Chapter 3: Memories

Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Memories

The hands on his watch clearly pointed to twelve noon, though the sky outside, still shrouded in lead-gray clouds, made it difficult to tell the time.

As noon arrived, Xu Mo could clearly feel that familiar, heart-palpitating, searing heat beginning to seep out from the depths of his body again, like a slowly rising tide.

The ibuprofen he had taken last night had worn off.

Xu Mo reached up and felt his forehead. It was noticeably hot to the touch. The high fever hadn’t gone away; it had only been forcibly suppressed by the medicine for a few hours and was now returning with a vengeance. This relapse weighed heavily on his mind. The inflammation was more stubborn than he had anticipated.

Without hesitation, Xu Mo immediately took another ibuprofen pill. Then, he opened the can of dace with fermented black beans and began to eat. The savory, salty aroma filled his mouth, along with the firm texture of the fish. Xu Mo forced himself to slowly finish the entire can with some compressed biscuits. He needed energy, needed protein to fight the illness and regain his strength. He could no longer be content with just staving off hunger.

After eating, Xu Mo felt a powerful wave of exhaustion. But this time, he didn’t choose to sit on the floor and lean against that cold wall again. He had done that before in a desperate attempt to use the wall’s chill to physically lower his temperature. Now that he had medicine to suppress the fever, he needed a more comfortable place to rest and conserve his energy.

He moved over to the broken sofa in the corner of the room, which had long since lost its cushions, leaving only springs and a wooden frame. He carefully lay down. The hard surface was uncomfortable, digging into his back, but compared to the cold floor, this could be considered a "bed." ℯ

Under the effect of the medicine, his body temperature slowly began to drop, and exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave. In the twilight state between waking and sleeping, Xu Mo’s mind didn’t completely shut down. He mentally ran through his "looting list" over and over, contemplating the various situations he might encounter the next time he opened the door, and how he could obtain the most critical supplies in the fastest way possible.

「When he woke again, it was already evening.」

Dim, yellow light filtered through the filthy windows, casting long and short patches of light on the dust-covered floor. The afterglow of the sunset painted the dead, dilapidated town with a strange layer of warmth, yet it only served to highlight a bone-deep desolation and loneliness.

Xu Mo slowly sat up, assessing his body’s condition. The irritating heaviness and distinct heat seemed to have subsided a little, and his mind felt much clearer. Xu Mo knew this was likely still the work of the medicine, not a true recovery. But regardless, even a brief moment of comfort was precious.

Hunger followed close behind. Xu Mo’s gaze subconsciously shifted to the corner of the room where the supplies he had brought back from that other world were piled.

One package of compressed biscuits, two cans of dace with fermented black beans, two apples, four chocolate bars, and a little over one bottle of water. As for the life-saving ibuprofen, only two pills remained.

The medicine was being used up faster than Xu Mo had anticipated. He looked at his supplies. Eating an entire can of fish at noon had been a necessary expense to fight the illness and replenish his energy. But now, he had to be more frugal.

After a moment’s hesitation, Xu Mo finally got up, walked over, and picked up one of the ripe, red apples. He took a bite. The sweet juice moistened his parched throat and brought a slight sense of fullness. One apple wasn’t enough to fill his stomach, but it was enough to alleviate the most pressing hunger and provide some vitamins.

Xu Mo ate the apple in small, precious bites, his gaze once again turning to the window. The sun was sinking faster now, and shadows began to spread from the corners of the buildings like a rising tide. The dead silence of the day was gradually being replaced by a deeper, more unsettling atmosphere. He knew that the night was often the most dangerous time.

After finishing the apple and carefully setting the core aside, Xu Mo lay back down on the broken sofa. The state of his recovery and his dwindling supply of medicine both weighed on him. All his hopes now rested on the silent countdown ticking away in his mind.

As the night deepened, the last sliver of daylight vanished from outside the window, plunging the room into near-total darkness. Perhaps because he had slept for a few hours at noon, or perhaps because his body was still unwell, Xu Mo lay on the hard sofa frame, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. His thoughts drifted aimlessly in the darkness, and a long-forgotten childhood memory quietly surfaced.

It must have been the summer vacation before he started middle school, when Xu Mo was staying at his old family home in the countryside to escape the heat. He had a distant great-uncle there whose ancestors were said to have been very wealthy and even produced military generals. But by his generation, all that was left were a few tattered martial arts manuals and a set of skills whose authenticity no one could verify.

Seeing Xu Mo lazing around, his great-uncle loved to brag to him, claiming that their family’s "Thirteen Grand Protectors’ Cross Training" was a truly incredible martial art. He said that at the highest level of mastery, one could achieve a "Golden Bell Shield Body, impervious to blades and spears!" At the time, Xu Mo was young and was completely captivated by his great-uncle’s animated stories. His mind filled with images of masters from martial arts movies, and he naively followed along, practicing the moves for quite some time.

There was no profound inheritance to speak of in his memories, just daily horse-stance practice in the courtyard. He’d use the acrid-smelling medicinal wine his great-uncle had procured from who-knows-where to vigorously slap his arms and thighs, making him grimace in pain. His great-uncle would just squint at him from the side, muttering things like, "The sinews and bones must be relaxed, the skin and hide must be struck," phrases he couldn’t understand at all back then.

And the result...? After a whole summer, he hadn’t seen a hint of the so-called "imperviousness to blades and spears." The only effect was a massive increase in his appetite. His mom joked that he had "gone to the countryside to master the art of being a bottomless pit." Later, as school got busier, this childhood episode was pushed to the back of his mind, and he never thought of it again.

But now...

Xu Mo smirked silently in the darkness. In this apocalypse overrun by zombies, where a single scratch meant death, the words "impervious to blades and spears" held an unimaginable allure.

’I thought it was all nonsense back then, but now, even transmigration has happened...’ An uncontrollable thought popped into Xu Mo’s head. ’What if... what if there was a kernel of truth in my great-uncle’s bragging?’

’Even if it only makes my skin a little tougher or my strength a little greater, my chances of survival against the zombies might increase just that little bit!’

’Once I’ve recovered, I have to try and pick it up again!’ Xu Mo made up his mind. This was perhaps another path he could rely on to increase his own chances of survival, aside from that door.

With this thought, Xu Mo stopped trying to force himself to sleep. Instead, he began to concentrate, trying to recall the seemingly ridiculous stances and chants his great-uncle had taught him all those years ago, trying to dig through those distant memories for a glimmer of light that might change his fate.

The night was still long, but Xu Mo’s thoughts had already drifted toward a tomorrow full of possibilities.