Chapter 32: Who can drive?
“Alright.”
Wu Heng followed behind Xie Chongyi into the elevator. There wasn’t a trace of zombies in the building; it was brightly lit yet utterly empty. Neither of them spoke, and from time to time they could hear Lin Mengzhi’s excited howling echoing through the air.
“Damn, I want that skull one, it’s so freaking cool!”
“I’m taking all this hardware with me, I’ll wear a different one every day!”
“So expensive, two thousand for a crappy silver ring…”
Clearly, Lin Mengzhi and the others were on the men’s clothing floor. Yet Xie Chongyi led Wu Heng into a boutique that specialized in trendy, youthful girls’ fashion.
The shop was decorated mainly in pale green and creamy yellow. At a glance, the dresses and skirts were all in fresh, pastel tones, but the designs were bold and daring, with not much fabric used.
Walking just behind him, Wu Heng nearly bumped into Xie Chongyi when the latter suddenly stopped.
Xie Chongyi turned around, holding up a puff-sleeve princess dress he had somehow picked up. But the dress was so pathetically short that, against Xie Chongyi’s tall, upright frame, it looked more like a top than an actual dress.
Wu Heng ground his teeth silently, then lifted his eyelids. “Puff sleeves make you look fat.”
“You sure know a lot,” Xie Chongyi said, hanging the dress back on the rack.
After taking a few steps, he muttered to himself, “Almost forgot—you’ve got a younger sister.”
Wu Heng could only think: no wonder Xie Chongyi had been the class monitor; he even knew how many family members each classmate had.
“This one?” Xie Chongyi, feeling he had a fairly good temper and plenty of patience, even allowed Wu Heng to pick something he liked.
But clearly, Wu Heng didn’t like a single piece.
The smile on Xie Chongyi’s face deepened a little. Not liking them was good—because if he had, Xie Chongyi wouldn’t have brought him in here at all.
Staring at the blue-and-white checkered dress in front of him—its hem was longer now, probably able to brush the floor—but it was a strapless dress.
“The size won’t fit. Girls’ frames are usually smaller.”
Xie Chongyi gave a casual “oh,” hung the dress back up, and glanced at Wu Heng. “Your frame isn’t that big.”
Then, out of nowhere, the boy suddenly asked, “Are you malnourished?”
Wu Heng was momentarily startled. “A little.”
Xie Chongyi’s expression revealed nothing; he simply kept picking out pretty dresses.
Looking at those brightly colored yet ridiculously skimpy pieces of girls’ clothing, Wu Heng—for once—felt a creeping sense of dread.
“What about this one?” Xie Chongyi brushed aside the other dresses on the rack, too lazy to even take the hanger down.
Wu Heng looked at it. It was a sporty pleated dress—still short, but not as short as the first one. At least it had long sleeves and a buttoned polo collar.
He didn’t like it. He needed to find a proper flaw.
“White… gets dirty easily,” Wu Heng muttered, so meek it almost made one reluctant to push him any further.
Except for Xie Chongyi.
“Then we’ll take it.” Xie Chongyi pulled the dress off the rack, tossed the hanger onto a nearby sofa, and shoved the dress straight into Wu Heng’s arms.
Wu Heng was forced back two steps by the push. “Class monitor.”
The boy was already thin. His fingers clenched the dress so tightly the veins on the back of his hand bulged. The gloom and impatience in his eyes surged up—but he still had to keep in mind his twisted appetite that set him apart from ordinary people.
Xie Chongyi quietly studied the reluctant Wu Heng, then suddenly raised his hand and clamped it around the back of his neck, dragging him straight into his arms.
“If you don’t want to, you can tell me.” Before, watching Wu Heng put on an act had been rather amusing. But once pretense became constant, Xie Chongyi found himself itching to rip off that mask—just to see him flustered, restless, and ill at ease.
Wu Heng lifted his head. Xie Chongyi’s sharp, commanding build exuded a suffocating sense of pressure. He didn’t pay much attention to the man’s looks—his gaze was fixed squarely on the other’s soft, vulnerable neck.
Truly, a man who had everything—appearance, presence, and allure.
“Are you going to wear it?” Xie Chongyi asked again.
“No.” Wu Heng admitted honestly.
Xie Chongyi released him, the feel of the boy’s protruding, bony spine still lingering in his palm.
He eats plenty. So why is he this thin?
The dress was hung back on the rack.
“Let’s go up to the fifth floor,” Xie Chongyi said. “Pick out two sets of clothes and two pairs of shoes, then we’ll head back to school.”
But just before leaving the store, Wu Heng suddenly froze mid-step. He turned back, staring inside.
Then he walked back in, rummaged under the cashier’s counter for the largest shopping bags, and stood before the rows of racks, tossing in armful after armful of clothes with a brisk pa-pa-pa.
Only after filling two oversized shopping bags to the brim did Wu Heng leave.
Amused, Xie Chongyi asked, “For your sister?”
“Mm.”
“No need to take so many. Just a change or two will do.” In the apocalypse, clothes were never as important as food—least of all these frilly, good-for-nothing outfits meant only to look nice.
Wu Heng stayed silent.
What dog doesn’t have a closet full of cute little outfits?
Upstairs, Xie Chongyi led Wu Heng straight into a store specializing in outdoor gear and apparel.
Wu Heng set the shopping bags down. Meanwhile, Xie Chongyi was already pushing a cart, tossing things into it.
Waterproof, windproof jackets. Sweat-wicking, quick-dry shirts. Quick-dry pants. Windproof beanies. Gloves. Hiking boots. Extra-large capacity backpacks.
He threw them in with such practiced ease it looked almost careless, but when Wu Heng lingered at the shelves to check, he realized every single item Xie Chongyi picked out was exactly what they needed—and the best quality, too.
Wu Heng, however, wasn’t as knowledgeable as Xie Chongyi about these things. He had to check the tags on each item one by one to figure out their specific purpose and the materials used.
When Xie Chongyi was focused on practical matters, he was far less inscrutable. After going through every section of the store, he tossed a pile of clothes and pants at Wu Heng. “Go change into these.”
Saying that, he grabbed a set of clothes for himself and disappeared into the neighboring fitting room.
Wu Heng had never worn clothes this expensive before. Even a seemingly ordinary jacket cost over forty thousand.
When he stepped out of the fitting room, he was still studying the unusually deep pockets with serious focus, while Xie Chongyi had already changed and was waiting outside.
Wu Heng’s gaze followed the other boy’s long, straight legs upward. The jacket he wore was a deep crimson—a dark, oppressive red—but with Xie Chongyi’s sharp, bold features, the color seemed equally fierce and unrestrained.
Wu Heng’s own jacket was sapphire blue. The two of them wore different colors.
Xie Chongyi’s eyes swept over him from the crown of his head all the way down before he asked, “What size shoes do you wear?”
“Forty-one.”
A pair of boots was tossed onto the floor in front of him. “Put them on. We’re leaving.”
Carrying the boots, Wu Heng sat down on a nearby bench and slipped his feet inside, bending down to tie the laces.
Suddenly, a figure crouched down before him—Xie Chongyi was tying the lace on the other boot for him.
Wrapped in the thick jacket, Wu Heng kept exhaling hot breaths. With his head lowered, he could see Xie Chongyi’s head lowered too. It was the first time in his life someone had cared for him from head to toe like this.
He recalled what his classmates had once said about Xie Chongyi:
“The class monitor might seem a bit cold toward people, but as a monitor, he’s extremely responsible. He organizes class and school events, treats everyone fairly. Sometimes when class funds run short, he even pays out of his own pocket to cover it.”
“So actually, the monitor is a really, really good person. Sure, he can be a bit strict—never overlooks tardiness or early departures—but that’s only because he’s looking out for us.”
After Wu Heng finished tying his laces, Xie Chongyi leaned down and tightened them even further for him.
Wu Heng murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”
But Xie Chongyi had already straightened up. “Let’s go.”
From the other end of the corridor, Lin Mengzhi came walking toward them, dressed like a model fresh off the runway.
When he spotted the two, he pulled off his sunglasses and gave them a once-over, from head to toe. “Tacky.”
“…”
In truth, neither Wu Heng nor Xie Chongyi had anything at all to do with the word tacky—their figures alone could carry anything off. But what they wore now definitely wasn’t trendy.
Wu Heng frowned slightly at Lin Mengzhi’s oversized T-shirt, oversized shirt, ripped wide-leg jeans, and doodled canvas sneakers. “The way you’re dressed right now isn’t appropriate.”
Xie Chongyi didn’t bother worrying about other people. He just walked over to the side of the corridor and leaned there.
Not long after, Xue Shen came pushing Xue Qi’s wheelchair toward them. Xue Qi didn’t show any signs of frustration or sadness on his face, but the one behind him—Xue Shen—looked so grim his expression could drip water. Even through his glasses, his eyes were visibly bloodshot.
Xie Chongyi pulled his gaze back. Behind him, Lin Mengzhi had gone into the store to change his clothes, and came out dressed in almost the same style as he and Wu Heng.
“How are we getting back to school?” Lin Mengzhi wrapped his arms around Wu Heng. “I’m exhausted. I don’t want to walk.”
The little bird X leapt from Wu Heng’s shoulder onto Lin Mengzhi’s head, pawed around, then settled down to sit there.
“By car,” Xie Chongyi said coolly. “With Xue Qi like this, there’s no way we can push him all the way back to school.”
Xue Qi: “Old Xie, when did you get your license?”
“I’m underage. How would I have a license?” said Xie Chongyi.
“Then who does?” Xue Shen looked at Wu Heng and Lin Mengzhi.
Lin Mengzhi: “Don’t look at me just because I’ve been out in society early. I’m still underage.”
Wu Heng: “I don’t have a license either.”
Xue Shen pushed up his glasses. “As long as you can drive, that’s good enough. Who knows how?”
The silence that followed was almost unbearable.
After a long while, Xie Chongyi finally moved. He turned and walked off, his departing figure free and unrestrained. “There’s a display car downstairs. We’ll look for the keys. If there aren’t any, we’ll hotwire it ourselves.”
“We know there’s a car downstairs—the problem is, no one has a license, and no one even knows how to drive!” Lin Mengzhi shouted.
“Let’s just go downstairs first,” Wu Heng said, looking at Lin Mengzhi.
Sure enough, downstairs was a Jeep display model. The car door had already been pried open by Xie Chongyi, who sat in the driver’s seat, bent over with two wires pinched between his fingers, sparking them together.
“Didn’t find the key?” Xue Shen set Xue Qi aside and walked over, worry written all over his face.
“If I had the key, would I need to be doing this?” Xie Chongyi tugged his collar loose, glancing at Wu Heng, who was standing farther back. To him, the guy not only liked to put on airs, he didn’t have much of a conscience either.
“Even if you get it started, none of us can actually drive…” Xue Shen trailed off.
But he had underestimated the streak of rebellion in Xie Chongyi’s bones. The other boy’s voice was casual: “I’ll drive.”
“…” Xue Shen adjusted his glasses. “Are you serious? You only know how to ride a mountain bike and play around with go-karts.”
“It’s about the same,” said Xie Chongyi.
Xue Shen thought, ‘That’s worlds apart.’ “How is that the same?”
The corners of Xie Chongyi’s eyes were cool, indifferent. “The steering wheel’s about the same.”
Vroom—
The fuel line caught. The engine roared to life.
Exhaling, Xie Chongyi straightened up, adjusted the seat with one hand, then flicked a glance at Wu Heng—who had, at some point, edged even farther away.
To Xue Shen, he said, “Have Wu Heng sit in the passenger seat.”