Lin Zhaozhao transmigrated into the apocalypse with the superpower to make food taste better.
Toast a moldy ration biscuit, and its aroma carries three blocks. The ability was completely useless, until she cooked a packet of spicy instant noodles and the heat drew in the strongest zombie in City B.
Three Zero crouched behind a store shelf, watching her for twenty minutes. He watched her slurp her noodles, gasp from the spice, and wipe her tears with her sleeve.
He didn't pounce or roar. He just crouched there watching, like a cat keeping an eye on a fish tank.
Later, Lin Zhaozhao learned that before he mutated, Three Zero had been an orphan who'd grown up starving. He'd finally gained an ability that could protect him, but then he'd been captured for research and forgotten everything. All he remembered was that long ago, someone had put food in his bowl and said, "Eat more."
Later, whenever Lin Zhaozhao cooked, he watched from beside her. When she ate, he stared at the curve of her lips. When the spice made her cry, he reached out and brushed away her tears, then licked his fingertip. Salty. His eyes lit up.
He brought all sorts of things home: half an induction cooktop, a cast-iron pot, bloodstained cotton candy. He didn't eat any of it, but he hoarded whatever he found because "you might want to eat it."
Until one day, he stumbled through the door covered in wounds and lowered his head. "I thought I wouldn't make it back. What if you found someone else to cook for you? What if you smiled at someone else? Zhaozhao, lock me up."
Outside the window, dusk glowed gray and orange.
The rabid dog had finally found somewhere to curl up.
