Chapter 25
Tang Qi had mentioned before that he bought a car some time ago—only to realize that the cost of gas nearly matched his grocery bills. As a result, he rarely used it.
Now, though, it was finally going to come in handy.
He added that if Wen Xin was planning to leave, they could go together, making the trip safer for both of them. And if Wen Xin needed to go somewhere else afterward, Tang Qi could drop him off along the way.
In treating Wen Xin as a friend, Tang Qi had already shown great loyalty.
Wen Xin read the message, feeling deeply touched.
But at the same time, he hadn’t lost his sense of logic.
Right now, everyone was fleeing the city, making enough noise to be heard several streets away. If those monsters weren’t deaf or blind, they’d definitely be drawn to the commotion.
The roads weren’t that wide.
With so many cars packed together, traffic jams were inevitable.
And if the cars got stuck—and the monsters caught up from behind—wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?
Wen Xin quickly shared his concerns with Tang Qi.
After reading his message, Tang Qi—who had been acting on impulse—gradually started to calm down. Wen Xin was right.
Even so, Tang Qi had to leave.
He just couldn’t sit around when his elderly parents might be in danger.
Tang Qi: “Everyone’s probably heading for the highway. If I take a different route, I should be fine.”
Tang Qi: “Besides, I’ve driven the road south of the city before—it also leads out of G City.”
Seeing that Tang Qi had a plan, Wen Xin felt a little more at ease.
However, he still had no intention of leaving with him.
His reasoning was actually quite similar to Tang Qi’s.
Wen Xin: “My brother said…”
He paused.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he deleted the message.
Wen Xin: “My brother said he’d send someone to pick me up. They should be here in the next few days.”
Tang Qi knew Wen Xin had an older brother, so he didn’t press the issue.
Before leaving, Tang Qi made a quick stop at Wen Xin’s place, handing over a spare key to his apartment.
His brows furrowed. “I don’t know what you’ll be facing if you stay here. I’ve still got two barrels of drinking water at home—use them however you need.”
As he spoke, his voice wavered slightly, as if he were holding back the feeling that this might be the last time he saw his friend. His eyes reddened with emotion.
Wen Xin lowered his gaze, a pang of sorrow settling in his chest. “Wait a second.”
He turned and walked into the storage room.
Grabbing several bags of chocolate, sausages, canned meat, bottled water, and compressed biscuits, he carefully packed everything into a dark bag, wrapping it tightly so nothing was visible from the outside.
Then, Wen Xin shoved the bag into Tang Qi’s arms.
Tang Qi’s eyes widened in shock as he instinctively tried to refuse. “If you give all this to me, what will you eat—”
Before he could finish, Wen Xin swiftly covered his mouth, motioning for him to stay quiet.
Tang Qi immediately understood, his body tensing as he cautiously glanced around.
Thankfully, there was no one else on this floor at the moment.
He let out a slow breath, relieved—though that relief came with an indescribable sense of sorrow.
Wen Xin understood exactly how he felt.
He gave Tang Qi a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I stocked up on plenty of supplies before.”
Tang Qi opened his mouth to refuse again, but Wen Xin stopped him with just one sentence:
“Even if you don’t eat it, the little one will need it.”
Inside the cat carrier, Huanhuan—having been abruptly woken up by Tang Qi—was still dazed, its tiny head fuzzy with sleep.
Hearing Wen Xin’s voice, the kitten let out a soft “meow”.
Its innocent blue eyes held no awareness of the chaotic journey it—and its owner—were about to face.
Seeing Huanhuan’s clueless expression, a deep ache settled in Tang Qi’s heart.
Gently, he whispered to the cat, “I’ll take good care of you, little one.”
After sending Tang Qi off, Wen Xin locked the door.
When he turned around, he saw the little ones staring at him with wide eyes.
He smiled gently and reassured them, “It’s okay.”
In truth, when Tang Qi had asked if he wanted to leave, Wen Xin had hesitated—just for a moment.
What would happen to the little ones if he left?
They had stayed here to avoid the dangers of the outside world. But now, even this place was no longer safe.
Before he could bring it up, though, the little ones seemed to sense his thoughts.
Without warning, they pounced on him, clinging tightly to his arms and back, growling and making a fuss.
The canary fixed him with a sharp stare and declared, “Wherever you go, we’ll be there—unless you no longer want us around.”
The words had barely left its beak when a soft “meow” came from the bedroom door.
Wen Xin turned his head.
The little black one stood there, gazing at him.
But this time, its usual gentle expression had narrowed into a look of strong disapproval.
Wen Xin froze, his heart trembling slightly.
In the end, he didn’t bring up the idea of them leaving again.
Later, Wen Xin sat in the living room, picking up the colorful strings and continuing the unfinished weaving project with Zi Tuan.
Outside the window, a steady flow of cars sped down the street.
Aside from the noise of fleeing vehicles, the surrounding houses had fallen eerily silent.
Not everyone could pack up and leave.
Some, held back by responsibilities, circumstances, or uncertainty, had chosen to stay behind.
And those who stayed kept quiet, hoping the danger would come just a little later.
Tonight would be a sleepless night.
At around two in the morning, while checking for updates online, Wen Xin suddenly noticed that the webpage wouldn’t load.
Frowning, he glanced at the top right corner of the screen.
No signal.
His pulse quickened.
Quickly, he switched to another SIM card—only to find that it, too, had no service.
The power to the signal towers must have run out.
Or worse—something had gone wrong inside.
Either way, it wasn’t a good sign.
In fact, it pointed to an even more severe situation.
Wen Xin took a steadying breath.
He opened the personnel file that Wen Jinfeng had sent him, scanning it one last time before switching off his phone to conserve power.
The rest of the night remained eerily quiet.
Nothing happened.
Not until dawn—just as Wen Xin was starting to doze off—when he suddenly heard it.
A distant, unmistakable sound.
A chaotic noise, like the roaring of countless wild beasts.
Wen Xin jolted awake.
His entire body tensed, and he immediately rushed to the window.
To get a clearer view, he quickly turned his phone back on, opened the camera, and zoomed in with the lens.
He wasn’t the only one doing this.
From several nearby apartment buildings, trembling hands parted curtains just slightly, as residents cautiously peered outside.
Up until now, Wen Xin had only seen blurry videos of the infected rabies patients.
But reality was far more terrifying than any footage.
They staggered down the street, their movements stiff and unnatural, like wind-up dolls on the verge of breaking.
Their bodies were swollen and bluish, veins bulging against their skin. Their faces were vacant, expressionless, and their mouths and bodies were stained with large patches of dark, dried blood.
Some were unscathed.
Some were injured.
Some were missing limbs.
With every few steps, a piece of rotten flesh would fall from an open wound—until there was nothing left to shed.
Under normal circumstances, injuries like these would have left a person writhing in agony, unable to move.
But these infected… they felt nothing.
They shambled forward without pause.
And as Wen Xin stared at the gruesome sight before him, the last glimmers of hope in everyone’s hearts were shattered.
A deep, uncontrollable shiver ran through their bodies.
