After lunch, I continued to tidy up.

A month ago, when I resigned and came back, the suitcase was still lying there, untouched for a month.

The skincare products were not placed on the table, nor were the clothes and daily necessities. The suitcase was piled up so high that it was hard to believe it could even close.

Grandma started again: "I've told you several times. I told you to tidy up, but you didn't listen. Every time you say you will, but you never do."

I hurriedly begged for mercy: "I'm tidying up now, I'll be done soon!"

I dumped everything onto the bed and began to organize.

As I put clothes into the wardrobe, Grandma said, "If you don't tidy up the suitcase and get ready to look for a job again, why are you putting clothes in the wardrobe?"

I casually continued to stuff clothes into the wardrobe: "What's the rush? Can't I wait until after the New Year?"

She didn't stop me anymore, probably realizing that it wasn't realistic to find a job immediately after such a disaster.

Looking at my skincare products, she helped me tidy up while saying, "Look at all these bottles and jars in the house that belong to you. You never finish them. You only know how to buy new ones and use new ones."

I explained helplessly, "I bought these on Double Eleven last year, and they're all from my high school and college days. They've expired long ago. I suggested throwing them away, but you didn't want to."

Grandma ignored me. Suddenly, she asked, "What's this, a mental health center?"

I took a look, it was my diagnosis report, and quickly reached out to take it.

"Nothing, just some waste paper the company brought back."

Grandma didn't ask any more questions.

By the time I finished tidying up the west room, it was already evening, and Grandma went to cook dinner.

I stir-fried cabbage.

Grandma sat by the stove, I stood beside her frying vegetables.

She began to talk incessantly, speaking very slowly.

She talked about the embarrassing things I did in my childhood, my bad habits from childhood to adulthood, blamed me for quitting my job despite doing it well, and hoped that I would find a good man and settle down in the future.

I listened silently, with various noisy voices churning in my mind.

Finally, she said, "Let's eat."

After dinner, lying on the heated brick bed, it was the eighth night since Grandma turned into a zombie, and tomorrow would be the ninth day.

I fell asleep with hope, thinking how nice it would be if she couldn't resist and bit me.

I didn't sleep well, I woke up as soon as Grandma got off the kang, but I pretended to still be asleep.

She didn't go out through the main door, but flipped out through the flat house.

I lay there for a while, finally got dressed and went out with a flashlight.

This was the first time in eight days that I had stepped out of the house.

Tonight, the moon was big and round, quietly casting its light over the small village.

With the moonlight, I could see clearly without the flashlight.

I saw the bodies lying on the main street.

Silence, only the night wind blowing through the tent covers lifted by some households, making a rustling sound.

I walked alone on the road, holding a knife in my hand.

Except for me, it seemed that there were no more living people in the village.

Suddenly, I heard the cry of a child, desolate and desperate, echoing on the empty street.

A child stumbled out of an alley, he saw me and paused, wanting to turn around, but another person followed him, already not human in posture.

"Come here," I called to him.

The child ran towards me as if seeing a savior.

He was a little boy, about six or seven years old.

The zombie behind him gradually approached, and I could see his appearance clearly. He was very old, stumbling towards us.

The child hid behind me.

"Is this your grandfather?"

The child's voice trembled, "Yes, yes, my grandpa. He told me not to go out at home, there are all people-eating monsters outside, but he wants to eat me tonight, it's so scary!"

I asked him, "Did he bite or scratch you? Are you bleeding?"

"No... I ran fast, sister, what should I do?"

It seemed that his grandfather, like my grandmother, had the virus suppressed for the time being, but no matter how he struggled, the end result would be the same.

I weighed the kitchen knife in my hand and said calmly,

"This time, I'll help you first. If you do it yourself, you might have psychological trauma."

I asked him to stand back and confronted his grandfather.

This zombie was obviously more agile than the one I killed the previous night, but that was all.

The zombie's roar scared the child again, he cried and called for his grandfather, as if trying to awaken his consciousness in this way.

But the zombie didn't understand. It knew that a human was making noise, and it wanted to kill humans.

I shouted to the child sternly, "Close your eyes."

Then I chopped at the back of the zombie's head.

The zombie seemed not dead yet, still struggling. It was very strong, I could hardly suppress its desire to survive.

Then a figure appeared beside me, and a shovel chopped off half of its head.

"Grandma!" I turned my head, her eyes were so red in the moonlight.

"Mm." She responded.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

The little boy obediently closed his eyes. I went over and pulled him in front of the body, not letting him see, and said, "Open your eyes."