Chapter 24
The citywide alarm blared—a piercing, urgent sound that signaled a major emergency.
Whatever was happening, it was serious enough that there wasn’t even time to notify all residents individually.
But what kind of crisis could have erupted at such a critical moment?
Wen Xin’s heart pounded as he quickly tapped on the emergency notification that had popped up on his phone.
The message was brief, almost as if it had been thrown together in a hurry. There were no formalities, no official-sounding language—just a blunt and direct warning:
—The city is in chaos and danger. We are doing everything we can to resolve it as fast as possible. Stay home, lock your doors and windows, and don’t get involved in any unnecessary trouble. And remember, anyone who causes problems will bear the consequences themselves!
As Wen Xin finished reading, a cold chill crept up his spine, sending a wave of unease through his body.
Before he could process the full implications of the message, his phone buzzed again—this time with a flood of WeChat notifications.
He opened the app to find every group chat exploding with activity.
The casual discussions from earlier about a possible zombie apocalypse had been completely drowned out by 99+ new messages.
Panic had taken over.
People were frantically speculating about what was happening in City G. What could have triggered the citywide alarm? Was it really something as extreme as a full-blown disaster?
Just then, someone forwarded a video.
Wen Xin hesitated for a moment before tapping to play it.
The footage was shaky, as if the person holding the camera had lost control of their hands, making the entire scene blurry and unstable.
Two weeks ago, when a video titled Suspected Zombie Attack went viral on every major platform, some so-called experts had pointed out that shaky camera work was often a deliberate technique to portray fear and panic.
Someone had even commented, “Oh, that makes sense! The content creator really paid attention to detail.”
But this time, there was no acting.
The fear in the new video wasn’t staged.
Once again, the footage showed people biting others—accompanied by the same bloodcurdling screams, the same sickening sound of bones snapping, and the same horrifying sight of fresh blood dripping from a victim’s arm onto the pavement.
Even the person filming let out a shaky, terrified whisper:
“Oh my God…”
The voice trembled with real fear—exactly like in the previous clips.
Yet this time, no one dismissed it as just another fake viral video made with special effects.
Instead, the chat was filled with messages of sheer terror.
A resident from Building X, Unit X: “Why does this place look exactly like Peace Square in the west part of the city?”
Another resident from Building X, Unit X: “Please tell me I’m wrong, but those ginkgo trees with the colorful flags… they look just like the ones in the video!”
A third resident: “That can’t be right. My boyfriend lives there, and I haven’t heard anything about a film crew being there tonight.”
After sending that message, the third resident vanished from the chat, presumably rushing off to verify with their boyfriend.
Others in the group began comparing their recent photos of Peace Square with the video’s details.
And the more they compared, the more their hearts sank.
The footage had indeed been filmed in Peace Square—located in the western part of City G.
It was like pressing a searing hot iron into ice.
After the initial burst of frantic messages, the chat fell into a deathly silence.
Some of the most vocal participants had left, likely reaching out to friends and family who lived in the western district, desperate for answers.
Others stayed glued to the chat, anxiously awaiting new information—praying that everything was just a misunderstanding.
Wen Xin didn’t personally know anyone from the west side of the city, but a staff member in his work group had a friend working the night shift at Peace Square.
Now, that employee couldn’t reach their friend—and their panic was only growing.
[Half an hour ago, she told me she heard strange footsteps and thought there might be a suspicious person nearby. I told her to walk home with her coworkers after her shift. Then I saw the video and tried calling her—but she’s not answering! What should I do?! What if something happened to her?!]
Wen Xin furrowed his brows tightly.
He watched as his colleagues tried to comfort the anxious staff member.
He wanted to type something supportive too.
Just as Wen Xin’s fingers touched the screen, the ceiling light flickered—then went out, plunging the entire room into darkness.
The power had gone out.
“Wen Xin!” “Squeak squeak!” “Roar—!”
As the room was suddenly swallowed by blackness, the little ones panicked, fearing something terrible had happened. Almost simultaneously, they rushed into the bedroom.
Realizing what had happened, Wen Xin hurriedly got out of bed to reassure them. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the world outside the window—completely dark.
That wasn’t right.
Even if the neighboring apartment still had some lights on, the city shouldn’t have been this pitch black.
A deep sense of unease crept over him as he quickly made his way to the window.
His apartment was on a high floor, giving him a broad view of the surrounding neighborhood.
From here, he could see that it wasn’t just his building—the entire area had lost power.
Not a single streetlight was on.
First, the emergency city alarm.
Now, a citywide blackout.
A growing, suffocating sense of crisis settled over everyone.
Above him, a neighbor threw open their window and shouted, “Does anyone know what’s going on?!”
Seconds later, a voice echoed from a neighboring building, “No idea!”
In this moment of fear and confusion, hearing other people’s voices was like an unexpected source of comfort—like a sedative injected straight into the nerves.
Soon, more voices rang out.
“I heard something happened on the west side of the city! Is it true?!”
“It’s bad—really bad! I found some phone numbers for shops in that area on a delivery app, but no one’s answering!”
“Is it really zombies?!”
“If it’s not zombies, it’s something worse—some kind of monster! Living monsters!”
“Could it be those rabies patients? Weren’t they all supposed to be under control?!”
“It’s not just City G! I just saw on Weibo that Z City had a blackout for most of the day. The monsters must have come from there!”
“And now they’ve reached the west side of City G. Should we really be yelling like this? What if we attract them here?!”
…
The moment someone voiced that fear, the entire neighborhood fell silent.
Videos of people being bitten.
Unverified rumors spreading like wildfire.
A city alarm blaring through the streets.
Trouble erupting in the west.
And now, a complete blackout.
Even the most oblivious person could no longer ignore the harsh reality unfolding before them.
Wen Xin listened as the once-chaotic shouting outside gradually faded away.
In mere moments, the lively, panic-filled neighborhood had fallen into an eerie stillness.
Pale moonlight bathed the streets below, casting long shadows over the lifeless city.
An indescribable fear slithered through the silence, like some unseen beast lurking in the darkness—its claws extending, tightening their grip on the hearts of every resident.
Wen Xin felt it too.
His chest was heavy, as if a massive stone were pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe.
Noticing his pale expression, the canary spoke up on behalf of the others. “Wen Xin, what’s going on?”
Wen Xin jolted, snapping out of his thoughts as if waking from a nightmare.
He turned sharply.
The apartment was shrouded in darkness, but he could feel their eyes on him—all of the little ones watching, waiting. Concern radiated from them, their silent gazes filled with worry.
He opened his mouth, wanting to force a smile, to tell them everything was fine.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
If monsters—if zombies—had truly appeared in the west side of the city, it was only a matter of time before they reached his neighborhood.
Ignoring the situation wouldn’t change the inevitable.
Wen Xin took a deep breath, steeling himself.
Then, as calmly and clearly as he could, he explained the situation.
The little ones weren’t foolish.
The little ones had already heard the residents shouting outside and had their own suspicions. Wen Xin’s explanation only confirmed what they had been thinking.
But unlike Wen Xin, they weren’t worried at all.
The purple squirrel had encountered infected humans before. According to its description, those infected weren’t particularly strong—at best, they were comparable to a D-class mutant.
In other words, even the weakest among them—the canary—could take on dozens of infected humans with ease.
As long as they were here, Wen Xin was absolutely safe.
And if Wen Xin was safe, then what was there to worry about?
Getting bitten by an infected human? That would be far too humiliating.
Wen Xin, however, had no idea what was going through their minds.
As the head of the household, he felt a responsibility to stay calm and collected. He took a few deep breaths, adjusting his mindset.
By the time he calmly walked over to the cabinet and retrieved some backup candles, even he was surprised by how quickly he had regained his composure.
He lit one of the candles.
A warm, golden glow spread through the room, pushing back the oppressive darkness. The soft flickering light illuminated the little ones’ faces, making them look even more distinct.
Taking a deep breath, Wen Xin then pulled out his phone.
Thankfully, he had charged it before going to bed.
Even after playing the tutorial video for the purple squirrel earlier, his battery still had three bars left.
No one knew when the power would return—or if it ever would—so every bit of battery life was precious.
The best choice would be to turn the phone off now and save power for when it was truly needed.
But Wen Xin had to check the latest updates.
After some thought, he decided on a plan—he would check the internet for news every two hours.
With that settled, he turned his attention to their food supply.
Heading to the storage room, Wen Xin began taking stock of everything they had left.
But just as he was in the middle of his calculations, the canary suddenly appeared beside him.
“Wen Xin, come look out the window.”
Wen Xin walked over to the window and, in the dim light, saw a couple dragging a suitcase. They held the hand of a child—who looked about seven years old—as they hurried toward a car parked by the road.
Once inside, the car’s engine roared to life, its headlights cutting through the darkness as it sped toward the neighborhood gate.
The security barrier was still down.
Wen Xin couldn’t see what was happening inside the security office—he didn’t even know if anyone was still there.
He expected the car to stop.
But to his shock, it didn’t slow down at all.
With a loud crash, it rammed straight into the barrier!
Wen Xin wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Other residents had also been watching.
And the moment the barrier broke, it was like pouring boiling oil into water—chaos erupted.
“Damn it! That idiot broke the barrier! If zombies get into the neighborhood, what’s going to stop them now?!”
In reality, the barrier wasn’t a solid wall. It had gaps—whether intact or not, it wouldn’t have been enough to keep zombies out.
But this reckless act was the final spark that ignited panic.
Up until now, everyone had been trying to suppress their fear, following City G’s emergency notice to stay indoors.
But now, seeing someone openly defy the rules, how could anyone stay calm?
What if the city couldn’t resolve the crisis?
What if those creatures were as terrifying as the rumors said?
Were they really supposed to just sit inside and wait to die?
Within moments, several residents began frantically packing their belongings.
They didn’t know where they were going.
They didn’t know if the outside world was safer—or even more dangerous.
But one thing was certain: staying put was no longer an option.
And it wasn’t just happening in this neighborhood.
The once-empty road outside was suddenly filled with the rumble of car engines.
One after another, vehicles followed the first car.
Then another.
Three… four… seven… nine—eventually, more than a dozen cars were speeding away into the night.
Just then, Wen Xin’s phone lit up with a message.
Tang Qi: I’m worried about my parents getting into trouble. I’m heading to City B soon. Do you want to come with me?
