"When I close my eyes, the world ceases to exist!"

The burning sensation in his stomach woke Zhang Xiaoqiang up, causing him to sit up, rubbing his stomach with squinted eyes, struggling to distinguish whether he was in a dream or reality. The intense hunger made his intestines twist, and all his senses returned to him. He could smell the pungent odor of the dead rats in the house, the dim and gloomy sky outside the window, and the bone-chilling sounds of variously shaped zombies trampling on broken glass downstairs.

He reached for the half-full pack of instant noodles on the desk by the bed, opened the bag, and deeply inhaled the fragrance of the food, causing his saliva to quickly secretion so that he could hardly feel the stench in the air. He crushed the instant noodles and slowly tasted each morsel with the tip of his tongue until the last noodle disappeared from his mouth. He then took a pair of scissors and carefully cut open the instant noodle bag, using his tongue to lick away every tiny fragment left behind. After washing it all down with mineral water, he finished the remaining water and got out of bed, standing at the window, watching the zombies unconsciously wandering the street and calculating how many more days he could survive on the remaining food. He couldn't help but think about half a month ago.

Zhang Xiaoqiang is a middle-aged otaku. His parents passed away from cancer and his sister got married and moved away, leaving him alone at home. He quit his job after arguing with his boss and started a small restaurant in WH City with his friends, but it failed. He was too lazy to find another job and spent his days on the novel website "Qidian" with his desktop computer. His parents left him a storefront as a source of rental income, which provided him with enough money to live comfortably. He weighed about 170 pounds and led a simple and low-key life. In 2012, when he turned 34, he paid little attention to the widespread internet discussions about the end of the world. He thought it was no different than the Y2K phenomenon that did not lead to any disaster. However, in March, Mount Fuji in Japan suddenly erupted, followed by several major fires around the world, causing a mass panic across the world. Various rumors began to circulate. The country's leaders appeared on television to debunk the rumors, and many experts tried to explain that everything was a natural phenomenon. By June, the world had quieted down, and the earthquakes and volcanic eruptions had ceased. The economy began to recover, pork prices dropped, some dystopian websites were shut down, and life returned to normal. However, Zhang Xiaoqiang continued to live his life the same way, waiting for death. After December 21 of 2012, the supposed doomsday, the dystopian online forums went silent. Only a few naive people complained about having excess amounts of rice and cabbage at home, leading to a surge in compressed biscuit prices. On December 24 of 2012, the news reported that a small group of meteorites had fallen on the Pacific Ocean, causing no economic damage. However, on December 31, 2012, at 9 AM, the world changed.

Zhang Xiaoqiang had planned to sleep after staying up late but felt an inexplicable strange smell in the air. He closed all the windows and doors, took a hot shower, and sprayed his sister's expired perfume as an air freshener. He then snuggled up in his blanket and slept soundly. He woke up at 9:00 pm and ate something before opening his computer to check Qidian's website. He found out that most of the novels weren't updated and cursed the authors while searching for old books to read. After more than an hour, he noticed that something was wrong. Although his house was far from the city center along the main road in the water and electricity capital, cars were always passing by, and the usual sound of cars was incessant. However, from the time he woke up until now, he hadn't heard any cars passing by. He muttered in his heart if they were repairing the road. Suddenly, a scream outside startled him. He stood by the window barefoot and looked outside.

Under the streetlight, three or four people huddled together, doing something unclear. Zhang Xiaoqiang removed his glasses, wiped them with clothes, and put them back on. He focused on the group and realized that they seemed to be eating something. The icy coldness of his foot reminded him that he was still barefoot. He put on his slippers, found a cloth, and wiped the windows that he had neglected to clean before. Looking outside again, he noticed that a few people were still twitching in the middle. Then, one of the men who had his back to Zhang Xiaoqiang sat on the ground. The light from the street lamp shone on the crowd, revealing a man lying on his back on the ground with his head tilted to one side, and his chest cavity opened. Two people sitting on the ground quarreled over the lungs and liver while stuffing them into their mouths. The person sitting on the ground with his back to Zhang Xiaoqiang held a heart with both hands and chewed on it.

Zhang Xiaoqiang's legs went soft and he knelt on the floor tile. Feeling nauseous and with a tickling sensation in his throat, he quickly got up and rushed to the toilet to vomit. He continued to do so until the bitter taste in his mouth failed to produce any more vomit. After a while, he helped himself up by holding onto the wall, dried his teary eyes, rinsed his mouth with a cup of water from the dispenser, sat on the ground, and his mind was filled with memories of horror movies he had seen, such as Biohazard Resident Evil, Dawn of the Dead, and The Human Pork Bun.

Having sat for half an hour, he felt a little better in his heart. He walked to the window and observed again. The cannibalistic people who were once three people had grown into a group, and many shadowy figures were slowly walking towards them, illuminated by the dim streetlights. In the dim light, it was so eerie that he shuddered all over, his goosebumps rising, and his heart was in terror.

Suddenly he thought of calling the police. In a hurry, he found his phone and dialed frantically, sweating profusely as he forgot the number. Taking a deep breath and muttering to himself to stay calm, he finally dialed 110. As luck would have it, the line was constantly occupied. He tried 120 but still couldn't get through. He called several relatives and friends, but either no one answered or the line was busy, and he was so anxious that he felt like throwing his phone into the toilet.

The crowd outside the window had gathered into a heap, and the dead man had become a pile of bones scattered at their feet. Many people were licking blood stains on the ground, crawling up after being knocked down, and tearing at others until they were knocked over. The sound of wailing cries came from the distance, and sporadic fires had been set all around, making the night sky in the distance look like daylight.

Watching the city that raised me turn into an apocalyptic scene, a sense of desolation tears at my heart. I light a cigarette and take a deep drag, feeling a little better. I sit down at my computer and open a news website. The entire page is filled with headlines about "The Virus Strikes." After reading through a few articles, I learn that infected individuals with symptoms of the virus have been found all over the world, from Alaska in North America to Argentina in South America, from Africa to Eurasia. The entire world is in chaos.

The post describes the process of the outbreak:

Around 10:00 a.m in the morning, reports began to emerge across the country of individuals losing their sanity and attacking others. The number of infected individuals increased rapidly, and the virus began to spread. Before the national emergency plan could be activated, the virus quickly turned into a disaster, wiping out the entire administrative system. Due to the suddenness of the virus, you never knew if your family members, colleagues, comrades, or anyone around you might turn crazy and attack you. If bitten or wounded, it takes only 45 minutes for individuals to undergo an attack and become infected with the virus.

The virus was named "Destruction of the World" by Europe and America, with the Chinese abbreviation being "D" virus.

Divided into airborne and contact infections, infected individuals have strong attacks, with strength 1.5 times that of an average person and a speed equivalent to normal human walking speed. Their outbreak force is low, and their teeth and nails become even sharper through mutation. Ordinary clothes cannot withstand their bites and scratches. External features include: no pupils, no visual walk stiffness, and their arms stretched to the knees. They have a keen sense of smell and eat flesh and blood. They have hearing and, if bitten or injured, they will also undergo mutations. Infected individuals have high activity and are immune to normal injuries, with only damage to the nervous system or breaking of the cervical vertebrae being able to kill them. So far, no new mutations among the infected have been discovered. The infection rate is estimated to be around 90%. If anyone sees this post, please try to survive. There is hope as long as you are alive.

As he looked out of the window, Zhang Xiaoqiang realized that the crowd outside were all infected. He was unsure if he too had contracted the virus and didn't know when he would begin to turn into one of them. He was scared, terrified of being eaten alive by those who had already turned into zombies. The thought of his own arms being ripped off and his intestines being fed to the zombies made him even more anxious. He paced around his room, smoking a cigarette, trying to calm himself and considering his options. He knew he couldn't risk going outside, with the infected waiting for him on the ground floor. So instead, he sat in front of his computer, thinking about what to do next. He realized that tap water was no longer safe to drink, as who knew if any zombies were hiding in the water tanks. Luckily, he never bothered boiling water at home and always ordered bottled water instead. He had a sufficient amount of water - one and a half barrels - but the same could not be said for food. Panic set in when Zhang Xiaoqiang realized that he had only bought enough food to last another ten days. He got up and searched through his messy home, which he never bothered cleaning. He eventually found 17 packs of instant noodles, around 12 pounds of rice, two chunks of preserved meat, about 8 to 9 pounds in weight, some fatty meat that his uncle from the countryside had given him, 21 eggs, two pounds of noodles, 0.8 bags of salt, 1.5 barrels of water, 16 packs of cigarettes, and countless DVDs (typical of a fanboy). Unfortunately, he had no vegetables, but he hoped to survive on his current supplies for at least a month.

When it comes to food, safety issues should always be considered. Their house is an old house from 1997, which they got from the demolition of an old street. The house is on the second floor with a platform in both the front and back. The outside platform is a shared area covering nearly 400 square meters, with two buildings and a staircase of twenty-five to twenty-six steps connecting to neighboring buildings, which are used for coming and going. People have planted small vegetable plots and raised flowers and plants on the platform. His father and a few neighbors turned the back part into a small courtyard fenced off by iron gratings. His computer room was in the courtyard, where he could see the street through the windows. Upon arriving in the hall, he checked the burglar-proof doors, taped up all the door and window gaps with adhesive tape, pasted newspaper on all windows, and pulled the curtains closed.

After finishing these tasks, he sat down again in a daze. Electricity was not in short supply, as the two hydropower dams in the city could ensure months of operation. The network should not work for much longer. He should download some materials at home to learn more useful skills and increase his chances of survival. He began thinking and acting on these thoughts.

Zhang Xiaoqiang snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that the half-pack of instant noodles that he just ate seemed to have been fully digested. His hunger pangs grew stronger, and he forced himself not to look at the remaining packs of instant noodles on the desk. He just poured himself a glass of water and drank it fiercely, hoping to stave off the hunger. He hadn't reflected on his life since the crisis happened half a month ago. Was this all just a dream? He had finished all the noodles, eggs, and only had three packs of instant noodles left. That was only two and a half days' worth of meals, one and a half packs per meal. He used to eat two packs per meal plus two fried eggs. He couldn't risk going out to find food, or he wouldn't have the energy to run.

As he watched his slowly deflating stomach, he couldn't help but find it ironic that he couldn't lose weight before, but now he had lost at least five pounds. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Although he was usually carefree, he still had a sister who didn't know if she was alive or dead, and he couldn't stop worrying about her. During the past half-month, whenever he had nothing to do, he thought about the past. He thought about his family gathering and his classmates and teachers from school. He even thought about Ling'er, the girl who had once captured his heart, and the mischievous little girl who used to draw turtles on his back. He missed his former colleagues and friends from work, and even the little sister from Badong who sold breakfast on the street. He couldn't get through to his sister's phone, and no one answered the landline. He knew the situation was grim, but he refused to give up hope that a miracle would happen.

Outside the window, the zombies were still wandering around, and occasionally familiar faces from the nearby area could be seen among them. The street was covered with shattered glass, torn clothing, scattered bones, all kinds of rubbish, and a burnt-out bus in the distance. A sense of desolation lingered in his heart, as he imagined himself turning into a zombie wandering aimlessly, food running out and starving to death, and loved ones turning into zombies and devouring him alive. Desolation turned into despair. Numbly, he walked to the kitchen, picked up a kitchen knife, and pressed the blade against his neck, closing his eyes and clutching the handle tightly. He continued to hold the knife, even as his wrist began to ache from the pressure, yet he still couldn't bring himself to end it. He put down the knife and sat on the floor with his back against the wall, tears spilling from his eyes. He was afraid of death, too afraid to take his own life.

He hates himself for being useless, for reading with no purpose, for not being good at work, and for not even daring to commit suicide. As he slowly calms down, he thinks about how 90% of people have turned into the undead, yet he is still alive. With 6.3 billion infected, how is he still okay? Is it a plan from the heavens? After thinking about this for a while, he starts feeling better. He looks at his Tianwang watch and realizes it is already past 10 in the morning. He knows he must go out and find food to avoid starving. He will have to fight for his life against the zombies. He goes to the living room and pulls back the curtains. Taking a careful look outside through a small piece of newspaper that he had applied to the window a half month ago, he sees a small vegetable patch in the center of the platform where rows of lush cabbages have grown, making his mouth water. He takes his gaze off the cabbage and scans his surroundings. There aren't many zombies on the platform. His neighbors across the platform have opened their doors on their balconies, connected them and built a greenhouse. The doors are now open with a few zombies going in and out. There is a zombie at each of the staircases up and down the platform, for a total of seven zombies. The opposite end of the platform has six zombies. It will take three minutes to walk to the platform's center where his main goal, the large cabbage, awaits.

Empty-handed, it's definitely a no-go to deal with zombies. So, I need to prepare some weapons. There weren't many readily available tools at home, but I found various tools left by his father before. The first one that caught my eye was an eight-pound hammer. I lifted it up and shook my head. It was too heavy. My strength was not enough to handle it; swinging it for a few times was okay, but any more than that and I couldn't take it. I continued searching and found a suitable hammer. I tried it out to see if its weight was appropriate, then grabbed an iron skillet lid from the kitchen to use as a shield and practiced for a few times in the living room until I felt ready. I hesitated a bit at the door, putting his hand on the doorknob and taking it off a few times, but ultimately, I thought dying in battle was better than starving to death. So, I said, "Better to die like a hero than to live like a coward" and walked out the door.

Zhang Xiaoqiang planned to take out the zombie at the stairs first. It was too close to the vegetable garden. He would try to get as much cabbage as possible in a minute before the zombies on the other side approached. He wore high-top military leather shoes, his dad's woolen military coat, and thick leather gloves on his hands. He quickly ran to the stairs before any zombies showed up. A zombie was coming up towards him. It smelled him and attacked him with its open mouth and claws. This was his first close encounter with a zombie. The zombie had grayish skin, white rolled-up eyes, and a mouth that could fit a fist, with black teeth that were all mini triangle-shaped scrapers. It was an eerie sight. A strong stench of the zombie hit him in the face. He wanted to throw up. The zombie had already jumped onto his shield. It shook him backward. The feeling of being in a fight came back. He turned the shield to the left and kicked the zombie's chest with his right foot. The zombie fell down the stairs. He didn't have time to think and quickly ran to the garden, put down his weapon, grabbed cabbage with muddy roots and stuffed them into his snake-skin bag. He kept a close eye on the zombie that was getting closer and closer on the other side. He was panting for breath as he stuffed the cabbage into his bag. He used all his strength to pull out the cabbage with soil-covered stems and didn't even feel the mud and vegetable juice splashing into his eyes. He just wanted to get more cabbage. This was food and hope! The zombie was getting too close, and he had to leave. He grabbed the bag with one hand and the weapon with the other and ran towards his home. He saw the entrance to the hallway in front of him and sped up his pace, running towards his door.

Suddenly, the iron door across from his home swung open. His neighbor, who had turned into a zombie, let out a strong stench of death and lunged towards him with sharp claws, which were only 10 centimeters from his eyes. A chill crept up his spine and through his mind as he realized he couldn't make a sound. All he could think was "it's over."

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, his shield flying out of his hand as the zombie missed its target. His mind went blank as his feet kicked the zombie's legs. As the zombie stumbled, he rolled to the side. His hammer pounded the zombie's body over and over again, until he snapped out of his trance and realized the zombie's upper body had been shattered into black, sticky chunks that flew everywhere. The intense smell of decay made his head feel like it was exploding.

There were approximately three zombies on the platform across from him, about 10 meters away. Three strong ones walked at the front, followed by three elderly women. They all became excited when they caught his scent, and it seemed like they were sure they would get their prey soon. He quickly grabbed his bag and rushed into his home, even forgetting to retrieve his shield.

He locked the anti-theft door behind him and leaned against the iron gate. He took a deep breath as the smell of zombie blood saturated his body and made him feel sick. He immediately ran to the bathroom to change his clothes.

Zhang Xiaoqiang took out 11 white cabbages from his bag and neatly arranged them on the floor tiles. It weighed more than 20 pounds in total.

Outside, the zombie continued to scratch at the iron door, but for the first time, Zhang Xiaoqiang had some confidence in surviving.

At 7:30am on January 20th, 2013, the alarm on Zhang Xiaoqiang's phone awakened him. He got up and went to the living room to check the remaining supplies. The cabbage he risked his life for five days ago was still half full, there were four or five pounds of rice left, and he ran out of cigarettes yesterday. Not having cigarettes made him, a seasoned smoker, very uneasy.

Then he heard a "bang" sound coming from the security door. Ever since five days ago, the zombies outside the door have been relentlessly attacking the iron door, driven by their thirst and greed for flesh. They stood outside his door like loyal dogs.

The smell of the room became stronger, but Zhang Xiaoqiang had gotten used to it. Sometimes he even thought subconsciously that this was the normal smell. The past was fading away slowly, leaving only the instinct to survive.

He walked into the kitchen and turned on the induction cooker. He poured the leftover bacon fried rice from yesterday into the frying pan with chopped cabbage and boiled it with water. He divided it into two portions, one for breakfast and one for dinner.

After breakfast, like usual, Zhang Xiaoqiang went to the window of the computer room and looked at the zombies outside, the end of the highway, and the gloomy and heavy sky with opaque clouds and chilly air. The depressing feeling made it difficult for him to breathe.

How he longed for a convoy to suddenly appear at the end of the road, carrying camouflaged army vehicles with rows of soldiers in the back, sweeping away the despair of the world with their steel guns, and driving the stinking zombies back to hell, returning him to his old days.

Fantasy is still just fantasy. Zombies are still wandering around and Zhang Xiaoqiang still has to worry about food. He returns to the living room, hands clutching his head, preparing for his physical training for the day. Being a shut-in for too long has made his body weak. To survive, he must desperately improve his physical fitness, even if it's just a bit. "Forty-seven," "Forty-eight"... "Fifty." Zhang Xiaoqiang exhales heavily, his hands still on the ground. He's exhausted. It's been a long time since he's exercised this much. He thinks of the zombies outside, guarding the house with little food left. He takes a deep breath and resumes his training, hands still clutching his head.

He places the eight-pound hammer in the corner and picks up a towel to wipe off the sweat on his face. Two thousand frog jumps and five hundred swings of the hammer have left him tired. His breakfast has been digested, and his stomach is growling again. Sitting on the sofa, Zhang Xiaoqiang ponders how to deal with the six zombies outside. He can't fight them without a defensive weapon like his shield, which he left outside. The security door opens outward, so he can't barricade himself inside. He can't take on six zombies one by one, even with the strength he's gained from his recent dry food diet.

Unable to come up with a solution, Zhang Xiaoqiang scratches his head with his fingers. He's thought of every solution and still doesn't have a plan. He looks at the box of Huangguoshu cigarettes on the coffee table, habitually reaching for it. He shakes it, only to remember that he finished the last cigarette yesterday. He looks at the cigarette butts in the ashtray, takes a white paper and carefully removes the remaining tobacco, stacking it neatly on the paper into a roll.

He lit the lighter and took a puff. Leaning back on the sofa, he stared at the landline phone at home, wondering how many months it had been since he paid the bill. Was it three or four months? That beautiful girl at the telecom office must have turned into a zombie by now. He had contributed more than 80 yuan in phone bills to the telecom company on his mobile, but had he lost more than he had gained? His mind was full of random thoughts, and Zhang Xiaoqiang's gaze unintentionally shifted towards the phone line.

"Wait a minute."

The telephone line? Zhang Xiaoqiang shifted his gaze back to the telephone line, and a flash of inspiration darted through his mind, but he couldn't figure it out.

He stared blankly at the telephone line, and his brain quickly started working. Besides making phone calls, what else could the telephone line be used for? Hanging clothes, airing blankets, tying things up... Suddenly, he had an idea. "It can be used as a rope!" He stood up and paced around, looking for a rope to tie one end to the door handle of the anti-theft door and the other end to a fixed point. Then, he could open the door a crack and take care of the zombies outside one by one.

He acted on his thoughts and found a thin hemp rope in the storage room. He tied one end to the iron railing on the window and left the other end about ten centimeters long to tie to the door handle. It was impossible to use a hammer as a weapon, as the space was too small to use it effectively. Zhang Xiaoqiang found a galvanized water pipe about 1.5 meters long and gestured that he thought it was not powerful enough to deal with the zombies.

Continuing to search his father's toolbox, he couldn't help but sigh. Fortunately, his father was skilled in everything. In the 1960s, he went to the countryside to dig irrigation canals, and in the 1970s, he was the factory director of an electric motor factory. Although there were only a dozen people, it was still a collective enterprise, and he held an official position. In the 1980s, he opened a restaurant and became one of the earliest millionaires in the small town.

Unfortunately, his father liked to play, fishing and hunting, and had no interest in business. Otherwise, he could have made a small fortune. His father made his own fishing rod and hunting rifle. During the period when China cracked down on guns, his father was scared and threw the handmade flintlock rifle into the Yangtze River. Although his father had passed away, all those tools were still there.

"Found it."

He found a triangular file. The file was over a foot long and had been stored for a long time, but the triangular file body was still black and had not rusted much. The tool steel from the 1970s was well made. He used a knife to shave the wooden handle of the file until it could fit into the water pipe. After trying it out, he was afraid it was not secure enough, so he nailed the pipe and wooden handle connection securely with an iron nail, so he wouldn't be in trouble when it mattered most.

Everything was ready. Zhang Xiaoqiang stood behind the door and checked his equipment. His military coat had been washed clean but unfortunately, it was going to get dirty again today. The tap water had already been cut off, and he wasn't even hoping to drink it now, let alone washing clothes! He carried his homemade iron spear in his left hand and opened the door with his right hand.

"Bang."

Zhang Xiaoqiang closed the door again, it was too stinky. The smell of the rotting zombies he had killed a few days ago was so strong that he couldn't even open his eyes. There were no masks at home, so he found a woolen scarf and covered his nose and mouth. He sprinkled some mosquito repellent on the scarf, it was a bit better now.

Opening the door once again, a black claw reached for his face with great force, its owner pushing to squeeze through the crack in the door. This time he was prepared and not frightened. He carefully examined the zombie and the flesh on its claw, which was tightly pulled inward, revealing protruding bones, like an eagle's talon, pointing towards him. The sharp nails extended and retracted, accompanied by dry and shriveled fingers. The zombie desperately tried to force its head through the crack in the door, and its face looked just like the claw, with sunken eye sockets and cheekbones rubbing against the iron door, seemingly attempting to sharpen its head and squeeze through.

Zhang Xiaoqiang raised the iron spear with both hands, and the triangular file end stabbed into the zombie's eyes mercilessly. He clenched the water pipes tightly and used all his strength to push outwards. Although he couldn't control the strength of the iron spear, he only knew to thrust outward. His mind was dazed, but he burst out with a deep-seated bloodthirstiness from within, feeling as though all the zombies were at his mercy, and he could kill them all.

Two more claws reached for him through the crack in the door, shaking in front of him, and he immediately sobered up. He pulled out the spear tip, and the zombie's eye sockets turned into deep black holes, with black, viscous blood slowly flowing out. First, the zombie fell onto the adjacent zombie, then slowly tilted to the ground - its head facing him with one eye white without a pupil, while the other eye socket was a black hole flowing with dark bloodstains. The extreme contrast between the two made Zhang Xiaoqiang shiver.

"There are still five of them," he muttered to himself, not bothering to look at the dead zombie anymore.

He had never used a long spear before, nor was he skilled in controlling his strength. With his incredibly rudimentary spear technique, he ground down the remaining five zombies until the last one fell to the ground with a "clang" sound. Zhang Xiaoqiang could no longer hold on to his iron spear and let it drop to the ground.