Almost in a flash, Hua Zhen's thoughts hurtled back to the night half a month prior, when, on his nocturnal journey home, a creature had darted from an alley and inflicted a bite upon him.
Unfurling his sleeve, he observed the bite on his arm now festooned with blisters and putrid flesh, unmistakably infected.
It appeared that the contagion had been clandestinely proliferating since half a month ago.
Initially undetected by the populace, by the time the anomaly was discerned, it was egregiously late.
Simultaneously, Hua Zhen comprehended why the man had been surreptitiously trailing him.
Likely, that individual had aspired to forage for supplies or undertake other endeavors but encountered Hua Zhen, who seemed a departing "zombie," and thus prepared to dispatch him.
Yet, it was the landlady who espied him first and subsequently neutralized him.
A zombie had spared his life.
Hua Zhen's heart was awash with conflicting sentiments.
The silver lining was his retained consciousness, and no longer did he need to fret over skirmishes with zombies—they were kin, merely sharing the path.
The grim reality, however, was his transformation into a zombie.
Of paramount concern was the zombie's sustenance.
Hua Zhen, not one to be fastidious, did not incline cannibalism.
For a regular human, consuming a live chicken is implausible, let alone a living person.
That is, unless he had relinquished his consciousness, devolving into a sanguinary zombie.
After pondering, Hua Zhen set aside the baseball bat and procured a tub of Kangshifu Hot Pepper Beef Noodles.
He poured boiling water and sealed it with a fork.
Subsequently, Hua Zhen seated himself, awaiting in silence.
Two minutes elapsed, and he unveiled the noodle lid.
The fragrance of the noodles assailed his senses.
Indeed, he possessed olfaction.
This was to be expected, given his recent mutation; both vision and olfaction remained intact.
Thus, the crucial test was gustation.
A human's existence revolves around consumption and excretion.
Devoid of taste, life would be bereft of its foremost pleasures—eating and drinking.
Such an absence would strip away much joy.
Shortly thereafter, Hua Zhen lifted the noodle lid, and the tangy aroma enveloped him.
Delightful, truly delightful.
With trepidation, he slurped a strand of noodles.
The hot pepper and sour spice unfurled in his mouth—oh, the exhilarating tang!
Though as a zombie, he failed to discern the beef flavor in the noodles, it was inconsequential.
After all, even in his human days, he had not savored it.
It seemed zombies could consume ordinary food without resorting to human flesh.
Upon reflection, this was logical.
Zombies are entities that exist devoid of human consciousness, mere husks that persist in animation.
Biological motion necessitates caloric expenditure, and humans are omnivorous by nature.
Barring excrement, consumption is indiscriminate, is it not?
However, zombies bereft of reason seem to exhibit a predilection for human flesh.
The rationale behind this remains obscure.
Nevertheless, it is of little consequence.
He still retained human consciousness and could ingest food normally to sustain the requisite energy for his body.
This was indeed fortuitous.
Provided no significant corporeal alterations ensued, such as widespread necrosis, his prospects were favorable.
Hua Zhen continued to consume his noodles while perusing videos and news.
He needed to assimilate more information to strategize for the future.
Then, Hua Zhen noted an intriguing detail.
The zombie crisis had erupted almost simultaneously across the globe, with the entire world succumbing in succession.
Highly transmissible, highly lethal…
Could the zombie crisis have been precipitated by human intervention?
Had the Umbrella Corporation made its move?
Surrender first.
Upon further reflection, Hua Zhen felt a sense of incongruity.
With the entire world succumbing to the chaos, what could the purveyors of the virus or the orchestrating group possibly gain?
It couldn't be the machinations of a delusional mind, crafting an epic vendetta to make the world writhe in agony, could it?
Meanwhile, the authorities were mobilizing full-scale rescue operations, including but not limited to, the construction of quarantine and safe zones, and deploying military forces to relocate citizens to secure areas…
Several rescue missions had already been dispatched to Hua Zhen's region.
The next evacuation was scheduled for three days hence.
Yet, Hua Zhen harbored no hope.
Now a zombie, he'd be dispatched with a bullet before he could plead, "Take me with you; I am a good citizen. Though a zombie, I still uphold the virtues and consciousness of a cultured youth."
Moreover, what would clarification of his identity avail?
As a sentient zombie, he'd undoubtedly be sequestered for study.
If he were the sole case, as a unique specimen, while not subjected to life-threatening procedures like dissection, invasive tests such as blood draws and biopsies would be inevitable.
But that wasn't the crux of the matter.
The essence lay in the considerable restrictions on his movements.
After all, he was now a zombie, a walking contagion. A mere argument could result in a city's downfall if his spittle found its way into another's mouth. How could such a risk be left unmanaged?
Thus, Hua Zhen was devoid of hope.
His current predicament seemed dire.
Yet, from another perspective, he was now a zombie!
Wasn't this akin to being Mundo, going wherever he pleased?
Perhaps the things he had once yearned to do but dared not, could now be realized in this apocalyptic world!
He could even boldly engage in cost-free shopping sprees on the streets!
Resolved, Hua Zhen, clutching his baseball bat, mustered his courage and stepped out the door.
Opening it, the man previously assaulted by the landlady lay not far in the corridor, about four or five meters away, missing a chunk of his left side, his face gnawed beyond recognition.
It seemed the landlady wasn't particularly famished, having nibbled only a few bites before desisting.
The zombified landlady still roamed the corridor.
The wound inflicted by the man's knife on her shoulder seemed to not affect her mobility.
Hmm… not only was her offense high, but her vitality was robust.
It appeared that only a headshot could ensure a swift demise.
Hua Zhen extended his hand, offering her a "yea" gesture, to which she remained unresponsive.
It was evident; aside from himself, the other zombies had utterly lost their human consciousness.
They were nothing more than reanimated corpses.
Hua Zhen shook his head, beginning to search the man's body for anything of use.
Though neighbors, Hua Zhen was unaware of the man's name.
Such was life in the city.
In the countryside, any minor disturbance would prompt immediate community action, gathering at the village entrance to exchange information, and by the next day, the entire village would be apprised.
But in the metropolis, who would concern themselves with you?
After rummaging, Hua Zhen retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the man's bag, along with a wallet and a set of car keys.
Money and bank cards were now redundant, with even vending machines operating on scan-to-pay systems. If one desired a drink, brute force would suffice, especially for a zombie.
Hua Zhen had never smoked before.
After all, accompanying the boss for drinks was taxing enough on his health, and smoking would have completely done him in.
Nevertheless, he decided to keep them.
Tobacco and alcohol were valuable commodities in the apocalypse.
As for the car keys, they were a treasure.
Hua Zhen had never driven since obtaining his license, as he couldn't afford a car.
The complex seemed to have an underground parking lot; perhaps the man's car was there.
With public transportation halted due to the emergency, a vehicle was a necessity he might soon require.
Just as Hua Zhen prepared to rise, he noticed something unsettling.
Particles of a greyish-yellow hue, akin to a mist, swirled around him.
Hua Zhen realized with alarm that this mist seemed to be emanating from his left sleeve.
Moreover, an inexplicable itch began to emanate from the upper side of his left arm.
Recalling the bite wound, a foreboding sensation surged within him.