Chapter Three: The Origin of the Virus

Liu Wen surveyed the room with extreme caution, wishing only to find a safe corner in this unfamiliar house. Ma Yi’s bedroom contained little apart from a bed and a wardrobe. Though a few garments were tossed carelessly upon the bed, both the wardrobe and bedding were spotlessly clean, which comforted Liu Wen somewhat.

She locked the bedroom door behind her, glanced at the freshly cleaned floor, and retreated to the furthest corner. Seated against the wall, her gaze drifted aimlessly to her toes, lost in thought. She did not know what to do, but hiding in this corner—far from the bathroom, with no windows nearby—brought her a fragile sense of security.

Ma Yi had never imagined that turning into a zombie would be so excruciating. Every muscle and bone felt as if they’d been smashed by a sledgehammer. He struggled not to scream, but the agony was overwhelming. The movies had lied—wasn’t it supposed to be a brief fainting spell, then a transformation? Instead, his head felt like it would explode, his muscles chewed to pulp, his bones crushed beneath a passing car. He writhed in pain in the water-filled bathtub, fighting to keep from crying out, but it was futile. As icy water flooded his mouth, offering the barest hint of relief, he gulped desperately at the water that submerged him, clinging to this meager comfort as his body screamed in torment. At last, his mind shattered, his nerves snapped with a piercing hum, and Ma Yi lost consciousness. His body, drained of all will, slipped deeper under the water, curling into a fetal position, as if seeking refuge in a mother’s womb.

The water in the tub had been icy cold—after all, it was New Year’s, and though not the coldest time of year, the temperature was low enough that tap water hovered near freezing. Yet, strangely, wisps of steam began to rise from the bath. The faucet continued to pour in frigid water, which drained away, but the bath itself grew ever hotter, vapor swirling and thickening until the entire room resembled a public bathhouse, dense with steam.

In his delirium, Ma Yi felt as if he’d been thrown into a steel furnace, his body wrung dry by relentless flames, yet still more moisture seeped out, evaporated, and was pulled from within. His down jacket was shredded, the tatters hanging over the edge of the tub, carried by the flow of water. The few scraps of fabric remaining beneath him bore the scorched marks of fire. His yellow skin glowed with ember-red light, flaring and fading in turn. With each pulse, faint gray residue seeped from his skin, almost invisible unless one looked closely—like impurities cast off from hot iron. The yellow of his skin gradually darkened to a blue-black, reminiscent of the deep tan of celebrities after sunbathing—bronzed, yes, but Ma Yi’s hue was darker still, like that of a mixed-race man with African heritage. His once slightly portly belly had vanished, replaced by taut, emerging muscles, and his frame grew larger. His face, once ordinary, became sharply defined—not more handsome, but strikingly angular.

There Ma Yi lay, curled quietly beneath the water, his features serene, the agony and contorted expressions gone. Only the faint red glow emanating intermittently from his body suggested something extraordinary was occurring—something even he could not comprehend.

Night fell. Liu Wen’s mind replayed the events of the day as she tried to encourage herself to survive. At some point, curled in the corner, she drifted into sleep. She woke abruptly to the sound of a piercing scream and frantic cries from outside—the new day had begun. Perhaps someone had tried to escape, only to be caught by the zombies.

Moments before, she’d been dreaming of home’s warmth. Now, ripped back to reality by the screams, she pulled her phone from her pocket—17% battery, six o’clock in the morning. She tried to stand, but after squatting all night, her body was numb and unresponsive. She managed to crawl to the bed, stretching herself out, then collapsed atop Ma Yi’s bed as a wave of weakness overtook her.

This was a strange man’s bed. The comforter smelled faintly of laundry detergent, the cotton carried the warmth of sunlight. Liu Wen buried her face in the bedding, greedily savoring this rare warmth. For a moment, she fell in love with this stranger’s bed, his blankets—the only warmth she could find in this cold new year. She lay there, unwilling to move.

Her stomach rumbled. Nearly a full day and night without food, Liu Wen reluctantly rolled off the bed and forced herself to her feet. She walked to the window. Outside, the pale red fog had thinned considerably, and she could clearly see the zombies wandering the neighborhood below. She knew what they were—her husband, early in their marriage, had often played zombie movies to frighten her. Yet she’d never imagined those fantasies would become reality.

Especially her husband—who was now plainly visible from the window. Once so handsome, he was now covered in blood, hunched over a neighbor, tearing flesh from bone and devouring it.

Checking the time on her phone, Liu Wen noticed a pop-up news alert: “Strange Virus Strikes, World in Ruins—Source Is the Fog.” She stared in disbelief, double-checking to make sure she hadn’t misread it. Then she glanced at the window, at the pale red mist, her heart tightening with anxiety as she opened the article.

It was, in truth, an advertisement masquerading as news—a common ploy by apps these days. Dated 4 p.m. the previous afternoon, the report explained that sunspot activity had caused quantum disturbances, triggering a global outbreak of pale red fog laced with an unknown virus. The virus, it said, infected all creatures exposed to the fog; crucially, any injury sustained in the mist guaranteed infection. Within minutes, the virus would seize the host, erasing humanity, instilling bloodlust and aggression. Scientists had not explained the reason for this hunger. They had named the pathogen the Super Mutant Zombie Virus, or SZV—S-virus for short. Infection led rapidly to brain death: the body moved, but the person was gone. No medicine could cure or prevent it. The only defense was to stay indoors and avoid all risk, for the outbreak was global.

“The entire world is in chaos,” Liu Wen murmured, staring blankly at her phone until a low-battery warning snapped her out of her stupor. She scanned the room, searching for a charger.

A power bank lay on the bedside table—thankfully, it matched her phone and was fully charged. Plugging in, her stomach growled again. She crept to the door, listened for sounds outside—nothing. Slowly, she unlocked the door. The tiny click made her break into a sweat; she felt like a bird startled by every rustle.

She waited a moment, ready to relock the door if anything happened. But after a few minutes, all remained silent. She cracked the door open and peered out—nothing. Relieved, she stepped into the empty hall.

Moving quietly, Liu Wen saw that the bathroom door was intact, easing her nerves. Yet the silence from within unsettled her. She listened—only the sound of running water. Not even a zombie could be so quiet, could it? She coughed softly; still, the bathroom remained quiet. Bravely, she walked to the door and tapped gently, half-dreading the possibility that a reanimated corpse might burst out.

When even her boldest attempts drew no response, Liu Wen finally dared to search the apartment for food.

At the old refrigerator, she opened the door slowly. It was packed with meat, frozen dumplings, beer, and soda—more food than she’d expected. Perhaps it had been a long time since anyone had eaten, or Ma Yi simply ate very little. The dumplings at the bottom had cracked from the cold, proof they’d been there too long.

She didn’t dare cook—she was too hungry to wait. She needed something ready to eat. Packaged chicken sausages caught her eye—nothing could have seemed more appealing. The production date was November 27; Ma Yi must have bought them only recently, as they were barely a month old.

Carefully, Liu Wen opened the package, nervous that the bathroom door might suddenly burst open and a zombie rush out. The bravado she’d shown moments earlier was gone.

She ate five sausages, enough to feel satisfied. She’d always been disciplined about her diet, eating slowly and in small amounts to maintain her figure. Now, finally, she was full.