Chapter 4: Madam Hui’s Ambition

As the two quarreling people finally parted ways, the farce reached its conclusion.

Taking a moment to steady her breath, Aunt Hui slapped her thigh. “I’m going to play the old card now. We’ve already had one argument this morning; let’s not stir things up again. If you want to leave, go ahead. If you want to stay, wait for rescue. Commissioner Liu, don’t interrupt me yet. I’m about to say some things you won’t like. Whether you’re a commissioner is none of my business. Don’t even mention what the district chief is called— I don’t know the names of our community directors either. In ordinary times, the officials act high and mighty, and I, an old woman, can’t provoke them. But now? What good are officials? Can they make the zombies disappear? Here, it’s only about age and right or wrong— no one can suppress anyone else. There were two young people before, who came to the parking lot to take refuge but then ran out to look for their families. Did you keep anyone behind? Last night, too, someone ran off inexplicably. Not only did you say nothing, but none of those present followed to check. What happened? Luckily, I got up at night and saw the window open, or we wouldn’t have noticed someone missing. The main thing is, opening the window is dangerous— it’s playing with everyone’s lives! Well, enough about that. I’m old and chatty, but the point is: you’re free to come and go!”

After catching her breath, Aunt Hui turned to Hu Chun. “Da Chun, I’m not afraid of losing face, so I’ll tell you the truth. I can’t reach my husband or child— most likely something happened to them. I’m afraid of dying, so I don’t dare go looking for them, I don’t dare step outside this parking lot. If you were alone, with your physique, even if a dozen zombies surrounded you, you wouldn’t be afraid. But you’ve got a daughter— how can you let her risk her life with you? Listen to my advice: wait a bit longer. Maybe the army will arrive. And even if not, the sun outside is fierce. Zombies aren’t made of iron; after three, five, or seven days of sunlight, they’ll wilt. Then it’ll be easier to escape.”

“Hmph, it’s just that the weather’s better these couple of days— before, it rained every day,” Hu Chun admitted, his tone much gentler now.

At this point, and seeing the expressions of the others, Wang Chen understood: most people planned to hunker down in the station and wait for rescue. Aunt Hui’s words, though sharp, betrayed her reluctance to risk her life outside. On reflection, she had a point: even if they endured a couple more days in the station, it wouldn’t be so bad. If no one came to rescue them, by then the zombies would be shriveled, and escaping would be easier.

But Wang Chen couldn’t wait. What if his father still had a chance to survive? If he just waited, hope would grow ever more distant.

After the commotion, people scattered. Da Chun, muscular but not stupid, remembered Wang Chen was the only one who spoke up for him earlier. He brought his daughter over and sat by Wang Chen, introducing himself easily. “Hu Chun— just call me Da Chun. Used to wrestle, now a fitness coach. This is my daughter, Hu Qianqian, just started middle school. What’s your name?”

“Wang Chen, journalism major, sophomore at Hei Da.”

“Sophomore? You don’t look it.”

“Well, I like basketball and work out often…”

Though they hadn’t spoken long, Hu Chun felt Wang Chen was steadier than most young people he’d met. Whether worth befriending was another matter, but someone with this temperament probably wouldn’t panic facing zombies.

Sneaking glances at Wang Chen, Hu Chun’s mind was spinning. At his age, youthful ideals had long been thrown in the trash; now, family and earning a living were most important. His parents were likely gone, his wife was safely away in the south, avoiding the outbreak. His only hope was to reunite his daughter with her mother, even if he himself couldn’t make it. At least his daughter would be safe.

This kid hadn’t entered society yet and was easily swept up in youthful enthusiasm, but was more reliable than the others waiting passively in the station. He ought to make friends— if something happened to him, his daughter might have someone to rely on.

With that decision made, Hu Chun deliberately befriended Wang Chen. “Listen to me: sleep if you can. You don’t know— last night, several people had nightmares, all sorts of screams, hardly anyone got a good night’s rest. Tonight will probably be the same…”

“How can I sleep… Oh, Hu Chun, you and Aunt Hui mentioned troubles last night, which means this refuge existed yesterday. How did you all find such a good shelter?” Wang Chen wasn’t familiar enough to ask Hu Chun to help him save his father yet.

“We called the rescue center— they guided us here. When we arrived, there was a veteran bus driver inside. He set up this bus barricade. Sadly, he was bitten by a zombie and didn’t make it till nightfall.”

“That’s a shame. If you had the bus, you could’ve made it to Taiping Airport.”

“That’s right!” Hu Chun slapped his thigh in regret. “I’ve got a C1 license, can drive a car, but never tried a bus…”

“But wait, Hu Chun, yesterday I tried calling 110 (emergency) many times, but it never connected. How did you get through?”

“Oh, you were confused! Maybe our local 110 operators turned into zombies, so it’s normal not to connect. But there’s still phone signal, right? Just add a long-distance area code before 110. I tried a few— some didn’t work, but the capital’s area code connected…”

Wang Chen suddenly felt he and his father were a bit slow…

They sat chatting idly. Aunt Hui came running down from upstairs. “A car just arrived, swerving all over and crashed into the hotel across the street. I don’t know how many people are inside. Who’ll come with me to check?”

No one answered. Even Liu Xiaokui, who was supposed to greet Wang Chen, pretended not to hear. He wasn’t stupid— the crash happened dozens of meters away, and unless the street was clear of zombies, he had no intention of stepping outside.

Wang Chen leaned forward, ready to stand, but Hu Chun grabbed his arm. Surprised, Wang Chen looked back. Hu Chun said nothing, just shook his head slightly, then motioned with his eyes for Wang Chen to look at Aunt Hui’s feet. Wang Chen noticed the edge of her shoe was stained with dark red— blood? Aunt Hui seemed uninjured; where did the blood come from?

Aunt Hui asked again, but still no one responded. Muttering, she ran back upstairs.

Once her figure disappeared, Wang Chen whispered, “What’s going on?”

Hu Chun shook his head. “I don’t know. My daughter noticed it first— Aunt Hui’s shoe and pant leg are stained with blood. It’s fresh, hasn’t dried yet.”

“Yeah, it looked disgusting,” Hu Qianqian said, sitting on the floor. As a girl, she was more sensitive to clothing and colors, so she noticed Aunt Hui’s strange state.

“Maybe she picked it up while bringing people in?”

“Impossible. My daughter and I came here yesterday afternoon for refuge, and Aunt Hui was only waving from the window. Haven’t seen her go out since. Unless it’s hemorrhoids? Or…” Hu Chun gave Wang Chen a meaningful look.

“Aunt Hui’s age… would hemorrhoids bleed onto her pant leg and shoe?” Wang Chen shook his head. “Hu Chun, have you checked upstairs?”

“No. No one goes upstairs, only her running up and down. I’m certain…”

They couldn’t sit still anymore, and almost stood up at the same time. Damn, Aunt Hui hasn’t been feeding a zombie upstairs, has she? Even if it was her husband, son, or some other relative turned zombie, that wouldn’t do!

Better safe than sorry. Wang Chen gritted his teeth, shifted his body, and pulled a 54 pistol from his bag, handing it to Hu Chun. “Do you know how to use it?”

Wang Chen had his own plan. A gun can kill zombies, but also people. At least Hu Chun was here with his daughter; with her as leverage, he wouldn’t do anything outrageous— much more reliable than Liu Xiaokui. Besides, with his build, Hu Chun could handle the recoil easily. If he wanted to do anything, having a gun wouldn’t make much difference.

“Where did you get this?” Hu Chun’s eyes lit up as he took the pistol and magazine, loaded it not very expertly, and said fiercely, “Anyone with an athletic background has friends in the police— I’ve handled guns, but never fired one. With this in hand, what’s there to fear? Wait— you only have this one pistol?”

When Wang Chen confirmed, Hu Chun was moved. The significance of a gun at this time was obvious. Even if Wang Chen was plainly bribing him, he was at least a gutsy young man. Of course, after years in society, Hu Chun knew that such a heavy gift meant trouble.

He couldn’t accept the gift and not help, so he slapped Wang Chen’s shoulder. “Brother, I’ll make friends with you. This gun is a heavy gift— consider it borrowed, I’ll return it after checking upstairs!”

Wang Chen nodded, a bit disappointed in his own social skills— thinking a single gun could convince someone to help save his father was naive.

Their interaction drew attention. Liu Xiaokui opened his mouth to ask, then swallowed his words, pretending not to notice. The rest mostly did the same— indifference is almost a feature of modern society. Only a young man dressed like a laborer stood up and asked warily, “What are you two up to?”

He looked twenty-seven or twenty-eight, no more than 1.7 meters tall, lean, thick-necked, dark-skinned, with a bulbous nose and puffy eyes. His small eyes lacked much spirit, and from head to toe he radiated honest, stubborn simplicity. Seeing Wang Chen with a long military knife and Hu Chun with a pistol, he wasn’t afraid.

“Nothing, just checking upstairs.”

“Why bring a gun if nothing? What if someone gets hurt?”

“You didn’t stand up when the car arrived, but now you’re bold? Enough nonsense, stay put!” Hu Chun was impatient.

“I was never a coward! If someone was asking for help, Aunt Hui would’ve said so. You’re going upstairs for her, aren’t you? No way— she’s been good to me, I’ll go up with you.”

With his interruption, Wang Chen was a bit amused— a straightforward guy, saying everything outright, willing to stand up for an old lady even facing guns and knives, more loyal than most survivors.

Hu Chun played the bad cop, so Wang Chen had to play the good cop. He chatted with the laborer as they went upstairs and learned his name was Li Changhuai, a mason.

Wang Chen led with the gun, Hu Chun followed, Hu Qianqian and Li Changhuai walked behind. On the second-floor corridor, Hu Chun called out, “Aunt Hui? Which room are you in?”

“Here… coming! Keep your voice down.” Aunt Hui stepped out from the far room, hurriedly put on a jacket, and whispered, “What’s the matter? Oh, why are you carrying a gun?”

“Aunt Hui, don’t be afraid. I just want to know where the blood on your pant leg came from,” Wang Chen asked directly.

“Blood? What blood?” Aunt Hui blinked uneasily, glanced at her pant leg, “I don’t see any blood…”

Before she finished, Aunt Hui twisted and tried to run. Hu Chun, wary, fired instinctively!

Bang!

It was Hu Chun’s first shot, and the powerful recoil of the 54 pistol made him stagger backward. Fortunately, he was sturdy and reacted quickly, keeping his balance. If Wang Chen had tried that, he might have fallen.

Aunt Hui was petrified by the deafening gunshot, frozen for several seconds before checking herself for injuries. She didn’t know Hu Chun was a complete novice, unfamiliar with the 54’s recoil. Even with less than ten meters between them, Hu Chun’s shot went into the ceiling, knocking loose some plaster but nothing else.

Enduring the ringing in his ears, Wang Chen stepped forward, his knife pointed at Aunt Hui’s back, apologizing, “Sorry, Aunt Hui, didn’t mean to scare you. We just want to see what’s in your room. Let’s go.”

Li Changhuai wanted to speak up for Aunt Hui but, being a simple mason, couldn’t find the words. The gunshot left him speechless, so he quietly followed Hu Chun to the room door. When Aunt Hui opened it, he tiptoed and peeked over Hu Chun’s shoulder.

“Uh… Aunt Hui! What are you doing?”

The stench of blood and near decay filled the room. The window was half open, but the smell lingered. From ceiling to most of the floor, walls, and even behind the door, the room was covered in large, crooked traditional Chinese characters written in blood. Each character was palm-sized, and in places where too much blood was used, it dripped in dark red or brown streaks. The floor was evidently the last area to be written.

Wang Chen pushed Aunt Hui forward, scanning the walls as he entered. Hu Chun promptly covered Hu Qianqian’s eyes and pushed her into the corridor. “Stay outside, keep watch for Dad. Good girl.”

“It stinks in there, I’m not going in!” Hu Qianqian agreed.

“What… What is this? Vacuum… what?” Li Changhuai sidestepped past Hu Qianqian and entered the room, scrutinizing the writing. He’d left school after junior high to become a mason and couldn’t recognize all the characters, let alone these traditional ones mixed with odd symbols.

“You don’t understand! And you shot at me! Hmph! If I hadn’t written the Supreme Scripture with utmost sincerity, protecting the whole station, those zombies would have rushed in long ago!” Aunt Hui spoke with pride and fanaticism, gesturing at the walls. “See? All written by me! These are secret scriptures! Just seeing them is a great blessing! Now get out! I still have half the floor to finish. When the devils outside break in, as long as we hide in this room, the gods will protect us. No evil can touch a hair on our heads!”

Six pairs of eyes widened.

Wang Chen thought, hell if I believe this! Do you think this is some fantasy novel with gods and magic? This is cult behavior! You wrote bloody characters all over a room! You think zombies are afraid of magic? They eat living flesh and infect people! Back when the Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing, hanging menstrual pads on the city walls didn’t ward off cannonballs any more than your antics!

Hu Chun was equally stunned, muttering, “Aunt Hui, are you planning to invite the gods and dance a shaman’s ritual next?”

“Rubbish! That’s primitive worship! I have the one true god! If you defame the god, you’ll face retribution! Let me tell you…” Aunt Hui launched into a tirade, sounding like a cult zealot.

Hu Chun ignored her sermon, turning to Wang Chen, who was still staring at the blood characters, trying to figure out what religion Aunt Hui believed in. “Brother, what do we do with this wall of bloody writing from a crazy old lady?”

Hu Chun was being direct because Wang Chen had given him the pistol. But Wang Chen knew— even if he’d killed someone, seen countless horror movies, as a high school grad he’d never faced such a scene. Aunt Hui hadn’t hidden a zombie, just written bloody characters everywhere— hardly a crime. What could they do? She was a religious believer; belief isn’t illegal, even cults require evidence. The blood writing might be evidence, but who could swear it proved a cult? Maybe she just copied some rare Buddhist or Taoist scripture?

Even assuming she was mad— maybe traumatized by the zombie outbreak or her family’s deaths— was it worth fighting a sixty-something lunatic?

Wang Chen smiled bitterly and shook his head— he didn’t know what to do. Even if he called the rescue center, they’d probably just tell the sane people to decide.

Hu Chun felt the same— he regarded Aunt Hui as a crazy old woman, sighed, put away the pistol, and left without bothering to argue.

“Oh my god, how much blood did this take, Aunt Hui? I can’t read what you wrote, but one thing, I want to know: where did you get all this blood?” Li Changhuai cut to the heart of the matter!

Right! Wang Chen suddenly realized— Aunt Hui, an old woman, couldn’t get blood from zombies outside, and she looked healthy, so it wasn’t her own. Where did the blood come from?

“I’ve been a mason for years, I know painting rooms. For this room, you’d need at least two buckets of paint— even with gaps, it wouldn’t cover everything, and you wrote thickly, so at least one bucket. That means one bucket of blood.” Li Changhuai spoke confidently, drawing on his work experience.

“Ah, this blood, well, I… why should I tell you? It’s a miracle! Yes, a miracle! The gods gave me blood, so I have blood!” Aunt Hui faltered, then started ranting about her god again.

“She wasn’t like this before, right?” Wang Chen watched Aunt Hui babbling and scratched his head.

“She was normal— even said kind things to my daughter.”

“Forget it, we won’t get a straight answer. Let’s…”

Wang Chen put away his knife, looked around, pulled down the curtain cord, dragged a chair over, and sat Aunt Hui onto it. With Hu Chun and Li Changhuai helping, the three men easily tied her up.

Once sure Aunt Hui couldn’t hurt anyone, Wang Chen took her keys from her pocket and said, “Let’s stick together and check each room. Li, are you coming with me?”

“Me?” Li Changhuai hesitated, then grabbed his masonry hammer and nodded, “If you can take charge, you can’t be afraid. Let’s go together.”

“Good, more hands make things easier. Hu Chun, please watch Aunt Hui with your daughter. Li and I will check the attic— dead or alive, there’s bound to be something.”

“Alright, be careful. With me here, this crazy woman won’t cause trouble. You’re thinking like me— first and second floors aren’t places to hide people or things, most likely it’s in the attic. Oh, take the gun— I’m fine, blocking the corridor with a knife works too!”

After all this commotion— even with the gunshot— the corridor was still empty. Wang Chen decided to inform the refugees downstairs, but after explaining for over a minute, he was met with indifferent looks. No one was interested in seeing Aunt Hui’s “masterpiece.” So Wang Chen stopped wasting words and headed upstairs with Li Changhuai.