Chapter 26: Unwilling
When Bald Man and his men entered the first level of the armory, they quickly ran into a horde of zombies. Luckily, by using the bait-and-lure tactic, they managed to get through safely.
At every level they cleared, Bald Man would use the walkie-talkie to check in with Chaoyang and Monkey outside, and the communication always came through fine.
Until… they reached the third level.
“Monkey, kid, can you hear me?” Bald Man asked casually.
“—zzzt… I… zzzt…”
Static crackled through the walkie-talkie, mixed with Chaoyang’s distorted voice.
Before the last sentence could finish, the sound cut off completely.
Bald Man: “……”
What the hell? Where’d the signal go?
He smacked the walkie-talkie and tried again, but this time there was no response at all.
Bald Man: “……”
Damn brat—wasn’t he bragging about how good his modified walkie-talkie’s signal was? Now you couldn’t hear a damn thing!
“Boss, maybe the armory’s got some kind of special magnetic field inside? That could be why the walkie-talkies aren’t working,” one of the lackeys suggested.
Bald Man thought about it and figured that actually sounded pretty reasonable.
“Forget it. We’re almost through anyway. I’ll deal with that little brat once we’re out!”
Bald Man cursed under his breath.
…
At the same time, in the armory courtyard—besides the two zombie corpses from earlier—there was now an additional human corpse lying there.
“Little brother, this handcuff doesn’t even have a key. How are we supposed to open it?”
Chaolu had opened the car door and was frowning at the cuff around Chaoyang’s wrist.
Chaoyang gave her a look like she was an idiot, then pulled a master key from his pocket.
With a sharp click, the handcuff sprang open.
Chaolu was stunned. “No way… that actually worked?!”
This master key was way too powerful.
“It’s a universal key. As long as it’s a mechanical lock, it can open it,” Chaoyang explained, then glanced at the courtyard where Monkey lay dead with an arrow through him. “You… k*lled someone?”
Chaolu nodded. “Yeah.”
Chaoyang was silent for a moment before speaking again. “This is your first time k*lling someone, right?”
“If you don’t count zombies, then yes.”
Chaoyang gave her a strange look. “And you… don’t feel bad about it? After all, it’s k*lling a person.”
“Not really.” Chaolu scratched her head, looking completely unconcerned. “He was a bad guy. It’s not like you died. Why should I feel bad?”
Chaoyang: “……”
That… actually made a lot of sense. He didn’t know how to argue back.
The two kids didn’t dwell on it any further. They just got in the car and drove off.
Because of that, they never noticed that Monkey—pierced by the arrow—still had a single breath left in him, staring blankly as the vehicle pulled away.
Since Chaoyang and Chaolu hadn’t closed the gates, it didn’t take long for zombies to catch the scent of blood and start growling their way toward Monkey.
In that moment, time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Fragments of memory flashed through Monkey’s mind…
His family had always been poor, so after finishing middle school he dropped out, dyed his hair yellow, and hung around with a gang of youngsters, collecting protection money outside different schools.
Monkey never thought there was anything wrong with it.
Because he was tall and lanky, with long arms and legs, his buddies had jokingly called him “Monkey.” Over time, it became his second name.
He thought he’d spend his whole life as a small-time thug—until… his parents gave him a younger brother.
Maybe it was the old “when the first one fails, raise the second properly” kind of mindset, but his parents doted on the new child, shielding him from everything, and wouldn’t even let Monkey near him, afraid he’d be a bad influence.
But Monkey… felt deeply wronged.
When he was little, his parents had always been busy working, never there to spend time with him.
So why was it that as soon as his younger brother was born, their parents were always by his side?
Why was it that the birthday cake he could never have, his brother could eat whenever he wanted?
He was unwilling.
And resentful.
That resentment built up bit by bit, until finally, on his eighteenth birthday, it erupted.
That day he went out to collect protection money. He thought he’d squeeze a little extra, just enough to buy himself a cake—he wanted to celebrate becoming an adult.
But luck was against him. He ran into someone tough, and not only did he fail to collect any money, he got badly beaten instead. In the end, his boss tossed him aside with disgust.
Said he was useless.
Bruised and battered, Monkey dragged himself away in shame.
He had no money for a cake, so he thought, Fine, I’ll just go home. Even if my parents won’t buy me one, there should at least be some noodles at home. I can make myself a bowl.
Unexpectedly, when he opened the refrigerator, he found a cake.
For a moment, Monkey was overjoyed.
He thought his parents had finally remembered his birthday. That they wanted to surprise him.
So he quietly closed the fridge door, went back to his room, and waited.
He didn’t bother cooking noodles. He wanted to save his appetite for that cake—that’s what he thought.
He waited, and waited, and waited… until night fell.
Monkey started to feel drowsy. Unable to resist, he lay down and dozed for a while.
At some point, laughter woke him.
Monkey rubbed his eyes and sat up, thinking, It must be Mom and Dad. They’re home.
Excited, he opened his bedroom door—
Only to see his parents and younger brother eating dinner together.
And the cake from the fridge was sitting right in front of his brother, who was happily scooping it up with a spoon.
Monkey froze in place.
“All day long you’re never serious. You still remember to come back? Why don’t you just die out there!” His father frowned at him.
His mother frowned too.
In that moment, the pent-up resentment in his head burst open. Furious, he stormed over to his five-year-old little brother, yanked the cake away, and started shoving it into his mouth with his hands.
This should have been his cake!
Smack!
A hard slap landed across his face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
His father kicked him as well, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Exactly, why would you snatch your brother’s cake? You’re already grown—act your age!” his mother scolded.
His little brother sobbed while calling him names: “Bad guy! That’s my cake—waaah…”
And so, his eighteenth birthday ended with a brutal beating from his father.
He went back to his room, curled up in a corner, and sat silently.
His stomach growled with hunger, but he ignored it.
He was waiting.
Tick, tick, tick…
The second hand on the living room clock kept moving.
When it passed twelve and the hour hand pointed to ten, he opened his door, walked into the kitchen, and calmly picked up the cleaver used for chopping bones.
In the end, he took his father’s phone and called the police.
While waiting for them to arrive, he opened the fridge, pulled out the half-eaten cake, and ate it bite by bite.
Tears slid down his cheeks, swallowed together with the cake… and the blood.
His vision blurred, and the pain at his neck snapped him awake for a moment.
His cheek felt cold. He was crying again.
It felt like in this whole lifetime, he had never once been loved.
To die like this… it was unbearable.
Unbearable.
Utterly unbearable.
He didn’t want to die.