Chapter 7: Stockpiling, Accident
The next morning, Wu Heng woke up early. He quietly returned home and went into the kitchen to make breakfast for the family.
Zeng Like and Wu Shiming preferred noodles, but they weren’t picky about the texture—any kind of noodle would do. So the fridge was always stocked with a variety of ready-made noodles from the supermarket, which made breakfast prep quick and easy.
The tricky part was Wu Zhi’s breakfast. She only ate food that was beautifully plated; taste was secondary.
Wu Heng shaped a few balls out of purple sweet potato mash, used finely chopped vegetables to form eyes and a nose, and added a glass of yogurt on the side, sprinkled with a small handful of crushed nuts.
“Wow… Xiao Zhi can tie her own braids now,” Zeng Like commented as she entered.
Wu Zhi came bouncing into the kitchen, carefully slipping five hundred yuan into Wu Heng’s pocket. “Mom gave me this as pocket money last night. I want to give it to my brother.”
Then, she looked at her breakfast and showered him with exaggerated praise: “Big Brother, you’re amazing! Thank you! You worked so hard!”
Wu Heng sat at the farthest end of the table, eating a bowl of noodles by himself.
The slap mark on his face had turned bluish overnight, standing out starkly against his pale skin. His eyes, unusually dark, gave him an almost inhuman air.
“Wu Heng?” Wu Shiming had apparently gone back to his room at some point. Now, holding his wallet, he took out all the cash inside and placed it beside Wu Heng.
“Dad lost his temper last night. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it to heart, alright?”
Wu Heng glanced at the money and gave a small nod. “Okay, Dad.”
He didn’t get much allowance—barely a tenth of Wu Zhi’s pocket money. Most of what he managed to save came from acting as a punching bag during Wu Shiming’s stress-relief sessions.
After Wu Shiming and Zeng Like left for work, Wu Heng prepared to head downstairs to look for Lin Mengzhi. Wu Zhi trailed after him closely.
“Can I come with you, Brother?”
“Are you rich or something?” Wu Heng raised an eyebrow, though his tone was cold.
“N-No… not anymore. I gave it all to you,” Wu Zhi stammered, retreating into the room and digging her fingers into her palm.
“Then stay home and behave.” Wu Heng gave a faint, joyless smile, shut the door firmly, and locked it from the outside without hesitation.
Lin Mengzhi was waiting downstairs. As soon as he saw Wu Heng, he stepped forward and asked, “What are we buying today?”
Wu Heng handed him his phone.
“Okay, let’s go!” Lin Mengzhi glanced at the screen for a few seconds, then handed the phone back casually.
They hopped onto his lightweight motorbike. Lin Mengzhi had gone out early that morning to fill up the tank—today, they were heading to another wholesale market in Hanzhou, this one located in the southern district of Han’nan.
Han’nan was not only the first area in the city where people had started biting each other—it was also the site of the infamous bus incident. Still, prices in Han’nan were generally lower than those in their current neighborhood, Han’bei. The world was still operating as if everything was normal, but to save money, they had to take some risks.
The motorbike rumbled into Han’nan, finally stopping outside the wholesale market half an hour later.
The weather was gloomy, and dawn hadn’t fully broken. The sky hung dim and uncertain, the streets were damp and shadowed, and the streetlights had already flickered out. Most of the people rushing about at that hour wore anxious, haggard expressions.
Wu Heng got off the bike and glanced at Lin Mengzhi. Compared to the local residents, he didn’t look much better—his lips were trembling.
“A’Heng, don’t look at me like that. I’m scared shitless,” he muttered, trailing after him. “We only slept, what, maybe three hours? And in those three hours, I kept having nightmares… zombies chasing me, trying to bite me. A’Heng… is the apocalypse really coming? Isn’t anyone going to save us?”
“They will,” Wu Heng’s reply to Lin Mengzhi wasn’t entirely pessimistic this time, which briefly lit up his eyes with hope. But then, he shattered it with his next words:
“But the ones who get rescued… won’t be us.”
After speaking, Wu Heng put on a face mask and handed one to Lin Mengzhi as well.
“It’s suffocating,” he complained, shaking his head.
“We still don’t know how it spreads. You’d better wear it,” Wu Heng said calmly.
Once they entered the market, it was noticeably more crowded than outside. About two-thirds of the people were wearing masks like them, and a few were even wearing protective goggles.
“It’s already come to this, and people still have to come out to make a living. Life’s really not easy,” Lin Mengzhi sighed with soft-hearted sympathy.
Wu Heng walked into a daily goods store and showed the owner his shopping list.
“How much do you want?” the store owner asked.
“Enough to fill a 4.2-meter delivery truck.”
The owner sucked in a sharp breath. “All for personal use?”
In a muffled voice, Lin Mengzhi said, “Don’t worry about it. Just give us a price. Oh, and you’ll need to provide the truck and the driver—we’re not covering delivery.”
“…”
Wu Heng stood by the shop entrance, watching as Lin Mengzhi gestured dramatically while explaining to the owner how hard it was to survive on a monthly salary of 3,000 yuan, that they couldn’t even spare a few extra coins. The store owner looked furious and snapped, “Why don’t you just go rob someone instead?”
Rob someone? Wu Heng wouldn’t mind—but the opportunity hadn’t come yet.
—
Once the daily supplies were loaded onto the truck, Wu Heng informed the driver of the scheduled departure time, then turned to scout for the next batch of goods in the market.
Lin Mengzhi groaned, “I think I’m running out of space at home.”
“Store it at my place,” Wu Heng said.
“I thought you said your family wouldn’t let you store anything?” she asked, surprised. Wu Heng wasn’t the kind of person to go back on his word lightly.
“Food, no. Other stuff is fine,” he replied simply.
“…Got it,” Lin Mengzhi nodded. “Once we’re done shopping, I’ll give Wu Shiming a call. He’s all about saving face—chances are, he won’t say no.”
Wu Heng gave a slight nod and stepped into the largest pharmacy in the area.
“Still buying medicine?” Lin Mengzhi peeked nervously into the store. After what had happened the night before, he was on edge, afraid the shop owner might suddenly mutate into something inhuman.
“Medicine is like food—essential,” Wu Heng said, scanning the shelves. “We only need the basics for now. Skip anything we’re unlikely to use.”
Lin Mengzhi started counting on his fingers. “So—disinfectants, anti-inflammatories, cold medicine, painkillers, that kind of stuff?”
“Not too much,” Wu Heng replied.
“Got it.”
The shop owner sat behind the counter, completely shielded by glass panels. Neither the entrance nor the counter were open to customers—just a small window left at the top for communication. She was also wearing a face mask and eyed the two boys warily.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“One box of each,” Lin Mengzhi bent down and pressed his phone screen to the glass for her to see. “Give me a discount, I’m just a student.”
The owner gave him a sideways glance. “Half price.”
“What?” Lin Mengzhi leaned all the way onto the counter. “That cheap?” The phrase ‘you get what you pay for’ flashed through his mind.
The owner tapped away on her keyboard, not even looking up. “Once I clear out the stock, I’m closing up shop and heading back to my hometown.”
It was a perfectly reasonable plan—understandable, even. But Wu Heng still took the time to inspect the batch numbers and expiration dates of each item. Only after confirming everything was in order did he pay.
Once the transaction was complete, Lin Mengzhi ran off toward the market to track down their delivery truck, while Wu Heng lingered nearby, browsing through a few neighboring stores but never straying far.
A crowd had gathered in front of a pet store that sold flowers, birds, and fish. Wu Heng glanced over as he passed by and realized the place wasn’t bustling because of good business—it was because the shop owner was in a heated argument with two customers. Both sides were red in the face, voices rising in anger.
A woman was holding a pink plastic fish tank. Inside was a small black-shelled turtle, no bigger than a clenched fist. Its thin little body was curled up, head tucked in tightly, clearly frightened—but the woman had no regard for its distress. She waved the tank around as she shouted, spittle flying.
“What is this turtle of yours?! The moment I brought it home, it killed every single fish in my tank! And it bit off my kid’s finger! You better give me an explanation today!”
“Miss, how can you lie with your eyes wide open like that?” the shop owner snapped, trying to stay calm. “That’s a proper side-neck swamp turtle! Even if your tank was full of tiny fry, it wouldn’t bite them. And bite off a finger? Impossible—no way that happened!”
“Oh, so what, you think I killed my own fish and then chopped off my kid’s finger just to blame your turtle?” she shot back.
“I never said that!”
“Fine,” she barked. “Since you don’t believe me, then put your hand in there. Let’s see if it bites!”
With that, she yanked off the tank lid. The little turtle retreated even further, tucking its head deeper into its shell, trembling.
The shop owner looked at her relentless posture and finally let out a cold laugh. He raised an index finger toward the onlookers.
“I picked this turtle myself—you think I don’t know if it bites or not? Everyone, watch closely.”
Wu Heng squeezed through the crowd to a spot slightly behind the shop owner. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as the man dipped a finger into the tank.
The side-neck turtle scrambled away in panic, shrinking into its shell entirely. Its frail body looked like it could be crushed with a single squeeze.
The owner even poked at it a few times, then picked it up and placed it in his palm to show the woman and the others.
“See that? I told you—my turtle doesn’t bite!” the shop owner said smugly.
The woman’s face flushed a deep purplish red, like overcooked liver. “But last night it really did kill all my fish—and it bit off my kid’s finger!”
“Then it definitely wasn’t my turtle,” the owner insisted, returning the little creature to its tank. “Everyone saw it—this turtle couldn’t bite even if it tried.”
The woman’s chest heaved violently, her whole body trembling with anger.
Around them, murmurs spread through the crowd. Some onlookers began to speculate—maybe the woman was trying to make trouble and extort money.
The shop owner sighed, clearly unsure what to do next. But he wasn’t about to hand over a big payout without proof. He reached into the tank again, scooped out the turtle, and dropped it into a long rectangular aquarium behind him. The tank was crowded with goldfish, their bodies tightly packed together.
The side-neck turtle sank straight into the water, its small body pushed off balance by the current before it managed to stabilize.
Then, the shop owner softened his tone and stepped toward the woman, trying to reason with her.
But Wu Heng remained near the tank. Slender and quietly dressed, he blended into the background—no one paid him any attention. His gaze, however, never left the side-neck turtle.
Bang! Bang, bang! Bang-bang-bang!
The glass of the aquarium suddenly shuddered under a series of sharp impacts.
Wu Heng took a step back, bending forward to peer into the tank.
Bang! Another strike—this time, he saw what was hitting the glass.
It was the same side-neck turtle the owner had just dropped in.
Small as it was, the turtle darted through the water at astonishing speed, bullet-like in its movement. Mid-swim, it twisted its neck, clamped onto a goldfish, and tore it apart in a flurry of flesh and scales.
The tank floor was already littered with goldfish remains. The swirling water gradually turned pink, tinged with blood.
Bang! Crash!
The aquarium shattered.
Water exploded outward, and with it, dozens of goldfish spilled onto the ground, flailing wildly.
Wu Heng had already sidestepped the blast, avoiding getting soaked.
The owner whipped around at the sound, his face paling as he took in the broken glass and flopping fish on the floor.
He turned to Wu Heng, eyes wide. “What did you do?!”
Wu Heng said nothing.
The shop owner was heartbroken. He dropped to the ground and frantically began scooping up the goldfish, completely unaware that the woman who had been arguing with him was no longer quite… herself.
Her face had turned a ghastly shade of green.
Her teeth clattered together, producing a harsh grinding sound—click, click—and her hands trembled uncontrollably. Her entire body quivered with her shifting joints. Her eyes had gone glassy and lifeless like a pair of dead fish, and from deep in her throat came a low, broken growl.
Only Wu Heng noticed.
As she tilted her head, nostrils flaring as she sniffed at the back of the man’s neck, the others were still frozen in confusion.
Wu Heng’s fingers inched toward the hilt of his knife.
Drool streamed from the woman’s mouth, trickling down her chin and onto the man’s hand. The man frowned, glancing down—only to lock eyes with her twisted, blackened face.
And then she lunged.
Her teeth were just inches from his skin, ready to tear into his neck—
—when suddenly, a force yanked her backward.
Bang!
Wu Heng had grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head down hard onto the cashier counter. In the next instant, his knife flashed—cold and swift—and plunged deep into her skull.
The onlookers stood frozen. No one moved, no one spoke. Even their breathing seemed to stop, as if the entire room had fallen silent in the face of death.
The man, barely spared, stared blankly in shock. When his mind finally caught up to what had just happened, he collapsed to the floor and let out a wailing cry:
“My wife! My wife! Give me back my wife!!”
Thud.
Wu Heng let the corpse drop in front of the man and replied flatly, “Here. Take her back.”
