Sixteen

The atmosphere at the lottery event was exceptionally lively. Old Guo, playing the role of host, managed to make the event even more stirring than a brainwashing session at a pyramid scheme, with laughter and cheer filling both the stage and the audience. The day's schedule was to start at nine: first, performances by staff inside the venue, followed by a buffet, and finally, the grand finale—the lottery draw.

Master Deng was hosting this kind of banquet for the first time and found it both convenient and novel. After finishing their work, he and the mute found a quiet corner to rest, savoring a cigarette.

Old Wang’s granddaughter, Wang Huihui, a freshman in high school, was passionately following the new drama starring NEO, making her a devoted fan. She quickly bonded with several other schoolgirls, engaging in heated discussions about gossip related to the show and exchanging photos and videos on their phones.

“Only two episodes a month! I’m dying waiting! If my dad hadn’t insisted I come to this lottery, I’d be in my dorm watching the latest episode right now.”

“Exactly! This place doesn’t even have internet or computers. Who still watches TV these days?”

“I heard the manager’s office has a computer. Should we ask later?”

“No,” Wang Huihui, with more authority, declared, “My grandpa would never agree. How could we mess with the manager’s things?”

“That woman—is she really the manager? She doesn’t look much older than us.”

“I’m speechless. Yesterday was her nineteenth birthday, remember?”

“Doesn’t she go to school?”

“If I were that rich, I wouldn’t go to school either! School is disgusting.”

Ye Yin called Jiang Wen several times, each time greeted by a mechanical voice: “Sorry, the user you are calling has powered off.” She tried reporting to the police, but they said Jiang Wen’s situation couldn’t be treated as a missing person case until forty-eight hours had passed, so she had to give up.

“Have something to drink,” Bai Qing handed her a can of hot oolong tea.

Ye Yin accepted it, the warmth in her palm almost melting her. Only then did she realize how long she’d been standing outside—her body was frozen, but she hadn’t noticed.

Suddenly, the sky went pitch black.

Ye Yin was startled and immediately grabbed Bai Qing, running toward the cafeteria. Bai Qing’s legs were longer, so soon he was pulling her along. Thanks to their quick reaction, they were inside in less than half a minute, standing breathless at the entrance, staring at the darkness outside.

Ye Yin deeply regretted her carelessness—she shouldn’t have left the shelter for a phone signal. She should have known better than anyone that the black sun was best avoided. Was this the chaos of concern?

Inside, the performances halted as everyone curiously approached the entrance to see what was happening. Ye Yin desperately blocked their way: “Don’t look! Go back! The experts on TV said yesterday that exposure to the black sun causes cancer and can kill you!”

Her words were more effective than any urging. Who doesn’t value their life? No one would risk cancer just to satisfy curiosity; everyone scrambled back inside, and some thoughtful souls even pulled the curtains shut.

The sudden change caught the middle-aged woman singing “The Tibetan Plateau” mid-vocal, nearly leaving her breathless. Ye Yin instructed Old Guo to turn on all the lights and calmly stepped onto the stage, picking up the microphone: “Don’t panic. Experts say this is a natural phenomenon—just don’t get exposed.”

Old Wang said, “Should we check the news? I got exposed briefly by the window and feel uneasy.”

Ye Yin agreed and had them turn on the large TV hanging at the front of the cafeteria. The professionalism of the news staff was impressive; soon, a live broadcast interrupted the regular programming. A popular young female reporter smiled brightly at the scene, introducing this once-in-a-century astronomical spectacle.

Everyone craned their necks, waiting until the sun returned to normal, yet she hadn’t explained why it could cause cancer. Suddenly, a person staggered into view behind the reporter, their walk so comical that everyone laughed.

“This guy—embarrassing himself on national TV.”

“Right? I just saw him lying on the ground—probably scared by the black sun, now he’s up again.”

“Who knows? Looks more like he’s drunk.”

Ye Yin’s palms began to sweat. She knew the truth—that person was not a drunk…

Gradually, the laughter in the cafeteria faded, replaced by a deathly silence.

On TV, the person suddenly went mad, lunging at the reporter and tearing a chunk of flesh from her pale face! The reporter clutched her bleeding face, screaming in terror as the staff tried to intervene, but the attacker was too strong, injuring four or five people in moments. The cameraman was so shocked he didn’t move the camera, showing the street as, before the viewers' eyes, a dozen starving wolf-like people attacked pedestrians, blood and flesh everywhere, screams echoing—the scene was unbearable…

The broadcast was quickly cut, replaced by a liquor commercial, then switched to a pre-recorded entertainment dating show.

Ye Yin changed the channel; this one was also airing a live interview, the camera toppled to the ground, stained red by the flowing blood.

A few minutes later, all stations stopped broadcasting. Soon, Central Satellite Channel X issued an urgent blue-text bulletin, stating that a sudden acute infectious disease had broken out in most regions of the country, urging everyone to stay calm, remain indoors, avoid going outside, and keep tuned to official radio and the channel for updates, awaiting government and military rescue.

Chaos erupted in the cafeteria as everyone called relatives and friends to check their situation, each report worse than the last. The police station lines were constantly busy.

“Those people… are obviously zombies…” Sun De’s only son, Sun Hao, a senior in college, who loved playing such games and watching related movies, immediately recognized what was happening: “We’re doomed. Today is really the end of the world!”

People had been merely anxious, but his outburst drove many to tears, turning into a collective sobbing. If the cafeteria were hung with white cloth and a black-and-white photo of Ye Yin placed in the center, it would look like a memorial for the manager.

“What are you crying for?” Ye Yin, at some point, had the mic again: “Compared to those who’ve been bitten, what right do you have to cry? Didn’t you hear what the TV said? Stay inside, don’t go out, or you’ll get bitten and turn into lunatics. At least the farm has food, land, and its own deep well. Those in the cities without water, power, or food—if anyone should cry, it’s them, not us.”

Old Guo had recovered and jumped on stage, shouting, “Exactly! Yin Yin’s not afraid, and you grown-ups are? We’ve survived every epidemic before. Our country always gets through it! Have faith in the government—no matter how hard, we’ll overcome!”

With their intervention, emotions stabilized somewhat. Sun Hao wiped his tears, lifting his chin defiantly: “You know nothing—this isn’t an epidemic, it’s a zombie virus! Even if the farm has food, what about weapons? The government might not even be able to protect itself, so how can they help us? How can ordinary people survive a zombie horde…” Before he could finish, his father slapped him, knocking his head aside: “Is that how you talk to your elders?”

Sun Hao glared but didn’t dare speak.

Ye Yin calmly adjusted the microphone to maximum volume: “Sun Hao was right, but let’s make things clear: I have a trump card that can keep everyone safe until the army arrives. Those who trust me stay; those who don’t, leave—go wherever you want.”

Everyone was stunned: “What trump card?”

Ye Yin answered coldly, “You’ll know in a few days. The farm doesn’t have much food left—we can’t support freeloaders or self-styled leaders. Don’t think you can take advantage of my usual kindness. Make your choice now.”

Her words were harsh, but effective. No one was foolish enough to leave now. They quickly assessed the farm’s advantages: food and water, tall and sturdy stone walls, multiple layers of defenses far more reliable than the shoddy houses outside. And she claimed to have a trump card—could it be a stockpile of weapons?

“We’ll follow the manager!” “Us too!”…

No one left.

Ye Yin’s gentle smile returned: “Eat and drink while you can—these days won’t last. Tonight, I’ll assign your accommodations and supplies. Starting tomorrow, everyone will be organized—no exceptions, all must work for their food. That’s all.” She left with Ye Hua, strolling back to the office.

Faced with the feast and drinks, everyone, thinking of the grim days ahead, turned their sorrow into appetite, eating ravenously. The more savvy even packed durable foods like fried meatballs in plastic bags; others, catching on, started looking for bags to pack food. For the moment, no one was worried about zombies anymore.

Assigning accommodations was easy: the staff dormitory had six floors, each of the first four with twenty rooms—single suites with bathrooms, suitable for two to four people, much like school dormitories; the fifth and sixth floors had small apartments of two or three rooms, perfect for families.

Ye Yin had Old Guo open the warehouse and distributed supplies to everyone. Old Guo was nearly in awe of Ye Yin; amidst such chaos, she hadn’t cried but instead arranged everything methodically, as if she had been planning for this all along (which was the truth).