I waited a moment with the empty bowl still tipped in my hands before I lowered it when it became clear that none of them were going to respond to me.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a long sigh. Didn't they know the zombies liked it when you rang the dinner bell? Seriously. They really should have watched more TV. That thing was as fountain of information.
But instead of doing anything else, the four men went right back to what they were doing before I had interrupted them. It was fine. I didn't take it personally. Some people just needed to put their hand in a flame to learn that it was hot.
I had learned everything the hard way, so why couldn't they?
When the zombies started playing hide and seek, the four would understand why silence was golden.
I turned away from them and headed back toward the kitchen to solve my the actual problem, which was the lack of cheezies.
The kitchen was quiet in a way the rest of the house wasn't. The sounds from outside—the scratching, the impacts, the low guttural noises—were muffled here, filtered through walls and distance into something that felt almost manageable.
The voices from the living room carried through the open concept, but they were more like background noise.
I opened the first cabinet and scanned the contents, wanting to find a good snack.
There was crackers, pretzels, some kind of healthy crap that Chenghai must have bought as some type of joke. Vegetable chips weren't chips. I don't care what anyone says.
But none of them were what I was craving, but at the same time, I didn't know what I was craving either. I closed the door with a huff and moved on to the next one.
There were other snacks. Plenty of them. After all, I had to show something for all the trips to the grocery store I had made. But settling for something I didn't want when I already had a house full of options felt like giving up control over something small and manageable, and I wasn't interested in doing that.
I was not the type of person to ever settle.
The second cabinet had more promise. Chips—several varieties. Popcorn kernels. A bag of something that claimed to be cheese-flavored but wasn't actually cheese. I pulled it out, examined the packaging, then put it back.
Not the same as actual cheezies.
Behind me, the conversation in the living room seemed to have shifted...or at least they weren't yelling quite as much.
Jian Yuche's voice cut through first, asking a question I couldn't quite make out from this distance. Zhou Chenghai answered, his words clipped and minimal. Then Xu Zhenlan added something, his tone filling in gaps rather than challenging.
Shaking my head, I opened the third cabinet.
Granola bars. Dried fruit. Trail mix. All things the health nut Chenghai bought because they were "healthy, had the right amount of calories, and wouldn't give you diabetes", and that was a direct quote.
He was more than welcome to them.
I was not going to suffer this time around.
It took two more cupboards and the pantry before I found what I was looking for. Hidden behind a box of high fiber cereal was an extra large bag of cheezies.
Humming happily to myself, I opened the bag and dumped it into the bowl.
Did I have more cheezies in my space? Of course I did. That was a dumb ass question.
But the thing was was that I wasn't willing to touch anything in my space at the moment. After all, I needed them to last me for decades, and this was only day one of the Great Shit Storm of 2130.
There was actually a lot more to come.
From the living room, Jian Yuche's voice rose slightly as he was asking direct questions now. About the house. About the layout. About entry points and security systems and how much they could rely on them.
Zhou Chenghai answered most of it without volunteering more than necessary. His responses were tactical. Factual. The kind of information exchange that happened between people who understood the value of precision.
Xu Zhenlan filled in the gaps when something needed clarification. His voice was steadier now, less defensive. He wasn't arguing anymore. He was cooperating.
Nodding my head, I leaned forward and breathed in the perfect smell of artificial cheese and salt and something vaguely chemical that shouldn't have been appealing but was.
Humming under my breath, I walked back toward the living room, the big bowl of cheezies over flowing as I moved.
Once again, the men looked up at me, and I looked at them.
They were still positioned the same way they had been when went into the kitchen, Jian Yuche near the entrance, Lingyun slightly behind him, Chenghai between them and Zhenlan, and Zhenlan closer to the television.
But the tension had shifted. They weren't facing off anymore. They were facing the same direction.
Toward the problem outside.
Not bothering to go back downstairs now that the immediate threat was over, I settled back onto the couch, tucking my legs under me and leaning into the corner cushion.
The television was still on, still looping the same government broadcast, but I wasn't watching it.
Instead, I pulled up my phone and scrolled through some of the saved dramas until I found the one I was looking for.
Turning it on to one of the most interesting foursomes I had ever seen (two best friends who transmigrated into a historical court drama and the two men who loved them), I got comfortable and pressed play.
The conversation continued in the background, but I didn't need to be involved anymore.
They were all big boys. They could handle it themselves.
Or they couldn't and they would just die.
Jian Yuche made a suggestion about reinforcing the main entrance and limiting movement through the house. He didn't frame it as an order, but he also didn't wait for permission. He just stated it like a fact that needed to be addressed, and then moved on to the next point.
Zhou Chenghai considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Makes sense. We can use furniture to create a secondary barrier behind the door. If the first layer fails, we'll have time to respond."
"What about the windows?" Jian Yuche asked.
"Reinforced glass. They'll hold for a while. But if they start concentrating on one point, we'll need to be ready to move."
Xu Zhenlan added something about the security system—how it was designed to alert them to breaches, how the cameras were still functional, how they could monitor the perimeter without exposing themselves.
Jian Yuche listened, processed, then asked another question.
The conversation continued like that. Practical. Direct. Focused on solutions rather than blame.
Outside, something hit the window again, harder this time. The glass held, but the impact was loud enough to cut through the conversation for a moment.
All four men turned toward the sound, waited for the zombies to pass, and then they turned back and kept talking.
The conversation in the background shifted again.
Jian Yuche was talking about rotation schedules now. About making sure someone was always monitoring the perimeter. About conserving ammunition and only engaging if absolutely necessary.
Zhou Chenghai agreed. Added his own suggestions about rest cycles and maintaining readiness.
Xu Zhenlan offered the upstairs bedrooms as secure rest areas. Pointed out that the doors locked from the inside and the windows were reinforced.
But in her opinion, it was Wei Lingyun who was the really smart one. When he finally spoke, his voice quiet but clear. "What about supplies?"
There was a pause.
"We have enough," Zhenlan said. "For an extended period."
"How extended?"
"Months. If we're careful."
Another pause.
"Then we don't need to leave," Jian Yuche said, his voice steady and certain. "We just need to make this place hold."
Rouxi scoffed at that statement.
Give it a week and then they would truly understand what was happening.