Chapter 010 Temporary Residence (Three)

Cheng Bin held the gun in his right hand and opened the door with his left hand. The door swung open to the right, so his body was positioned behind the door, allowing him to observe the changes inside through the glass. Light streamed in through the crack of the door, brightening the area slightly. He noticed that the door leading to the inner room was located in the partition wall by the entrance, but there was no door panel; only a dirty curtain hung in its place. Next to the door was an iron basin rack, upon which sat a washbasin. Further inside was a brick stove, on top of which rested a kettle. He saw that the door leading to the inner room was located in the partition wall by the entrance, but there was no door panel; only a dirty curtain hung in its place. Next to the door was an iron basin rack, upon which sat a washbasin. Further inside was a brick stove, on top of which rested a kettle. On the floor opposite the stove lay a pointed-bottom double-handled pot, covered with a wooden lid. It was still unclear what lay in the corner beyond the stove, but it was certain that something was piled up there.

The door was not locked, so it opened easily, startling Cheng Bin. He did not dare to pull the door open directly, but only created a small gap. The sound of the door opening alerted Xing Zhixin, who shifted slightly and raised his gun to look inside. After opening the door, Cheng Bin also became tense, and thus did not remind Xing Zhixin that there were no bullets in the chamber and the safety was still on; at this moment, the gun could only be used as a fire poker.

Cheng Bin did not quite believe Chen Qiong's warning, but he had great trust in Chen Qiong, convinced that there must be some reason behind his words. In fact, over the past year, no unfortunate fellow had been killed by his own people, so he did not insist on this theory. He handed the gun to Xing Zhixin as a matter of authority; if Chen Qiong were here, he would not oppose it either. However, he estimated that Chen Qiong would definitely not allow Xing Zhixin to chamber a round in the rifle.

"This," Cheng Bin said simply, as he took out the Type 54 pistol from his pocket to show Xing Zhixin. The Type 92 pistol was still in his possession, but he remained wary of Xing Zhixin and did not want him to see this gun. He knew that having the Type 54 pistol in his hands without revealing it would appear as if he was intentionally concealing it. It was only at this moment that he remembered the bullet still lodged in the chamber of the Type 92 pistol, which posed a risk that he needed to address at the earliest opportunity. Remembering this, he began to worry about Xing Zhixin again. This person had previously handled the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle, but too much time had passed, and he had evidently forgotten enough to be a concern. In this case, he was no better than someone who had never touched a gun; at least a novice would exercise sufficient caution. After considering this, he gestured for Xing Zhixin to engage the safety. He had noticed that Xing Zhixin had not pulled the bolt to chamber a round, likely having forgotten, but this was very unsafe. What if he suddenly remembered? Cheng Bin certainly did not want this gun to be used against his own people.

Cheng Bin could not help but glance back at Xing Zhixin, only to find that the latter, like him, wore a face full of confusion, tinged with a hint of disgust. It was evident that neither of them liked this place, yet the current issue was that they had little room for choice.

One only needs to look at Xing Zhixin's current state to know that he cannot control the gun in his hand very well. If something were to suddenly burst through the door at this moment, it is likely that he would immediately open fire. If Mark Twain's theory holds true, then it is evidently the safest to stand directly opposite Xing Zhixin. Cheng Bin is truly uncertain whether the bullets fired from the rifle in Xing Zhixin's hands would not find their way to him.

No. Xing Zhixin reached out to take the rifle and replied that the war mobilization before the disaster was not a full mobilization, so only retired soldiers under the rank of 35 were called up, with a priority given to technical branches. Since Xing Zhixin had never served in the military, he was naturally not included in this category. The military training he referred to was during his university years

When the door swung wide open, the light from outside became ample. Although it was not as bright as the interior, it was sufficient to see things clearly. The first thing that hit him was a musty smell, mixed with a strong stench. Cheng Bin was quite particular about cleanliness, and he could hardly withstand it. His left hand, which was busy swatting at the spider webs in the air, was of no use, so he had to extend his right hand to cover his nose. At least he did not turn around and retreat. This time, Xing Zhixin behind him performed somewhat better; not only did he not struggle with his nose, but he also curiously stretched his neck to look inside. However, since Cheng Bin did not allow him to chamber a round, he was not in the mood to hold his rifle at the ready like a soldier entering a village. Instead, he held the rifle in a way that made him look quite like a security guard.

This door is not a common security door; it is likely that there is nothing worth securing inside. Therefore, it is merely an ordinary old wooden door, with the upper part inlaid with a piece of glass, while the lower part is covered with iron sheeting, which is also fastened with rivets. However, it appears that this door has some age, as many of the rivet heads are already rusted.

Cheng Bin noticed Xing Zhixin's hesitant demeanor and extended his hand to pass over the gun, while questioning in confusion: "Military training? Are you in the reserves?" Perhaps retired soldiers are not highly regarded in times of peace, but once disaster strikes, those who have received basic survival skills training immediately become the most trustworthy individuals. In contrast, the former elite of humanity lose their previous glory. However, Cheng Bin truly did not expect to be so fortunate as to find a useful companion right after stepping out.

Cheng Bin did not expect to trace back to such an ancient era. He watched Xing Zhixin hesitate after taking the rifle and pointed to the position behind the trigger guard, saying, "The safety is here, just push it back." After saying this, he couldn't help but ask again, "When did that happen?"

The only feeling this room evokes is one of filth. Whether it is the disordered arrangement or the antiquated items, everything is covered with a thick layer of dust, simultaneously emanating a pungent odor. It seems to proclaim the hurried departure of the previous owner, while also coldly warning newcomers that this is not the paradise they had hoped for, nor has it ever welcomed anyone. If one chooses to be here, it will require considerable effort.

Xing Zhixin looked at the gun with great satisfaction, unaware that Cheng Bin was already regretting giving the rifle to him. Fortunately, Old Xing had reached an age where he was no longer overly attached to things; he had only slightly lost his composure. It was only when he remembered that there was another person in front of him that he looked up and saw Cheng Bin's empty hands, which reminded him that Cheng Bin had given the rifle to him. He then awkwardly said, "Then what will you use?"

His prompt awakened Xing Zhixin's memory. He disengaged the safety, pulled back the bolt to chamber a round, and aimed the gun into the distance, saying with some excitement: "Twenty years ago." Immediately realizing something was amiss, he added, "More than twenty years ago."

It is precisely based on the above experience that he concluded there were no zombies present in the house; otherwise, even if it was unwilling to rush outside to attack the intruders, it would still make some noise to warn them. The act of lying in wait for prey, which requires a high degree of patience, is not something a zombie is capable of. Therefore, after listening for any sounds and hearing none, he reached out to pull the door while simultaneously signaling to Xing Zhixin to be cautious

Upon realizing this, Cheng Bin couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive. He waved his hand, signaling Xing Zhixin to pass him the gun. Xing Zhixin was somewhat puzzled; he did not understand why Cheng Bin needed the rifle at this moment. However, despite his confusion, he complied and handed over the gun. Cheng Bin pulled the bolt to eject the bullet from the chamber before returning the gun to Xing Zhixin. He was too lazy to offer any verbal instructions, merely casting a glance at Xing Zhixin, hoping he would understand his intent. He casually tossed the ejected bullet over as well, then opened the door and walked inside. Xing Zhixin instinctively reached out to catch the thrown bullet, looking at Cheng Bin's retreating figure with a puzzled expression, unable to comprehend why he was not allowed to chamber a round if he was just going to give him the gun. Was it merely for courage?

Cheng Bin took a glance inside and lost interest; the furnishings here were very simple and could hardly conceal anything. He then reached out to lift the door curtain and walked in. Behind him, Xing Zhixin was still straining to look into the corner, seemingly trying to ascertain that there was no hidden danger there. Upon noticing that Cheng Bin had entered the inner room, he hurriedly followed suit.

The house is divided into two rooms at the entrance, with Xing Zhixin looking at the inner room. Because it has windows, the light is very ample, allowing a clear view inside. The outer room only receives light through a small piece of glass on the door, making it impossible to see the deeper scenes within. Cheng Bin reached out and wiped the glass twice, getting his hand covered in dust, yet he still could not see what was inside, so he reached out to pull the door.

The entire yard is surrounded by a brick wall, with shards of glass embedded on top. To the right of the main gate stands a solitary small house, square in shape, presumably intended for the night watchman. The two exchanged glances and decided to start their search from the small house. Xing Zhixin cautiously approached the window and peered inside; the house was not large, and the interior layout was clear at a glance. Xing Zhixin did not see anything particularly noteworthy and turned to find Cheng Bin also leaning against the door glass, looking inside.

Looking at the rifle delivered to him, Xing Zhixin was momentarily taken aback, and only then did he react, quickly responding: "I used one during military training." In the current situation, firearms equate to a guarantee of power; no one would casually give a firearm to another person. Therefore, even though he had desperately wanted to grab a stick while scouting earlier, he had not dared to ask Cheng Bin for the rifle. Unexpectedly, Cheng Bin would now take the initiative to hand the gun over to him.

Now they finally see the scene inside. Against the wall, there is a pile of dark objects that look like coal. On top of the coal pile, there are several pieces of already split wood. At the innermost part, leaning against the wall, is a bundle of corn stalks. Next to the corn stalks, there is a wooden rack with a curtain hanging over it, obscuring the view of what is inside, which is likely to be utensils or similar items.

No wonder. Cheng Bin thought to himself, this gun is probably older than his father. If he hadn't seen this type of gun at the city's armed forces department before, he might not even recognize it. Nowadays, schools use the Type 81 rifle for military training, and only people of Xing Zhixin's age would have had the opportunity to see this gun over twenty years ago. However, he couldn't expect much from Xing Zhixin's shooting skills. After such a long time, it would be impressive if Xing Zhixin could remember how to fire a gun. If he were to shoot at a target, he would probably have to rely on the target being able to see the bullet and then move himself towards the bullet. Only people of Xing Zhixin's age would have had the opportunity to see this gun over twenty years ago. However, he couldn't expect much from Xing Zhixin's shooting skills. After such a long time, it would be impressive if Xing Zhixin could remember how to fire a gun. If he were to shoot at a target, he would probably have to rely on the target being able to see the bullet and then move himself towards the bullet.

Xing Zhixin behind him shook slightly, still holding the gun without running away, but his eyes were wide open as he looked into the room. At this moment, he remembered to pull the bolt to chamber a round. Hearing the click, Cheng Bin knew that the bullet in his rifle was now chambered, and he couldn't help but feel regret once again. In the past, Chen Qiong had always opposed issuing firearms and ammunition to untrained civilians. Because of this, there had been a riot in the gathering place, as those civilians believed Chen Qiong was trying to exploit them. Later, Chen Qiong yielded to public opinion and distributed the stockpiled Type 56 and Type 81 rifles from the militia department, but he solemnly warned his militia members not to rely on these civilians. On the contrary, he emphasized the need to remain vigilant towards them at all times. Civilians might not have the courage to aim their guns at zombies, but they usually would not hesitate to shoot at their own people.

Cheng Bin is not someone who enjoys showing off. He took out the Type 92 pistol on the road because he was unaware of any potential danger at the time. That pistol has a higher rate of fire and he is more accustomed to using it. However, he does not feel the need to do so here. Although it is overcast, it is still early in the day, and zombies typically do not come out to roam. If he encounters survivors, having more people around would render any weapon he has ineffective; it is better to keep a small pistol for emergencies. If there are fewer people, the attention will surely be focused on Xing Zhixin, who is holding the rifle, which increases his own safety. Based on this reasoning, he does not care whether Xing Zhixin's rifle has any combat effectiveness.

He paused for a moment, listening intently to the sounds within. This was not his first encounter with zombies, so he was aware that this new species was fast and strong. However, regardless of what it had been like before or what it had become, one thing was invariably true: they had a volatile temperament. In the past, when he was with Chen Qiong, he often exploited this trait to lure and kill zombies. While hunting did not always guarantee success, luring had never failed. Based on past experiences, zombies possessed considerable intelligence, yet they were absolutely unable to remain calm. The slightest provocation would trigger an explosive response. Thus, it could be said that zombies were competent warriors, but they were certainly not suited to be assassins, nor were they particularly suitable as companions.

The musty smell in the inner room is even stronger. This house is not large to begin with, and it has been divided into two rooms, so it cannot be described as spacious. On the north side of the inner room, there is a heated kang that stretches all the way to the opposite wall along the north wall. A small window has been opened on the north wall, but due to the heated kang below, the window is set very high. A pile of bedding is stacked on the kang, and judging by the quality and arrangement, the previous owner was not a particularly tidy person. Opposite the heated kang is the window through which Xing Zhixin was just peering inside. Below the window is an old-fashioned desk, the kind that is made up of three parts. The top layer has three drawers arranged horizontally, and below the left drawer are three more drawers, while below the right drawer is a cabinet, leaving the middle section empty. Now, a plastic stool has been stuffed into this empty space. On the desk, there is a chaotic arrangement of an electric frying pan, a very small rice cooker, and several bowls and plates, which contain some dark, moldy substances that have grown black fuzz, making it impossible to discern their original appearance, likely remnants of food that was never finished.