Chapter Two: Not Dead, Then Strive to Live

Zhou Yu opened his eyes in a daze and stared at the ceiling. This is... home. I’m not dead.

Thinking this, Zhou Yu got up and walked into the room, standing before the mirror to examine himself.

Thank goodness, there are no zombies around. Seems my luck is pretty good—not like in those novels, where a single scratch turns you into a zombie. I’d better work hard to stay alive.

With that, Zhou Yu walked over to his bed, lifted the bedding, opened the storage box underneath, and retrieved his large machete.

Sigh, it’s been a long time since I used you. It’s time you saw the world again. As he stroked the blade, Zhou Yu recalled that he’d bought this machete back in his school days, and it had accompanied him for years.

Though it had never tasted blood, every time Zhou Yu wielded it, he would break the bones of those who opposed him, for he always struck with the spine of the blade. He’d been a brash youth, but he knew full well that if such a blade struck a person, it could easily cleave them in two.

The machete weighed over sixty pounds, and the spine was more than eight centimeters thick—no one could withstand a blow from it.

How long was I unconscious? Zhou Yu set the blade on the bed and walked to the window.

He drew back the curtains and looked outside. The sky was still bright, but the street below was sparsely dotted with figures. No, those aren’t people—they’re zombies.

He turned away, heading for the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he eyed the meager supply: a few packs of instant noodles. He muttered to himself, “This isn’t enough for a single day. I’m out of cigarettes, too. Clearly, staying at home isn’t an option. If I want to survive, I’ll have to go out for food. But outside is crawling with those things—I can’t leave yet. Damn it, why don’t those monsters feel pain?”

Closing the fridge, Zhou Yu returned to his room, lit a cigarette, and sat in his chair, pondering his next move.

As the cigarette burned to its end, he suddenly stood up.

“Damn it, to hell with it! I’ve already died once—what’s there to be afraid of? If anyone tries to stop me from living, I’ll take them down.”

The wolfish spirit in Zhou Yu surged forth once more.

After his declaration, Zhou Yu set about gathering his things. He knew what little he had at home wouldn’t sustain him for long; if he wanted to survive, he’d have to venture out for supplies.

He found the backpack he’d used in school—small, but enough for what he needed.

He rummaged through his belongings, and before long, the bag was full: six packs of instant noodles, two large bottles of water, two small bottles of lighter fluid, a few snacks, and a hand-held crossbow.

That crossbow had been a gift from his former girlfriend. Back then, he’d often taken her driving into the hills for barbecues. On one such outing, he’d mentioned wanting to save up for a crossbow to hunt birds and rabbits. She had remembered. On his birthday that year, she’d given him the crossbow.

Zhou Yu gazed at the crossbow, lost in thought. I wonder how she’s doing now. Never mind, I shouldn’t think about that for now.

First, I’ll find some food, then I’ll drive to look for her. I hope she can hold on until I get there.

With that thought, Zhou Yu left his apartment.

He and his ex-girlfriend had always loved each other, and even after their breakup, neither had found someone new. They still contacted each other occasionally, though only with a few brief words.

Their relationship had ended because Zhou Yu had been aimless and irresponsible.

Now, Zhou Yu began knocking on doors down the hallway of his building, one by one.

Bang, bang, bang—he pounded on each door until one opened. He stepped inside.

There was only a single man staggering about the room.

Upon seeing Zhou Yu, the man lurched toward him.

Zhou Yu swung the machete at the zombie’s neck, silently hoping that what he’d read in novels wasn’t all fiction.

With a sickening sound, the zombie’s head tumbled to the floor and its body collapsed.

Thank goodness—decapitation really does work.

Zhou Yu stared at the corpse, then, suddenly struck by nausea, rushed into the bathroom and vomited.

“Damn it, first time killing one of these things. Too disgusting. I can’t take it. No, I have to overcome this—whether it’s a zombie or a person, I can’t let it stop me. If I want to live, I have to get over it,” Zhou Yu muttered as he returned to the room and began gathering anything useful.

“Damn, nothing here except cigarettes and some vacuum-packed food. How poor. Wait—he owns a jeep.”

Suddenly, Zhou Yu remembered that the zombie he’d just killed had been the owner of the large supermarket downstairs before the apocalypse. He had a car.

With that thought, Zhou Yu strode over to the corpse.