Lunch was simple.
A bowl of white rice, a portion of stir-fried greens, and a bowl of cabbage soup.
It looked quite plain.
But this was exactly the kind of meal he liked. Quite appetizing, actually.
No matter how trendy or modern someone used to be, even in the apocalypse, people still enjoyed taking pictures and sharing bits of daily life.
Eat first.
He took out his phone, snapped a few photos, arranged them into a nine-tile collage.
Caption:
"Is life like this still passable?"
No special meaning behind it. Just a habit of posting to his feed. A way to document the good moments in life.
The apocalypse was harsh and miserable, but no matter the situation, he reminded himself never to neglect his own well-being. No one else would feel your pain. Only your body would cry out on your behalf.
Forget who said that.
But it made a lot of sense.
A bite of food, a spoonful of rice, a sip of soup.
The rice was soft, the food flavorful, the soup smooth. Extremely satisfying to the taste buds.
His screen lit up.
A comment had come in. He picked up his phone with a bit of anticipation.
[Shou Dao Zhan Yu]: Screw you.
Huh.
Lam Pham didn't expect a comment from that customer.
Thinking about it, the fact that they could still connect in times like this—maybe it was fate.
[Lam Pham]: Turns out you're still alive, huh.
[Shou Dao Zhan Yu]: Your mom's alive.
Reading the comment, Lam Pham sighed. It was really difficult to hold a civil conversation with someone unfriendly. He cared, but the other side just hurled insults.
Luckily, he had a good temper. He could tolerate this guy's tantrums. Back when he worked in design, he was already used to unreasonable clients.
This particular job never panned out. The client's budget was supposedly over 100,000. His old boss—also a designer—thought it might be a worthwhile gamble, so he agreed to try, hoping to earn half the amount.
Lam Pham ended up being the one to deal with the client.
Later, this Shou Dao Zhan Yu guy wanted him to take him to relax somewhere. Normally, that wasn't his job, but he had no choice. He ended up taking the client to an old, run-down foot massage parlor, where a woman in her fifties gave the guy a foot rub.
From that moment on, the deal was dead.
And Lam Pham got chewed out by his boss.
[Lam Pham]: Zombies are really dangerous out there. Be careful. Do you need any help?
He sent the message.
A reply came almost instantly.
[Shou Dao Zhan Yu]: Help your damn self. I'm living it up right now—girls all over me, living in luxury. Even that sorry food of yours, my dog Won-Tai wouldn't touch. I'm having abalone and lobster. Jealous yet?
Reading the message, Lam Pham chuckled, genuinely happy the guy was doing well.
[Lam Pham]: That's great. Hopefully, when this is all over, we can work together to rebuild our old Huang City. 🙂
[Shou Dao Zhan Yu]: Get lost…
Huang City, in an apartment complex—
Inside a rundown industrial-style room, a chubby man with greasy features gnawed on stale bread while fiddling with his phone.
"Dammit, screw this guy. He's still flexing?"
He still remembered that guy being annoyingly straightforward, dragging him to some shady massage place where an old lady—someone who could be his mother—gave him a foot rub. His youthful hopes and dreams were crushed. He was traumatized.
But that wasn't important right now.
The apocalypse had been rough for him. The first time he saw a zombie, he was a little excited—like seeing a movie come to life.
What he hoped for was slow, dumb zombies—the kind he could easily outmaneuver, even with his body.
But when he looked out the window and saw zombies like rabid dogs, pouncing and tearing people apart...
He knew he was screwed.
He could only huddle inside, surviving on bread and Coca-Cola.
Now, he was almost out of food. If he didn't find supplies soon, it would be game over.
That's why, when he saw Lam Pham's post, he was filled with rage. Damn this guy. He still had hot meals and stir-fried greens? Why not just choke on it?
He stepped onto his balcony and looked across to the second floor of the opposite building. There was a survivor—a girl. She looked pretty cute and had been motioning at him with her finger, like she was saying, "Come here, handsome."
In his entire life, other than some knockoff swords, he'd never had a girlfriend. The temptation was real. If it weren't for the zombies, he would've rushed over without a second thought.
But now…
He had an idea.
If he kept hiding, he'd definitely die.
Some people explode with strength when they hit rock bottom.
Others simply die in despair.
Clearly, he was the former.
Somewhere in the desert, an underground base—
An old man in a white lab coat stood next to a sealed crystal.
"This came from the head of a mutated zombie?" He adjusted his glasses, carefully observing the crystal. A crystal growing inside a zombie's head—what a bizarre phenomenon. But clearly, this was an important discovery.
"Yes, sir. The zombie was wandering near the desert, not too far from the base. One of our surveillance teams spotted it approaching and opened fire. The first shot didn't kill it, which drew its attention. The second shot finally took it down. That's when we found the crystal inside its skull," a soldier reported.
"Tell me everything in detail," the old man said.
"The first shooter was in the south watchtower, using a CS/LR35 sniper rifle. The first shot hit the zombie in the head, but it kept moving. It wasn't slow either. The second shot was the kill shot—again to the head."
The old man frowned in thought.
A headshot that didn't kill? That was unheard of. Until now, a single blow—even a steel pipe to the head—was enough to kill zombies. But this one?
The crystal was beautiful. Hard to believe it came from such a filthy creature.
"These zombies are evolving… But why this kind of evolution? It's like something out of a horror movie."
He fell into deep thought.
When the apocalypse began, they had hoped to suppress it. But the virus spread too fast. The first wave had a terrifying infection rate.
Zombies popped up in every department, no one knew how or why.
Even deep underground bases like theirs got infiltrated. How do you stop something like that?
"Professor, I have a theory," said a young man nearby.
"Speak."
"I read a lot of zombie novels. In many of them, zombies have crystals in their heads. Those crystals are evolution materials. Humans can absorb the energy inside and become superpowered. Maybe this one's the same?"
His eyes were burning with excitement. If they could harness that power…
"Zombie novels?" The professor blinked, full of question marks.
He'd never read fiction in his life. But he latched onto one thing—the idea of absorbing crystal energy. That would need thorough testing, meticulous experiments, to confirm.
He'd contacted almost every domestic base. Only Dragon Palace and Galaxy Outpost still responded. The rest had gone dark.
If they could unravel the zombie mystery and wipe them out…
Maybe, just maybe, the world could still be saved.
Otherwise…
The consequences would be unimaginable.