Chapter 16 – The Ammunition Stockpile and the Head of the House
When Luo Xun directly pressed the cup of water to his lips without a hint of the gentleness or care one would normally show to an injured patient, Yan Fei was puzzled. Had he been taking care of him like this for the past two days? Treating an unconscious wounded man this roughly—how had he not been choked to death already?
In truth, Luo Xun’s behavior was perfectly normal and even considerate—as long as Yan Fei was unconscious. The problem was that once Yan Fei woke up, Luo Xun would be forced to face that dangerously beautiful face and remind himself again and again to stay away—lest he fall in by accident. That was why his actions now looked strange and stiff.
What could he do? He was just a pure, inexperienced virgin boy who had been bent by the harshness of life. Facing a man as breathtaking as Yan Fei and still keeping calm? Impossible.
—As soon as Yan Fei could move, he was definitely dumping him back next door!
“What medicine did you give me?” After swallowing the capsule with some water, Yan Fei finally thought to ask.
“Antibiotics and Yunnan Baiyao [1].” Luo Xun tidied away the medicine box and cup. “Since you were coughing blood earlier, I figured your internal organs must’ve taken a hit, but I couldn’t tell exactly where. Anyway, Yunnan Baiyao plus antibiotics should help a bit. My dog got run over once, couldn’t even stand, and got better after taking Baiyao.”
Yan Fei: “……” To have survived until now, his luck must really be something.
Maybe the Baiyao did work. Or maybe, though he’d taken a hit to the organs and cracked some ribs, he’d been lucky enough not to have the broken bones pierce anything vital. Or maybe humanity’s bodies really did strengthen after awakening abilities.
Either way, ever since Luo Xun had dragged him home and dosed him, he’d stopped running a fever by the second day. He just hadn’t woken up until now.
“Have some porridge.” Now that Yan Fei was fully awake, Luo Xun knew he couldn’t just throw him out right away—not when he still needed him for ammunition later. So, very unwillingly, he brought over the freshly cooked rice porridge. Rice was precious; if he could’ve saved two bags for a year or two into the apocalypse, their value would’ve skyrocketed, enough to trade for half a year’s worth of mutant grain.
“Thanks…” Seeing the spoon handed to him with an inexplicable air of resentment, Yan Fei wisely refrained from asking what Luo Xun was angry about. He had the distinct feeling that if he pressed, he’d end up coughing blood again. After a few spoonfuls and once Luo Xun seemed to have cooled off, Yan Fei finally asked: “Earlier you said you needed me to do something. What was it?”
Luo Xun froze for a moment before remembering what he’d said upon entering. Without beating around the bush, he set down the bowl and went to fetch something from the table. “These—can you make them?” It was a crossbow bolt he had just pulled from his quiver.
“This?” Yan Fei raised an eyebrow, glancing at the crossbow in his other hand. He remembered: the very first time he’d seen Luo Xun in the stairwell, besides that bizarre raincoat, the most striking thing about him had been the crossbow slung over his shoulder.
In this chaotic world, Yan Fei had to admit, the boy had a good head on his shoulders. Right at the outbreak, he’d already thought to arm himself? A crossbow might not match a gun in power, but it was far safer than other cold weapons.
So that was why Luo Xun had agreed to help him—now it made sense.
“Got any metal?”
Luo Xun immediately produced a few screws he’d scavenged.
Yan Fei took the bolt and screws. Spreading his palm upward, the screws suddenly floated into the air, suspended above his hand. After twisting and reshaping, an arrow nearly identical to the original—save for the color—appeared in his palm.
“Will this do?”
Luo Xun’s eyes shone with wonder. In his past life, he had only heard of people with metal abilities—never seen one. Such rare powers were said to be scarce to begin with, unlike the more common elemental types (wind, fire, water, earth, lightning) or the physical enhancement types.
And back in the early days of the apocalypse, ability-users were still mixed in among ordinary people. It wasn’t until later, when they grew arrogant and detached, that they stopped casually showing off their powers—unless it was during trades.
The new bolt weighed almost the same as the original. Only the outer color differed, but that didn’t matter at all—it was just the material.
Quickly slotting the arrow, Luo Xun aimed at a target he had set up on the bedroom wall. With a thwack, the bolt buried itself deep in the bullseye!
Perfectly lethal.
The little dog startled, scooting back onto its rump in fright.
Seeing the bolt still quivering in the target, Yan Fei’s eyes narrowed. Loading, aiming, shooting—Luo Xun’s movements had been smooth and precise. He’d clearly practiced long before. Did he actually like playing with crossbows before the apocalypse? Otherwise, there was no way just a few days of practice could give him such accuracy.
Luckily, Luo Xun looked young enough that Yan Fei could chalk it up to hobbies like paintball or live CS games. He himself had dabbled in plenty of pastimes; without that, he might have started to doubt Luo Xun’s story.
Now Luo Xun’s gaze on Yan Fei had completely changed, no longer like a timid little wife, but blazing hot—special ability user, amazing!
Yan Fei felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck. He coughed lightly. “So you want me to make these for you?”
At his question, Luo Xun quickly pushed down his excitement and sat by the bed. “Once you’re healed enough, yes. I wasn’t lucky enough to awaken any abilities, but I can use a crossbow. The problem is, it’s hard to make arrows now…”
Yes, “hard,” but not impossible. If he didn’t mind drawing attention with noise, he could make makeshift versions—but their quality and reliability would be worse.
“If you’re willing, I’ll trade food and water for them.” In the apocalypse, such weapons—especially consumables like arrows and bullets—were just as valuable as food. Neither side would be at a loss.
Yan Fei’s eyes flickered, but he pressed down the urge to ask whether all the care and effort Luo Xun had put into saving and tending him would also be “calculated” into the cost of weapons and ammunition later.
A life—especially his own life—was priceless. Even if he still preferred to believe in fair exchanges, at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to voice such words.
Who saved whom, who helped whom—those weren’t things a cold phrase like “equivalent exchange” could ever replace.
Facing this mutated, chaotic new world, Yan Fei found himself wanting to live differently. Wasn’t this upheaval precisely the kind of change he’d always secretly longed for? Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone besides himself.
“Alright.” Yan Fei gave a slight nod and closed his eyes again.
“Eat a little more before you rest.”
The porridge, fragrant with rice, was brought before him once more. Opening his eyes, Yan Fei noticed that the boy’s movements were now much smoother, gentler, no longer stiff and awkward. As expected, people needed communication and understanding before they could adapt to each other.
After tidying up, Luo Xun picked up the bowl and spoon and headed toward the door. Looking up, he saw the little fellow squatting curiously by the window, watching him. He hadn’t even noticed when it had sneaked in.
“Come on, downstairs.” He called softly. The little guy immediately wagged its tail, got up, and followed closely at his heels out of the room—without so much as a glance at Yan Fei still lying on the bed.
The lights in the upstairs hallway were on, but downstairs in the living room not a single lamp was lit. Only faint starlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The one-way privacy film could block views from outside, but if there were lights on inside, it couldn’t fully stop the glow from leaking out.
The neighborhood had been without power for three days. Upstairs, the heavy curtains in the bedroom ensured that even with the lights on, nothing could be seen from outside. But the living room downstairs was different. With so many plants on the balcony, Luo Xun couldn’t guarantee the curtains would block every trace of light. If any leaked out, it might bring him trouble.
On the night the blackout began—after he had carried Yan Fei into the bedroom—Luo Xun had rewired the house and hooked it up to backup power.
Now, the few freezers running in the living room all drew from that backup supply. Solar panels had been set up outside, charging the other storage units at full capacity every day.
If this weren’t just the early stage of the apocalypse, Luo Xun would already have covered the outer walls and roof of his home with panels. With that, he could afford to support even five more invalids.
“Good boy. Look at the time—must mean you’ve slept plenty today. Be good and go back to bed.” After checking the doors and windows one last time, and glancing at the little quails kept in glass boxes on the balcony, Luo Xun spoke to the pup circling at his feet.
The little fellow wagged its tail furiously, still twirling around his legs.
These past two days, Luo Xun hadn’t been out much. Partly because Yan Fei was here, partly because—the nearby military base had responded with startling speed. They had sent troops into the city center to rescue high-priority targets, while other units cleared zombies from the surrounding districts.
Because Hongjing Estate was close to the base, troops passed by regularly. Just yesterday, they had even swept through the compound, clearing out the wandering zombies. Their speed left Luo Xun, who had already lived through one apocalypse and two desperate escapes, deeply impressed.
Returning to the bedroom, he found Yan Fei still resting in the same position as when he’d left, eyes closed, opening them only once he stepped back in.
Luo Xun’s steps faltered. He had to admit it again—even after staring at this man’s face for three straight days, it was still damnably good-looking.
He walked over, pulled out the pillow propping Yan Fei up, and eased him down flat. Casually, he asked, “Need the bathroom?”
“Not right now…” Yan Fei thought for a moment, then suddenly asked, “These past two days, how did I… manage?”
Luo Xun’s hand paused. Then, with a sudden malicious grin breaking his usually blank face, he said, “Diapers.”
*
Yan Fei’s scalp tingled. No wonder things had felt strange down there—he’d thought it was just numbness from lying too long!
He wanted to ask more, but when he caught sight of that wicked grin tugging at Luo Xun’s lips, he swallowed the words back down. He had the distinct feeling that pressing further would really make him cough blood.
Footnotes:
[1] Yunnan Baiyao – a traditional Chinese medicine, primarily derived from the species Paris polyphylla, used for the treatment of various conditions including back pain, bleeding, fractured bones, fungal diseases, and snake or insect bites.
