Lover's Tears: The End of Time | Chapter 38 | The Cultured Zombie | Novela.app

Chapter 39 - The Cultured Zombie Green Eyes had never quite reconciled himself to the delicate nature of the writing brush. Despite Qiao’er’s repeated demonstrations, he found the slender bamboo tool far too flimsy for his liking, preferring instead to dip his cold, pale fingers directly into the inkwell to trace characters upon the paper. Qiao’er had corrected his posture and grip countless times, yet his handling of the brush remained as clumsy as a child’s first attempt at calligraphy. Resigned to his stubbornness, Qiao’er took to practicing her own script more frequently, knowing his innate talent for mimicry would eventually guide him. It worked, albeit with a strange side effect: their handwriting began to merge into a singular style. Qiao’er’s Tianwen—the Script of the Dead—grew more vigorous and potent, while the human characters penned by Green Eyes became surprisingly elegant and refined, a stark contrast to his monstrous nature. As they sat by the small wooden table, Qiao’er would write a character and speak it aloud, and he would follow suit with solemn intensity. “I,” Qiao’er said, pointing first to herself and then to the character for ‘I’ drying on the paper. “I—” Green Eyes rolled up his sleeves, his movements deliberate as he traced the strokes one by one. “I—” he repeated, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. However, confusion clouded his emerald gaze. He pointed a long finger back at Qiao’er and asked in the silent, flowing strokes of Tianwen on a scrap of paper: *“Did you not say your name is Qiao’er? Why do you call yourself ‘I’ now?”* Qiao’er felt a metaphorical row of black lines descend across her forehead. “It’s not a name! It’s… what am I even saying? It refers to oneself. It means ‘me.’” Green Eyes pondered this for a long time, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he pointed to his own chest and let out a slow, halting breath. “I—” He was an exceptionally diligent student. Even without Qiao’er’s supervision, he practiced constantly. In the beginning, he would often end up covered in ink stains, earning him a playful scolding from Qiao’er. After a few such instances, he became meticulously careful, treating the ink with the reverence of a holy relic rather than a toy. While Green Eyes studied under Qiao’er, the Red-Eyed Zombie led the rest of the undead horde in lessons conducted by the Daoists of the Hao family. Though the Red-Eyed one lacked Green Eyes’ natural focus, the patriarch Hao Ren gave him special tutoring, and his progress was remarkably swift. The result was a sudden epidemic of literacy across Guantian Court. From the high walls of the main hall down to the very stalks of grass and trunks of trees, every available surface became a canvas for zombie graffiti. Initially, Qiao’er turned a blind eye, simply tasking her three disciples with repainting the walls. However, she could no longer remain silent after a particular incident in the nearby town. One night, the owner of a local calligraphy and painting shop was awakened by a strange scratching sound. He lit a lamp and crept into his storefront, only to find a creature with glowing red eyes and fangs an inch long hunched over his desk, wielding a brush with theatrical flourish. The old shopkeeper, having dealt in ancient scrolls for decades, was a man of some worldly experience, but this was beyond his endurance. He let out a blood-curdling scream. Realizing the situation had turned sour, the zombie crashed through the window and vanished into the night. When the trembling old man finally approached his desk, he found his precious collection of antique paintings ruined. On every single one, the zombie had scrawled a sprawling, jagged blessing: *“Wealth and Prosperity!”* To make matters worse, the character for ‘Prosperity’ was misspelled. The old shopkeeper promptly fainted. The following day, Qiao’er officially established the Code of Guantian Court. The first rule was: *No striking Daoists.* The second rule was: *No unauthorized graffiti!* This led to much whispering among the few pilgrims who wandered by. They stared in bewilderment at a line of large, red characters painted against the white courtyard wall: *Guantian Court is a sacred site. Unauthorized graffiti is strictly prohibited. Violators will be pelted with two eggs!* Many found the rules of Guantian Court to be eccentric, to say the least. During that period, the reputation of the abbey was at a low ebb. For days on end, not even a ghost—let alone a pilgrim—could be seen. Fortunately, the abbey still had some savings, and the shrimp and crab disciples frequently scavenged pearls and rare seafood from the depths, so they faced no immediate financial crisis. However, Qiao’er knew this couldn't last if she wanted to continue accumulating Immortal Affinity. Green Eyes supported her completely. Although the essence he harvested was now filtered through him and given directly to Qiao’er, performing good deeds and gathering the willpower of the faithful was essential for her spiritual growth. Immortal Affinity was a fickle thing. Some cultivators spent a lifetime accumulating it, only to earn enough merit for a wealthy reincarnation in their next life. Others spent generations doing good, yet lacked the cultivation to achieve immortality. The unluckiest of all were those who finally gathered both merit and power, only to be blasted into nothingness by a stray bolt of Heavenly Tribulation Lightning. Of course, such concerns were distant for Qiao’er. Her immediate priority was the revival of Guantian Court. Though they had held their own against Cuiwei Mountain in their last encounter, they had effectively offended the entire orthodox Daoist community. To stifle Guantian Court’s growth, Cuiwei Mountain had collaborated with other sects to open a branch temple in the nearby town. This move successfully intercepted most of the pilgrims, effectively strangling Guantian Court’s "business." Fan Shaojing had his reasons for this strategy. The distance between Cuiwei Mountain and Guantian Court was vast, making travel inconvenient. Knowing that Qiao’er’s power had increased significantly, he judged that a direct confrontation was unwise. By establishing a branch nearby, he could prevent the masses from following what he deemed "demon Daoists" while also allowing him to check on his brother, Fan Shaohuang, every few days. Gui Che and the Red-Eyed Zombie both proposed various methods of retaliation. Gui Che insisted on psychological warfare, suggesting they torment Fan Shaohuang by tossing sunflower seeds, peanut shells, and leftover bun skins into his restrictive seal. The Red-Eyed Zombie, meanwhile, suggested a more theatrical approach: they should send two small demons to the Cuiwei branch during peak hours. In front of the entire crowd, the demons would revert to their true forms, grab Fan Shaojing’s legs, and scream, "Father!" This, he argued, would surely make the pilgrims question who was truly harboring monsters. Thankfully, Qiao’er knew both were experts in nonsense and ignored them. In the meantime, Green Eyes had progressed enough to hold simple conversations in human speech. Every day as dawn approached, he would retreat to his small wooden hut to pore over his books. Qiao’er enjoyed treating him as her personal storyteller. Initially, when he encountered a character he didn't know, he would draw a circle in its place. When Qiao’er was free, she would teach him the pronunciation and explain the meaning. At first, the pages were filled with circles, but as his vocabulary grew, the circles gradually vanished. He began to use human speech almost exclusively with Qiao’er. Even when he struggled to find the right words, he would rather gesture for an hour than resort to the Script of the Dead. Qiao’er would often curl up in his arms and ask, “Why are you working so hard? You have all the time in the world. There’s no rush.” He would reach out, his cold hand gently stroking her hair. “This way… we are the same,” he would say, his voice still stiff and unpracticed. Later, when they reached the word for ‘food’ in his lessons, Qiao’er went to the fishing village and bought several red sea bream. Before this, he had no habit of eating, but now he possessed the sense of taste. Qiao’er stewed one of the fish. Her skills weren't those of a master chef, but with the right spices, the aroma was mouth-watering. Green Eyes picked up a piece with his chopsticks, turning it over and examining it from every angle. He had never touched human food in his life; the most he had ever done was leave a tooth mark on a piece of fruit he’d picked for Qiao’er, and even then, he hadn't tasted a thing. Qiao’er watched him with encouraging eyes. “Try it.” He seemed to steel his resolve and took a large bite—only to immediately choke on a fishbone. Qiao’er had never imagined that a zombie could be defeated by a fishbone. He coughed for a long time before realizing something was lodged in his throat. Instantly, he transformed the fingers of his right hand into long, needle-thin claws, reached into his gullet, and plucked the bone out. Qiao’er erupted into uncontrollable laughter. He tilted his head, watching her for a moment, before returning his attention to the fish on the plate. This time, he was exceedingly careful, picking out a small morsel. Qiao’er quickly used her own chopsticks to remove any remaining bones for him. This time, he didn't rush, savoring the flavor on his tongue. After a moment, he seemed to decide it was quite good and took another piece. As she deboned the fish, Qiao’er explained, “This is called ‘fish.’” “Fish,” he repeated slowly. Qiao’er nodded, satisfied. “Human cuisine is a vast subject. we usually cook meat before eating it. There are many ways to cook: stewing, which is what you’re eating now, but also frying, stir-frying, braising, steaming… each method creates a different flavor. For example, this is ‘salty.’ It’s salty because I added salt.” Human culture was truly a labyrinth of complexity. Green Eyes occasionally found it baffling—how could a race with such short lifespans manage to categorize and refine so many things? After the meal, Qiao’er took a silk handkerchief to wipe his mouth, never missing an opportunity for a lesson. “This is a handkerchief. It’s specifically for wiping your hands and mouth. Whenever your face or hands get dirty, you must wipe them. You must be hygienic and stay clean; that way you won’t get sick, and people will like you.” Green Eyes didn't quite agree. “Even if you were not clean, I would still like you.” Qiao’er laughed and tapped his nose. “No smooth-talking. If you aren't clean, I won't like you.” At that, he snatched the handkerchief from her hand and scrubbed his face with vigorous intensity. After a moment’s thought, he wiped his hands until they were spotless as well. Seeing how well he learned through physical objects, Qiao’er began to tailor her lessons to his daily life. When teaching the word for ‘bath,’ she taught him while he was actually bathing, introducing terms for incense, towels, and soap along the way. She soon discovered that the zombie race had its own form of cultural transmission. Following this lesson, every zombie in the abbey began to roll around and throw tantrums, demanding their own handkerchiefs. Whenever it was time for a bath, each one would ostentatiously sprinkle vast amounts of incense into their water. This proved to be a torment for the Daoists of the Hao family, who felt their sense of smell was being systematically destroyed. However, there was one silver lining: when the summer mosquitoes began to swarm, one only had to place a single, heavily-perfumed zombie by the window to kill every fly and mosquito in the room, ensuring a peaceful night’s sleep. ***