The days of winter always seem so short. It’s only around 5:30, but the sky has already pulled up a curtain of darkness. This forced Old Zhao to turn on the high beams of the Jianghuai vehicle to see the terrible road conditions leading into the village.

The village was eerily silent, unlike yesterday. Now, it feels like an isolated deserted island; the welcoming party that greeted Old Zhao and his group into the village yesterday is nowhere to be found.

But this is undoubtedly a great boon for the survivors, and those welcoming folk are likely on their way to the forge of hell for transformation.

The high beams of the Jianghuai vehicle roamed the village like two real ghost flames, finally choosing a courtyard surrounded by mud walls as its destination.

Before Old Zhao could stabilize the car, Wang Qiang jumped out first. Although being idle along the way was comfortable, the bumpy road had abused his backside quite a bit.

So, while getting out to keep watch, the thing he did most was rub his sore and aching butt.

"Old Zhao, stay in the car. I’ll go open the gate. Tonight we’ll park the car inside the courtyard."

Yesterday, due to the blockade of zombies, there was no choice but to leave the car outside the courtyard. But today’s different; the zombies roaming the village seem to have been cleared out during the morning sweep.

Although the survivors expended quite an effort dealing with those beasts this morning, judging by the situation while entering the village just now, the morning’s toils were worth it. At least there were no surviving zombies visible on the road.

Just a bit more time, going door-to-door to sweep all the village houses should ensure thorough safety within.

"Alright." Having the car in the courtyard not only makes it convenient for transporting supplies but also serves as a barricade for the door and can be used as an escape tool during critical moments. This is a simple but ingenious plan with multiple benefits, so Old Zhao agreed readily.

"By the way, what’s today’s date?" Wang Qiang tossed the paint bucket he was holding onto the cement floor inside, loudly asking.

"December 21, Friday. Why ask all of a sudden?" Wang Qiang has never seemed to have much sense of time, so this sudden inquiry piqued Tang Xiaoquan’s curiosity.

"Damn it, no way, December 21!" Wang Qiang’s thunderous shout nearly made Tang Xiaoquan drop a bag of rice he just picked up. He complained irritably: "Qiang, what are you doing! What’s the fuss? Are you feeling uncomfortable without zombies to bother you?"

Of course, Wang Qiang didn’t want to experience another heavy metal concert like last night’s. But what he was about to mention had nothing to do with that, and besides, he had observed the situation much clearer than Tang Xiaoquan behind him, knowing there were no zombies lurking in the village now.

Thus, he ignored the latter’s complaint and indignantly retorted: "Seriously, you’re so uncultured, not even knowing the significance of December 21."

"Haha, Qiang, let me tell you, either the Mayan calculator broke, or their calendar arithmetic has problems, otherwise how would the apocalypse be 5 months early?" Old Zhao’s deep voice came from the inside kitchen, as he entered with rice and flour to prepare dinner for the three.

Ah, so that’s it. Tang Xiaoquan knew that with Wang Qiang’s personality, he couldn’t possibly bring up anything big. Understanding what the latter was thinking, he picked some wire from the car and tossed it into Wang Qiang’s hands.

"Take it. If you’re bored, move these inside on your own. At a time like this, don’t fuss over useless things—end of the world? Let me tell you, Qiang, it’d be best if some disaster destroyed the world now, so everyone could escape this suffering."

"Jeez..."

"Cut the chatter! Get to work. Look at the sky yourself."

Wang Qiang was rendered speechless by Tang Xiaoquan. He couldn’t figure out which word had offended this big Buddha, making him so angry. Helplessly, he resigned himself to start playing the role of mover.

Tang Xiaoquan found several big bags of waterproof tarp he had specially brought back from the supplies, using them to cover several windows in the house, functioning as simple curtains. This somewhat improved the indoor temperature, preventing it from dropping too quickly at night due to broken open windows.

By the time they both finished their work, Old Zhao had already prepared most of the meal. Though it was just plain rice, for the three survivors who had given their all, it was undoubtedly their greatest reward.

Wang Qiang was clearly starving; his pace of eating made Old Zhao worried he’d choke: "Qiang, slow down, there’s plenty."

"Uncle Zhao, I know, but I can’t help it. My stomach’s empty, hungry!" Wang Qiang mumbled through a mouthful of rice without stopping his eating: "By the way, Quanzi, where are we going tomorrow? Still the two towns for supplies?"

In contrast to the ravenous state of the former, Tang Xiaoquan’s manner of eating was noticeably more refined. He gently moved a few small bites of rice, chewing and shaking his head, saying: "Tomorrow we’re not going anywhere. I suggest we focus on repainting the bedrooms inside. How does that sound?"

Old Zhao thought in detail. Time was tight, and it was unclear when the bandits might launch a raid—in other words, Old Xu and his group could lead the retreat to here at any moment. Given the current situation, they could only fix up this room within the limited time available.

So repainting the inner walls was urgent. After all, it was the only room with a bed and slightly better warmth conditions, naturally meant for Wei Yang and the women.

If the bloody environment inside wasn’t quickly transformed, how could it accommodate Wei Yang, Fangfang, and the others?

Understanding this, Old Zhao promptly agreed to Tang Xiaoquan’s suggestion: "Yes, Quanzi, I agree. Moreover, tomorrow I’ll inspect whether this house can be further reinforced."

With Old Zhao, the professional, joining in and helping, tomorrow’s progress would likely be smooth.

After the meal, Old Zhao routinely contacted the villa’s side and, upon learning of their day’s gains, Old Xu finally showed a relieved smile on his tense face. It can be said that every small step forward achieved by Old Zhao’s group is a release of stress for him.

With the team’s two-day reports, he is justified in believing that they can successfully complete the mission planned after departure.

And as long as they have this secondary shelter as a backup base, he, as the team leader, can be without worries, at least able to sleep soundly at night. (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to vote recommendations, monthly tickets on Qidian (qidian.com); your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users please visit m.qidian.com to read.)