The relationship between zombie decay and food is intricately linked. Alex White wanted to check his reflection. Given the recent heavy labor—repairing the shed and tidying up the yard—he wondered if there had been any significant changes. The mirror Dora Lin had previously procured for him had been shattered when the shed collapsed.
"Do you have another mirror in your room?"
"Yes, the one I gave you last time."
"It's broken."
Upon hearing this, Dora Lin glanced at the considerably smaller shed, stood up, and went inside to search for the mirror. After a lengthy search, she found no mirror—mirrors weren't rare, but she hadn't thought to bring any back before. Eventually, she found a large mirror atop the wardrobe.
Dora Lin emerged and said, "Tomorrow, when you go to work next door, look for one in that old house. There should be a mirror there."
"Alright."
After finishing his meal, Alex White washed his bowl and needed to change his bandages again. The wound on his hand was scabbing over and less stiff, indicating that the zombie virus had been controlled by the animal infection. He handed a few sprigs of grass to Dora Lin for assistance.
"It's a bit wilted after being left for a few days and is hard to grind," the Zombie King explained. Only fresh grass could be ground in the jar; wilted grass needed to be chewed.
Dora Lin took the grass, chewed it while washing the dishes, and then signaled Alex White with her eyes. Alex White instinctively opened his hand, and she tilted her head to spit it out.
Alex White's expression was one of discomfort. Both Dora Lin's actions and the appearance of the herbs were quite grim.
"I think it would be much better if you handed it to me directly," Alex White suggested.
"So fussy, always so particular," Dora Lin retorted.
She wasn't about to indulge the Zombie King. "Next time, pick fresh grass yourself and grind it yourself. You should be capable of that by now."
Alex White carefully applied the medicine to his wound and said, "After this application, it should scab over by tomorrow, so no further changes will be needed."
"Really that fast?"
Dora Lin looked at the freshly applied medicine and exclaimed, "You heal so quickly!"
Alex White had no choice but to re-bandage. The situation felt absurdly makeshift, almost charmingly so. Even if he weren't a Zombie King, treating wounds with herbs should be approached with more seriousness and professionalism, unlike the elaborate pestles and meticulous treatments depicted on TV.
Instead of rushing through, he treated the wound in one go, and even after applying the medicine, he forcefully peeled back the bandages to check. Damn this apocalypse.
As dusk fell, Alex White, feeling exhausted, stayed beneath the shed, gazing at the darkening sky. Dora Lin, seizing the opportunity before full darkness, sat on the doorstep and split bamboo. The bamboo strips left from last time weren't quite enough, and Alex White's basket should be larger.
"Let me take care of this; you should rest," Alex White said.
"This task isn't strenuous, and you'll need to do some weeding tomorrow," Dora Lin responded casually, her hands working skillfully without pause until darkness enveloped the land. Only then did she stop, put away her tools, and head inside.
After a short while, she emerged again, rinsed her feet at the well, and then clacked her way back to her room to sleep. Alex White found it hard to imagine how she had managed to survive for years in such an environment. It was no surprise that they had brought back a rational zombie found by the roadside using a tricycle.
The next day was cooler with an overcast sky. Alex White continued to tidy up the yard next door, where a few scorpions crawled out from beneath a stone slab in the corner. As he prepared to crush them, he paused to first ask Dora Lin if they had any use.
Sure enough, Dora Lin came over with chopsticks and picked them up, finding three large ones and five small ones by midday.
"They can be used to make medicinal wine. If you get bitten by a poisonous insect, applying it can be very effective! Since we don't have proper medicine, it might even save a life," Dora Lin explained as she cleaned the scorpions and put them in a jar. "They can also help with sprains and strains; Auntie Chen often suffers from back pain, and it helps."
Alex White realized this was homemade medicine, traditional remedies that were clearly more useful than drinking the wine when there are no other options. In an era without pharmaceuticals, this was a valuable resource.
"How about letting it soak for a month and then applying it to my zombie spots?" Alex White suggested. "The spots are probably due to poor blood circulation; maybe stimulating the blood could help."
Dora Lin wasn't convinced: "It's caused by an infection, so it might be hard to remove."
"Don't be so discouraging; people should have dreams."
"But you're a zombie."
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"I'm heading out to work now, so move aside. Please don't interfere with a zombie cleaning his own yard." Dora Lin strolled away, avoiding the front door. The commotion from Alex White's construction had attracted Uncle Jones, who blocked the door. She climbed over the wall to leave.
Alex White was relieved they weren't in the south where the rainy season could last over a month, which would be problematic. The overcast sky and gentle breeze made it perfect weather for working.
After clearing the grass and leveling the yard, it looked much better. A rain now would be just right for detecting leaks in the house. He could mark them and later salvage tiles from another house's roof to patch it up.
By evening, the rain had not arrived; instead, the sky was clearing. Alex White entered the old house, which was covered in a thick layer of dust and signs of years of vacancy. Spider webs hung in the corners. He found a mirror set in a cabinet, wiped it off, and examined his appearance after the infection.
He looked a bit thinner than before entering the city, with more defined facial features, but he hadn't become gaunt. This was reassuring.
He put on his sunglasses to cover his eyes and examined himself again. It looked good—fairly human. He removed the sunglasses and looked around the room. It had a wooden bed, two stools, and a wooden table—common in the past, handmade with simple construction. The chairs were made from a few straight wooden pieces rather than being finely crafted.
Alex White wanted to clean the room but decided it was too late. He stepped outside, opened the door, and saw Uncle Jones approaching, so he quickly closed it. Concerned that constantly poking Uncle Jones might leave the village guard incapacitated, Alex White finally climbed back over the wall into Dora Lin's small yard.
"How about knocking through this wall?" Alex White suggested as he climbed back over. "The yard at Auntie Chen's is quite large."
"Not a good idea," Dora Lin replied after glancing at him. "Your hair is getting long. You should cut it; sweat is sticking to your forehead and it looks dirty."
"Can you cut hair?" Alex White asked, doubtful.
"Of course, I do it myself. It turns out quite well."
Alex White surveyed his uneven hair with skepticism, doubting Dora Lin's ability to cut hair well.
"I'll handle it myself," he said.
He took the scissors and found it quite awkward to use them on himself. Cutting his own hair proved to be a challenging task. Eventually, he thought it might be better to let Dora Lin assist—cutting someone else's hair should be easier than doing it himself.
Dora Lin took the scissors and quickly finished the job.
"Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to end well?"
"There's nothing to worry about," Dora Lin reassured him as she stepped back to evaluate her work.
The result looked like a dog had chewed on his hair, making him appear even more terrifying with his uneven, ragged hairstyle.
"What's with that look? What did you do to my hair?"