POV: Zhou Chenghai
Zhou Chenghai didn't take his eyes off Jian Yuche.
Or Wei Lingyun, for that matter.
He didn't trust either of them. Didn't pretend to. And the situation outside didn't change that fundamental reality—it just removed the option of acting on it.
Jian Yuche stood near the entrance with his weapon still visible, his posture loose but ready. The kind of stance that came from years of knowing when violence was about to happen and being prepared to move first.
Wei Lingyun was positioned slightly behind him and to the left, his back to the wall, his eyes tracking every movement Chenghai made. His breathing had evened out since the run from the vehicle, but his hand stayed near his waistband where Chenghai knew he carried a backup piece.
They weren't guests.
They were intruders who'd been trapped by circumstance.
And Chenghai wasn't going to forget that Yuche had fired a weapon inside this house to force compliance. Had overridden a tactical decision that could have gotten everyone killed. Had brought the infected down on them with noise and recklessness and the kind of loyalty that made men do stupid things.
But the reality was simple.
They were all sealed in together now. The infected were outside. The barricades were holding. And whether Chenghai liked it or not, the situation had reset itself into something that required a different approach.
He said it plainly.
"Xu Zhenlan is right. We're all in the same position now."
Jian Yuche's eyes shifted toward him. Didn't blink. Didn't soften.
"Either we work together," Chenghai continued, his voice flat, "or we stay out of each other's way and probably die faster. Those are the options."
There was a beat of silence.
Jian Yuche's expression didn't change. "And if I don't agree to either?"
"Then you'll die when the barricades fail and the zombies get inside. Same as the rest of us."
It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact delivered without emotion or embellishment.
Jian Yuche's jaw tightened slightly. "If I had access to my weapons, I could clear the area around this property without relying on anyone. Then Lingyun and I could get out of your hair and you wouldn't have to deal with us any longer than necessary."
But Zhenlan's voice cut through the room before Chenghai could respond.
"How many times do I have to tell you we don't have them here?"
The shift in tone was immediate.
Jian Yuche turned toward Zhenlan, his posture changing from defensive to confrontational in the space of a breath. "You expect me to believe that? After everything?"
"I don't care what you believe," Zhenlan replied, his deepening as he glared at the other man. "I'm telling you the truth. We don't have your weapons. We never did."
"Then where are they?"
"I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
Jian Yuche took a step forward. "You're lying."
But Zhenlan didn't back down. "I'm not."
"Then explain how an entire warehouse gets emptied overnight with no trace. Explain how someone bypasses security systems that cost more than most people make in a year. Explain how—"
"I can't," Zhenlan interrupted, his voice sharp. "Because I don't know. And even if I did, it wouldn't change the fact that your weapons aren't here."
The argument escalated quickly after that.
Their voices were rising as the words started overlapping each other until no one was listening to anyone else.
Getting more and more frustrated, Jian Yuche's hand moved closer to his weapon as Zhenlan's posture shifted into something more aggressive.
Not wanting to risk it, Chenghai stepped between them.
Not directly of course, not in a way that would force a physical confrontation. Just a repositioning that put him in Jian Yuche's line of sight and made it clear that if this turned into something violent, Chenghai would be the first obstacle.
"Back off," Chenghai said quietly.
Jian Yuche's eyes flicked toward him. "This doesn't concern you."
"It does when you're in his house threatening him."
"I'm not threatening anyone. I'm asking questions."
"You're escalating," Chenghai said. "And that's not going to help anyone survive what's outside."
Jian Yuche didn't move nor did he step back. He just stood there with his hand near his weapon and his eyes locked on Chenghai's face.
The tension hung in the air like something physical.
Wei Lingyun shifted his weight slightly, his hand moving fractionally closer to his waistband. Chenghai tracked the movement without looking directly at him, his peripheral vision cataloging the threat and calculating response times.
If this went bad, it would go bad fast.
But Zhenlan wasn't backing down either. He stood his ground, his expression tight with frustration and something that looked like genuine anger.
"You want answers?" Zhenlan said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Fine. Someone took your weapons. Someone who knew exactly where they were and how to get them. Someone who planned it down to the last detail and left no evidence behind."
"And you expect me to believe you don't know who?"
"I expect you to believe that if I knew, I'd tell you. Because having you in my house demanding answers I don't have isn't helping anyone."
Jian Yuche's jaw worked. "Then who—"
"I don't know," Zhenlan said again, louder this time. "I don't know who. I don't know how. I don't know where your weapons are now. And standing here arguing about it isn't going to change any of that."
The noise of the argument carried through the house and outside, the infected continued their relentless assault on the perimeter. Scratching. Clawing. Hitting barriers with mechanical persistence.
Inside, four men stood in a room that had become a pressure cooker of tension and unresolved conflict.
Chenghai kept his position between Jian Yuche and Zhenlan, his eyes tracking both of them, his body ready to move if either one made the wrong decision.
The television continued its loop in the background. The same government broadcast. The same hollow reassurance. The same message that meant nothing.
And then—
Movement at the top of the basement stairs.
All four men turned at the same time to see Rouxi standing there, looking at them with an expression that was completely... blank.
She held an empty bowl in one hand and for a moment, no one spoke.
Chenghai's mind processed the situation in fragments. Rouxi was supposed to be in the basement. Locked in. Safe. Away from the conflict and the infected and everything happening in the rest of the house.
But she was here.
Standing at the top of the stairs.
Looking at four armed men who'd been seconds away from violence.
And she didn't look afraid.
Jian Yuche's hand moved away from his weapon slowly, his eyes narrowing as he took in her appearance. His expression shifted—not quite recognition, but something close to it. Like he was trying to place her face against a memory that didn't quite fit.
Wei Lingyun's posture changed as well into something less defensive and much more confused while Zhenlan's face went carefully blank.
Rouxi lifted the empty bowl slightly, like she was showing it to them.
"Don't mind me," she said, her voice completely casual. "I need to get more snacks. I just ran out of cheezies."