Selfishness Is the Norm

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Whether the electric scooter had any charge left, Wang Chen no longer cared as he reached the ground; what he did know was that the scooter had no key. Once he was sure of this, Wang Chen couldn’t help but curse under his breath, spun around, and ran. Fortunately, his fondness for basketball had kept him in good shape; after sprinting more than three hundred meters, not a single zombie managed to get within ten meters of him.

He must have been favored by fortune. Just as Wang Chen felt his breath growing heavy and his stamina rapidly depleting, he spotted a nearly new mountain bike lying conspicuously by the roadside—a bright red that caught the eye. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed only three zombies closing in. With two bounding steps, Wang Chen rushed up to the nearest one, drove his knife straight through its eye socket, twisted away, and hurried to the bicycle. It was unlocked, clearly abandoned in the chaos when the outbreak began.

Having spent his youth hanging around his father's small auto repair shop, Wang Chen couldn't claim to know how to drive a car, but riding a bicycle came as naturally as walking. Ignoring the two zombies almost upon him, he swung his leg over the bike, pushed off with all his might, and immediately felt the wind rush past his ears. At this speed, not even Liu Xiang in pursuit could have caught him; Wang Chen was confident he could escape anyone now.

It was noon as he sped down the avenue of the bustling city on the red bike. Around him, aside from shambling figures and the occasional distant gunshot, the world was eerily silent. The familiar streets now felt strangely out of place, as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which he could never awaken.

The voice in his earpiece—Agent 3148—reminded Wang Chen that this was no dream.

“You see the SUV crashed into the side of the bus? Don’t worry about the zombies lying around it; those are corpses taken out by survivors. Use the SUV to climb over the barricade formed by the buses, and you’ll be safe. I’ll contact the survivors inside the depot to meet you.”

Agent 3148’s words were like a shot of adrenaline. Wang Chen pedaled even harder, the red bike almost a blur as he reached the SUV in under ten seconds. Using his momentum, he leapt off, dashed up onto the SUV in three strides, and climbed onto the roof. This time, however, he didn’t immediately jump to the other side of the bus. Instead, he crouched on top, choosing caution over haste.

Once bitten, twice shy. Even with Agent 3148’s guidance, Wang Chen wanted to assess the situation first.

The Ai Jian Bus Terminal was not large. After the outbreak, someone had used the buses on site to create a defensive wall, lining them up along the fence, the break room, and a nearby two-story office building. The exit, where Wang Chen now stood, was completely blocked off by two buses and the crashed SUV. Without heavy machinery to move the vehicles and open a gap, there was no way inside except by climbing. From his observations over the past two days, zombies showed no climbing ability. In other words, this place was indeed safe.

“Hey, kid… Don’t just sit there daydreaming… Hurry and get down…” A deliberately hushed voice called out from inside the depot.

Wang Chen turned and saw a woman in a navy blue work uniform waving at him from a window. She was around sixty, with graying hair and sallow, triangular eyes etched deep with hardship—a cleaner, by the look of her. Since the old woman was inviting him in, Wang Chen hesitated no longer, found a good foothold, lowered his backpack, and jumped down.

He approached the window. The woman didn’t stand on ceremony, eyeing him up and down, and asked curtly, “Were you bitten?”

Wang Chen shook his head. Noticing her gaze settle on his left hand, he raised it, removed the bandage, and said, “Just a scrape, not a bite.”

To his relief, the military spray was effective—despite all the exertion, the wound hadn’t reopened.

“Come in through the window on the side,” the woman instructed, pointing the way from behind the security bars.

Carrying his backpack, Wang Chen headed for another window without security bars. He couldn’t help but worry about being ambushed, but then he remembered Agent 3148’s assurances that the government was actively rescuing survivors. That implied some measure of authority still held sway; ordinary people, knowing this, would mostly abide by the law.

Still, after his recent brush with death at the hands of a desperate family, Wang Chen resolved to stay alert in all encounters.

The two-story building beside the depot garage was unremarkable, its beige facade clad in smooth tiles. The entrance was blocked with a mass of debris, so much so that the security door was completely jammed. A large, dried, reddish-brown stain oozed from the pile—its contents all too obvious.

He knocked at the window. Someone had moved the conference table that was propped against it, and the aluminum frame swung inward, just wide enough for a person to climb through. Wang Chen tossed his backpack inside, ducked through, and moved forward a couple of steps, making way for the table-mover, then stood still to let his eyes adjust to the dimness.

Before he could take in the room, a sudden voice rang out.

“Do you have a phone? Do you?! You must, right?! They said I’m tying up the line and won’t connect my calls anymore!”

Wang Chen was startled. The voice came from the man who’d moved the table. He spun around to see a balding man in a suit lunging at him, reaching for the satellite phone at his waist. The man was alarmingly quick—so quick that Wang Chen barely saw his face before his phone was snatched and the man began dialing without waiting for consent.

“Hello! This is Liu Xiaokui! Yes, I’m a member of the People’s Congress! I have money—twenty million in the bank! Send a plane for me now! It’s all yours if you do! If not, I’ll kill your whole family! If I can’t get out, then neither will you—hello? Hello? Answer me! Damn you!” The man, Liu Xiaokui, was furious and raised the phone to smash it.

A black gun barrel pressed against Liu Xiaokui’s head.

“Give me back the phone. It’s mine.”

“Do you know who the hell I am?!” Liu Xiaokui glared, his bloodshot, bulging eyes fixed on Wang Chen—or rather, the pistol in Wang Chen’s hand. His bushy brows nearly knotted together. “So what if I use your damn phone! If you’ve got guts, shoot me!”

Four hours ago, Wang Chen—a sheltered sophomore—would have done anything to avoid a confrontation with such a crazed man. But now? Having killed once already, one more made little difference.

With a life already on his hands, Wang Chen’s demeanor was calm. He said nothing, thumbed back the hammer, and pressed the gun more firmly against Liu Xiaokui’s forehead. His other hand silently extended, palm up, waiting for his phone to be returned. Was a man so desperate for help truly unafraid to die? Who was he kidding?

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Liu Xiaokui froze.

With over forty years of life experience, Liu Xiaokui knew well that, after surviving a zombie outbreak, people would either become timid and cautious, or reckless and indifferent to life and death. If a newcomer shouted at him or held the gun with shaking hands, Liu Xiaokui would’ve recognized it as a bluff—a way to mask fear. In that case, he might have tried to extort something from him. But this time, the boy said nothing, calmly disengaged the gun’s final safety, and pressed it to Liu’s head with a look that saw through him—utterly unconcerned about putting a hole in his skull.

Liu Xiaokui understood all too well the saying about the cruelty of youth; a kid like this, if pushed, could be more ruthless than most adults. The fact that Wang Chen had made it here, virtually unscathed and with a large pack, meant he was either very lucky—or something else entirely.

At that thought, Liu Xiaokui wilted.

As if scorched, he stuffed the satellite phone back into Wang Chen’s hand and quickly backed away. “I just lost my temper for a moment—young man, don’t take it to heart, don’t take it to heart. What’s your name?”

Wang Chen had no desire to waste words on such a blustering coward. He closed the hammer, pocketed his phone, and said simply, “Wang Chen.”

“Oh, Wang Chen, good name, good name. I—uh—need the restroom. We’ll talk later.” The veins throbbing on Liu Xiaokui’s forehead instantly vanished. Plastering on a formulaic smile, he babbled as he hurried to the door, brushing past the old woman who’d directed Wang Chen earlier.

Only then did Wang Chen have a chance to survey his surroundings. It was a small conference room; the table had been pushed against the window, blocking out most of the light and making the room gloomier than the corridor.

“Young man, don’t stand there. Come out, I need to lock this door,” the old woman called.

“Oh, coming.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Wang Chen. And you, ma’am?”

“No need for formalities, just call me Aunt Hui.” Aunt Hui smiled, but inwardly she didn’t dare underestimate this newcomer. She’d already guessed Liu Xiaokui was up to no good when he volunteered to move the table; she hadn’t called him out because she wanted to test the new arrival’s nerve. Now, seeing how unfazed Wang Chen was, she realized he wasn’t as easily fooled as his age might suggest.

Wang Chen kept up polite conversation but remained wary. His social experience might be lacking, but he wasn’t stupid. For instance, from the time he’d entered the room to scaring off Liu Xiaokui, even a small corridor could’ve been traversed back and forth twice. But Aunt Hui only showed herself once Liu had left, clearly eavesdropping to see how he would react under pressure. Had he shown weakness, she’d likely have set her sights on his belongings next.

In short, none of them could be trusted.

The actions of Liu Xiaokui and Aunt Hui cast a shadow over Wang Chen’s hopes of finding trustworthy allies.

Following Aunt Hui, Wang Chen carried his backpack to the end of the corridor, through a small door, and into the bus depot’s car wash. The name sounded grand, but it was really just a converted space at the edge of the building, barely large enough to fit a bus. The red walls and black ceiling dominated the décor; a yellow high-pressure hose lay abandoned in a corner, along with scattered tools. The air was thick with a mix of body odor, waste, and other unidentifiable smells—unpleasant, but still preferable to the stench of corpses outside.

A quick headcount showed a dozen or so people inside—some sitting, some slumped against the wall, faces blank. Two women sobbed in each other’s arms, but no one reacted to Wang Chen’s arrival.

Aunt Hui gave a dry chuckle, explained that the newcomer was called Wang Chen, and said he could rest in any office if he didn’t want to stay in the car wash. With that, she went upstairs.

These survivors, trapped amid millions of zombies with no hope in sight, had little warmth left for newcomers. Wang Chen wanted to ask for help, but seeing their state, he realized he was lucky if they didn’t push him to the zombies. He found a spot and forced down some food to restore his strength, then turned his thoughts to how he might return home and save his father.

Not knowing his father’s fate, Wang Chen could not rest.

After a while, footsteps sounded. Wang Chen glanced up to see Liu Xiaokui slink into the car wash, their eyes meeting briefly before Liu nodded awkwardly, as if they were old acquaintances.

Looking at Liu’s sorry state, a bizarre thought flashed through Wang Chen’s mind: What if I shot this guy right now? Or all of them? Well, maybe not kill them all, but could he force them at gunpoint to help him?

Tsk… When did I start thinking like this? Calm down, calm down, don’t let your mind wander.

People are like that—the more you try not to think of something, the more it pops into your head. The image of that half-grown boy with his skull caved in lingered in Wang Chen’s mind, making him feel nauseous.

He sighed, took a swig of water from his pack, and tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing. Now, he had to focus all his energy on saving his father.

“Enough with the whining! Shut up already! I’m talking to you!” A surly voice drew everyone’s attention.

A man had stood up and was berating the two women still sobbing. Sitting, he’d gone unnoticed, but now Wang Chen took note—he was in his thirties, easily half a head taller than Wang Chen, likely around 1.9 meters, with a buzz cut, thick neck, pronounced veins on muscular arms, and a face both stern and expressive. Even dressed in a loose shirt, his strength was obvious.

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Faced with such a brute, even in normal times, few would dare provoke him, let alone now with the nearest authority twenty kilometers away. The two women didn’t even have the courage to retort, shrinking together like a pair of cold, hungry quails.

“Dad, what are you doing? You’re scaring them! If you keep this up, I’ll tell Mom when we find her!” protested a teenage girl behind the man, tugging at his shirt.

Wang Chen’s eyes widened—not at the sight of a strong man with a child, but at the child’s appearance. A girl of thirteen or fourteen, already showing signs of beauty. If not for her slightly thick lips, which resembled the man’s and confirmed she was his daughter, she might have seemed unrelated. She even bore a striking resemblance to a certain actress. Her attire was more boyish, though, and Wang Chen wondered—boy or girl? Her looks suggested a girl, her clothing a boy. If she grew up with her father’s build, Wang Chen couldn’t help but recall a certain comically animated Nezha, and shuddered.

The man clearly cared most about his child. Chided by her, he didn’t get angry but sheepishly rubbed his head. “Crying won’t solve anything. I was just afraid they’d cry their eyes out. No need to tattle to your mom, right? Sweetheart?”

The word “sweetheart” brought a visible sigh of relief to at least seven or eight people in the room—clearly, they’d all been wondering the same thing.

“Hmph! Less sweet talk. If you have time to scare the ladies, think about how to get us out of here!” the girl retorted. Though her words were tough, the slight tremble in her body betrayed her fear; she was still a child.

“Don’t talk nonsense! How are we supposed to get out? The city’s crawling with zombies! Better to wait for rescue!” The voice was unmistakably Liu Xiaokui’s, now composed and authoritative as he adjusted his clothes and offered a leaderly wave. “We’ve already debated this. Let’s not argue anymore.”

It wasn’t just Wang Chen who found Liu Xiaokui hard to stomach. The burly man pulled his daughter close and shot back, “And who made you boss?”

“I’m… a delegate, the ranking official here, of course I’m in charge!”

“Delegate, my ass! Oh, sorry, sweetheart, Daddy won’t curse. Anyway, the longer we stay, the more dangerous it gets. There’s a dozen people here—are you going to provide for everyone?”

“I—well, we’re safer together! We can figure out supplies! The army’s already set up a safe zone at Wanggang Airport, right? As long as we hold out here, the government and the military will come for us!”

“To hell with clearing the zombies! There are millions in Harbin. How long will that take? We’ll die waiting!” the strong man snapped.

“Enough! Stop arguing! I can’t even get a moment’s peace. If you keep yelling, you’ll attract zombies!” Aunt Hui intervened, cutting off the pointless quarrel.

“Hmph, if it weren’t for the kid, I’d have strangled you already.” The strong man grumbled, flexing his fists to save face.

Wang Chen agreed that arguing was pointless, so he interjected, “The rescue center told me the army won’t enter the city for rescue any time soon. I think we should plan to evacuate. Whoever wants to stay can stay, whoever wants to go can go.”

“No! We can’t split up!” Liu Xiaokui’s voice rose, then he forced it lower. “We’re weaker apart, it’s dangerous. We have to stick together to survive…”

“You just want more bargaining chips with the rescue center, hoping a bigger group will force them to send vehicles,” the strong man interrupted with disdain. “If the army cared, they’d have come already. Numbers don’t matter.”

“That’s nonsense! I’m thinking of everyone—there’s strength in numbers…”

“Who are you calling nonsense?” In this hellish siege, tempers were short. The strong man strode over and grabbed Liu Xiaokui by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“If it comes to it… I’ll contact the media to raise the alarm. Yes, if the news gets out that we’re all trapped here, the military will have no choice but to rescue us! So listen to me—stay put and we’ll be safe and rescued!” Liu Xiaokui, older and weakened by years of indulgence, could barely get the words out as his face flushed with exertion.

Contact the media to stir up attention? Who would believe that? Not Wang Chen, and probably not even Liu Xiaokui himself.

“Da Chun! What are you doing? Talk it out—don’t scare the children!” Aunt Hui hurried to intervene, but her strength was no match for the strong man’s grip. She turned to the others, “What are you all watching for? Step in and help! Who benefits if this gets out of hand?”

Most of those present had been let in by Aunt Hui and wanted nothing to do with Liu Xiaokui, but perhaps out of respect for her, a few muttered half-hearted words of advice without actually intervening. Seeing things growing ever more tense, Wang Chen stepped in and managed to separate the two men.