng, so the situation is better. I got some dry food, thinking I could survive one day at a time. When I really can't take it anymore, I'll go and be with my wife and children."

He choked up at the end of his story. I sympathized with him but couldn't agree with his thinking. If everyone hides and burys their heads in the sand like ostriches, wouldn't a large number of people starve to death at home instead of dying from zombies? Absurd.

"Zombies are actually quite easy to kill. They move slowly and don't go very fast. Just avoid groups of them," I said.

"Holy crap!" Zhou Yi, in the passenger seat, suddenly jumped up, leaned forward and pressed his head against the center console, exclaiming in surprise, "Look, what's that?"

I followed his gaze and saw a running figure about 100 meters ahead on the road.

He wasn't running very fast, about the pace of a normal person jogging a little slower, and he was coming head-on from our car. Eighty meters, fifty meters, thirty meters, until I could clearly see the runner's tattered clothes fluttering in the wind, his wildly unruly hairstyle, and a horrifying face that was almost rotten through the back of his head.