Chapter 24: The Woods
Before embarking on this journey, Chi Xiaoxian had overlooked a critical problem—he had zero sense of direction.
To make matters worse, his phone was dead, leaving him completely unable to navigate…
In the past, whenever he traveled from the station or airport to the university, he would simply hail a cab. Closing his eyes and opening them again, the driver would have already delivered him. Coupled with being an absolute shut-in who rarely ventured off campus, he remained almost completely ignorant of the environment surrounding the university even after two years of college.
*I’ll just figure it out as I walk,* Chi Xiaoxian comforted himself.
To conserve his energy to the maximum extent along the way, he went out onto the road and scavenged two discarded personal mobility devices. Unable to carry them by hand, he tied them behind the one he was currently using with cloth strips, letting one tow the other as it ran. Once one ran out of power, he would swap to the next, traveling as far as it could carry him.
Just as he prepared to exit the academic building, it suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to scavenge some gear inside the classrooms as well.
Tottering into a classroom to take a look, sure enough, plenty of students’ backpacks were still left behind. Rummaging through them, he found a power bank that was surprisingly still fully charged.
Now he could power his phone on!
Siphon a surge of power into his phone, however, he found there wasn’t a single bar of signal—not to mention the campus network, and even Rome was unusable.
Still, having power was better than having a dead battery; Chi Xiaoxian was already thoroughly content.
Sitting on the mobility device, he glided smoothly all the way to the main gate, only to be blocked by the electric security gate.
The barrier stood 1.5 meters tall—far shorter than the school’s high perimeter wall. Under normal circumstances, climbing over it would be no problem at all, but right now he was a zombie…
Chi Xiaoxian stared at it for a moment, imagining the pathetic sight of himself scaling the barrier—not to mention towing three heavy mobility devices…
He turned his gaze toward the security guard booth by the entrance, walking over to push the door. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. The interior was in complete disarray, with an entire row of parcel delivery racks fallen over, merchandise scattered all across the floor.
Chi Xiaoxian felt a strong urge to open a few packages to search for daily necessities, but he truly couldn’t carry any more items on his own. He settled for picking up a few thin courier bags, unpacking a bedsheet, a hat, and… two packets of ketchup.
The bedsheet was pretty nice; it could be laid on the ground to sleep on. The hat could conceal his face slightly so that if he encountered normal humans, they wouldn’t notice his strange eyes at first glance. But the ketchup…
He already had compressed biscuits and water in his bag, and no amount of ketchup could fill a stomach.
Just as Chi Xiaoxian was about to toss it away, a thought suddenly struck him—this stuff had color, so wouldn’t smearing it on his face make him look even more like a zombie? It could also prevent people from approaching him assuming he was a normal human.
He squeezed a bit onto his face, spreading it around with his index finger, and looked into the mirror…
The color seemed a bit vivid, but it could still passably fool people.
Chi Xiaoxian didn’t look for any more food; the items in his bag were enough to last him three days. After three days, he feared he wouldn’t retain any consciousness anyway.
The fact that he still retained his conscious logic after an entire night had already come as a massive surprise to him.
He estimated that every coming day would be like opening a mystery box: not knowing what symptoms would appear, nor when he would turn into a true zombie.
—
Stepping out of the campus gates, Chi Xiaoxian gazed into the distance, catching a remote view of a row of skyscrapers piercing the clouds. They stretched across the skyline like daggers carving through the heavens, radiating a cold, severe metallic sheen—that was the core of the Highlands, the administrative and economic center.
Clearly, however, he couldn’t go there. If he went and got discovered by the military or police, he would only end up getting shot dead on the spot. Even if there were no military around, no doctor would likely take the risk to treat him.
Chi Xiaoxian had never been fond of places made entirely of steel and concrete to begin with, so he decided to head in the opposite direction.
The Core Region where the university was located sat at the southwestern corner of the Highlands. As long as he continued heading southwest from where he stood now, he could leave the Core Region and leave the Highlands.
Fearing he might run into people, Chi Xiaoxian initially wanted to pick secluded, minor paths. Yet his sense of direction was awful, making it very easy to take a wrong turn on small paths. Furthermore, the mobility device required smooth ground to travel; if the path wasn’t flat enough or contained rocks and bricks, he might wipe out.
Weighing his options back and forth, Chi Xiaoxian chose the main highway after all.
Chi Xiaoxian had an impression of this highway—it was the route he took every single time from the airport to the school. Except he always got off at the university, never experiencing the route where the highway extended further southwest.
The road condition was worse than he had anticipated. Several overturned cars stretched across the middle of the road, one of which had half its body jutting past the guardrail, suspended over a bridge in a heart-stopping sight.
He also encountered a bus that had been completely incinerated, charred black to a mere skeletal frame. Passengers still seemed to be inside the vehicle; with a single glance, Chi Xiaoxian immediately averted his eyes, taking a deep breath to suppress his wildly pounding heart.
These vehicles clearly showed no signs of receiving rescue, having been stranded here for an unknown duration.
Compared to single-government nations prior to the cataclysm, the United Highlands had undergone a prolonged period of chaos during the reorganization of government agencies due to numerous internal factions and the varied original nationalities of its populace. Even after entering a relatively stable period, handling sudden emergencies proved somewhat beyond their capabilities.
This was an analysis Chi Xiaoxian had heard during his freshman political science class, but he felt that this zombie incident had gone far beyond merely being “beyond their capabilities.”
The instructor who delivered that analysis originally hailed from a Nordic background. He mentioned that ever since he was born, he had never seen an intact glacier. Winter outdoor temperatures could reach nearly ten degrees Celsius, and on reefs out at sea lay the corpses of numerous polar bears starved down to skin and bones.
The climate in the Highlands wasn’t much better either. It was almost early October, yet daytime brought sweltering, midsummer-like heat, with the corpses beside the highway giving off waves of nauseating stench. Chi Xiaoxian had no choice but to pull his shirt up over his nose and mouth, using it as a makeshift mask.
The arrival of true autumn in the Highlands would have to wait until November. Or rather, the Highlands possessed no spring or autumn; starting in November, temperatures would plummet rapidly to below zero within half a month, followed by overwhelming blizzards, hail, and a series of severe weather conditions.
—
Chi Xiaoxian used up the battery of one mobility device. Lacking anywhere to charge it, he decisively abandoned it. Just as he prepared to switch to the next one, he suddenly heard the sound of an approaching vehicle from behind. His heart jolted, and he quickly maneuvered the mobility device to the roadside, hiding himself under a withered tree.
The withered tree had no leaves and couldn’t conceal him, so he simply cocked his head against the tree trunk and began playing dead.
It was a truck, its white cargo container printed with four blue characters reading *”Zhifang Bio.”*
Chi Xiaoxian took a glance at its license plate—*”Nan I-5538.”* *”Nan”* represented the Southern Highlands, while *”I”* indicated its registration was in District Nine, which was also a major industrial district of the Highlands.
*Strange, why wouldn’t a vehicle from District Nine head to the Core Region, instead traveling out to the suburbs?*
*Heading in the same direction as him—could it be leaving the Highlands as well?*
If he could catch a ride, it would certainly be convenient, but Chi Xiaoxian didn’t dare take the risk. He was safer on his own, both for others and for himself.
The passing truck paid him no mind, and Chi Xiaoxian resumed his journey after it drove away.
Rows of abandoned houses appeared along the roadside. Some had tilted roof beams, looking as if crushed by heavy objects, with wild grass growing between the roof tiles; others didn’t even have roofs, reduced to ruined walls and half-exposed wall bases with silver-black rebar sticking out.
Desolation reigned everywhere.
After traveling for an unknown stretch of time, Chi Xiaoxian, perched on the mobility device, nearly fell asleep and tumbled off out of drowsiness. Forcing himself to summon a bit of energy, the last mobility device happened to run out of battery as well.
He let out a sigh, forced to dismount and walk on foot.
The sun’s rays grew increasingly intense, baking the hair atop his head until it felt scalding hot. Drenched in sweat with his temples pounding wildly, Chi Xiaoxian had to stop and lean against the roadside to rest for a bit, drinking some water.
He had to keep walking; staying here felt like he would get heatstroke sooner or later. Though he wasn’t sure if zombies could suffer from heatstroke, this miserable weather was so hot he already felt a faint sense of dizziness.
He propped up the bedsheet he had found while unpacking couriers over his head to block the sunlight and prevent sunburn, while continuing to walk along sluggishly.
After walking for a long time, the road grew narrower and narrower, with rising hills appearing all around. Mountain shadows overlapped and rose and fell, appearing to wobble slightly under the evaporation of the heatwave.
Chi Xiaoxian’s gaze couldn’t help but turn toward a small hillside in the distance. The top of that slope possessed a sparse grove of woods, flat terrain, and was covered in lush, verdant grass—a green so rich it seemed ready to spill over. The wind swept across the ridge, kicking up waves of jade-colored crests.
Chi Xiaoxian rubbed his eyes, assuming he was hallucinating.
Not far ahead lay the end of the road. The road seemed to be cut off abruptly there, like a story told halfway through.
The story extended into a low patch of grayish-green shrubs. A gray hare crossed the road, and with a single light leap, vanished into the bushes without a trace.
Beside the bushes lay an object gleaming brightly in the sunlight, resembling a rock. Chi Xiaoxian brought his mobility device to a stop and walked over to take a closer look, discovering it was actually a square boundary marker roughly one meter wide, inscribed with the Chinese characters and English for *”Southern United Highlands.”*
Below was a row of small text: *”Unified Year 1, Old Calendar October 25, 2050.”*
He had seen this boundary marker in his high school history textbook. On those pages, it looked brand-new and beautiful, every stroke carved to represent humanity’s glory in overcoming natural disasters and rebuilding a new world. Now, however, it was covered in a thin layer of dust, the gold lettering slightly peeled, bearing a touch of weathered erosion and the helplessness of being forgotten by the world.
Chi Xiaoxian glanced at his phone, finding the time was already two in the afternoon—the hottest time of the day.
Chi Xiaoxian felt as if his head were smoking, sweat dripping down his hair strands, eventually sinking into his shirt at the collar.
He had to find a shaded spot immediately to escape the heat.
Tottering toward the hillside not far off, he walked for a long while before stepping into a hole with a heavy *thud*. The grass had grown far too tall, concealing the uneven hollows in the ground.
Supporting himself against the ground with his hands, he endured the muscle pain and was about to scramble up sluggishly when he suddenly noticed half a concrete pipe buried in the grass beside his feet.
Looking around, only then did he notice a row of low, white factory buildings backing against the shaded side of the mountain. It had been right in his blind spot earlier, which was why he hadn’t noticed it.
The factory area was dead silent. Though the main gate stood wide open, no one came or went, and no vehicles were parked by the entrance.
This area was already outside the Highlands; where would a factory get water and electricity? It was likely left behind before the construction of the Highlands. He paid it no mind, focusing entirely on heading toward his hillside.
The tree shade drew closer and closer until he was truly bathed beneath that cool patch, whereupon Chi Xiaoxian narrowed his eyes in utter comfort.
Pulling that bedsheet out from his backpack, he laid it on the ground and flopped right down.
He had only been lying down comfortably for less than half a minute when he realized he had underestimated how lush the wild grass was—the grass was stiff and prickly, poking against his back, making his skin itch to the point of pain.
Chi Xiaoxian happened to possess a rather sensitive, delicate skin type. He usually had to select pure cotton or linen for clothing, or else he would break out in red rashes.
Scrambling up in frustration, he looked around in a daze, his gaze finally landing on the tree above his head.
This tree was tall and flourishing, standing tall and proud with a canopy like an umbrella, blocking the sunlight above until only flickering, tiny halos of light remained. Across the middle of the green shade stretched a thick, broad branch, perfectly suited for one person to lie back on.
*Never stand if you can sit, never sit if you can lie down*—that was Chi Xiaoxian’s ultimate motto.
The attraction of this tree to him was far too immense; he decisively resolved to give it a try.
…Ten minutes later, enlightenment struck him.
He finally understood why in all those movies he used to watch, humans climbed up into trees to hide while zombies howled uselessly below.
He was so steamed by the intense heat that his ears began buzzing. As his thoughts turned chaotic, a catchphrase from a cafeteria auntie during idle gossip inexplicably echoed in his mind: *”If a man can be relied on, sows can climb trees!”*
*A man… sows…*
He thought groggily, when suddenly his head spun, his legs went soft, and he pitched straight down.
—
After an unknown stretch of time, the summer wind swept across the ridge, several emerald green leaves drifting softly down onto Chi Xiaoxian’s face, tickling his cheek slightly and waking him up a bit.
Opening his eyes to take a look, he let out a puzzled query—*when had he fallen asleep?*
It was as if someone had struck him with a blunt stick; he had pitched to the ground without any sensation, falling into a deep slumber.
Before he could even ponder the reason, an ache struck beneath his rear. Only then did he realize he was sitting on the grass with his backpack beneath him, the flashlight inside the bag poking against his rear.
Setting the flashlight aside, Chi Xiaoxian propped one palm against the ground, enduring the prickly pain of the grass poking him as he was about to sit up slowly, when a whistle blast echoed in his ear.
This whistle blast was far too abrupt, far too unbelievable. Chi Xiaoxian snapped fully awake, whipping his head around to look in the direction of the sound.
Down at the foot of the mountain where that factory area stood, a white truck had parked by the entrance.
The truck was a distance away from the hilltop. Chi Xiaoxian narrowed his eyes, vaguely seeing someone step out of the vehicle, though unable to make out the person’s appearance clearly.
He hadn’t been nearsighted originally, but ever since turning into a zombie, his vision had deteriorated, his far-distance vision declining, though fortunately the degree wasn’t particularly severe.
Chi Xiaoxian pondered for a moment and decided to play dead, leaning back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes to rest.
He was laying low in these lush, leafy woods; the people over by the factory area likely couldn’t see him either, given the distance between the two sides.
It was just very strange—this area at the foot of the mountain wasn’t connected to main roads, so why would a truck come here? The Highlands didn’t allow enterprises to arbitrarily set up factories outside administrative areas, either.
Chi Xiaoxian had once seen a news story on Rome regarding the *”Crime of Illegally Crossing Boundaries to Conduct Production and Business Operations.”* It recounted a small vendor selling handicrafts who took a wrong turn due to government road construction, accidentally stumbling outside the Highlands’ jurisdiction, and eventually getting caught by patrol troops.
That vendor was quite pitiable; although he was only selling handicrafts, the court deemed it still fell within the scope of production and business operations, convicting him accordingly.
Chi Xiaoxian suddenly thought of another matter.
*Why was the Core Region of the Highlands located in the southwestern corner?*
Logically speaking, core regions were where the population was densest, growing sparser the further outward one extended, with border areas having the smallest population.
Yet the Core Region of the Southern Highlands had one side adjacent to the border, while extending outward from the other side to build other districts—which was very strange. It meant the Highlands possessed no transition zone; stepping out of the most densely populated area brought one directly to the border.
Setting up administrative divisions like this didn’t quite conform to common logic, did it?
*Hiss—* Chi Xiaoxian felt a surge of headache—*it seemed the Creator hadn’t gifted zombies with the skill of logical reasoning.*
He massaged his temples firmly for a while, waiting until the wildly pounding nerve in his brain settled down a bit before opening his eyes once more.
Upon taking in the scene in the distance, his eyes widened abruptly.
*Is that a person?!*
*Why is someone walking up the hillside?!*
Chi Xiaoxian’s brain buzzed loudly.
Supporting himself against the tree trunk, he wobbled to his feet, looking around. The only place he could hide was the large tree right in front of him. The surrounding wild grass hadn’t grown tall enough to fully conceal him.
Chi Xiaoxian tottered nervously behind the tree trunk, poking half a head out to peek at the person walking toward the hilltop.
That person wore a white shirt, looking extraordinarily striking in the open field, resembling a tall, swaying, elegant orchid.
As the figure drew closer, Chi Xiaoxian finally made out his face clearly.
In the next second, he raised a hand and slapped himself across the cheek, assuming he was dreaming and hallucinating.
A faint pain radiated from his cheek, however, and the person not far off continued to approach, his face growing clearer and clearer.
Chi Xiaoxian held his breath instinctively, his mood turning anxious and frantic—he was unsure what to do next.
His rationality told him he had to stay far away from this person, or else both of them would likely encounter danger.
Emotionally, however, Chi Xiaoxian just wanted to jump out to give him a scare, then greet him and see what kind of astonished expression he would wear.
*The Creator really hadn’t gifted zombies with the capacity for rational thought.*
Chi Xiaoxian simply poked his entire head out, extending an arm with effort to wave at the person.
The person’s footsteps came to a halt. Only then did Chi Xiaoxian notice he held a long, black rod in his hand, featuring a bent tip at the end—resembling a crowbar.
As four eyes met, that person’s reaction exceeded Chi Xiaoxian’s expectations entirely.
He took swift steps forward, swinging that crowbar at Chi Xiaoxian, the black afterimage of the crowbar in the air resembling a dancing viper—
“Wait!” Chi Xiaoxian shouted out loud.
The person’s movement paused slightly, a flash of shock and suspicion flickering in his eyes.
“Um… hi!”
Chi Xiaoxian didn’t quite know what to say.
He wiped his face, wanting to clean off the stains. The dirt on his face had long been air-dried, however, and rubbing it firmly only caused a few crumbs to flutter down.
Four eyes met for another moment before the person lowered the crowbar, though still showing no intention of drawing any closer.
Only then did Chi Xiaoxian recall he was still wearing a hat. Pulling it off right away, he revealed a pair of innocent eyes: “Long time no see! Don’t you remember me?”
The shock and suspicion in Fang Yue’s eyes gradually turned into sheer disbelief.
He hesitated to speak: “Is that… blood on your face?”
Only then did Chi Xiaoxian remember he still had that ketchup he had randomly smeared on earlier.
*Wait, where did he smear it again?*
Chi Xiaoxian pulled the mirror out of his bag in a flurry, looking into it to check, discovering a patch of dried, dark red marks extending from his jaw to his cheek. He quickly rubbed it again, rubbing that red stuff off.
From the mirror, however, he caught sight of his eyes once more—that eye color had shifted from deep gray to light gray, the color as sheer as a layer of thin gauze.
Different from normal humans, yet seemingly different from those zombies as well.
Zombies’ pupils would shrink, and their sclera would turn gray along with them, but he hadn’t—only his pupils had turned gray, while his sclera remained a normal white, save for a few red blood vessels.
Chi Xiaoxian raised his head. Seeing that Fang Yue hadn’t drawn any closer, he said sluggishly, “I don’t have much of an urge to bite people right now. You don’t need to be so guard…”
Fang Yue didn’t answer, merely staring at him, who knew what he was contemplating.
“Considering I once took you as my big brother, can you do me a favor?” Chi Xiaoxian pointed at the thick branch jutting out overhead. “Can you carry me up there?”
“I want to take a nap in the shade, but my limbs aren’t very coordinated right now and I can’t climb up at all. The grass on the ground is so prickly to sleep on—”
A trace of disbelief crossed Fang Yue’s eyes. Knitting his brows, he repeated, “…You’re asking me to carry you up there to sleep?”
Chi Xiaoxian blinked: “Can you?”
A person and a zombie stared at each other like that for several seconds.
Fang Yue’s brows slowly knit tighter. After a long pause, he said, “What symptoms did you develop after infection?”
Chi Xiaoxian touched his face, then moved his arms: “Soreness all over my muscles, my joints feel like sand is grinding inside, my head aches whenever I try to think through problems, my far-distance vision got worse, and I’ll inexplicably faint or fall asleep… Nothing else.”
“Your eyes—”
“Yeah, they’ve been this color these past two days.” Chi Xiaoxian looked at Fang Yue. “Is it very scary?”
Fang Yue stared into his eyes.
When looking into a pair of very pale eyes, it brought a feeling like stepping into a shallow stream.
Every tiny pebble and swimming fish at the bottom of the water was clearly visible. Not only did the other’s emotions become transparent, but when being watched by this light gray, even his own thoughts felt completely unshielded, as if they could be seen through with a single glance.
A moment later, Fang Yue shook his head.
He looked at Chi Xiaoxian for a moment, and as if suddenly remembering something, asked, “Have you eaten anything these past two days?”
Chi Xiaoxian froze for a second.
He vaguely recalled that although he had brought three days’ worth of reserve rations, ever since leaving the convenience store, he had only drunk a bit of water without eating a single bite of food.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t felt particularly hungry yet.” Chi Xiaoxian touched his stomach, then shifted the topic, “More than that, I really want to take a sleep first right now.”
“It’s too hot today. If I don’t sleep in the shade, I’m afraid I’ll get heatstroke. Zombies can get heatstroke too, right?”
“Shade…” Fang Yue repeated this word Chi Xiaoxian had stated twice, his brows knitting even deeper.
“What’s wrong?”
Fang Yue hesitated for a second, then asked another question that Chi Xiaoxian hadn’t expected: “You said your vision declined?”
“Yeah, I can’t see far places clearly. I didn’t even recognize you when you were at the foot of the mountain.”
Fang Yue took a step closer, coming to a stop just two paces away from Chi Xiaoxian, asking, “What color clothing am I wearing?”
“A white shirt.” Chi Xiaoxian said without understanding, “You always wear white.”
“I do wear white often, but what I’m wearing today isn’t…”
Chi Xiaoxian’s eyes widened slightly.
Fang Yue wiped the sweat from his temples, the blazing sun at the hilltop causing his eyes to produce a faint glare. Yet he composed himself, saying in a heavy voice, “Do you still think you’re standing in the shade right now?”
Chi Xiaoxian dazed for a moment.
When that question was asked, a blinding sheet of white light suddenly appeared before his eyes, blocking out everything in his vision. Immediately after, the cool air seemed to be sucked dry as if by a vacuum pump, and sweltering, scorching air rapidly enveloped him like a wave of fire.
*BZZZ—*
A massive roaring sound echoed in his brain once more.
Chi Xiaoxian lost consciousness abruptly, his body tottering.
Before he pitched forward and collapsed, Fang Yue stepped forward and caught him firmly.
—
Time became a jumping frog rather than a line moving forward linearly.
Every lapse into unconsciousness served as a temporal node. He would always be thrust unexpectedly from one node to another, his consciousness and thoughts thrown high into the air during the leap, then slamming heavily back down.
This fall was particularly violent. He felt as though he were deeply embedded in a pool of congealing concrete, the tendrils of his consciousness clamped tight and unable to break free, gradually dragged down into an endless abyss.
Suddenly, he saw… or more accurately, perceived that white substance again—the thing that had wrapped around his right arm in his dream previously.
Like a mesh veil, dancing softly.
Exceedingly soft, yet bearing an indescribable tenacity, it descended gently around him, cutting away bit by bit at the forces trapping him in an unexpected, meticulous manner.
“Chi Xiaoxian.”
A familiar voice drifted faintly beside his ear, sounding as though separated by several distant mountains, calling out to him ethereal-like.
Finally, that white silk severed the powerful force dragging him down.
His consciousness floated upward, rising, rising…
He groggily forced his eyes open.
“Chi Xiaoxian, look closely…”
Fang Yue’s voice flowed past his ears like cold, crystal-clear stream water, washing over his consciousness.
Chi Xiaoxian blinked hard, discovering he was lying on the grass.
No, not grass.
Focusing his gaze once more, it was clearly a patch of desolate, barren land where not a single blade of grass grew.
A few white, torn trash bags fluttered in the wind, a discarded red aluminum can reflected blinding light in the sunshine, a blue face mask lay half-buried in the dirt, and wild grass was scorched black, leaving behind only short, stubbly stalks…
There was no shade, much less green leaves; overhead stretched a tangled mess of withered branches, clutching toward the sky like claws.
“What you saw earlier was your imagination,” Fang Yue knit his brows, saying in a low voice. “You had a hallucination—you saw what you hoped to see.”
“Hot…” Chi Xiaoxian’s dry lips mumbled in a faint whisper.
Leaning his body forward, Fang Yue propped up a jacket of his, blocking the direct sunlight beaming down over Chi Xiaoxian.
Looking at that face right at hand, Chi Xiaoxian blinked in a daze, his long eyelashes fluttering lightly.
At this moment, he seemed to sink into a daze once more, unaware of where he was.
“Then—”
“Are you my hallucination, too?”
he murmured to himself.
