I have read too many Chinese language books, and the writing feels so human-machine. . . . . . . . . . . . .
In this life, I am bound to a 72-day stocking system that can predict the countdown to the end of the world.
But this time, the zombie wave will not overwhelm my shelter, and the mutated beasts will not be able to chew through my bullet-proof door. I will stand behind the fortress made of materials, smiling and watching those who once bullied me in the apocalypse kneel in the ruins, nibbling on the last moldy bread.
After all, the most ruthless doomsday weapon in the world is never the fangs of zombies, but the prophet of the reborn, and the hope that fills the entire basement.
