Chapter 7: A Cheap 'Good Life'!

When Tang Ying woke up and found me not by her side, she panicked, rushing out of bed without even bothering to dress. I was heronly reliance now. If I abandoned her, she wouldn't survive.

But as she ran into the living room, the smell of cooking wafted through the air. It was instant noodles with ham. Despite the gas being shut off, her house still had canisters of gas, meant for camping trips. Now, I was using them to cook noodles right in the living room. She hadnever thought instant noodles could smell so enticing.

Where did the noodles and bottled water come from? Did I go out to find food? I called her over, "Wife, come here." Calling her wife already - we had only met less than half a day ago. She was annoyed but couldn't resist the lure of the noodles. She got dressed and sat nextto me.

I served her a big bowl of noodles, looking quite pleased with myself. "I told you I'd take care of you, ensure you have a good life." Instant noodles and ham as a 'good life'? She almost choked. But she was already my woman, so she let my wandering hands be, eating the food.

I bragged about the other snacks I had, trying to impress her. Despite her disdain for me, she couldn't deny the appeal of a cooked meal, especially in these apocalyptic times. The array of snacks and drinks on the table made me look like a nouveau riche.

She suddenly felt that opening the door to me was the right choice. Without me, she would have been left to die alone. And I didn't leave her – a sign of responsibility. Maybe having a reliable man like me wasn't so bad in these times.

Just then, a roar from the opposite building caught our attention. We both went to the balcony. Across, on the 16th floor of building number 12, a middle-aged man was fighting zombies with a baseball bat. He looked strong and was fearlessly smashing zombie heads, his shirt stained with their blood.

The man seemed emboldened by seeing me move around unharmed. The artist from the 14th floor opened his door and asked to join him. The middle-aged man ignored the artist with his mop, but the artist cleverly followed, letting the man clear a path for him. Zombies from upstairs and downstairs were closing in on them, drawn to the commotion like sharks to blood.