Chapter 75: The Big Guy’s Episode – Part 1

A sleepless night stretched into the early dawn, that cruel hour when even the strongest grow weary. The camp, brightly lit throughout the night, had shown no signs of disturbance. Having dozed fitfully for two hours in the latter half of the night, Wang Chen’s mind remained restless, preventing him from finding peaceful sleep. So, he rose, wrapped himself in his clothes, and stepped outside to gaze at the stars and breathe in the cool air, lighting a cigarette as he did. The faint red glow flickered with each of his breaths, catching the attention of Shu Chang, who was on patrol.

In truth, Shu Chang was a year or so older than Wang Chen. Days of relentless labor had left a stubble on his youthful face, giving him the worn look of a man much older—perhaps five or six years beyond his actual age. Unlike Wang Chen, who had Sheng Qingru to help maintain his appearance, Shu Chang’s eyes, bloodshot and crusted from sleeplessness, struggled against the biting cold, his breath betraying a foulness that no amount of fresh air could mask. He exuded the unmistakable aura of a weary, disheveled man.

“Enough. Have a smoke, warm up, and get back inside to rest. I’ll take over the patrol,” Wang Chen said, unable to bear the sight any longer, tossing Shu Chang a cigarette.

Shu Chang tried to protest politely but was cut off by Wang Chen’s sharp retort: “Don’t make me call Aunt Hao over to give you a lecture.”

Aunt Hao’s revolutionary lectures were infamous—lengthy, intricate, and delivered with such fervor that no one dared to interrupt or argue. In these times, few even remembered the Red Book by heart. When she started preaching, the only options were to find an excuse to slip away or stand at attention, head bowed, admitting fault in time with her rhythm. There was simply no third way.

Shu Chang obediently complied and went inside. Wang Chen then circled the camp with the civilians on duty, exchanging a few words with nearly everyone. In truth, aside from the carefree group of mischievous children, few had truly managed to sleep. Though no one voiced it openly, beneath the surface everyone hoped for silence—no news meant no new cases. That was good. If they could survive this night and the coming day, perhaps the epidemic would be over, and they could all quietly continue their lives within the camp.

Wang Chen glanced at the tri-proof digital watch Sheng Qingru had somehow procured. It was five a.m., with dawn still an hour away. Several women responsible for breakfast were already up, preparing fires and stirring rice porridge in large pots. Wang Chen planned to have a couple of bowls before returning to sleep until noon.

Suddenly, a dog’s bark cut through the quiet, stirring a bad feeling in Wang Chen. Sure enough, within minutes, the radio crackled with Hu Qianqian’s panicked voice: “Brother Wang! Hurry over! Big Fat is sick!”

Having heard the story about Da Hei from Sheng Qingru, Wang Chen knew how exaggerated these children could be. He sighed and replied lazily, “Qianqian, don’t scare your Brother Wang like that. If Big Fat’s sick, find Sister Qingru—she knows a lot about cats and dogs.”

But the response came not from Hu Qianqian but from Aunt Hao, who often slept alongside the children. “Big Fat isn’t a dog! He’s a person!”

“Don’t worry! I’m on my way!”

Just as feared, trouble had arrived.

Wang Chen hurried to the small courtyard where the children lived. Disheveled Ren Wanrong and Fang Qiang, who lived next door, had already arrived. Aunt Hao had gathered the children, and several women were escorting them away from the scene. Outside the yard, many civilians stood peering in, though none dared enter.

“Disperse! Get back to whatever you were doing!” Wang Chen stepped forward, his gaze falling on the anxious faces of the onlookers. A sudden wave of frustration rose within him. So many thanks had been given upon arrival at the camp, yet when something unusual happened, everyone acted like this—paralyzed by fear. Was it really so hard to build a little confidence?

Most civilians retreated at Wang Chen’s command. A few armed militia wearing gas masks remained, volunteering to guard the perimeter. These men had stood alongside Chen Chong and Ma Tianshou in the forest and later took part in the operation against Tian Laoda. Compared to the cautious civilians, they had far more faith in the special task force, especially in Wang Chen himself, who had single-handedly taken down over a hundred zombies in the forest. Their admiration bordered on blind worship.

With outsiders watching, Wang Chen put on his gas mask, entered the yard, and pushed aside the door curtain. His eyes fell upon the cot near the entrance. The so-called Big Fat was one of the civilians rescued during the special task force’s museum operation, when Ren Wanrong was saved. Most likely from fright, the overweight young man had been traumatized by two cannibals and reduced to the intelligence of a child of five or six. Since arriving at the camp, he had yet to regain clarity, choosing instead to spend his days with the mischievous children.

At first, Wang Chen and the others worried the “dumb fat man” might lash out, but after observing him for days, they found him harmless—more akin to a lazy fat cat than a threat. With so many pressing matters, the special task force had resigned themselves to letting him be. After all, one more mouth to feed made little difference.

Though Wang Chen called them “mischievous children” and found them troublesome, every member of the special task force cared deeply for them. Most were orphans, which alone earned them the camp’s best protection. Big Fat benefited from this as well, which is why it was so surprising that he became the first to fall ill.

Despite being surrounded by the very best quarantine conditions available—including frequent disinfectant sprays, applied not just to sanitize but carefully moderated so as not to suffocate anyone—the first patient should never have appeared among the children. It simply made no sense.

Frowning, Wang Chen examined the groaning fat man and the bloodstained bedding beneath him. Suddenly, the door clicked behind him. Turning, he saw Aunt Hao entering, accompanied by Hu Qianqian, whose face was half hidden by a mask. Wang Chen’s expression darkened.

“Qianqian! What are you doing here? Get out immediately! If you get infected, how am I supposed to explain it to your father?”

Hu Qianqian’s masked face hid her expression, but her voice was plaintive. “I wanted to help! Big Fat listens to me the most! Aunt Hao, please speak for me!”

“We were taught—”

“Enough! Enough of your teachings! Both of you, old and young, crowding around a sick person like you’re invincible! Out! Now!” This was the first case inside the camp; Wang Chen could not stay calm. Not losing his temper was already restraint.

The air was thick with tension and anger. The reckless girl and the self-righteous old woman, both believing themselves immune thanks to the Red Book, dared not argue any longer. They quietly followed Wang Chen into the courtyard.

He could not scold the elder too harshly, nor be overly strict with the child. Standing in the yard, he removed his gas mask, exhaled deeply to dispel the tightness in his chest, and softened his tone with an apologetic note: “Sorry. With this new outbreak, I’m a little on edge.”