Chapter 11: Are You Sure You Won’t Eat?
“Ouch, that hurts! Whose kid is this? Why are you biting people!”
The man who had been bitten was Master Sun, the barber of the Western District Base. Now in his forties and known throughout the district for his gentle temper, he stared in complete disbelief at the young man clinging to his arm.
Pei Zhi strode forward, pulled the little zombie off the barber’s forearm, and firmly tucked him behind his back.
“Master Sun, he is a survivor I brought back. He’s young, went through a terrible fright out there, and has some stress-induced reactions.”
Master Sun nodded in understanding and waved a hand. “Ah, so that’s it. For a child that young, going through the end of the world, it’s completely understandable. It’s fine, it’s fine. Just keep a closer eye on him from now on so he doesn’t hurt anyone by accident.”
Pei Zhi lowered his voice. “My apologies.”
Master Sun glanced down at the red indentations on his skin and muttered under his breath, “These marks… why do they look a bit like…”
“Master Sun,” Pei Zhi interrupted smoothly, cutting him off before he could finish the thought, “could you give the two of us a haircut?”
Master Sun’s attention was immediately steered away. He broke into a warm smile. “Of course! I was just heading over to unlock the shop anyway.”
Pei Zhi pulled an energy crystal from his pocket and offered it to him.
Master Sun hurried to push it back. “No, no, Captain Pei! You bring back so many supplies for the base to share, and we all benefit from your hard work. How could I possibly take a crystal from you?”
Crystals served as the universal currency of the wasteland, dropped on rare occasions after putting down high-tier zombies. Ordinarily, with ability users venturing out on daily raids, crystals should have circulated widely through the Western District Base. However, the base leader confiscated the vast majority under opaque pretenses, pulling them out of public trade and making them increasingly scarce in the marketplace.
Pei Zhi currently possessed ten crystals—a staggering amount that put him among the wealthiest figures in the entire settlement. Most ordinary survivors had never even held a single crystal in their hands, scraping by on daily food relief and living hand-to-mouth.
He pressed the crystal firmly into Master Sun’s palm. “Consider it compensation on Xiao Zhi’s behalf.”
Seeing no room to decline, Master Sun chuckled and pocketed it. His gaze then drifted up to their hair, and he couldn’t resist teasing, “Captain Pei, when did you get an afro? And it matches this young fellow’s perfectly?”
The little zombie scratched his own unruly curls and rubbed his belly with an aggrieved pout. He was starving! When would Pei Zhi finally let him eat?
“It’s a long story,” Pei Zhi replied flatly. “Can you fix it?”
“Easily! Leave it to me!”
Inside the base barbershop.
Pei Zhi sat down in the swivel chair facing the mirror, keeping the little zombie settled firmly on his lap. “Cut it,” he said calmly.
Master Sun held the salon cape, looking slightly troubled. “Captain Pei, could you set him on the floor first?”
“No. He runs off, and he’s difficult to catch. Just cut it like this.”
As he spoke, Pei Zhi tightened his arms around the boy’s waist.
Still starving, the little zombie was not pleased about being restrained. He tried to pry Pei Zhi’s fingers apart with his small hands, but couldn’t budge them a fraction of an inch. Pouting, he dropped his chin against his chest and whimpered in frustration.
Master Sun said nothing more. He snapped the cape open, draping it over the little zombie and fastening the collar snug around Pei Zhi’s neck before picking up his shears.
Washing hair was out of the question with a teenager perched on the captain’s lap, so Master Sun simply used a spray bottle to dampen the hair before going in with the scissors.
Partway through the cut, Pei Zhi suddenly let out a low, muffled groan.
Master Sun froze instantly. “What is it, Captain Pei? Did my scissors nick you?”
Pei Zhi knitted his brows, a look of tight endurance crossing his face, before slowly letting out a breath. “It’s nothing. Keep going…”
“Ah, all right…”
A few moments later, another sharp intake of breath slipped past the captain’s teeth.
“Hiss…”
Master Sun paused his shears once more, looking over with genuine worry. “Captain Pei, are you unwell?”
Pei Zhi shifted slightly in the chair, his voice completely level. “No. Keep cutting.”
Puzzled, Master Sun chose not to pry and focused on finishing the style as quickly as possible.
Pei Zhi had sharp, deep-set features, his jawline cold and commanding as if chiseled from stone. With the unruly frizz trimmed away, his hair was combed back cleanly, leaving two loose strands falling over his forehead. It accentuated his piercing eyes and sharp brow, restoring his formidable edge.
“All done!” Master Sun dusted off the shears with pride and unclasped the cape.
Beneath the nylon sheet, the little zombie was still sitting in Pei Zhi’s lap, looking delightfully stuffed and content.
Having drank his fill, the little zombie wrapped his arms affectionately around Pei Zhi’s waist, rubbing his cheek against the man’s chest. He looked up with a bright, curved smile, his round eyes narrowing into happy little crescents.
Pei Zhi calmly tucked his hands behind his back—where several fresh puncture wounds dotted his fingers—and murmured softly, “Sit up straight. It’s your turn.”
The little zombie sat up properly, watching the glinting scissors in the mirror with wide-eyed curiosity.
Fifteen minutes later, the boy’s haircut was finished as well.
His hair was now soft and fluffy, with a few stubborn cowlicks sticking up at the crown. Paired with his luminous eyes and long, feather-like lashes, he looked like a pristine porcelain doll.
The little zombie was thoroughly pleased with the result. Tugging playfully at his own cowlick, he leaned against Pei Zhi’s shoulder. “Awoo!”
A faint, almost imperceptible warmth softened Pei Zhi’s eyes. “It suits you,” he murmured.
Gathering his tools from the counter, Master Sun smiled. “You two are quite close. It’s no wonder he clings to you so much after you saved his life.”
Pei Zhi lifted the boy into his arms, his tone quiet yet deeply sincere: “He saved mine.”
Pei Zhi brought the little zombie back to his personal quarters in the base’s villa district.
This sector was reserved exclusively for top-tier ability users. It featured standalone, three-story European-style homes complete with private yards. The lawn and flower beds were maintained by base staff, looking remarkably peaceful and untouched by the ruin beyond the walls.
After locking the courtyard gate behind them, Pei Zhi finally set the boy down on the grass.
Given his freedom at last, the little zombie bounded off with excitement, chasing the butterflies dancing above the flower patches.
Pei Zhi turned and entered the house, walking up to the second-floor master bedroom.
He unpacked the clothes from the bag, hanging both his and the boy’s changes into the wardrobe, then retrieved a clean silk duvet from the linen closet to make the bed. Once everything was in order, he headed back downstairs.
The little zombie had somehow scavenged an empty glass jar. Inside fluttered two newly caught butterflies. He was crouched by the flower bed, completely absorbed in watching them.
Pei Zhi walked over and called softly, “Xiao Zhi, come with me to hand in the mission report.”
Clutching the jar in one arm, the little zombie willingly slipped his other hand around Pei Zhi’s fingers, trotting obediently behind him.
Pei Zhi held his hand and cautioned him, “When we run into other people later, you are not allowed to bite anyone.”
The little zombie’s brows knitted together. He pointed a finger at his own stomach, looking up with a confused whine: “Awoo?”
What am I supposed to do if I get hungry?
“If you’re hungry, hold it in for a little bit. I’ll figure something out,” Pei Zhi answered with unusual patience.
The little zombie drooped his eyelids, his long lashes fluttering softly as he let out a pathetic, muffled whimper.
To him, eating meat when hungry was the greatest joy in the world. If he couldn’t have meat, his entire zombie life felt completely pointless!
Pei Zhi paused, releasing the boy’s hand to consider the problem. The instinct of a zombie to lose its mind at the scent of living blood was biological.
Jiang Xiaozhi had been an undead wanderer for years, and having recently tasted fresh meat again, his self-control was practically nonexistent. He had to be retrained from scratch.
Pei Zhi took the strips of pheasant from the boy’s pocket, arranged them onto a clean porcelain saucer, and called him over.
“Xiao Zhi, come eat your meat.”
The little zombie immediately forgot his gloomy mood. He darted over to pick a fresh blossom from the bed, dropped it into the jar so the butterflies could feed on the nectar, and then spared a brief, uninterested glance at the plate before looking back at his jar.
Plain pheasant meat simply didn’t interest him.
Pei Zhi stood in thought for a second. He unhooked the combat knife from his belt, dragged the edge across his palm to open a thin cut, and let a few drops of rich crimson blood fall over the raw pheasant.
Lowering his deep voice to an enticing whisper, he asked, “Are you sure you won’t eat?”
The Food-hoarding Zombie Was Kidnapped by the Apocalyptic Boss
