By dinnertime, the clever little landmine had a much better grasp of the cooking process. Although things were still a bit hectic, the two dishes and soup she finally prepared brought tears to the eyes of the boys in Class 1 of the Martial Arts program. Perhaps inspired by this, Zhou's rice-making skills also improved dramatically thanks to the little landmine's excellent performance. The rice was no longer undercooked; instead, it was chewy, soft, and fragrant.
Sweet and sour pork tenderloin, a dish that whets the appetite.
Salty and savory braised eggplant strips.
A clear and bright winter melon and dried shrimp soup.
Pair it with a bowl of glistening white rice or a chewy steamed bun—under the relentless bombardment from Luo, who loves noodles, Rice Zhou had no choice but to dig out a frozen steamed bun from the freezer and stuff it into the rice steamer to heat it up—what more could one ask for!
Eight people sat in a small circle around the food, their mouths watering at the aroma of the dishes before they even touched their chopsticks. The fragrance came not only from the finished product but also from the high heat during cooking, which still lingered and intensely stimulated their taste buds.
"If you're not going to give a speech or something, I'm going to start eating!" Qiao Siqi, who had swallowed countless mouthfuls of saliva, could no longer bear it. Several times, the chopsticks in his hand almost flew out of his hand to find food.
Luo Geng took a big bite of steamed bun, then scooped up three eggplant strips with his chopsticks. Before his friends could even blink, he grabbed a large piece of pork tenderloin with another chopstick. His speed was simply beyond human comprehension.
Qiao Siqi was speechless; he hadn't asked any more questions!
With the immense power of role models, everyone became less reserved, and in no time, the sixteen chopsticks flew back and forth, engaging in a lively and enthusiastic battle, devouring the food in a flash.
Thump.
Halfway through the meal, everyone had slowed down, as their cheeks couldn't take the constant panting. So, in the gradually quieting kitchen, this muffled thud became all the more distinct.
All the friends holding their rice bowls froze.
Thump, thump.
Two more sounds!
Song Fei suddenly stood up, ran to the westernmost window, and quietly peeked out through the gap in the blinds.
He was prepared to face the monstrous sight, but to his surprise, there were no zombies outside the window, only a familiar-looking white radish tied to the end of a rope made of several plastic bags, which was swaying and kissing their window with each swing of the rope.
As night fell, the light shining through the blinds cast an eerie glow around the white radish in the darkness.
Song Fei's tense nerves relaxed, and somewhat speechlessly, he crawled into the blinds, opened the window slightly, quickly poked his head out, and asked in a low voice, "What is it—" Without waiting for an answer, he quickly pulled back in, closed the window, and locked it.
The person above seemed to pause for a moment before whispering, "Look at the radishes!"
The already faint sound was even more ethereal through the window, but Song Fei, with his ears pressed against the window crack, managed to catch it all. He immediately looked back at the plump white radish and noticed a note tucked between the plastic bag rope tying the radish in half and the radish itself.
Song Fei opened the window a second time, reached out and nimbly grabbed the radish to take the note. After locking the window again, he stepped back from behind the blinds and, by the light, opened the small note. It was covered with dense writing, starting with two lines of large, flowing characters, which were inexplicably crossed out. Below that were clear, delicate small characters—
As dusk settles, the fragrance fills the air, its aroma captivating my heart and soul. I would gladly exchange a small sample for a purple packet; you would gain something beautiful, while I would yearn for my hometown. If you grant my request, a gentle knock on your robe would be a timely act of kindness, unforgettable for a lifetime.
Song Fei pondered for a moment, then held up the paper again, struggling to decipher the large, black characters that even his own father could barely recognize. Finally, under the lamplight, he managed to make out each one. Of course, this was also related to the writer's own calligraphic style—extremely unrestrained and flamboyant, where even the most brutal scribbles couldn't suppress its unbridled, almost sinister, quality.
[What are you guys making? The smell is wafting up from the exhaust duct, it smells fucking amazing!]
What are you looking at?
Seeing Song Fei standing at the window opening and closing repeatedly, and now examining a strange piece of paper, his friends naturally asked him questions.
"It seems like the people upstairs can smell our food and want to share some." The gist of the note from the students in Class 2 was easy to understand, but Song Fei hadn't quite figured out some of the details, so he casually gave his friends a perfunctory reply without turning his head and continued to examine the note.
The seven people exchanged glances, their feelings somewhat complicated.
Logically speaking, it's perfectly reasonable to share some with classmates who have asked for things. But times have changed. Asking for a little today is fine, asking for a little tomorrow is fine, but what if they keep asking for a month or two? Would you give it or not? And since they're asking for something, shouldn't they at least say something polite? Saying something like, "I smell it, could you share some with us?" seems too presumptuous.
After much searching, Qi Yan noticed that Song Fei was still standing there. Somewhat puzzled, she said, "It's just two sentences, you don't need to look at it for so long."
"Who said it was just two sentences?"
"..."
Song Fei frowned and walked over, handing the note to Qi Yan: "It's quite a few sentences, very formal."
Qi Yan took the note, quickly glanced through it, and seeing that the other classmates were also curious and eager to try, she simply handed the letter to Li Jingyu: "Why don't you translate it?"
As the most authoritative writer in Class 1 of the Martial Arts program, Li Jingyu lived up to expectations. After pondering the note for a long time, he began to speak in a low, soothing voice, full of emotion.
"As dusk settles, a fragrant aroma awakens us from our reverie. The rich scent of food wafts on the breeze, stirring our hearts and filling us with longing. We'd be willing to exchange our seaweed rice rolls for a little of your leftovers, so that these exotic flavors can enhance your dinner, while we can find solace and a sense of home in these comforting dishes. If you agree, please gently tap on our window with a radish; we will never forget such a timely act of kindness!"
Li Jingyu's voice faded into the empty kitchen, and seven pairs of eyes slowly turned to Song Fei.
The latter shrugged and said, "I already told you, I just wanted to ask us for some food."
The comrades were speechless: "These are completely different letters from what you said!"
The students from Class 2 weren't asking for food for free; they intended to exchange food for food and had no intention of taking advantage of the situation. Besides, their letter was written in a simple and honest style. The thought of these six students continuing to endure a long and monotonous diet of foreign food filled the comrades from Class 1 with immense sympathy.
The barter application was approved unanimously. Song Fei was busy picking radishes and knocking on the window, while Lin Dilei was busy packing vegetables and soup. Soon, seaweed rice rolls were lowered down, and home-cooked dishes were raised up – fair and reasonable, everyone was happy.
After closing the window, Song Fei carried the seaweed rice rolls back home, but she stepped on the snow water left from the snowball fight, lost her balance, and fell forward to the ground!
With a loud bang.
Song Fei felt like his pectoral muscles were about to be smashed apart by the ground.
The seaweed rice roll was thrown two meters away, but fortunately the bag was tied tightly, preventing serious consequences.
Qiao Siqi quickly got up and came over... to pick up the seaweed rice roll.
Qi Yan walked past Johns, knelt down in front of Song Fei, and helped him up: "Are you alright?"
Song Fei winced in pain, about to howl for sympathy, when a glint suddenly flashed in her eyes. Pushing Qi Yan's hand away, Song Fei crawled to the nearby shelf, pressing her face to the ground and peering through the gap under the shelf.
Qi Yan was puzzled and was about to ask when Song Fei suddenly jumped up and ran to Zhou Yilu's side, asking, "Where's your gun?"
Zhou Yilu was drinking soup when he almost spat it out. It took him a while to realize that the question was about his sushi gun. He quickly found the long gun for this ancestor and presented it to him.
Without saying a word, Song Fei picked up the gun, ran back to the shelf, lay down, and stretched the slender metal rod into the gap, sweeping it forcefully!
A black remote control was swiped out.
Qi Yan picked up the remote control, thought for a moment, and then a look of surprise flashed in her eyes: "The TV outside?"
Song Fei nodded vigorously: "Definitely!"
There are two televisions in the main hall on the first floor of the school cafeteria, mounted on the east and west sides respectively. Every mealtime, they magically turn on, usually showing either CCTV News or CCTV-1. The televisions are mounted high on load-bearing pillars, so unless students stand on tables, they can only look up at them from afar and are not allowed to reach out and touch them, let alone change the channels.
Since most students dining in the cafeteria consciously or unconsciously try to ignore this positive energy, over time, they have come to regard the TV and the wall as one in their mental space. This is why Song Fei and his friends didn't realize until they found the remote control that, "Damn, there's a TV in the cafeteria!"
The crowd became excited, and the hopes that had been dashed by the loss of internet, signal, and landline were rekindled.
"Do you think," Song Fei tried to keep his voice calm, "that the government would broadcast news or issue warnings on television about such a widespread and catastrophic viral infection?"
This is a delicate, even somewhat sensitive, issue.
The group of friends were momentarily at a loss for words. They weren't angry young people or paid commentators, so they couldn't immediately and firmly state whether it was certain or definitely not.
"I think so." Song Fei answered himself, his eyes shining with determination, "So I'm going to take the gamble."
His comrades understood that he was about to rush out and turn on the television in the hall, risking his life to gamble with their country.
On the eighteenth day of the zombie outbreak, before any rescue had arrived.
"I'll go with you," Qi Yan suddenly said. "Information transparency is the first step in combating this kind of mass crisis. I'll gamble with you."
Song Fei stared at him in disbelief, her throat dry. After a long while, she managed to ask with difficulty, "What if we lose the bet?"
Qi Yan thought about it seriously for a moment and gave a firm answer: "Then I will haunt you even as a ghost."
Song Fei: "..."
"Are you two putting on a life-or-death show for us?" Lin Dilei interjected irritably between the two. "We didn't say we wouldn't gamble. But forcing our way in won't work; we need a strategy!"
Five minutes later, the kitchen door on the first floor, which hadn't been opened since they rushed in, opened slightly. The person opening the door moved extremely lightly and quietly, making almost no sound. Behind the crack, a half-closed eye warily surveyed the hall.
Moonlight streamed in through the French windows, casting a hazy, indistinct glow over the dark hall. The hall was deathly silent, yet a silence tinged with danger. Eyes behind the slit blinked rapidly, finally adjusting to the darkness. The next second, the owner of those eyes abruptly covered their mouth, suppressing a gasp deep in their throat.
The hall was teeming with zombies!
They were crowded together in a chaotic manner, their sheer number making the entire hall look like a subway car during rush hour. Their expressionless faces gleamed with a bluish-green light in the moonlight, and their slightly open mouths seemed ready to devour their prey at any moment.
The crack closed quietly, the lock clicked shut, and Song Fei slid down to the ground, still feeling her legs go weak.
Zombies aren't scary, but the sheer number and horrifying sight of them is still quite impactful; even those without trypophobia might find it triggering.
"They're all in the lobby," Song Fei said somewhat incoherently. After pausing, he continued, "We haven't seen any zombies outside these past two days, have we? They've all gone into the lobby."
Wang Qingyuan: "The entire hall?"
Song Fei: "Fully full."
The group remained silent. No need to look; just replace the spectacular scene of the massive crowds queuing for food at the cafeteria on Monday noon, sometimes even having to wait for a seat, with a zombie version from your memory.
"Can we continue?" Li Jingyu asked.
"Yes," Song Fei nodded, "the old method, feint to the east while attacking in the west."
Zhou Yilu frowned: "If there are that many zombies, we might have to close the windows before we can lure out even half of them, and you still won't be able to get out."
"We need a way to attract zombies indefinitely..." Song Fei muttered to himself, lost in thought.
The second floor of the cafeteria houses the Korean restaurant kitchen.
Fu Xiyuan: "Hey, hey, how much have you already eaten? Why are you still trying to snatch the last bite?"
Zhao He: "In the world of martial arts, speed is the only way to break through defenses."
Fu Xiyuan: "Get lost."
Wu Zhou: "How can there be such a beautiful and virtuous girl? Any man who can marry her will be happy for the rest of his life."
Feng Qibai: "I think Huang Mo is pretty good too."
He Zhiwen: "They're already at a huge disadvantage just in terms of height."
Huang Mo: "Give me the pen, I'll write another application letter to join the class."
He Zhiwen: "I was wrong..."
"Class 2, put out the radishes—"
The sudden call broke the pleasant dinner time on the second floor.
The six of them stared at each other for a long time before Zhao He and Huang Mo finally stood up—the former, with his long arms, was responsible for unwinding the rope, while the latter, quick-witted, was always ready to assess the situation.
The radish was quickly put down and then quickly put back up, except that there was an extra note on it.
Zhao He opened the note, which contained only a few concise words. After reading it, his face turned green.
Seeing that something was wrong, Huang Mo reached out and took the note. After reading the last part, he understood.
The remaining four students were still waiting, so Huang Mo didn't keep them in suspense and directly revealed the contents of the note: "Class 1 wants to rush into the hall to turn on the TV and see if there is any news from outside. They need our help."
Everyone tensed up: "How can we help?"
"Just sing out the window on the second floor to lure the zombies out of the hall. There might be a risk that the zombies will climb up, but based on my observations over the past few days, the outer wall of the cafeteria is very slippery, so the risk is not high."
"Then let's help," Wu Zhou said without hesitation. "If we can find out what's going on outside, that would be even better."
The male students all nodded, not understanding why Zhao He was so resistant to such a simple favor.
Huang Mo sighed. He wanted to pat Zhao He on the shoulder, but then thought that was too much trouble at that height, so he simply patted the other's lower back instead: "He who eats another's food is bound to do his bidding, go for it."
Zhao He snatched the note back, glaring at it as if he wanted to burn the line of text on the paper with his eyes: "Singing to attract zombies is already crazy, but this song list is simply insane!"
Huang Mo: "It's not about singing everything, just choose one that we know how to sing."
Zhao He: "Every single one of them is so shameful!"
Huang Mo: "Perhaps they have their reasons."
Zhao He: "What's the problem? Do you think zombies can understand song lyrics? They come over when you sing this song, but they're unmoved when you sing that one?"
"No, that's not it," Huang Mo tilted his head and thought for a moment, then said, "I guess Class 1 might think that these songs will give them a greater chance of success in this battle."
Zhao He: "Using songs to apply buffs?"
Huang Mo: "After all, we are placing our hopes on our motherland, so it's easier to understand when you think about it this way."
The other four were completely bewildered. Feng Qibai took the note from Zhao He, and without looking at anything else, headed straight for the last two rows of recommended songs—"Chinese People," "I Love You, China," "The Taste of China," "The Beauty of China," and so on.
Half an hour later, Song Fei and Qi Yan, fully armed, reopened the door a crack. Through their goggles, it took them even longer to adjust to the darkness.
Finally, Qi Yan turned his back and gave a thumbs up.
Zhou Yilu, who was standing in front of the westernmost window, immediately opened the window, grabbed the radish that had been hanging down waiting for a few minutes, and knocked on the glass twice.
The moment the window was closed again, the radish was also swiftly taken up.
The next second, a lively and enthusiastic chorus filled the air from the second floor—
"That's the true grandeur of Chinese style! That's the true coolness of Chinese style! Yellow skin washed by the Yellow River... this color will never change in five thousand years!"
The zombies in the hall suddenly became agitated!
At first, they looked around, seemingly unable to pinpoint the source of the sound. But soon, the zombies closest to the door began to run outside. They might not have been able to tell which direction the sound was coming from, but instinct drove them outdoors!
The number of zombies in the hall gradually decreased.
Song Fei and Qi Yan were tense, not daring to relax for a moment.
Finally, the hall emptied out, leaving only four zombies. Whether they had no interest in the singing or were driven by a stronger instinct to avoid the cold, they remained standing there blankly.
Two of them are close together in the middle, while the other two are in the east and west halves of the hall respectively. In other words, the fixed locations of the four zombies almost span the entire hall.
The students in Class 2 sang very few lines off-key because they practically shouted, and their voices were so loud that even the moon hanging in the sky seemed to tremble.
"We can't wait any longer!" Qi Yan whispered a few words in Song Fei's ear, and without waiting for the latter's consent, he flashed out!
The area outside the kitchen is where students serve food. The aunties usually stand in this wide strip to serve the students. The only thing separating this area from the dining area is a glass railing that is about half a person high!
Qi Yan ran to the center of the vegetable serving area in one breath. Beforehand, for safety, he and Song Fei had applied floral water. Now that they needed to lure the enemy, he could only remain silent, jumping and waving his arms vigorously.
Although the light was dim, the zombie on the far east side still spotted him. Perhaps because it couldn't see or smell clearly, it wasn't excited and just swayed towards him.
The movements of the zombies on the east side attracted the attention of the two zombies in the middle. The latter two hesitated and turned around. When they saw a vaguely defined living person who looked like a man with bared teeth and claws, they instinctively howled and walked towards that direction.
The howls weren't as intense as usual, but they were still clearly audible in the quiet, empty hall. Song Fei wasn't sure if the zombies had a language to communicate, or if they were more sensitive to the howls of their own kind; he only knew that the longer it went on, the higher the danger would be.
With her gaze fixed on the nearest television set, and then glancing at the zombie about seven or eight meters away that was beginning to turn towards Qi Yan, Song Fei gritted her teeth and crouched down as she crawled out.