After handing back the rifle and magazine, Tang Siqing went with Zhang Yu and Zhang Xin to register their personal information in the teaching building. Afterwards, they were assigned rooms like in a hotel, receiving simple number tags indicating where they would stay that night.
Unlike a hotel, all three got the same number—Zone 3 on the library’s fourth floor.
Just as they were about to leave, a self-defense member who had arrived yesterday called out to them. He was the one Tang Siqing and her siblings had given the “red-tongue monster experiment” report to and had explained the situation in West City’s suburbs.
At that time, since he hadn’t personally seen the suburban conditions, he couldn’t fully grasp what “urban mutation” meant.
But after last night, he obviously understood. His face looked grim. He had said earlier he would send someone to question them in detail today. Now that he saw them, he took them to another empty classroom beside the registration office.
The desks there had been pushed together in the center and piled with miscellaneous items—mostly maps, some food supplies, and anti-riot weapons.
Several self-defense members were gathered around the maps discussing. One looked familiar—it was Qi Feng, one of the team members from their truck. She remembered him introducing himself when they were shooting.
The escorting member spoke briefly to them, then a woman in her thirties standing in the middle looked up at them.
Her name was Zhou Ziling, the overall leader of this self-defense team. She was formerly a special police officer, currently on leave returning to West City, with no family locally. Likely due to this and other factors, when this temporary rescue team formed hastily, she was chosen as leader.
She asked detailed questions about their situation, from being trapped in the West City mall to returning to the city, focusing on the mutation in the suburbs.
There were other survivors from the West City suburbs besides them, with multiple groups trying to circle back but failing. Some saw a “dead water lake” that shouldn’t have existed. However, those witnesses didn’t observe the fog at the shore with binoculars, nor did they get close enough to study the red-tongue monsters.
Tang Siqing’s group was among the most comprehensively informed.
With all communications cut, the self-defense team relied on such questioning and summarizing to understand the situation. Over these two days, their gathered intelligence had largely confirmed their suspicions.
West City’s problem wasn’t just the communication blackout; some unknown force also blocked external transportation routes.
Though the cause of the urban mutations was unclear, they had begun to grasp its pattern: it was akin to a slow devouring, creeping from west to east across the city.
This was why today’s plan was adjusted—to immediately evacuate east, buying everyone more time to distance themselves from the mutated zones.
The questioning ended quickly. Tang Siqing’s group relayed all they knew, including the changes in corpses that Zhang Xin noticed during her night watch.
When Zhang Xin mentioned the corpse changes, Tang Siqing carefully watched Zhou Ziling’s expression. Everyone’s faces changed subtly but no one explained further.
That was enough. She was sure the leader had noticed the corpse mutations, which was why, despite limited time and manpower, they still dispatched people to concentrate on burning the bodies.
After the meeting, Tang Siqing asked about the current state of West City and their placement within the self-defense forces.
The situation was grim. Zhou Ziling could offer no comfort or guarantees, only explaining that efforts were underway to contact other police forces in the city and gather as many civilians as possible in the east. Some officers and firefighters had already headed to the eastern train station. Once that area was cleared, it would be used to evacuate civilians.
West City was small, with steep mountains to the north—dead ends. The transport hubs were concentrated east, west, and south. There was no airport but three train stations.
Two were on the west and south sides of the city. When the fog struck, those areas were densely crowded, causing countless casualties. Clearing corpses there was a huge task, compounded by the city’s mutations moving west to east, making those zones highly dangerous now.
The third station was in the eastern suburbs, a new small high-speed rail station with only two trains and four tracks, running eight trips daily, thus fewer people and easier to clear. Being far from the dangerous west, it gave the team time to clean and organize.
This was the self-defense team’s contingency plan: if the city worsened, they had to find a safe evacuation route.
But last night’s second fog descent and the city’s mutation forced them to enact this plan, splitting personnel to clear Lanhe Experimental Middle School as a “transit station,” which stretched manpower, vehicles, and weapon resources thin.
“…The high-speed station has standby trains. Once cleared, when the fog lifts, civilians will be evacuated immediately by train.”
Zhang Xin and Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up—train evacuation was indeed a good method!
Trains differed from cars because of tracks—fixed routes that allowed continued operation even if fog suddenly lowered visibility. Also, train windows were made of sturdy glass. Even if fog rose with red-tongue monsters outside, the carriage interior remained safe, essentially a strong, mobile fortress.
The only problem was capacity. A standby train with 16 carriages could carry only 1,500 to 2,000 people at once, which was a drop in the bucket compared to West City’s surviving population.
Tang Siqing pondered another question: “Will the railway even be operational?” If the terrain shifted like it did near the dead water lake in the suburbs…
Zhou Ziling looked at her knowingly. Clearly, Tang Siqing had hit the key concern.
She sighed. “With all communications down, many things can’t be guaranteed. Evacuation isn’t mandatory—it depends on each person’s will.”
Ultimately, they were only trying to steer the team toward a direction amid uncertainty: evacuate as many civilians as possible, seek outside rescue, and bring aid back to save those still alive.
The city’s mutation gradually engulfed all of West City, but from a closer analysis, the mutations were somewhat random. Even in dangerous zones, some buildings and roads remained intact.
For example, the two days Tang Siqing’s group stayed at the West City shopping mall, the buildings hadn’t undergone major mutations and were relatively safe inside.
Yesterday, the sudden mountain formation had destroyed several office buildings. Those sheltering inside, relying on sturdy walls, died anyway…
But nearby buildings remained safe. With enough food and water, and locked doors and windows, people might survive until help arrived.
Currently, the nighttime shelter area at the experimental school included the gymnasium, art building, and library.
When the incident occurred, most students were in class. The library had few people, mostly on the first floor, so cleaning wasn’t too difficult—though broken desks, chairs, potted plants, and bloodstains were still everywhere.
On the library’s fourth floor, Tang Siqing and her siblings quickly found Zone 3.
This floor had three clearly separated, semi-open reading areas, perfect for arranging self-defense team members to rest.
Their group had been among the later evacuees, and since the school still had many surviving students, the gym and art building were already full. They were assigned to the library.
The library had many windows and didn’t seem very secure, but with its height and internal partitions, resting conditions were relatively better. Besides these three open reading areas, the other end of the corridor had several lounges.
The lounges had carpets, sofas, desks, tea bars, and restrooms—much nicer conditions. They were set up as temporary medical rooms, where injured team members and civilians were treated. As a result, many armed team members came and went nearby, easing the nerves of the civilians on that floor.
The self-defense team couldn’t supply food or water. Manpower was tight, and weapons and medical supplies were prioritized. When Tang Siqing’s group arrived at the fourth floor library, many people were already crowding around vending machines, arguing over snacks, drinks, and water distribution.
Most tables and chairs in Zone 3 had been occupied by earlier evacuees. Compared to cold, messy floors padded with newspapers and magazines, chairs and tables offered places to sit or sleep.
Some people evacuated with family and friends, others formed impromptu groups, naturally occupying more seats. Some adults with children arrived late and found no chairs, so they negotiated with others. Some were accommodating, others indifferent, resulting in occasional verbal disputes.
With so many people crowded in one space, occasional friction and conflicts were inevitable. The self-defense team couldn’t intervene much. As long as no bloodshed or loud disturbances occurred, everything else was overlooked.
The medical room wasn’t large. Civilians who couldn’t get proper wound treatment during the transfer and those with minor injuries were treated there and then sent to the reading areas to rest.
Several were only lightly wounded but looked pale and ghostly, supported by family members. Seeing this, others occupying tables and chairs often voluntarily gave up a chair or two.
Tang Siqing and her siblings glanced around, grabbed a few magazines from the shelves, and silently chose a quiet corner with fewer people. They spread the magazines out, placed their backpacks by the wall, and sat down to rest.
Compared to the tables and chairs, their food and water were more important now. The corner was near the reading area’s outer corridor, which was noisy with foot traffic and quite dirty, but diagonally not far was the temporary medical room. This proximity made them feel safer.
They had boarded the truck and begun moving in the afternoon, so it was already after 4 PM. Soon after arriving at the library, night fell.
The corridor and reading areas had windows that remained closed but still allowed a view outside. The burning black smoke from the basketball court never ceased. As darkness deepened, two team members stood guard by the windows on opposite sides. They cracked the windows open slightly, resting their rifles on the sills.
Tang Siqing recognized them as Type 8.8 sniper rifles—capable of penetrating 3mm steel plates at 100 meters with very high accuracy. They were among the limited police inventory.
As night fell, patrolling members outside the walls withdrew inside. The tall iron gates were locked tight, turning the school’s wall and gates into the first line of defense. Officers stood watch on the fire truck, trucks, and building rooftops as the second line, including snipers.
The library lights were off. Survivors gradually quieted down, each finding a place to sit or lie. Voices were hushed. Some didn’t speak at all, quietly pulling out bread, instant noodles, or biscuits to eat a little before resting.
Tang Siqing leaned her backpack against the wall and sat. The silence around made the subtle sounds from the temporary medical room more distinct.
Low moans of pain, questions as a teammate changed dressings by camping light, footsteps, hushed voices, and the constant clicks of magazines being loaded—someone was trying to get familiar with the rifle.
She chewed the beef jerky in her mouth and took a sip of water from her folding cup, careful not to drink too much for fear of needing the bathroom. Then she unwrapped a soft candy, letting the sweet strawberry cream flavor spread in her mouth, easing her anxiety and warming her stomach, which only had cold, dry food like biscuits and jerky.
In the darkness, she heard Zhang Xin sigh softly, whispering, “I wonder how Zheng Ying and the others are… if they made it out…”
Although Zheng Ying had a car and could follow the self-defense team’s convoy, no one could guarantee safety along the route.
Tang Siqing looked at her and took out two more wrapped soft candies, offering them.
Zhang Xin, in the dim light of a camping lamp, saw the two candies clearly, whispered a thank you, and shared one with Zhang Yu. The three quietly sucked on the candies, gazing out at the dark night beyond the window, sinking back into silence.
No one knew if the fog would rise tonight or if the city’s mutations would catch up to them. All was uncertain. It was this unknown that magnified their night terrors.
Tang Siqing had barely slept last night. Her tightly wound nerves relaxed for a moment as she closed her eyes but soon drifted into a hazy half-sleep.
She didn’t fully fall asleep, at least still hearing fragmented noises around her.
Children crying, quiet complaints, adults whispering nervously but soothingly, survivors tossing and turning… Her consciousness was fuzzy, with fragments of images flashing through her mind. She wasn’t sure if she had fallen in a dream again and if her wrist ached faintly. The chaotic visions kept her emotions unsettled, preventing deep rest.
In the haze, she seemed to hear rustling rain, clothes brushing, and vomiting sounds…
Vomiting?
Her mind cleared quickly. Her wrist still throbbed faintly as if from pain in the dream. Before she could figure things out, she suddenly woke fully and sat up, turning toward the sound.
By the dim camping lamp, she saw a man near a chair who had been resting suddenly stand up. He leaned on the chair, bent his head, and was dry-heaving, clawing at his throat.
Nearby people were awakened, asking confused questions. Some, repulsed by the vomiting, stepped away. Others found flashlights in their bags and shone them over.
From Tang Siqing’s angle, only the man’s profile was visible. His arm was bandaged, probably bleeding from rupturing the wound when he clawed at his throat. The blood soaked through the gauze. Watching it hurt, but he showed no sign of stopping—or perhaps he was unaware.
All his attention focused on his throat, as if something hard was stuck inside, choking him. He had to force himself to vomit it out.
It was indeed raining outside. The rain’s pitter-patter was unusually clear through the window. The flashlight beam flickered as the man’s motions grew more violent, as if he wanted to shove his entire hand down his throat.
The light suddenly went out. Tang Siqing heard cursing and a frustrated patting on the flashlight, which flickered a few more times before dying completely.
She pressed against the wall and slowly got up. At the same moment, she opened a small flashlight she had hidden inside her sleeve. Though small, it was fully charged and bright. She aimed it at the man’s bowed profile.
Whether due to the light’s stimulation or some other reason, the man turned his head toward her while continuing to claw at his throat.
The next instant, Tang Siqing saw a pair of swollen, bloodshot eyes.
Blood-red eyeballs!
They were the same eyes as those monsters appearing in the fog!
The face below the nose was even more terrifying. His entire hand was shoved into his mouth, the lower half of his face grotesquely distorted, lips torn open on both sides, blood flowing continuously from the gaping wounds. His chin was stained dark red, making Tang Siqing’s whole face ache in sympathy.
Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain. His hand inside his mouth kept clawing at his throat. Suddenly, with great force, accompanied by violent retching sounds, he bent his head forward and pulled out a writhing, wriggling thing stained with blood from deep in his throat.
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