When trouble is far away, people lift their hands from it. Australia's zombie deer outbreak led to an invasive-species disaster, and once the red nematodes there were infected, the virus spread like wildfire across the damp terrain. In just half a year, red nematodes worldwide were infected, their numbers teeming in the stagnant waters.
Back then, China hadn't any mind to care about virus-carrying but otherwise nonthreatening red nematodes. In Jiangnan, the water was full of bugs that could kill, their swarms clouding the humid air.
The whole country rushed to produce anti-bug medicine, barely safeguarding the people on the brink of collapse. Because of this, all twenty-six regional Medicinal Herb Association competitions even changed their exam topics to reflect the crisis.
It also let Jing Shu catch a lucky break. By using tobacco, she helped Wu City's association make the national top ten and skip the preliminaries. It was entirely thanks to the tobacco she planted, the green leaves thriving under her care.
So the Australian news didn't attract much attention at first. Only today, when the virus reached China, did it hit home.
"Hey now, you two need to be disinfected. Don't you bring the red nematodes in here. I saw a few outside who looked exactly like zombies from the movies. Are they done for?" Grandma Jing spritzed a fine mist of disinfectant on Jing Lai and Wu You'ai the moment they came home from work, the sharp scent of alcohol filling the entryway.
Jing Shu was speechless. "Grandma, it's just necrosis in patches. The flesh festers, turns green, and stiffens, so they look like zombies. The dead flesh infects the healthy tissue around it. They're not actual zombies. But in the late stage, this illness does fry the brain and leaves only animal instincts."
In her past life, deaths from this so-called zombie disease were drizzle compared to other disasters, but people feared it more. In the late stage, the body was covered in necrotic flesh, pustulent and stinking; it hung like lumps of tumors that swung when they walked. The strongest case she had seen survived about a year, dragging those heavy masses with every shuffling step. It was revolting.
The one mercy was that the patients felt no pain. The disease brought its own numbing effect. To say something unpleasant, researchers even tried extracting anesthetics from it. Whether it ever reached clinical use, Jing Shu didn't know.
Jing An stopped caring about aesthetics and slathered white lime paste on the mud again, his hands moving steadily as he was repainting the low wall around the villa. With so much rain for so long, even with dehumidifiers, desiccants, and dryers, the villa was still damp. They had to fire up the boiler at night to heat the floors, the pipes humming with warmth.
Wu You'ai and Jing Lai disinfected their rubbery rain gear and wiped them dry. Only then did Wu You'ai speak. "Australia's already lost twenty percent of its people. They say once you get this, your flesh keeps rotting. Even if you cut away the dead meat, the virus remains and another place rots. And we lack medical care. Grandma, please stop spraying. It spreads through red nematodes, but it's not casual contact."
The family went to the dining room for dinner. Lately she had eaten too much barbecue at night and felt heaty, so she asked Grandma Jing to stew a fresh fish soup, make a cold bitter-melon salad, and put together some light home-style dishes. For the staple, they made meat-filled flatbreads. The braised pork had simmered for hours until the fat and lean were perfectly melded. Chopped fine and drenched with savory braising juices, it was stuffed into hot, crispy flatbread with a little Qin pepper. It was absolute perfection.
Two bites per flatbread, a sip of fresh crucian-carp and tofu soup, and Jing Shu let out a slow breath. This was the life she wanted.
Grandma Jing's eyes widened. "Then how did those people in the community get infected?"
"Don't bring it up. After the red nematodes died out, prices shot up several times. Ordinary folks used to rely on red nematodes as a staple to fill their bellies. Now it's just a little mushroom soup, nowhere near enough. So some people started a business. They smashed stinking, virus-infected red nematodes with stones and made them into patties. One virtual coin for five. Some people ate them every day and got this zombie disease. Our immune systems are strong, so only a few fell ill," Wu You'ai said.
"Every day?" Grandma Jing exclaimed.
"Yes. The red nematodes have been completely gone for about a month. People have been eating them since then, and now the outbreak shows." Wu You'ai ate her flatbread by piling everything in at once: pickles, sweet radish, and stir-fried shredded potatoes. Her taste ran heavy.
Jing Shu couldn't help feeling fortunate. In her past life she had bought them too. One patty dipped in mushroom soup. It tasted terrible, but it filled the stomach. She was lucky she hadn't gotten infected. After she learned the truth, she had worried for months.
People of the apocalypse didn't fuss anymore. It was so cold by day that if you didn't eat your fill at night, you could freeze to death. With the red nematodes gone in just two months, those who depended on them were suddenly cut off when the cafeterias stopped serving them. People couldn't adjust. The cafeterias still offered red-nematode patties at 0.5 virtual coin each.
Since even the living red nematodes all died from the virus, some began fishing the dead ones from the water to sell, especially in deserted places. Dead for a long time, the red nematodes floated on the surface in gray clumps. Scoop once and you had a bag. At 0.2 virtual coin per patty, plenty of buyers lined up.
"Those heartless monsters. How many people have they harmed? What about the sellers?" Grandma Jing bit into her flatbread, turning grief into appetite.
Wu You'ai shrugged. "It's a massive ring, three to four hundred people. They were basically rounded up today and taken to the Second Detachment. Some scouted for bugs, some sold, some cooked them through. Grandma, very few people still have fuel to cook these days. I heard the boss sold hundreds of thousands of patties and made eighty thousand virtual coins, and his underlings pocketed plenty too."
"These black-hearted people should all be sentenced to death," Grandpa Jing said, his voice firm.
Chewing, Wu You'ai mumbled, "They're preparing to push for the death penalty, but that crowd's raising a racket. They claim they didn't know about the virus and are innocent. If they had known it was contagious, they would never have done it. So it's still under discussion. Even in the apocalypse, the law distinguishes between intentional and unintentional harm."
They chatted about the latest big news, the room warm and lively. Jing Shu spoke little and ate much. Just then the phone rang, the vibration rattling against the table. She glanced at the screen. It was Su Mali.
"Jing Shu, where are you?"
"At home. What is up?"
"Great. I hosted today's auction at Xishan Base and I'm on my way back. If you're free, could you run over to the Second Detachment by the gate for me?" Exasperation colored Su Mali's voice through the line.
"What happened?"
"Several classmates called me. Something happened to them. They want me to help for old times' sake. I don't even know what it is yet. Last time they said there was a money-making opportunity and thought of me, but I couldn't make it. I already stood them up once."