Lover's Tears: The End of Time | Chapter 7 | The Zombie Learns to Fill a Pit | Novela.app

Chapter 8 - The Zombie Learns to Fill a Pit At noon, Qiao’er was still engrossed in her calligraphy. The green-eyed zombie seemed to be in a rare, pleasant mood; he had taught her several new characters of the Ghost Script, and she spent a long time practicing them against the rough stone walls of the cave. After watching her from the confines of his coffin for a while, the zombie finally lost his patience. He reached out and tapped the edge of the heavy wood, gesturing for her to come over and sleep. Qiao’er, however, was not yet finished. She looked back at him with a pout, clearly displeased. "I haven't finished my practice yet. What kind of teacher are you, anyway? All you do is teach your student how to be lazy." The green-eyed zombie grew even more indignant at her refusal. He climbed out of the coffin, scooped Qiao’er up in his cold, iron-like arms, and pulled her inside with him. Unable to overpower his unnatural strength, Qiao’er had no choice but to lie prone across his chest. Being a diligent child by nature, she didn't let the proximity go to waste; she began tracing characters onto his cold skin to communicate. Occasionally, the zombie would respond. Since her vocabulary in the Ghost Script was still limited, his replies were exceptionally brief. Despite the linguistic barrier, a bridge of understanding had finally formed between the human girl and the undead creature, a realization that seemed to fill the zombie with a strange, restless excitement. He would often trace words into the palm of her hand, and she would reply by writing upon his chest. As the days bled into weeks, a silent rapport developed between them. He even began to understand some of her spoken words—specifically, the word "annoying," which she used frequently. By the time winter officially descended upon the mountains, Qiao’er was able to converse with the green-eyed zombie with relative ease using this eerie, ancient script. No one truly knew how this language was passed down among demons and malevolent spirits, but once they attained a certain level of cultivation, the knowledge seemed to awaken within them as if it were an ancestral instinct. The green-eyed zombie had no fellow cultivators to speak of. Having endured nearly a thousand years of silence, he had finally found someone to talk to. Though their "conversations" were mostly trivial bickering, it was a profound change for a creature of his kind. The phrase Qiao’er wrote most often was: *Don't kick the blankets!* Winter in the mountains was a long, frigid affair. When the first snow began to fall, Qiao’er was still fast asleep, huddled in the coffin for warmth. The red-eyed zombie had attempted to sneak in and terrify her again, but it had been caught red-handed by the green-eyed zombie. Another violent skirmish ensued, ending with the red-eyed intruder fleeing into the darkness. When the green-eyed zombie returned from the outside, he brought back a bundle of bean curd skin he had stolen from some nearby household to feed her. It was only when Qiao’er saw the unmelting snowflakes clinging to his shoulders that she realized the world outside had turned white. The snow sat atop his cold skin without thawing. Habitually, Qiao’er took a dry cloth and began to wipe him down. "Look at you, your clothes are all wet. Don't you feel the cold?" The zombie could not understand her nagging, and in truth, the cold meant nothing to his frozen constitution. He handed her the bean curd skin. As she took it, she didn't miss the opportunity to lecture him. "You can't keep stealing things. If you take something from people, you have to pay for it. Do you even know what money is?" Naturally, he did not. In the realm of monsters and ghosts, currency was a foreign concept. Their world was governed by a simpler law: take what you can, and if you cannot, someone else will take it from you. As Qiao’er sat in the coffin eating her meal, the zombie hurried out again. This time, he returned with a basket of eggs. Qiao’er was baffled until he made a sudden, lunging motion to scare her, then picked up an egg and mimicked the action of throwing it. Confused, Qiao’er picked up an egg and—*smack*—smashed it right against his face. The zombie let out a muffled howl, jumping around the cave as if he had been scalded by boiling water. Panicked, Qiao’er rushed over to wipe the yolk from his face with her sleeve. He growled at her in low, frustrated tones, but she growled right back. "How was I supposed to know you lot were afraid of these? Oh... wait. Are you telling me to use these to hit that red-eyed one?" Her face lit up with sudden joy. "That’s brilliant! Tomorrow night, I won’t go out with you. I’ll pelt him to death. Hmph, let’s see if he dares to come scare me every day!" Once her excitement faded, she returned to her previous point. "But didn't I tell you? Human things must be bought with money... can't you go just one day without stealing?" Perhaps because he had been absorbing the spiritual essence of wild zombies, the green-eyed zombie’s condition during the day was much better than before. However, he still spent his nights roaming the mountains in search of spiritual energy. If Daoist Chongling had not assigned him any tasks, he would carry Qiao’er along as he sought out scenic spots with concentrated essence. Sometimes, these prime locations were already occupied by other supernatural entities. On those nights, Qiao’er would witness a spectacular, if brutal, display of combat. She didn't know exactly how powerful this green-eyed zombie was, but he never lost. His opponents always ended up fleeing, nursing grievous wounds. In their world, there was no such thing as "stopping when the point is made," and "martial virtue" was a joke. Their battles were filled with an endless array of underhanded tricks and despicable tactics that would make any honorable warrior recoil in horror. Interestingly, the zombie had learned from Qiao’er’s previous escape attempt. He now frequently used distractions; for instance, he would feign a punch to an opponent's head, and while they recoiled, he would deliver a swift, vicious kick to their groin. What made Qiao’er even more embarrassed was his habit of launching sneak attacks while the two sides were still in the middle of their posturing and howling. At first, she had been constantly worried for him—partly out of a budding concern for his safety, and partly out of the fear that if he fell, she would become the victor's prey. Over time, however, her confidence in him grew, and she began to treat these encounters like a theatrical performance. Yet, as the saying goes, "one who walks by the river often will eventually get their shoes wet." He frequently returned with injuries, though they healed with supernatural speed. Qiao’er had never been a zombie, so she didn't know if he felt pain. He certainly didn't act like it, continuing to carry her on his back, moving as swift as the wind. One night, amidst a heavy blizzard, the red-eyed zombie took advantage of the green-eyed zombie’s absence to harass Qiao’er. To its shock, Qiao’er pelted it with eggs, sending it scurrying away. She had thrown six eggs in total, but because her reflexes were slow, only one had hit its mark. Still, that was enough to send the creature into a panic. As Qiao’er was giggling to herself, the coffin lid was suddenly wrenched open. She looked up, expecting the red-eyed zombie to have returned for revenge. She still held an egg in her hand and, in her haste, smashed it right into the face of the person standing there. It wasn't a zombie. It was the young Daoist disciple, Xiao Si. He wiped the yolk from his face with his sleeve, a lewd, malicious grin spreading across his features. "My little treasure, I come to visit you in the middle of the night, and this is how you treat me?" Without another word, he hauled Qiao’er out of the coffin. She had always been terrified of the Daoists, and in her current state, she was no match for his strength. Before she could even let out a scream, he clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her through the tangled thickets and deep grass. This was, of course, the intention of Daoist Chongling. He hadn't expected the girl and the zombie to coexist for so long. Seeing the zombie treat her with such care—and even beginning to communicate—the old Daoist feared that the creature would eventually slip from his control. Qiao’er hadn't realized that a pit had been dug deep within the forest. Xiao Si dragged her to the edge, but he didn't bury her immediately. Instead, he pinned her down, intent on committing a foul, carnal act. Qiao’er struggled with every ounce of her strength, but she was overpowered. As he pressed his face against hers, she caught a glimpse of two glowing red orbs deep within the bushes. The red-eyed zombie had followed them surreptitiously. It didn't understand what the young Daoist was doing; it was merely driven by a sense of idle, predatory curiosity. Panicked, Qiao’er began tracing characters into the dirt. The zombie, possessing excellent night vision, understood her plea for help. Yet, it hesitated. It recognized the young Daoist; he was always by Daoist Chongling’s side. It was like a village dog being told to bite the master who fed it—even if it understood the command, it couldn't quite bring itself to act. The young Daoist began to tear at Qiao’er’s clothes, his hands roaming over her body. The red-eyed zombie, curious, stepped closer. After a moment, it reached out and touched the Daoist. Xiao Si, consumed by his lust, snapped irritably, "Get lost! Stay away!" The zombie didn't understand the words, nor could it discern the tone. Instead, it began to mimic the Daoist’s actions. It reached out and shredded Xiao Si’s robes, and more terrifyingly, it attempted to pin the man down beneath its own weight. It didn't understand the context; it simply thought this was a new, interesting game. Xiao Si froze in terror. These creatures were incredibly adept at mimicry—as evidenced by the green-eyed zombie learning to use distractions. If he proceeded with Qiao’er, there was no telling what this red-eyed monster would do to him in imitation. Xiao Si had brought no talismans or ritual tools with him, and having only learned half-baked skills from Chongling, he had no confidence in facing the zombie alone. Panicking, he hoisted Qiao’er up and threw her into the pit, intending to fill it with earth immediately. As Qiao’er tried to scramble out, he stepped on her hands and began shoveling dirt. The red-eyed zombie squatted nearby, watching with intense interest. Its crimson eyes were particularly ghastly in the dead of night. Xiao Si’s heart hammered against his ribs. He bolstered his courage and barked, "What are you looking at? Scram!" Instead, the zombie stood up. With a sudden, gleeful burst of movement, it snatched Xiao Si and hurled him into the pit alongside Qiao’er. Then, it began to mimic his previous actions, shoveling dirt back into the hole. The pit had been dug specifically for Qiao’er and wasn't very deep. As Xiao Si tried to climb out, the red-eyed zombie stepped firmly on his hands and continued to pile on the earth—exactly as it had seen him do. As the weight of the soil increased, the young Daoist finally broke into a frantic, high-pitched wail. "Help! Master, save me—!" His piercing screams echoed through the frozen woods, startling countless birds from their roosts.