NOVEL NEXT CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 8: Desperate Gambits
Yao Zheng's question ignited a flurry of opinions from the small group.
"Of course, the military will save us!" Feng Qin declared, his voice filled with forced optimism. "Our country’s military is the best! There’s no way they’ll let these zombies run wild."
Wang Gang, ever the realist, nodded. "All those zombie movies and novels? Nonsense. Flesh and blood can't stand up to steel, missiles, or nukes. The military's got this covered."
But Wei Kai was more skeptical. "Then what are we doing here? Should we wait for them, or go meet them halfway?"
All eyes turned to Wang Sheng, the unofficial leader of their ragtag group.
Wang Sheng stood by the window, staring out at the street below. He hadn’t been part of this building’s tenants before the outbreak, but his experience had quickly earned him authority. The horrors of the past two days had shaken even him. These zombies weren’t just mindless creatures—they were fast, strong, and relentless. Each encounter left him wondering if the military was truly equipped to handle them.
In theory, the military’s might should be enough. But in these narrow streets? Urban combat with zombies... it’s a bloodbath waiting to happen.
Still, what other option did they have? If they didn’t fight now, while they had some strength left, waiting could mean death—either from hunger or at the hands of the undead.
He kept his gaze on the distant skyline, where smoke still lingered in the aftermath of the earlier gunfire. The artillery blasts had drawn away the nearby zombies, leaving the immediate area eerily still.
His mind made up, Wang Sheng turned back to the group.
“We’re going to meet the military,” he said, voice steady with resolve.
Silence followed his declaration. The others exchanged uncertain glances. Fear flickered in their eyes. Even Fan Huiling, who was usually glued to Wang Sheng’s side, looked hesitant.
“Brother Wang,” she whispered, clutching his arm, “can’t we just wait for them to come and save us?”
Wang Sheng sighed. He could sense the fear spreading through the group, but there was no room for hesitation. Not now. “The military might be passing through. If we don’t go now, we could miss our only chance. And besides,” he added, eyeing the mostly empty street, “the gunfire drew the zombies away. It’s safer than it’s been since this all started.”
His words gave the others pause. He could see their unease, but also the dawning realization that this might be their best shot.
“I’ll lead the way,” Wang Sheng said, clapping his hands to punctuate his decision. “If anything happens, I’ll take the first hit. Just follow me. We’ll be fine.”
A tense moment hung in the air before the others slowly nodded. Wang Sheng’s determination was infectious, and though doubts lingered, they couldn’t deny the logic in his plan.
One by one, the seven young adults—five men and two women—left the cramped room where they had huddled in fear for two and a half days.
As Wang Sheng had predicted, the military's presence had cleared out the immediate area. The descent down the stairs was eerily quiet, but as they reached the bottom, gruesome reminders of the earlier battle met their eyes—bloodstains, severed limbs, but no zombies.
At first, the sight turned their stomachs, but the urgency of their situation quickly forced them to push past the nausea. Caution gave way to a brisk pace, their need for survival overriding any fear of what lay ahead.
A small shop loomed nearby, its windows cracked but intact. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs, but they ignored it, intent on following the distant sounds of gunfire. Supplies can wait. Safety comes first.
The further they went, though, the quieter the gunfire became.
Their pace quickened, hope fueling their strides, until they finally reached the outskirts of the battlefield.
Wang Sheng, at the front, froze.
A zombie, impossibly fast, leaped three meters through the air and landed squarely on Wang Sheng’s back.
Rip!
A scream tore through the group as the creature's claws shredded through Wang Sheng’s flesh, ripping half of his neck away in a spray of blood. His body convulsed, still human for a mere ten seconds—an agonizing eternity—as the life drained from him.
The scent of blood drove the nearby zombies into a frenzy. They descended upon Wang Sheng’s crumpled body, turning it into a grotesque feast before the horrified eyes of his companions.
Liu Aiyuan and the others managed to put some distance between them and the massacre. Only a few zombies gave chase.
As Liu Aiyuan glanced back at Wang Sheng's grisly end, a twisted satisfaction flickered across her face. “That’s what you get for being so bossy. Ordering me around like you’re the king of the world.”
Her mind raced. She subtly gestured to Yao Zheng, Feng Qin, and the others, her eyes gleaming with cold calculation. After a brief hesitation, they all nodded.
Yao Zheng grabbed Fan Huiling by the collar and yanked her to the ground. Before she could protest, Feng Qin stomped down hard on her stomach, leaving her gasping for air, pain twisting her features.
Fan Huiling’s eyes welled with tears as she watched them flee. Confusion and betrayal flooded her mind, but before she could utter a word, the zombies pounced, silencing her forever.
With Wang Sheng and Fan Huiling sacrificed, Liu Aiyuan and the remaining four men ducked into a narrow alleyway, gasping for breath. Their lungs burned, but the immediate danger was gone.
Liu Aiyuan wiped the sweat from her brow and offered the men a bright, calculated smile. “Thank you, brothers, for helping me.”
Yao Zheng, still panting, waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had it with Wang Sheng. He thought strength was everything. What a joke. It’s brains that count now.”
He straightened up and glanced at the others. “So, Little Yuan, who are these three?”
Liu Aiyuan giggled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Didn’t I tell you? You’ll get to know them better later... but first, let’s focus on surviving, okay?”
The men exchanged knowing grins. Liu Aiyuan’s beauty, even in the midst of an apocalypse, had an undeniable allure. She had played her cards right, and now they were firmly in her grasp.
She turned, her mind already calculating their next steps. Men were simple, easily manipulated with the right looks and a few well-placed words. The apocalypse was a nightmare, yes, but one she could navigate. As long as she had her beauty and charm, she would survive. Men like these would make sure of that.
She flashed another smile, but beneath it, her thoughts were cold, detached. Wang Sheng had potential, but he was too old-fashioned, too quick to assert dominance without understanding the subtleties of manipulation.
Now he’s gone.
“Let’s focus,” Liu Aiyuan said, snapping the group back to the present. “We need food, water, and a safe place.”
The men nodded, unknowingly surrendering their fates to her leadership.
“The shops nearby should have what we need,” Liu Aiyuan continued, her voice soft but authoritative. “But the most important thing is shelter. These old buildings won’t protect us for long.”
Her eyes gleamed as she thought of the perfect place—Lu Ming’s house.
Lu Ming’s home was infamous among the village's residents. Rumors swirled about the eccentric man who had fortified his small building, turning it into an impenetrable fortress. In normal times, no one would have dared to approach him.
But these were not normal times.
Liu Aiyuan knew the layout of the urban village well enough to know that Lu Ming’s house was their best bet for survival. And if her charm worked on him like it had on so many others...
“We’ll approach quietly,” Liu Aiyuan instructed. “Once we’re sure it’s safe, I’ll knock. He’ll let us in, and then we’ll take over.”
Yao Zheng and the others exchanged excited glances. The plan seemed solid.
As they reached Lu Ming’s door, Liu Aiyuan paused, adjusting her appearance. She smoothed her hair, practiced her coy expression, and then stepped forward, knocking lightly on the door.
Meanwhile, Lu Ming woke from his afternoon nap, feeling refreshed. He stretched, his body rejuvenated from the rest. His mind immediately went to his attributes, checking his progress as he often did:
Name: Lu Ming ♂
Age: 25
Strength: 7.2
Physique: 7.6
Agility: 8.0
[Skills]
- Fitness (Lv2 50/100)
- Slingshot (Lv2 7/200)
- Archery (Lv1 1/100)
- Hand-to-hand Combat (Lv1 53/100)
He smiled, satisfied with his progress. But just as he was about to resume his training, the doorbell chimed.
Lu Ming frowned and approached the door, peering through the security monitor. A delicate woman stood outside, her eyes wide with what seemed like sorrow.
Liu Aiyuan’s voice was soft, carefully measured to tug at the heartstrings of anyone listening.
“Is anyone there?”
Her tone quivered ever so slightly, just enough to seem vulnerable, helpless. She stepped back, letting the subtle breeze tousle her hair while she glanced toward the surveillance camera. With a practiced gesture, she tugged her collar down slightly, revealing the pale skin of her neck and collarbone.
“Mr. Lu, are you there?” she called again, her voice now a soft sob, designed to evoke sympathy.
From behind his screen, Lu Ming watched her performance in silence. His eyes were cold, his expression unreadable. He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers drumming on the desk as he observed the woman’s every move. Her intentions were as clear as day. Nothing but a con artist.
For a moment, he considered his options. Play along? Send her away? His hand hovered over the intercom, but he decided to wait. See how far she’ll go.
Five long minutes passed, and Liu Aiyuan grew impatient. With a dramatic sigh, she let her shoulders sag in feigned defeat. “No one’s home,” she muttered, turning to the men behind her. “Looks like we’ll have to pry the door open...”
She bent down, pulling a crowbar from her bag with a casual, almost practiced ease. Just as she was about to jam the metal into the doorframe, a voice crackled from the loudspeaker.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Liu Aiyuan froze, startled by the sudden interruption. She quickly straightened, the crowbar slipping from her grasp. With a swift flick of her hair, she turned back to the camera, her face instantly transforming back into its pitiful, tearful expression.
“Oh! Brother Lu, is that you?” she stammered, her voice returning to its pleading tone.
The voice from the speaker cut through her act with icy indifference. “It’s not Brother Lu. My name is Lu Ming.”
“Oh... sorry... Brother Lu Ming,” she corrected herself, adding a nervous chuckle for good measure. “Did you hear the commotion outside just now? The military came through. They lured the zombies away, killed most of them. We’re safe now!”
Lu Ming’s silence lingered, and the tension in the air grew palpable. Liu Aiyuan felt her stomach twist, but she pressed on with her pre-rehearsed lines.
“The military is cleaning up the battlefield as we speak,” she said, her words flowing faster now. “They’re asking for volunteers to gather survivors, to bring them to safety.”
Before Lu Ming could respond, she took a deep breath and softened her tone, dropping her gaze slightly to appear vulnerable. “A lot of people have died, Brother Lu Ming... I’m so scared. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore. Can you please open the door? Just for a little while so I can rest...”
She subtly lowered her collar even more, revealing just enough skin to hint at seduction but not so much as to seem obvious. In her mind, this performance was carefully calibrated—enough to disarm a man like Lu Ming, who, she assumed, had been alone for days, desperate for human interaction.
She gave herself an internal score of 80 out of 100. Too much seduction, she thought, would be a mistake. People in survival situations were on edge, not as easily swayed by direct advances. Subtlety was key.
She envisioned Lu Ming opening the door, his eyes lighting up with hope at the sight of her. He’d let her in, she’d play the part of the grateful survivor, and once his guard was down, her companions would rush in and take over.
Her thoughts drifted to the comforts that awaited her—control of his supplies, shelter, and a new group of followers.
But just as she was savoring the fantasy, reality came crashing down with brutal clarity.
“Are you trying to fool me?” Lu Ming’s voice dripped with disdain, cutting through her delusions. “Or are you just an idiot yourself?”
Liu Aiyuan’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth to respond, but the voice from the speaker continued, ruthless and unforgiving.
“Five minutes of knocking to search for survivors? Carrying a crowbar to rest? Your looks are fake, your words are fake. You’re nothing but a fraud. Now, leave.”
The disdain in Lu Ming’s voice sliced through Liu Aiyuan’s defenses like a blade. Her heart pounded with anger, her face twisting in fury. In her entire life, she had never been spoken to like this. Fake looks? The accusation stung, more than anything else he could’ve said.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as her temper boiled over. She might as well drop the act.
“Open the door!” she screamed, raising the crowbar high above her head, rage pouring out with every word.
From inside the house, Lu Ming’s footsteps echoed faintly. She braced herself, crowbar poised to strike—but before she could move, a second-story window flew open with a sharp thud.
In a blur of motion, a stone flew from the window, smashing into her forehead with a dull crack. Liu Aiyuan staggered back, clutching her head in pain. A trickle of blood ran down her temple as she looked up, eyes wide with shock and fury.
Lu Ming stood at the window, slingshot in hand, glaring down at her with cold, unyielding eyes.
“Get lost,” he ordered, his voice a low growl. “And I won’t say it again.”
End of Chapter 8