Next door is the murderous house

"Were there many people in the village before?"

"Not too many, not too few. Most of them were refugees from the city, dragging their families along. In those early years, a lot of people died—some from sickness, others from infections. Even the smallest injury or illness could be deadly. Some were attacked by animals. As time went on, their numbers dwindled, and eventually…"

Dora Lin's voice faded into silence.

Surviving now wouldn't be as hard, but more than a decade ago, many people would perish during a single winter.

 As they moved farther away, the growls of zombies gradually died down.

Suddenly, Dora Lin said, "I think your appearance might be a sign."

"A sign of what?" Alex White asked, his curiosity piqued.

"A sign that things are starting to get better." Dora Lin gazed at the distant, snowy sky.

"Surviving a zombie bite—isn't that a sign?"

"Maybe it's a sign of another disaster," Alex White responded. "Zombies with intelligence…"

"Survival is always better than death," Dora Lin shook her head. "Zombies have families too—friends, loved ones. If my father had retained his sanity like you, he would have protected me."

 Alex White was silent for a long time, walking ahead with his old fishing rod and tattered fish basket.

 "Maybe," he finally said.

Whether zombies gaining intelligence was a sign of hope or disaster, he couldn't say for sure. From his own experience, it felt like a good thing.

But deep down, he couldn't shake the instinctive belief that creatures different from us must have different intentions. He instinctively felt it wasn't a good thing, but when it came to himself, he still saw himself as human, not a zombie. If given a choice, he would undoubtedly choose to live with humans.

"Think of it as an illness; it's simpler that way," Dora Lin said. "Many people get sick."

"Oh? When you put it that way... that's true." Alex White suddenly remembered the zombie with a little sprout on its head—it didn't attack anyone. "As they say, 'extreme adversity breeds prosperity, and extreme misfortune turns into fortune.' When a disaster has lasted long enough, things are bound to turn around."

People can't stay unlucky forever.

Alex White noticed that the wound on his hand was starting to heal. He didn't know if it was due to the herbal medicine Dora Lin had chewed or if his recovery was just strong.

In any case, it seemed he wasn't going to die. He didn't want to end up like the animals recorded in his notebook, whose bodies rotted away from infection. The weight in his heart finally eased.

"See, I knew zombies wouldn't be affected by infections," Alex White said, shaking his hand. "It's another way to survive. How about… I bite you? Then you wouldn't have to worry about getting infected."

Dora Lin glanced at him.

"You could let me bite your butt. That way, even if it leaves a scar or some corpse spots, it won't really matter," Alex White mused. After thinking for a moment, he added, "If you ever get sick or get an incurable infection from an animal, maybe I could give you a bite." For some reason, his mouth started watering.

"Like Uncle Jones?" Dora Lin asked.

"No, it's different. I'm the Zombie King. The virus in my body has already reached a state of coexistence. Theoretically, your chances of survival would be much higher. There are risks, of course, but… it's better than dying, right? At least you'd still be alive."

 "I think you just want to bite me," Dora Lin said, not buying his story.

 "Let's consider it a last resort to save your life."

 After thinking it over, Alex White concluded that if it ever came to that, it might be worth the gamble. At least his chances were much better than Uncle Jones's back then, because now they had an example—a rational infected person.

Being a zombie wasn't so bad. He could still do push-ups, and besides doing morning exercises, he even attempted pull-ups. The only reason he couldn't do those was that the shed wasn't sturdy enough.

 "How about… I let you try my foot skin?" Dora Lin suggested, realizing that things couldn't go on like this.

Maybe if Alex White found it tasteless, he'd stop drooling all the time.

 Alex White turned to her, shocked.

He couldn't understand what kind of thoughts grew in the minds of people like Dora Lin, who had only known a world ravaged by disaster.

"I think it's better if everyone avoids weird ideas," Alex White declared. "I won't bite your butt, and you shouldn't try to make me taste your foot skin. Let's agree on that."

A dignified Zombie King couldn't stoop to such things.

"Oh, alright then."

 Dora Lin wasn't too disappointed. She looked at the much smaller shed, then at Alex White, and pointed outside. "Since you're not going to die, go tidy up the yard."

Staying cooped up in that shed just wouldn't do.

After wandering around the village a few times, Alex White finally made up his mind to settle next to Dora Lin's place—close enough to scrounge some meals. The yard he chose was the one next to hers, the one with the grindstone.

"There used to be an old man living here. His family was all gone, and he died one winter from illness. Oddly enough, he survived by foraging every day, but after that, he stopped leaving his house and let the yard get overrun with weeds. No one really knows when he passed away. He left everything he had along the wall near our yard, and my father buried him."

Certain memories stick with you, especially when people were so few back then. Each person's passing left a mark, and that's when the village started its slow decline.

Dora Lin walked into the overgrown yard, holding a stick to sweep through the weeds. "This time of year, watch out for snakes. Actually, it's better to clean up in the fall or winter—fewer bugs around then. You can dig out the roots, burn the soil a bit, and make some repairs…"

"Then let's wait until autumn," Alex White quickly replied.

"Huh?"

Dora Lin paused, surprised.

"Honestly, all I need is a little shelter from the wind. Even that shed would do," Alex White said.

Dora Lin remained silent for a moment before saying, "You just want to scrounge meals, don't you?"

"I'm the Zombie King!" Alex White protested in shock. "Just the other day, I carried three bags of elm seeds back by myself. It's not really scrounging, is it?"

"But you still want to scrounge, don't you?"

"It's more about resource optimization," Alex White explained logically. "For example, you cook, and I cook—each time, we'd need two sets of firewood. We'd both have to gather wood, but really, one set would be enough for both of us. The time and effort saved could be used for other things. That's the benefit of teaming up."

"Hmm…"

Dora Lin, of course, understood. She replied, "But you're just living next door. It's not far. You can still optimize resources."

"Okay, I admit, what you just said kind of freaked me out." Alex White looked silently at the dilapidated yard, expressionless. "Back in the day, we would have called this a haunted house."

Dora Lin grew more puzzled. "Is there any house where no one has ever died?"

Apart from the barren fields, every house on this land was once someone's home. And those that are now empty, well, most of their occupants are long gone.

"But the way you put it sounds a bit eerie."

Uncle Jones and Eddie were still outside, roaming. In times like these, it's best not to dwell on such thoughts.