Chapter 100

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

Lin Tu didn't bother to go out and help clean up the zombies. She knew that even if they cleared this wave, there would be another. As long as those people remained on the ship, its fall was only a matter of time.

The infected patients' physical capabilities and infectiousness surpassed any monster Lin Tu had encountered. If a swarm of them surrounded her door, they might even break it down. To be safe, Lin Tu slept on the bunk bed inside the Anomaly Space that night. When she woke up the next day, she dug out a bottle of air freshener, sprayed herself and the room thoroughly several times before stepping out.

Hiding in the Anomaly Space wasn't a long-term solution. Her destination was the Watchman, and sooner or later she'd have to leave this room. Lin Tu felt she needed to test the infected patients' physical capabilities while there were still few of them and the infection level hadn't peaked—especially how sensitive they were to low infection levels.

She dug through her stockpile and found the men's cologne she'd scavenged during the zombie apocalypse, stuffing it into her backpack. After a moment's thought, she also grabbed insect repellent, bleach disinfectant, and other things that might interfere with a person's sense of smell, and shoved those in too.

While checking the surveillance feed, she noticed that plague rats were especially interested in flesh and blood. She wondered if infected patients were the same... If only she had some low-infection flesh. Unfortunately, she was the only low-infection person she knew, and she couldn't exactly bleed herself for the cause. Suddenly, Lin Tu slapped her forehead—how could she have forgotten?

She hurried into the Anomaly Space.

Compared to a few days ago, things were notably livelier here.

The pigeon coop, chicken coop, and duck shed hadn't been built yet. Back then, the craftsman had given Lin Tu several options. For the chicken coop, there was a simple one or a wooden structure with a brick-and-mortar foundation. The former could be assembled in half a day, matching Lin Tu's "fast" requirement, but the latter would obviously last much longer.

The craftsman wanted Lin Tu to pick one, but as an adult, Lin Tu naturally chose both. She had him set up the simple chicken coop by the door first, then asked him to measure and plan for the sturdier one, to be built in the coming days. Though the craftsman was puzzled by her attitude of "no chicken coop, all is lost," money didn't grow on trees for anyone, so he cheerfully assembled the simple coop for her.

The simple chicken coop was just an A-frame shelter made of bamboo, not even half Lin Tu's height. Plastic sheeting kept out rain and wind, and inside were basic feeders and a water dispenser.

That same day, Lin Tu went to the market and bought one rooster and four hens—all local free-range chickens. Since she wasn't great at picking them out, she just chose the plump ones, spending nearly four hundred yuan. She also picked up some chicks: fifteen free-range chicks for thirty-seven yuan, ten silkie chicks for thirty yuan, plus forty kilos of chick feed and a hundred kilos of adult chicken feed—another four hundred yuan in total.

She didn't buy too many, planning to test-raise them over the three months of the disaster. She'd originally wanted to do the same with pigeons, ducks, geese, pigs, cattle, and sheep, but the simple shelters for pigs, cattle, and sheep would take two days to build, the pond wasn't dug yet so ducks and geese couldn't be raised, and pigeons were too tricky to pick out in a single day. So in the end, she only ended up with chickens.

Now, big chickens and little chicks ran around everywhere, their clucking endless. Xiao Huang, also housed here, rolled around joyfully in the coop. Still a little golden retriever, he didn't dare provoke the rooster or hens, so he chased after the chicks instead. When he lay down, the chicks built nests on his head and belly to sleep.

Lin Tu gave the dog a quick pat and casually snatched up a chick. She'd thought about using it for her experiment, but then again, how much low-infection flesh could a tiny chick provide? Her gaze drifted to one of the hens wandering nearby.

A few minutes later, Lin Tu happily grabbed a hen by the wing, deciding she'd treat herself to a slow-cooked old hen stew—though she'd been craving these hens since the day she bought them, she definitely wasn't grabbing it for that reason!

She'd never slaughtered a chicken before, but that wasn't a problem. When she bought the chickens, she'd filmed the butcher next door doing the deed, and she'd also screenshotted a step-by-step text guide online. No technique? No worries. As the saying goes, brute force works wonders. For that fragrant hen meat, she had all the strength and means she needed.

Half an hour later, with the Butler loudly reading out the "chicken slaughter steps," Lin Tu was drenched in sweat. She finally managed to slice through the chicken's neck, completing step one of the process.

—The rest should be easier now, Lin Tu thought.

She set a basin on the ground and, following the guide, held the chicken's feet in one hand and its wings and head in the other, letting the blood drain out—this bowl of blood was her tool to confuse the infected patients.

Chicken blood without salt doesn't coagulate easily, but Lin Tu still poured it into a bottle and placed it in the time-freezing cabinet to keep it fresh.

Next, she dipped the chicken into eighty-degree hot water for five minutes. When she fished it out, the feathers came off as easily as in the video. She plucked them clean in a few quick motions, and after removing the beak and the skin from the feet, the old hen's yellowish skin already gave off a faint, sweet aroma.

Xiao Huang grew more and more excited.

Lin Tu: Isn't this your friend?! Huh?! Talk!

She had the Butler take Xiao Huang away, then buried the feathers and scraps in the dirt before returning to the small kitchen to continue dressing the chicken. She cut open the chest from the neck, removed the innards, and chopped off the feet. After rinsing and cleaning off any remaining fine feathers, she boiled it in a pot, took it out, and washed it again. Then she prepared the ingredients—cramming codonopsis, ginger, goji berries, and red dates into the chicken's cavity—placed it in a clay pot, added water, scallion segments, a splash of cooking wine, salt, and pepper, covered it, and set it to simmer on high heat.

Too bad there were no coconuts. She was craving coconut chicken stew. Slow-cooked old hen was tasty, but it lacked the unique sweet flavor of coconut. Dipped in a sauce of minced sand ginger and chili, that would be both refreshing and aromatic.

Unfortunately, the mountain climate wasn't suitable for coconut trees. Lin Tu could only dream.

The chicken was stewing, but it wouldn't be ready until noon.

Lin Tu took out the innards she'd just removed and decided to stir-fry some gizzards with celery, to eat over noodles for breakfast.

She coated the gizzards in starch and rinsed them clean, then sliced the gizzard, heart, and liver, and cut the intestines into segments. After marinating them briefly in light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, and pepper, she heated oil and sizzled scallions, ginger, garlic, and chili—the rich aroma exploded—before tossing in a few pickled peppers, sending a spicy, sour scent straight up her nose.

She added a spoonful of bean paste and stir-fried until the oil turned red, then added the gizzards, letting the high heat quickly sear and crisp them. Finally, she threw in the celery segments and stir-fried until just tender.

At the end, Lin Tu added a small spoonful of starch slurry, letting the tempting fragrance cling tightly to the gizzard slices, hearts, livers, and celery, and seep into the intestines for a burst of flavor with every bite.

Once it was done, she boiled a bowl of hand-pulled noodles, drained them, and dumped the celery gizzard mixture right on top. She stirred it all together and started her breakfast, enjoying the sea view outside the window and a TV show.

After a satisfying meal, Lin Tu lay back in her recliner and opened the surveillance feed.

According to the Butler, the military had spent the night chasing down infected patients aboard the ship to prevent the plague from spreading further. But their efforts only bought the ship a brief respite. As Lin Tu had predicted, one wave ended, and another began. The people bitten and directly contaminated last night had been dealt with, but the contamination sources they left behind—vomit, bodily fluids, clothing, pus—had been carelessly touched by a cleaner, triggering a second round of infection.

Now the military was tracking down the cleaner and everyone he'd contacted. How many more were infected? Unknown. How many had infection levels about to exceed sixty percent? Even Lin Tu, who had an infection meter, couldn't give an accurate number—the infection levels changed every moment. But she was certain the number was rising at a rate no one could imagine.

With the military moving around the ship, Lin Tu couldn't easily run her tests under their noses in broad daylight. She planned to wait until night, when at least the Night Blueberry could do some work.

She'd exercise until noon, drink the chicken soup, then take a nap to recharge. She'd wake up in the evening, eat dinner, work out a bit, and watch some TV... no, she should read some books instead. She'd bought "Efficient Pig Raising Techniques," "Scientific Chicken Rearing," "Efficient Pond Fish Farming," "Ecological Dairy Cattle Farming" from the bookstore... and she hadn't opened a single one.

A person can't just exercise without learning. Lin Tu reminded herself that this knowledge was useful—it would help her eat all kinds of meat in her old age.

This day was pure torture, Malin En thought.

The appearance of the infected patients was like a fuse, making an already terrible situation on the ship even worse.

Everyone was hungry, but the authorities had stopped distributing relief rations to avoid crowd gatherings. People had to fend for themselves. Of course, the authorities didn't intend to let everyone die—if you reported a family member or friend as infected, you might get a portion of food. How ironic. The officials had opened registration for the uninfected to take shelter on the Open Deck from the infected patients. But that was two days away. What were people supposed to do now...

Malin En didn't know what others would do, but she was about to break.

She and her daughter could only hole up in a bathroom stall. And of all times, her colleague—a cleaner—got infected. As luck would have it, he'd erupted right as he returned to the restaurant.

The mother and daughter had just been heading out to find food when they came face to face with the cleaner.

Malin En reacted quickly, yanking her daughter back into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

"Grab the mops!" Malin En shouted.

Mamira sprinted back to the stall, grabbing every mop she could find, then helped her mother brace the door.

"Mom! What do we do!" This was, after all, a bathroom door, not as sturdy as a room door. Mamira looked at the trembling door panel, on the verge of tears.