Ch 11: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

The zombie actually didn’t attack him…

Having narrowly escaped death, Shen Qing felt a wave of dizziness as his extreme tension slowly eased. Could it be that this zombie held a grudge against the man and woman ahead of him? Even after turning into a monster, it only sought revenge against them?

He couldn’t help but recall the village elders’ ghost stories about vengeful spirits, who would return to settle their grievances against those who had wronged them.

Or… Shen Qing’s heart stirred with a vague premonition—could it be because he wasn’t from this world?

Various thoughts tangled in his mind, leaving him momentarily dazed. He pressed a hand to his aching leg, where the man had kicked him, and slowly stood up. He watched cautiously as the zombie chased after the two, growing smaller in the distance.

The fact that the zombie completely ignored Shen Qing and focused solely on its original targets had not gone unnoticed by the man who had kicked him down. He widened his eyes in disbelief, but there was no time to dwell on it—without Shen Qing to delay it, the zombie was about to catch up again.

The man gritted his teeth and glanced quickly at the woman beside him. Without hesitation, he made his decision. The hand that had been gripping her arm shifted its position, and—using the same trick—he shoved her toward the zombie.

“Feng Gong, you—ahhh!!”

The woman had never expected her companion to turn on her like this. Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. But before she could even finish her sentence, the zombie sank its teeth into her neck. A shrill, bloodcurdling scream rang out before abruptly cutting off.

The scent of fresh blood spread rapidly through the air. The zombie finally halted its pursuit and crouched down, feasting greedily on its new meal.

The man showed only a flicker of guilt in his expression before he looked away from the woman’s corpse. Then, his gaze swept over Shen Qing once more before he turned and bolted. Up ahead, there was a row of small storefronts. With a few quick turns, he disappeared completely from Shen Qing’s sight.

Shen Qing stared, eyes wide, as the zombie gnawed at the woman’s mangled corpse. The gruesome, blood-soaked scene churned his stomach violently. He wanted to vomit, but he held back, afraid of making a sound that would attract the feeding zombie’s attention.

Up until now, he still wasn’t sure if the zombie truly wouldn’t attack him or if it had just prioritized its other targets first. Once it finished with the woman, would it turn back to eat him?

He wanted to run. But after the kick and the fall, his leg throbbed painfully, and his ankle seemed to be twisted. Though Shen Qing had endured hardship his whole life and had a high tolerance for pain, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sprint like before. If the zombie came for him next, there was no way he could escape.

Then… why not strike first?

Staring at the zombie’s hunched back, watching it gorge itself without a care, an audacious idea took root in Shen Qing’s mind.

He slowly dragged his injured leg forward a few steps. The zombie didn’t react to his approach, remaining fixated on its “meal.” Swallowing hard, Shen Qing carefully raised his hatchet, preparing to get a little closer—

Something sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.

A single arrow shot straight through the zombie’s skull. The creature’s body stiffened instantly before collapsing lifelessly onto the woman’s mangled remains.

Shen Qing watched as a tall, lean figure leaped down from the rooftop of a nearby building. With quick, agile steps, the man reached the zombie and, without hesitation, drove a dagger into its skull. He twisted the blade a few times before digging out a small, glistening crystal-like object.

This man was taller than Shen Qing, with long limbs and a strikingly sharp, handsome face. There was no birthmark on his forehead, clearly marking him as a man.

Shen Qing watched as the man casually wiped the small crystal clean, seemingly about to pocket it. But then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned to look at Shen Qing, who was still sitting on the ground, startled by the flying arrow.

With a slight smirk, he held up the crystal and gave it a small shake. “I didn’t steal your kill, did I? You hesitated for so long.” His gaze flickered to Shen Qing’s injured leg, his eyes briefly darkening. “You’re hurt?”

Shen Qing didn’t notice the fleeting cold glint in the man’s eyes. Instead, he found his tone unexpectedly gentle—softer and warmer than any young man had ever spoken to him before. It almost sounded like concern.

The unfamiliar kindness made him slightly uncomfortable, and his own voice instinctively softened to match. “I got kicked and fell earlier. My ankle feels twisted… it hurts a little, but it’s nothing serious.” He then glanced at the dead zombie on the ground and exhaled deeply, his tense body finally relaxing. “I should be thanking you.”

Shen Qing’s legs felt weak. The tension he had been holding onto completely drained away the moment the zombie was killed, and cold sweat poured down his back, soaking his shirt. He guessed that “stealing the kill” referred to taking down the zombie first, and it seemed like the shiny little crystal dug out from the zombie’s head was something valuable. But Shen Qing didn’t feel like the man had stolen anything—on the contrary, he was grateful that he had helped him deal with the zombie.

“It’s nothing. As long as you didn’t get bitten, that’s what matters.” The man before him pocketed the crystal and subtly exhaled in relief—he had been worried that Shen Qing might mutate right before his eyes.

The apocalypse had been going on for almost a year now, and the sight of people betraying and sacrificing their companions to buy themselves time was an everyday occurrence. Some ability-user squads even specifically recruited ordinary people as temporary members, just so they could push them forward as bait when danger struck.

He had arrived late and hadn’t seen the part where the zombie completely ignored Shen Qing, simply assuming that Shen Qing and the dead woman had been pushed out by their teammate as disposable pawns. Still, he thought Shen Qing was extremely lucky—of the two, only the woman had been eaten, while Shen Qing remained unharmed.

After observing Shen Qing for a few moments, the man started to feel something was off. Even in the apocalypse, where people no longer had the means to groom themselves, this kind of outfit—patched and repatched all over—was something he had only ever seen in period dramas. The apocalypse had only started less than a year ago, so how could clothes be this worn out already? And looking closely, wasn’t this an ancient-style short robe?

However, despite its ragged appearance, the outfit was unexpectedly clean. Since the apocalypse, water sources had been polluted, and the only drinking water available came from bottled supplies produced before the disaster or purified water from water-ability users. No one wasted it on washing clothes.

Most people in the survivor bases wore filthy, unwashed clothes that were still intact. But Shen Qing was the complete opposite—his clothes were tattered but spotless.

Not just his clothes, but his face and hair were also quite clean… and he even kept his hair long? The man found it quite amusing—was this some kind of traditional clothing enthusiast who insisted on wearing hanfu even in the apocalypse?

Shen Qing felt uncomfortable under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. He was now fully aware that he had arrived in another world. The people here dressed completely differently, with their hair cut extremely short. His own appearance made him stand out like a sore thumb.

Fortunately, the man didn’t ask any direct questions, or Shen Qing wouldn’t have known how to explain himself. His gut told him that it was best not to reveal his origins, but he wasn’t particularly good at lying, let alone coming up with a convincing story on the spot.

The man’s gaze shifted behind Shen Qing. “Are those yours?”

Shen Qing was momentarily confused. He turned around and noticed a few mushrooms and hawthorn berries scattered on the ground. Only then did he remember his backpack and reached behind to check it. Earlier, when he was kicked and fell, some of the contents must have spilled out. But at the time, he had been too focused on surviving to care about a few fallen mushrooms and berries.

“They’re mine.” Shen Qing reached out and gathered the ones closest to him, putting them back into his basket. A couple of hawthorn berries had been crushed, so he decided to leave them—there were plenty more in the mountains. But when he turned back, he caught the man staring intensely at the two crushed hawthorn berries with an expression Shen Qing found oddly familiar.

It was the same look he himself had when he stood outside the abandoned shops, hesitating over whether to scavenge for items inside.

Shen Qing understood immediately and handed the crushed berries to the man. “Do you want them?”

The man nodded eagerly and carefully cupped the berries in his hands, as if they were a rare treasure. He looked at Shen Qing’s basket and hesitated before asking, “Can I trade for some more?”

“Trade?” Shen Qing tilted his head. Was bartering more common in this world? In his village, people occasionally bartered goods at the market, but not often—it was inconvenient, and the value of items was hard to measure. Still, it wasn’t unheard of.

He had originally planned to just give the man a few for free, considering the man had saved his life. But Shen Qing was also curious about the items of this world, so he agreed. At worst, he could let the man have the better end of the deal as a form of gratitude. “Sure. What do you want to trade?”

The man glanced around, then pointed to a nearby storefront. “Let’s go inside to talk.” Negotiating in the middle of the street didn’t seem proper, and he also didn’t want to risk others noticing the fresh fruit and snatching them up first.

He looked at Shen Qing, who was still sitting on the ground, and extended a hand. “Does your leg still hurt?”

Shen Qing hesitated, glanced at the man’s face, then shook his head instead of taking the offered hand. He pushed himself up on his own. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

By now, his leg didn’t hurt as much—it wasn’t a serious injury, and he realized that his earlier weakness had been more from shock than actual pain.

The place they entered was a small souvenir shop. It wasn’t much more than a simple stall, built with flimsy materials. This row of shops had three units in total—one had sold ice cream and thick yogurt before the apocalypse, while the other sold hand-grab pancakes and fried chicken cutlets.

Compared to the neighboring food stalls, this souvenir shop had been looted but was relatively clean. There were no bloodstains or rotting flesh, which was a rarity in the apocalypse. Shen Qing’s gaze drifted toward a pile of scattered trinkets in the corner.

There were folding fans, hairpins, beaded bracelets, small decorative gourds, embroidered handkerchiefs, and pouches—each one beautifully crafted.

“What do you want to trade?” Shen Qing asked, but his mind was already wandering. Now that he understood that zombies roamed this world and that these shops were abandoned, it was likely that their owners were either dead or had turned into zombies.

So… could he take these things after this man left?

Before he could fully consider the idea, the next moment left him utterly speechless.

The man cleared a space on the counter, and suddenly, a thick bundle wrapped in cloth appeared out of thin air. He casually unrolled it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Shen Qing’s jaw nearly dropped.

The man smoothly spread out the items inside. “So, what do you want? I have a little of everything—weapons, clean clothes, electronics, snacks, cosmetics, gold and jewelry… I usually set up my stall near the southern wall of the base.” As he finished arranging his goods, he finally asked, “By the way, I never got your name. I’m Song Kaiji—Kaiji, like ‘beginning’ and ‘clear skies after rain.’”

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