I closed my eyes, and the world ceased to exist! 

A burning sensation in my stomach jolted me awake, and I sat up, squinting, feeling somewhat unsure if it was a dream or reality. The intense hunger made my stomach churn, and all my senses returned to my body. The stench of dead mice in the house, the dim and gloomy sky outside the window, and the chilling sound of zombies downstairs, trampling on broken glass, sent shivers down my spine. 

I reached for the half-empty bag of instant noodles on the desk next to my bed, opened it, and took a deep breath through my nose. The aroma of the food triggered a rapid salivation, as if I couldn't even perceive the foul odor in the air anymore. I crushed the noodles, slowly savoring each bite with the tip of my tongue, until the last noodle disappeared into my mouth. Carefully, I used scissors to cut open the noodle bag and used my tongue to clean up every tiny fragment, washing it down with a gulp of mineral water. After finishing the remaining water, I got out of bed and stood by the window, observing the aimless wandering of zombies on the street. I pondered how long the remaining food would last and couldn't help but recall what happened half a month ago. 

I was an otaku in his late thirties, both of my parents had passed away from cancer, and my sister had married and moved away. I was the only one left in the family. I quit my job after arguing with my boss and returned home. My friends and I opened a small restaurant in City H, but it ended up losing money. I was too lazy to look for another job, relying on the rental income from the property my parents left behind. Life was comfortable. Every month, I would go out to collect the rent and buy enough supplies for the month. My weight gradually increased to around 170 pounds, and I lived a simple and low-key life. 

In 2012, I turned 34. I didn't pay much attention to the doomsday rumors that were prevalent online. After all, nothing happened when they said the world would end in 1999. In March, there was an eruption on Mount Fuji in Japan, followed by several volcanic eruptions worldwide over the next few months, causing panic among the public and spreading various rumors. The country's leaders appeared on television to dispel the rumors, and many experts tried to confirm that everything was just natural phenomena. Starting from June, the Earth began to calm down. Earthquakes ceased, volcan

 I was getting ready to sleep after pulling an all-nighter. I felt a strange odor in the air and decided to shut all the doors and windows. Taking a hot shower, I sprayed some expired perfume left by my sister as an air freshener. Clutching my blanket, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up at 9 o'clock in the evening, had a little something to eat, and opened my computer to browse the Qidian website. I noticed that most of the novels hadn't been updated. I cursed the authors while searching for some old books to read.

 After over an hour, I sensed something was amiss. My house is located on a main road in the city's outskirts, not too far from the city center. Usually, cars pass by incessantly, creating a constant noise of engines. However, since I woke up until now, I hadn't heard a single car. Could they be repairing the road, I wondered to myself. Suddenly, a cry of despair echoed outside. I was startled, trembling as I stood by the window without even putting on my shoes.

 Underneath a street lamp, three or four people were huddled together, squatting. I took off my glasses, wiped them clean with my shirt, and put them back on. I carefully observed those people who seemed to be consuming something. The cold sensation on the soles of my feet reminded me that I was barefoot. I put on slippers and grabbed a cloth to clean the windows, which I had neglected for a while. As I looked outside again, I noticed that in the midst of those people, there were two legs lying on the ground, twitching. Then, one person among them, with their back turned to me, sat on the ground. The light from the street lamp illuminated the crowd, revealing a man lying on his back, his head tilted to one side, and his chest cavity open. Two people squatted on the ground, fighting over his liver and lungs, while another person sitting on the ground, facing away from me, held a heart in their hands and chewed on it.

 My legs turned weak, and I knelt on the floor tile, feeling sick to my stomach and an itchiness in my throat. I quickly got up, rushed to the toilet, and vomited until there was nothing left, my mouth tasting bitter. It took a while before I could stand, leaning against the wall. I wiped away the tears in my eyes, took a cup of water from the water dispenser to rinse my mouth, and sat on the floor. My mind was filled with scenes from horror movies I had watched in the past: biohazard crises, dawn of the dead, cannibalistic tribes, and even human flesh buns.

 After sitting for half an hour, I started to feel a bit better. I walked back to the window and observed again. The cannibalistic people had multiplied from three to a group, and there were more figures slowly approaching under the dim street lights. The eerie atmosphere made me shiver, and goosebumps covered my body. I was filled with fear.

 Suddenly, I remembered the police and quickly grabbed my phone to dial the number. In my haste, I couldn't recall the exact number, and it made me sweat in panic. Taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm, I finally dialed 911. It felt as if the heavens were playing with me; the line was continuously busy. I then tried 911 again but still couldn't get through. I called several relatives and friends, but either nobody answered or the line was occupied. I was so desperate that I wished to throw the phone into the toilet and flush it away. 

Zhang Xiaoqiang snapped back to reality. The half-eaten instant noodles he had just finished seemed to have been digested already, intensifying his feeling of hunger. He forced himself not to look at the remaining few packs of instant noodles on the writing desk. Instead, he poured a glass of water and gulped it down, hoping to fill his stomach with water. Since the crisis began, he hadn't taken a moment to reflect. Was this current life just a dream? The noodles were gone, the eggs were gone, and there were still three packs of instant noodles left. Before, two packs plus two fried eggs were just one meal. Now, he had been rationing himself, eating one and a half packs per day. He didn't even dare touch the rice outside, fearing that eating cooked food would drain his energy and make it difficult to escape. Looking at his gradually shrinking belly, he found it amusing and wanted to cry at the same time. Although he was usually carefree, he still had a sister whose life or death was unknown. He couldn't let go of his worries. For the past half month, whenever he had nothing to do, he would think about the past—the scenes of family gatherings with his parents, his teachers and classmates from his school days, Ling Er, the girl who made his heart flutter for the first time, the mischievous girl who used to draw turtles on his back, his former colleagues and friends at work, and even the little sister at the street corner where he used to buy breakfast. He couldn't get through to his sister's phone, and nobody answered the landline. It was likely that things were not going well. Yet, he couldn't give up hope and kept wishing for a miracle. 

Outside the window, the zombies were still wandering around, and occasionally he would spot familiar faces from the neighborhood among them. The streets were littered with broken glass, torn clothes, and scattered bones. There was all sorts of garbage and the distant sight of burned-out bus shells. A sense of desolation lingered in his heart, imagining himself turning into a zombie, wandering aimlessly, running out of food, starving to death, and his loved ones turning into zombies and devouring him alive. Desolation turned into despair. Numbly, he walked to the kitchen and picked up a kitchen knife, slowly pressing the blade against his neck. He closed his eyes, gripping the handle tightly. He pressed harder, causing his wrist to ache, but he couldn't bring himself to make the final cut. He dropped the knife, hugged his head, and slid down against the wall, tears streaming down his face. He was afraid of death, afraid to take his own life. 

He hated himself for being useless, for studying in vain, for having a job that couldn't help him. He didn't even dare to consider suicide. As his emotions gradually calmed down, he thought about how 90% of the population had turned into zombies, yet he was still alive. Out of 6.3 billion people infected, he was unharmed. Was it a divine arrangement? After pondering for a while, he started feeling a little better. Glancing at his wristwatch, it was already past 10 in the morning. If he didn't want to starve to death, he had to go out and find food. That meant facing those zombies in a fight for survival. He walked to the front hall, pulled back the curtains, and carefully tore off a small piece of newspaper that had been stuck on the glass window for nearly half a month. He peered outside. In the middle of the platform, there were rows of lush green Chinese cabbage growing in a small vegetable garden. Just the sight of it made his mouth water. Shifting his gaze away from the cabbage, he carefully observed his surroundings. There weren't many zombies on the platform. The two households opposite his had broken through the wall facing the platform and set up a greenhouse, with the entrance opening onto the balcony. Now, with the doors open, a few zombies were going in and out of each house. On the stairs leading up and down the platform, there was one zombie coming up. In total, there were seven stairs—one facing him and six from the opposite side. It would take about three minutes for the zombie to reach him from the opposite side. His target was the big cabbage in the middle of the platform. 

Facing zombies barehanded was definitely not an option. He needed to prepare weapons, but there wasn't much readily available in his house. He found various tools left behind by his father. The first thing that caught his eye was an eight-pound hammer. He lifted it and gave it a test swing, but shook his head. It was too heavy, his strength wouldn't suffice. He could handle a few swings, but anything more would be too much for him. He continued searching and came across a crowbar. He tested its weight and found it suitable. He grabbed an iron pot lid from the kitchen to use as a shield, practiced a few moves in the living room until he felt comfortable, and decided it was sufficient. He was ready to set out. However, when he reached the doorway, he hesitated. His hand touched the doorknob several times before withdrawing. Ultimately, he thought that dying in battle was better than starving to death and said to himself, "Better to die fighting than to die hungry." With that, he opened the door and stepped outside.