Chapter 15: The Mad Bird Returns to Its Nest

For a brief moment, Wang Chen truly thought Han Li had lost her mind. What woman could speak such words to a man so plainly, as if she were merely eating, drinking, or greeting someone? He never expected Han Li’s next sentence would be, “Did you think I was crazy?”

Wang Chen immediately shook his head as vigorously as a rattle drum, firmly expressing his opposition. He had no experience dealing with the mentally ill, but common sense told him not to provoke Han Li at this moment. While he remained silent, Han Li turned and called out to Hu Chun, who had just reached the canteen entrance, “Brother Hu, I’m fine, really. Don’t call for the doctor. Just bring a few buns over.”

Having his thoughts exposed by Han Li, Hu Chun felt awkward about dragging Li Changhai away any longer. Neither of them knew how to face Han Li, and, just like Wang Chen, they clung to the idea that a mentally unstable person must not be agitated. They fetched six or seven buns and four bowls of porridge and returned. Han Li’s outcry had attracted some attention from others in the canteen, but as everyone saw she looked normal, they lost interest after a few glances.

The four of them sat together again, but the atmosphere was undeniably awkward.

After all, Han Li was a saleswoman—reading people’s moods was part of her profession. Watching her companions’ expressions, she quickly guessed their thoughts. Picking up a bun and eating with an easy air, she spoke openly, “Have we been infected by the virus?”

In his heart, Wang Chen wanted to call it a pathogen, but he swallowed his bun and nodded, “Yes.”

“When will this illness be cured? That’s uncertain, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Wailing and wallowing in self-pity will only starve us or drive us mad. Killing ourselves isn’t appropriate either, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why shouldn’t I find a man I like and enjoy myself in bed?”

Well… when she put it like that, it made sense. But her attitude was simply too calm and too blunt. Wang Chen could only agree out loud, whatever he thought.

“These past few days, I’ve had more psychological counseling than anyone. I could practically recite the psychologist’s words. He always says we’ve experienced too much trauma, so it’s inevitable that our minds have become twisted, paranoid, maybe even perverse. I admit he’s right, but just because he’s right doesn’t mean I can forget what I’ve been through, or stop having nightmares, or not feel sick at the sight of meat. Just now, those two people arguing made me realize a lot. If I don’t have the courage to die and don’t want to keep torturing myself, why not find a bit of fun to forget the past for a while? So…”

Li Changhai nodded repeatedly at Han Li’s words, while Hu Chun and Wang Chen exchanged uneasy glances. They felt Han Li had swung from one extreme to another. The more she spoke, the more obvious her psychological issues became. Even though they had all survived the ordeal in Harbin together, such private matters were for close female friends, or at worst, other women—not to be discussed so blandly in front of three grown men. No matter how much Han Li explained, she clearly had a problem.

What mattered now was keeping Han Li calm until the doctor arrived, avoiding any sudden incidents. Seeing Wang Chen nod slightly at him, Hu Chun interrupted Han Li’s monologue. But her expression was distant, even wooden—further proof that something was wrong. Putting on a teasing tone, he said, “Tell you what, after we eat, you and Wang can use our dorm for a nap. Changhai and I will go pursue our own happiness and leave the place to you two. Right, Changhai?”

“Yeah, I think that girl who just argued seemed nice. Han Li’s right—seize the day! Brother Hu, don’t get any funny ideas though, your wife visits you every day…”

“Get lost! You think I’m that kind of guy? Of course I’m going to see my wife!”

Before Li Changhai could reply, Han Li stood up, gathered the dishes, and nodded. “Thank you for making room for us, Brother Hu, Brother Li. I’m done. Chen, let’s go sleep.”

Well then, she was already using terms of endearment.

Watching Han Li pull Wang Chen out of the canteen, Li Changhai muttered, “Wang’s got some luck with women…”

“Luck? My ass! Han Li’s clearly lost it! Quick, get the doctor!”

“Huh? I thought what she said made sense!”

“Makes sense? She’s sick, that’s what! What kind of decent girl says such things without blushing? Didn’t you see how her eyes glazed over at the end? And if Wang really does anything with her, she might go mad halfway and cut his—well, you get it!”

“Really?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her!” Without further words, Hu Chun ran off toward the infirmary.

He had to admit, being led by the hand by Han Li, feeling her palm in his, Wang Chen, even knowing she had issues, felt a secret thrill. Still, he kept reminding himself to stay alert for any emergencies. Like Hu Chun, he thought Han Li’s apathy and wooden expression were abnormal—she might do anything next. But he didn’t see it as seriously as Hu Chun did. Facing a petite girl barely one-sixty tall, Wang Chen felt sure he could handle her, no matter what she tried.

At the dormitory door, Han Li turned lightly, put her arms around Wang Chen’s neck, kissed him, and whispered, “Carry me inside.”

At his age, Wang Chen had already had some experience with girls, and considered himself fairly composed. But faced with Han Li’s girlish flirtation, he had to bite his tongue and suppress his desire. He obeyed, cradling Han Li in his arms and carrying her to the single bed by the door, already wondering if he should use hygiene as an excuse to slip away to the bathroom.

Personal hygiene… the two of them showering… a bath together… Calm down! Stay calm! Wang Chen, taking advantage of someone like this is low! You’ve had girlfriends before!

How big could the dorm be? Carrying Han Li those few steps to the bed, Wang Chen’s mind raced with thoughts—all about sex. But as he turned his attention back to Han Li, he was shocked to find she had fallen asleep!

She’d fallen asleep in just those few steps? Instantly asleep?

Wang Chen felt as if a thousand horses were stampeding through his mind. If not for Han Li’s gentle snoring, he would have thought she’d passed out.

Is this some kind of joke?

But after all the strange and terrible things he’d seen this past week—more than in his whole life combined—this was nothing. So she fell asleep in seconds. He comforted himself and pulled the blanket over her.

When Hu and Li returned with the doctor, they found Wang Chen tiptoeing out of the dorm. Seeing them and the doctor, Wang Chen signaled for quiet and whispered, “She’s asleep.”

“What? Asleep?”

“That fast? Are you okay, Wang?”

“Shut up! What are you talking about?” Wang Chen wished he could kick Li Changhai. That kind of talk was brainless! You’re the fast one! Your whole family’s fast! But with the doctor there, he suppressed his anger, led the doctor to the bed, and recounted what happened, especially emphasizing Han Li’s wooden expression. “Doctor, what’s her condition?”

“Daytime sleepwalking,” said Dr. Shi, the psychologist, muffled by his full protective suit. “People in dreams act without inhibition—think or do anything. This patient is likely suffering from severe stress and sleep deprivation, causing hallucinations. She can’t distinguish dream from reality and thinks she’s dreaming, so she acts as she does. She’s not the first case I’ve seen in the past two days. I’ll give her a sedative; let her sleep well, then observe her after she wakes.”

“Will the injection wake her?”

“It’s painless. She won’t notice. She may sleep all night or wake after the drug wears off. Either way, do not ask if she remembers what happened. At this stage, she can’t separate dream from reality—reinforcing her hallucinations will only hinder recovery. Above all, don’t mention the escape. Understood?”

As Dr. Shi spoke, he prepared the injection, disinfected Han Li’s arm, and gave her the shot. Han Li, still asleep, mumbled and turned over, sinking deeper into slumber. After packing up, Dr. Shi left, leaving the three men staring at each other.

Hu Chun coughed and said, “Changhai, help me move a bed next to Han Li’s. Wang Chen, you’ll sleep there tonight.”

Wang Chen quickly protested, “No, Brother Hu, that’s not right. When Han Li wakes up and sees me next to her, how am I supposed to explain?”

“Simple, just say you took care of her all night. Honestly, it’s not that I’m shirking. If Changhai and I take turns watching, that’s fine, but if Han Li wakes up while we’re on duty, she’ll feel even more awkward. The doctor said not to agitate her. Count what just happened as a dream, but she dreamed of you, not us. So you should stay with her.”

Hu Chun’s reasoning was solid. Remembering Han Li’s alluring embrace, Wang Chen’s heart softened, and he agreed.

Hu Chun patted Wang Chen’s shoulder and sighed, “It’s not easy for anyone. If we can help, we should.”

Good intentions aside, once Wang Chen was truly beside Han Li, listening to her soft breathing, he couldn’t help but recall that enchanting kiss. In the fading twilight, he found himself studying Han Li’s sleeping face. At first, her face had been a little square, but after days of poor food and sleep, her eyes were sunken, her chin gaunt—making her look more delicate and beautiful, with a touch of fragility. The dim light added an air of mystery. After a while, Wang Chen felt parched. He was, after all, a young man full of energy. Desire surged, but reason won out in the end. He slipped out of bed, deciding to take a shower and clear his head. If necessary, he’d forgo sleep tonight.

With wet hair, he couldn’t lie on the bed. Wang Chen stood on the balcony, enjoying the evening mountain view. It was past seven; the last light of sunset was fading. The forest was quiet, the air fresh, birds returning to their nests, all things sinking into darkness. From the balcony, he could see the distant lights of the town. Wang Chen was young and perhaps didn’t feel much, but Hu Chun, who had quietly joined him, was more reflective. People are never satisfied with their lives, always wanting better. Only when they lose what they’re used to do they realize its value.

Simply put, people never appreciate what they have.

As a temporary shelter for the infected, the authorities had avoided densely populated areas. The military rest home stood on the mountainside near the town, backed by a small hill, with a single gentle road leading down. The roadside woods were steep, with artificial cliffs at some turns—defensible, hard to attack.

In fact, the two didn’t know that the nearby town, lying at the edge of the epidemic zone and at a major highway junction, was a strategic location. In just a few days, half the civilians had left with government subsidies; the rest were packing up. The lights in town were mostly from soldiers in uniform.

As they stood lost in thought, Li Changhai’s slurping brought them back to reality. The guy had spent his days idly at the rest home, eating, drinking, playing ball, his stomach apparently indestructible.

The aroma of spicy noodles pierced their noses. Hu Chun flicked away his cigarette butt and turned to ask where the noodles had come from, but felt Wang Chen grip his arm, tense, staring out at the balcony.

“Look!”

Following Wang Chen’s gaze, Hu Chun saw only a flock of birds in the sky above the southwestern woods. More birds kept joining them. Occasionally, one would drop from the sky like a stone. At first, nothing seemed odd. But on closer look, the flock included different species—sparrows, pigeons, even eagles or owls.

Why were so many different birds flying together? It was as unlikely as beggars and millionaires running side by side.

The more he thought about it, the more disturbing it seemed.

“I’m calling the police!”

“We need to find Captain Cao!”

Before they could move, the rest home’s broadcast system blared:

“Emergency alert! Emergency alert! All civilians return to your rooms and close all doors and windows. Repeat, all civilians return to your rooms and close all doors and windows!”

Clearly, Captain Cao’s patrols weren’t blind. If Wang and Hu could see something was wrong, so could the rooftop sentries.

Cao Baoquan, receiving the report, immediately ordered the rest home to high alert and told all civilians to stay in their rooms.

No one could blame him. Faced with such a bizarre, unexplained event, extra caution was only right. Ensuring civilian safety was common sense.

Yet, ironically, this very correct order might well bring disaster to the rest home.

As the broadcast echoed through the mountains, the swirling flock of birds abruptly descended on the rest home like the scythe of death.

Wang Chen felt his skin crawl with goosebumps.

This was exactly how zombies hunted by sound!

There was no time to speak. Hu Chun dived inside, grabbed a wooden stool from the dormitory corner, and smashed it. The tampered stool splintered, leaving him with two thick legs, each bristling with long iron nails.

“Block the balcony door!”

Li Changhai, still chewing noodles, hesitated at Hu Chun’s actions. But as Wang Chen shouted, he came to his senses, dropped his bowl, and kicked aside the nightstand. Wang Chen had already shut the balcony door. Together, he and Li Changhai lifted the single bed, blocking the door, and pulled out the loosened crank handle. Not as good as a hammer or knife, but better than nothing.

Their reaction was quick. As soon as the door was blocked, the room darkened; a barrage of impacts hammered the balcony windows as if a hailstorm was hitting. Instantly, glass started to shatter.

Luckily, the northern winter required double-paned reinforced glass and plastic-steel doors for insulation, and the heavy single bed helped. The wild birds, though frenzied, couldn’t break through. The outer glass cracked, but none got in.

Other rooms weren’t so lucky.

Hearing the broadcast was one thing; reacting in time was another. Many civilians failed to close their doors and windows before the crazed birds burst in. Their eyes were blood-red, and the everyday birds—normally preyed upon, tamed, or eaten—had become flying demons, using their sharp beaks and claws to tear at the flesh of those atop the food chain.

They delighted in the slaughter.

Shrieks assaulted the ears; gunshots shook the soul. The security patrols on each floor weren’t idle. Seeing the attack, they opened fire without waiting for orders, trying to drive the birds away.

It was a good idea, but reality was cruel. Small arms could only hit a few targets at a time, and it took luck to shoot down the fast-moving birds. Even when they hit, it hardly mattered—there were simply too many birds.

The screams of the dying rose everywhere.

Hearing the chaos outside, Hu Chun was desperate to rush out—his wife and child were still down in the town.

“Brother Hu! Don’t! Don’t be reckless!” Wang Chen alone couldn’t hold back the well-built Hu Chun, so Li Changhai joined in. Together, they barely managed to restrain him.

“Brother Hu! Calm down! If you go out now, you’ll die! At least wait until things quiet down!”

With Hu Chun calmed, the three men took turns guarding the door and window, waiting. The commotion lasted more than twenty minutes; darkness deepened. Pressing their ears to the door, it seemed the corridor was finally quiet.

This was not a good sign. If the patrols had won, they’d be checking rooms and reassuring civilians now. The quieter it was, the worse things likely were.

“Should we go look?” Hu Chun, gripping his stool leg, couldn’t wait.

“What about Han Li?” Wang Chen glanced at the still-sleeping Han Li, uncertain.

“Lock the door. She’ll be fine,” said Li Changhai, always unafraid.

Wang Chen nodded, carefully cracked the door, and peeked out. Hu Chun gripped his clothes from behind; Li Changhai braced the door, ready to pull Wang back and slam the door shut at the first sign of danger.

Luckily, the corridor was silent and empty. Wang Chen waved, and the three crept out. Li Changhai closed the door behind, a bit too hard, making the others glare at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Where next?” he whispered.

“To find Captain Cao,” Wang Chen said simply.

Turning the corner, they found two patrolmen in full protective gear collapsed by the elevator, motionless. Their twisted limbs made it clear they were dead. Each had a dead bird in his hand; their faces were mangled beyond recognition, one eye pecked out, the bloody nerve cluster dangling visibly. There was no saving them.

“Hey?” Li Changhai, sharp-eyed, spotted a dropped pistol by the wall and dashed over to grab it.

“Check for ammo; there should be another gun,” Hu Chun said, searching the body. He quickly found two magazines, a combat knife, and a stun gun.

Wang Chen glanced around and, not seeing the other pistol, suggested, “Turn the other guard over—the gun’s probably under him.”

“Right! Changhai, cover the corner. Wang, give me a hand.”

Together, they rolled the corpse over. Sure enough, a pistol was trapped beneath him. Hu Chun retrieved it, checked the magazine—five rounds left—and was about to say so when the patrolman slumped by the wall suddenly let out a guttural howl and grabbed Hu Chun’s shoulder.

Bang!

Squelch!