Eaten Ch.49

Chapter 49: Snow

Wu Heng stepped aside without a word.

“Hungry?” Xie Chongyi straightened up after putting something into the luggage compartment and suddenly asked.

Wu Heng looked blank and shook his head. “Why would I be hungry? Are you hungry?”

“…No.” Xie Chongyi chuckled, then asked again, “What Du Yaoyuan said—do you take it to heart?”

Wu Heng kept shaking his head.

“Then why were you angry just now?”

“Was I angry just now?” Wu Heng shot the question back.

Mimicking his tone, Xie Chongyi casually kicked at a nearby boulder—one much larger in size.

Crash—!

The stone hit a glass panel dead-on, smashed through the building’s second wall, and half the structure collapsed.

The people behind the car cried out just like before: “Why isn’t the shaking over yet?!”

Wu Heng: “…You’re angry?”

“Was I angry just now?”

Wu Heng didn’t continue this pointless exchange—it was a waste of energy. He knew Xie Chongyi had noticed his little flash of temper just now. Anyway, it wasn’t the first time.

After all, even when he behaved and listened obediently, he didn’t get a single bite to eat.

“Du Yaoyuan didn’t say anything untrue, so I wouldn’t be angry. And even if he had told the truth, I still wouldn’t be angry. So about what the class rep said just now—I wasn’t angry at him either. I just felt that I was really stupid that day.” Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi and finished softly, almost muttering, “That’s all. Nothing else.”

“I see.” Xie Chongyi stopped pressing the issue.

Just as he finished speaking, something inside the car behind them thudded to the floor and rolled twice before the ground shook slightly.

At some point, X had crouched on top of the car, and now it let out a call toward the group.

“Another quake, huh? If you’ve got the guts, shake me to death.”

“Is this ever going to end?”

“It’s just a few tremors, same as before—it’ll stop soon.”

Hearing the others talk, Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi exchanged a glance. In each other’s eyes, they both caught a flicker of guilty conscience.

They quickly looked away. The next second, the ground beneath Wu Heng’s feet split open without a sound.

His body dropped lower in an instant, and when he looked back up at Xie Chongyi, he had to tilt his head back with effort.

He barely had time to react before the vine in his hand shot out toward the person above. The vine was thin and pliant—before it could even reach Xie Chongyi, the ground under Wu Heng gave way completely. Losing balance, he felt himself falling—then the next thing he knew, Xie Chongyi had caught him and hauled him back to solid ground.

“It’s an earthquake,” Xie Chongyi murmured, his soft, warm lips brushing against the rim of Wu Heng’s ear.

Wu Heng flinched, instinctively tightening his arms around Xie Chongyi—if the chance came knocking, he wasn’t about to waste it.

Xie Chongyi pulled him back quickly, retreating a safe distance. The spot where they’d been standing split wide open—a crack more than a meter across.

“Be careful,” Xie Chongyi said, letting go of Wu Heng and yanking open the driver’s door of the bus.

He ignited the fuel tank, slammed the accelerator, and the bus—its rear wheels already suspended—shot out like an arrow.

Inside, people and supplies tumbled together into chaos.

Wu Heng glanced at the back of the bus. The ground quaked again beneath him, and he leapt up, landing on a nearby block of concrete. X spread its wings wide and swooped down behind him, its feathers forming a solid shield around him.

The town, already shattered once, was shaken apart and pieced together again. The surrounding mountainsides slid down in whole sheets, sending forests and massive buried boulders crashing into view.

Du Yaoyuan and Dou Lu combined their strength, deflecting the incoming steel beams and metal debris from every direction. Amid clouds of dust and collapsing ruins, vines surged upward like green waves, forming a sturdy protective wall that sealed off the powerless members of the group, shielding them completely.

X stared wide-eyed at the scene in the distance. It looked at them, then lowered its head to glance at its own now completely unarmed master.

It rubbed its thick leg against Wu Heng’s back, asking—what was going on? How had his vine ended up belonging to someone else?

Wu Heng squinted slightly. “From now on, he’s one of our own too.”

The aftershocks finally ended two minutes later. The gas station, which had already been on the verge of collapse, was completely flattened. Everyone was covered in dust, but thankfully, no one was injured.

“We have to get out of here, fast,” Xue Shen said, tucking away his notebook and pen, trudging unevenly through the debris. “Where’s the bus?!”

“The class monitor drove it off.” Wu Heng pointed in the direction the vehicle had gone.

In the moment of crisis, Xie Chongyi’s driving skills had improved dramatically. The bus now sat in an open clearing; aside from a few people leaning out the windows, vomiting miserably, it was—miraculously—mostly intact.

Everyone gradually climbed aboard again and began reloading the supplies that had rolled all over the floor.

“Oh dear,” Ji Zelan gasped softly. She quickly set down what she was holding and bent to lift up a fallen cello case from under the seat, carefully setting it upright beside her.

Du Yaoyuan, who found fault with everything he saw, lifted two bundles of noodles. “You can’t eat this. Isn’t it just taking up space?”

“It’s different,” Ji Zelan said as she sat back down. “For everyone who’s still alive, there’s always one or two things more important than life itself. To my son, that thing is the cello.”

Du Yaoyuan clearly didn’t buy it. He turned his head toward Shen She. “You agree with what your mom just said?”

Xue Qi, the one who knew Shen She’s family best, craned his neck and said, “You looking to get beaten again?”

The poison’s effects hadn’t fully worn off yet, so Du Yaoyuan didn’t dare talk back. He just sat quietly in his seat.

“Which direction should we head now?” Shen Ping’an asked, gripping the steering wheel and glancing at Xue Shen beside him.

Xue Shen put on his glasses and pulled out his pen. “Give me a second.”

He took a rolled-up map out of another pocket. The map had originally been a blank sheet of paper—all the markings on it were hand-drawn by Xue Shen himself.

He placed a dot near the lower middle section and labeled it “Hanzhou.” After roughly estimating the distance, he said, “We’re currently in the scenic area, less than a hundred kilometers from Hanzhou City. The nearest city to Hanzhou is Nansu, I think it’s about—”

“Close to three hundred kilometers,” came a sudden voice. It was Ying Liuquan, who had been silent until now and still looked in terrible shape. “But there’s Moon Hill between them. The terrain there is steep, and there are a lot of river valleys.”

“Teacher, you’re amazing.” Dou Lu smiled, hoping that Ying Liuquan would recover soon.

Ying Liuquan immediately shrank back again.

Xue Shen folded the map and tucked it away. “That means this is the only route we can take. Moon Hill runs along the direction of the Yangtze River—detouring around it would be too far. And beside it is Yuzhou, the most densely populated city in the country, which means the number of zombies there will be the highest too.”

“Everyone can rest for a bit,” he added. “In two hours, someone else can take my place in the front seat.”

He adjusted the chair as Shen Ping’an kept driving. The front passenger’s job was mainly to stay alert for any dangers that might appear along the road.

Wu Heng leaned against the window, staring blankly outside. The glass was open a crack, and when the engine started, the wind rushed in. He pushed the window shut silently with his fingers, thinking the air felt even colder now than before.

The bus rattled along the broken highway. The road was cracked and uneven, and hardly anyone on board could get any real sleep—if they did doze off, a hard jolt would send them bumping into the ceiling.

This went on for over four hours before things finally improved. The stretch of road ahead had clearly been less affected by the earthquake than the areas around Hanzhou.

Xie Chongyi sat slouched in the passenger seat, holding a compass, yawning nonstop.

“Let me take over in half an hour,” he said after noticing Shen Ping’an yawning as well.

Shen Ping’an nodded slightly in agreement.

The headlights cut through the dark ahead, but at the end of the road there was only pitch-black nothingness.

“What’s that?” Shen Ping’an, focused on driving, suddenly craned his neck forward. Something white was landing on the windshield—one speck, then another, then more and more, until the glass was covered in tiny dots.

Xie Chongyi’s thumb paused over the compass. “It’s snowing.”

“Snowing?” Shen Ping’an couldn’t believe it. He slowed down the bus and rolled the window open. A blast of wind hit his face, sharp and icy, carrying fine flakes that stung as they struck his skin. It was snowing—no doubt about it.

“What month is it now? April, or May?”

Under the glow of the headlights, the snowflakes looked like tufts of goose down bursting out from a torn coat. The sky itself seemed ripped open.

“About May,” Xie Chongyi said, setting down the compass and zipping up his jacket. “Let me drive.”

Shen Ping’an didn’t argue. He’d been behind the wheel for most of the day and was exhausted anyway.

When they stopped to switch seats, both of them glanced toward the back of the bus. Everyone was still asleep.

“Be careful driving at night,” Shen Ping’an said, moving into the passenger seat. He picked up the compass and fastened his seat belt.

“Got it,” Xie Chongyi replied—and slammed on the accelerator. The bus lurched, almost lifting off the ground for a moment.

Shen Ping’an’s usually impassive expression cracked, and the people in the back woke up instantly.

Those who had never ridden in Xie Chongyi’s car before screamed louder with every bump, while the ones who had simply tightened their seat belts wordlessly.

The bus sped forward at a breakneck pace. Every so often, some unidentifiable object on the road was struck aside—or crushed beneath the tires. Xie Chongyi’s driving style was brutally sharp, completely at odds with his cold, detached demeanor.

“It’s snowing!!!” Lin Mengzhi shouted, face pressed to the window. “It’s actually snowing—holy crap!”

“It really is! It’s snow—”

“Oh my god, how is it snowing?”

“No wonder I felt so cold!”

Wu Heng rested his hands on his thighs and slowly unclenched his fingers. The vine, limp and lifeless, coiled in his palm like a tired snake.

He thought, If only I were a pine tree—pines aren’t afraid of the cold.

He sighed, then slipped both hands under the warm, fluffy belly of the gray parrot beside him.

X, shivering from the chill, lifted its head. Wu Heng told it, “Good. If it’s cold, that means it’s really snowing outside.”

The bus continued down the road for about an hour before Du Yaoyuan suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped up. “No, no, this is insane—it’s getting colder and colder! Let me check… Ruan Silian, didn’t you tell me to grab a few down jackets?”

Ruan Silian nodded. “Mm-hmm, you did. Find them and hand them out to everyone.”

Rubbing his arms, Du Yaoyuan clung to the seatbacks as he made his way toward the rear of the bus. The constant jolts and sudden brakes sent him crashing onto the floor several times, but since he could clearly see that Xie Chongyi was the one driving, he didn’t dare make a single sound of complaint.

He dug into the pile of supplies and pulled out a misshapen plastic bag, then another one. Inside were clothes scavenged from a half-collapsed old clothing store—thick coats, down jackets, wool sweaters, and long underwear. Basically, whatever they could find, they’d stuffed into the bags without thinking. He hadn’t expected they’d end up needing them so soon.

Sitting on the bus floor, Du Yaoyuan rummaged through and found a pink one. He crouched beside Ruan Silian and handed it over. “Here.”

But Ruan Silian immediately passed the coat to little Wu Zhi instead. “Let’s give it to the younger sister first.”

Wu Zhi took the coat but held it out toward Wu Heng. “Brother should wear it.”

Du Yaoyuan’s temper flared. He snatched the coat back and tossed it at Wu Zhi’s feet. “If you won’t wear it, then you don’t get one at all.”

Wu Zhi picked up the clothes and threw them back.

“If you don’t wear them, then don’t wear them! But if you’ve got the guts, don’t eat the lamb my brother’s bird caught either! The meal was cooked by Brother Mengzhi! You didn’t even do the most work!”

The car instantly went dead silent.

It wasn’t just Du Yaoyuan who was left speechless.

Wu Zhi wasn’t smart—she was a bit of a fool—but she had just pointed out something no one in the group had ever dared to mention: the division of labor.

Among the team, those with supernatural abilities were the obvious workforce. On top of that, people who also had practical daily-life skills—like cooking or driving—were the workforce among the workforce, such as Lin Mengzhi and Shen Ping’an.

Meanwhile, those who had neither abilities nor useful skills… their best contribution was to stay quiet and keep their presence to a minimum. The less noticeable they were, the less resentment they’d stir up in others. In fact, up until Wu Zhi broke the silence, everyone had been quietly abiding by that unspoken rule.

Ironically, Wu Zhi herself belonged to that latter group—and in most people’s eyes, so did her brother Wu Heng. Alongside them were Ruan Silian, Shen She and his mother Ji Zelan, the dazed Ying Liuquan, and Dr. Chen Meng, who only ever opened his mouth to ask for food.

Wu Zhi didn’t understand all these subtleties. To her, she, her brother, X, and Lin Mengzhi were one family. If her brother didn’t do any work, it was fine—someone else in the family could do it. It was all the same.

“Alright, alright! Enough already! You’re so damn annoying!” Du Yaoyuan shoved the clothes back at her, his face flushed red. “Give them to Wu Heng then! Here! Give them all to him! You might as well dig out my heart and liver and give them to him too!”

Shen Ping’an glanced toward the back. “They’re at it again.”

“Who’s fighting this time?”

“Wu Zhi and Du Yaoyuan.”

“So who won?”

“Wu Zhi. Du Yaoyuan looks like he’s about to cry.”

Once everyone had put on their clothes, the snow outside had grown even heavier. One glance out the window revealed a world of endless white—it was impossible to tell whether the snow was too thick, or if the world itself had simply turned white.

The air was bitterly cold. Every breath came out as a puff of white mist, and the mood inside the vehicle was heavy.

Wu Zhi’s words lingered in everyone’s minds. Even if they wanted to say something, none of them could bring themselves to speak.

Xue Shen braved the cold to measure the outside temperature. The thermometer was something Ying Liuquan had reminded him to look for back in town—it had taken him nearly an hour to find one. Since it was rare and small enough to carry, he’d tucked it into a canvas bag he’d scavenged and kept it with him ever since.

“Minus fifteen degrees. Still manageable,” Xue Shen exhaled a misty breath and rubbed his hands between his thighs for warmth.

“Minus fifteen? Hanzhou’s never even dropped below zero before…” Lin Mengzhi was already wearing a thick coat, so he’d given the clothes Du Yaoyuan had handed him to Wu Heng instead.

He himself was only in a light down jacket, yet he didn’t feel cold at all—his palms were even faintly sweating. But when he saw everyone else’s faces turning pale from the cold, he didn’t dare mention it. He followed the group’s reaction, pretending to be equally shaken.

“How could this happen?”

“Hanzhou barely gets snow once in several years. We haven’t even gone that far yet. Even in the north, it doesn’t snow in April or May.”

“We’re done for.”

Before this, they could still gather supplies in good spirits—it had all felt manageable. They had a dependable class monitor, capable teammates, and the kind of youthful confidence that made them believe that, if they really tried, maybe they could even take over the whole world—no, the whole universe.

But then came this sudden, relentless snowstorm, this out-of-season cold. And just like that, all that confidence vanished without a trace.

Emotions, after all, were contagious.

“I miss my mom,” Dou Lu said softly. “She used to make the best soup dumplings—those with the hot broth inside. She’d also take me to the beauty salon to get facials. She was so good to me. But when I went home…” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, sobbing. “You didn’t see her face—there were three big holes in it.”

“I miss my mom too,” someone else murmured. “She had a terrible temper, but she treated me so well. Every morning before school, she’d make me tomato and egg noodles.”

“I miss my grandma,” Lin Mengzhi suddenly sat up straight, glancing over at Wu Heng. “A’Heng, do you think our grandma… might’ve been dug out by zombies?”

Wu Heng kept his eyes closed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you think she hasn’t, then she hasn’t.”

“…”

Lin Mengzhi opened his mouth to say something more—just as the vehicle lurched forward in a sudden, sharp brake. Everyone was thrown slightly off balance before the car came to a halt.

Xie Chongyi’s calm voice sounded from the driver’s seat.

“Camp here for the night.”

The car fell into silence. After a long pause, Xue Shen unfastened his seatbelt. Sitting in the guide’s seat, he turned to face everyone, looking as if he had a dozen things to say—but in the end, he said only one.

“Camp? What camp? What are we supposed to make a camp with?”

It was already ten o’clock at night.

“The snow’s too heavy. We’ll see what it’s like in the morning before deciding our route.” Xie Chongyi cracked a small gap in the window, then climbed from the driver’s seat into the back. “Get some sleep.”

“Use the extra clothes to line the floor,” Ji Zelan said, already reaching for a bag of unused garments in the back.

“I’ll do it,” Shen She offered, stepping forward to help.

Wu Heng sat stiffly in his seat, frozen from the cold, watching them move about. He didn’t move an inch.

Neither did X.

Man and bird alike—no matter how you looked at them, they both seemed like they were simply slacking off.

Xie Chongyi rested one hand on the back of Lin Mengzhi’s seat, slightly stooping forward—the vehicle’s interior was a bit too low for his height.

His gaze drifted over Wu Heng, lingered for a moment, then passed on as if nothing had caught his attention. He looked toward Du Yaoyuan instead and asked casually, “What were you all arguing about just now?”

“Nothing,” Du Yaoyuan muttered.

Xie Chongyi nodded lightly. “Don’t argue again.”

Du Yaoyuan’s body stiffened, and he mumbled, “Got it.”

The man’s features were sharp and precise—his eyes the only thing that might, at first glance, look gentle. But the moment you met his gaze, that illusion shattered like a soap bubble.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” he said evenly. “I just don’t want to see you wasting time and energy on meaningless things. Next time you argue—” his eyes swept slowly across everyone in the car, “—no food for three days.”

The entire group gasped softly, chilled for more than one reason.

After a long moment, Wu Zhi raised her hand hesitantly. “Then… since I argued with Du Yaoyuan today, can we still eat dinner?”

Du Yaoyuan glared at her—Why ask that? If she didn’t ask, they could still eat!

To his surprise, Xie Chongyi nodded. “You can.” His tone was mild—no teasing, no edge. Not like before.

“I want to eat right now…” Wu Zhi mumbled, echoing the thought everyone was suppressing.

Xue Shen let out a faint laugh. “It is about dinner time.”

“Let’s cook instant noodles,” Dou Lu suggested.

“With what? The only hot thing we’ve got right now is our piss,” Du Yaoyuan grumbled again.

“I’ll go find a pot,” Lin Mengzhi said, rubbing his hands together and standing up. “I’ll go outside and boil some water.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ruan Silian said, already rising.

Du Yaoyuan immediately grabbed her sleeve.

Ji Zelan started to move instead, but Shen She stopped her gently. “I’ll go with you.”

Lin Mengzhi didn’t feel cold, so to him, the job didn’t seem difficult at all.

Outside, he used his ability to boil a pot of water, and Shen She carried it back up to the bus to make instant noodles for everyone.

Ji Zelan used a marker to write each person’s name on their lunch boxes, so they could tell which one was theirs later.

“Brother, I’ll make the noodles for you?” Wu Zhi leaned over the seatback, peering at Wu Heng, who looked half-asleep.

“I’m not hungry. Give X something to eat instead.”

Wu Heng lifted the parrot off his lap and placed it in her hands. Then he folded his arms and curled up in the seat, almost dozing off immediately.

The car grew warmer from the steam of the boiling water. Wu Heng felt a little more comfortable at last—but the smell of instant noodles quickly filled the enclosed space.

It was mouthwatering to everyone else, but to him, it made his face turn pale. Unless the noodles had somehow mutated, he could only feel nauseated.

He cracked open a sliver of the window, breathing in the freezing but clean air outside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Dr. Chen—also secretly opening a window.

A zombie who shared his peculiar sentiment.

After a few breaths, Wu Heng’s gaze drifted toward Shen Ping’an among the others. He watched as the boy eagerly tore open a noodle packet, sprinkled in the seasoning, poured in hot water, and finally lifted the lid to take the first bite.

The moment the noodles touched his tongue, Shen Ping’an froze. A strange look crossed his face—one that didn’t match anyone else’s.

At the corner of Wu Heng’s mouth, a faint, sardonic smile appeared—pure schadenfreude.

Realizing what had just happened to his sense of taste, Shen Ping’an’s expression changed sharply. His eyes darted toward Wu Heng, but the latter was simply gazing out the window, his expression distant and quietly melancholy, as if nothing at all had occurred.

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