What came into Chen Ye’s view was a massive, peeling archway towering over the town entrance. Faded red paint barely clung to the wood, spelling out a mockery of a greeting: “Welcome to Apricot Blossom Town!”

The desolation was palpable.

Beyond the archway, a long, straight street stretched into the distance. Though it was only three in the afternoon, the end of the road seemed swallowed by an encroaching, unnatural darkness.

Rows of commercial shops lined both sides of the street. Their signboards were uniform—black backgrounds with stark white lettering—creating a funeral-like aesthetic that made Chen Ye’s skin crawl. Weeds erupted through cracks in the pavement, walls were mottled with decay, and many of the monochromatic signs hung crooked or broken.

It had only been a few months since the global outbreak of the Anomalies.

Yet, this town looked as if it had been abandoned for decades.

A foul, damp stench of rot assaulted their faces. Anyone with half a brain could see that Apricot Blossom Town was wrong.

Many survivors turned deathly pale, their legs trembling as instinct screamed at them to retreat. Chen Ye’s expression was grim. He unhooked the Hand Crossbow from his waist, gripping it tightly. Even if physical weapons were useless against the supernatural, the weight of the weapon offered a sliver of psychological comfort.

Just as the group hesitated at the threshold, paralyzed by fear, a rough, boorish voice shattered the silence.

“Quit dilly-dallying like old women! I’m going in!”

All eyes turned to see a behemoth of a man squeezing himself out of a modified off-road vehicle. And “squeezing” was the only word for it.

Once his boots hit the pavement, the sheer scale of him became apparent. He stood over two meters tall and must have weighed more than three hundred pounds, his arms as thick as an average man’s waist. He was a human tank.

Ignoring the terrified stares of the others, the giant charged like a rampaging elephant toward a distant supermarket signboard.

Supermarkets meant stockpiles. They meant survival.

“Hey, you big oaf, wait for me!”

A curse rang out from inside the off-road vehicle. The engine roared to life, and the car sped after the giant.

Seeing the ice broken, the occupants of the second off-road vehicle exchanged glances before gunning their engine, also targeting the supermarket beneath the massive sign.

“Damn it, the bold get stuffed, the timid go hungry!”

An old man fired up his Elderly Mobility Scooter, its electric motor whining as he trundled forward.

“You youngsters have less guts than this old man! When I come out, you’ll just have to watch me eating spicy and drinking sweet!”

Leaving behind this taunt, the old man disappeared into the town.

The faces of those remaining flushed red with shame and greed. Curses flew, and spurred by the old man’s mockery, a large portion of the crowd surged forward.

However, quite a few still stood rooted in place, fear winning out over hunger.

Chen Ye pedaled his tricycle, following the brave ones.

But his target wasn’t the distant supermarket. That place was too deep in the town. If something went wrong, there would be no escape route.

Chen Ye’s eyes were set on the smaller shops lining the street near the entrance.

The supplies might be less abundant, but the safety factor was infinitely higher. Furthermore, sunlight still bathed this part of the street. Survivors had learned through bloody experience that Anomalies hated the sun. If chased, fleeing into the light often meant survival.

He wasn’t the only one with this idea; several others were already breaking off to raid nearby storefronts. Fortunately, there were plenty of shops to go around.

Chen Ye pulled up to a tobacco and alcohol grocery store. Through the grime-streaked glass door, he could see packs of cigarettes sitting brazenly inside a glass counter. In the shadows further back, shelves held the promise of snacks, though the details were obscured by the gloom.

It wasn’t a supermarket haul, but for a solo survivor, it was a goldmine.

Especially the cigarettes.

Chen Ye had been a smoker for over a decade. The withdrawal in the apocalypse was its own special kind of hell. Moreover, in this new world, hard currency wasn’t paper money—it was food, medicine, alcohol, and tobacco. Even if he didn’t smoke them all, he could trade them for anything he needed.

He looked around for a brick to smash the glass but paused. The lock on the door was corroded beyond recognition.

He gave the handle a gentle tug.

Creak.

With a sound like dying metal, the rusted mechanism gave way. The hinges screamed in protest, threatening to snap.

Chen Ye peeked inside.

It was nearly four o’clock. The sun, hanging low in the west, cast a long beam of light through the doorway, illuminating the front counter—and the cigarettes—perfectly. The rest of the shop lay in heavy shadow, a stark contrast to the lit entrance.

Raising his Hand Crossbow, Chen Ye stepped cautiously across the threshold. He strained his eyes, scanning the dark corners for any twisting shadows or unnatural shapes.

Nothing.

He moved fast. Swinging his backpack to his chest, he began sweeping food from the shelves near the front. Spicy strips, instant noodles, jelly cups—anything edible went into the bag.

His eyes lingered on the cigarettes, but he forced himself to prioritize. Nicotine withdrawal wouldn’t kill him. Starvation would.

Logic triumphed over desire.

His hands were a blur. This backpack had been a specific find during his previous scavenging runs, chosen for its massive capacity. Yet, the shelves were leaner than he’d hoped. It was a small town store, not a city 24/7 mart, and business had clearly been dying long before the world ended.

As the sun sank lower, the patch of light on the floor began to shrink, retreating toward the door.

With the food shelves cleared, his bag was only two-thirds full. He compressed the contents down, making it half-full.

Now for the prize.

Chen Ye turned to the counter, swallowing dryly.

He moved even faster now. He grabbed packs of “Tazi” and a few precious packs of “Huazi.” He wasn’t picky; cheap brands, premium brands, they all went in. He even raided the cabinets beneath the glass.

He shoved two bottles of alcohol into the side pockets. The bag was now bursting at the seams. He ignored the daily necessities; if it didn’t keep him alive or sane, it was dead weight.

Suddenly, a familiar, icy sensation crawled up his spine.

It was the same dread he had felt standing at the town entrance. The same dread he had felt in Jiang City right before people died.

Anyone still alive knew exactly what this feeling meant.

A face, paler than a corpse left to rot in water for three days, was pressed directly against the back of Chen Ye’s head.

He could feel the cold radiating from it, chilling his neck. The fine hairs on his hands stood erect. A smell hit him—damp, moldy, like wet earth and decay.

Goosebumps erupted across his skin. It felt as if a frozen snake was slithering down his vertebrae.

Chen Ye turned his head slowly.

It was the face of a child, maybe seven or eight years old. It was impossibly close.

The skin was paper-white. The cheeks were painted with exaggerated, circular rouge spots. The eyes and mouth were merely curved black lines, drawn into a permanent, grotesque smile.

The entire child looked as if it were made of paper.

It crouched in the darkness of the shop like a monkey, staring at Chen Ye with a hollow, curious gaze.

They stood on the boundary line of the shop—Chen Ye in the fading sunlight, the paper child in the absolute dark.

Had it been watching him the whole time? Or had it just manifested?

“Fuck!”

Chen Ye stumbled back, knocking over a display stand. He scrambled for the door.

It wouldn’t open.

Through the glass, he saw a wooden bar jammed through the handles on the outside.

Someone locked me in?

Through the grime, he saw two figures standing by his tricycle. He recognized them instantly.

The yoga pants woman, Jiajia. And the burly fitness coach, Qiangzi.

Sensing his gaze, they turned. Their eyes met his.

Jiajia opened her mouth to sneer, a look of triumph on her face. But then her gaze shifted past Chen Ye, into the darkness of the shop behind him.

Her expression shattered into pure terror. She screamed something at Qiangzi, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the storefront.

“Hehehe…”

A child’s playful laughter echoed in the cramped space.

“Lady Moon, shines on the coffin bed, little brother waits for candy, crying his heart out~~~”

The voice was faint, drifting as if from a great distance, yet sounding right next to his ear.

It was a “Weeping Paper Effigy.”

The nursery rhyme was an old one, twisted by the supernatural. Lady Moon protecting children. Coffin bed for the dead. Candy to comfort the living after a funeral.

Chen Ye had encountered one of these in Jiang City. He never expected to find one here.

His scalp went numb.

Whoosh!

He fired his crossbow instinctively. The bolt passed straight through the Paper Effigy’s body as if it were smoke, clattering uselessly against the back wall.

Chen Ye cursed internally. Physical attacks were meaningless.

“Lady Moon, shines on the coffin bed, little brother waits for candy, crying his heart out~~~”

“Hehehe… candy, I want candy!”