Right outside the apartment complex was a main street, lined with shops on both sides. A 600-meter walk to the left led to a bustling food market where everything you could need was available. Normally, that's where he bought his groceries.
"So quiet…"
The food market used to be filled with noise—vendors shouting, housewives bargaining with baskets in hand.
As he stepped into the market, the familiar scent of produce hit him.
It calmed his heart, bringing with it a strange sense of nostalgia.
For a moment, it felt like everything was back to normal.
"What a waste…"
Stalls on both sides had their goods scattered across the ground. Vegetables were trampled, squashed underfoot. Yesterday must have been complete chaos. Otherwise, farmers would never let their harvest end up like this.
He walked to a familiar meat stall—this was where he always bought his pork.
The boss was a chubby, cheerful guy who never shorted anyone on weight. In fact, he'd usually throw in a little extra. Everyone called him "Porky Rong."
"Boss, you here?"
He stood in front of the stall. The meat still looked fresh, and he was hoping to pick a good cut with the boss's help—but there was no reply. He figured he'd just pick one himself. Living alone meant he was used to shopping solo.
He spotted a good piece of pork leg—nice color and all.
He knew the price. If the boss wasn't around, he'd just weigh it and pay himself.
Suddenly—
A screech came from under the counter. A zombie lunged out. Despite the blood dripping from its mouth and its twisted face, Lam Pham recognized him instantly—it was Porky Rong.
The zombie flailed, snarling, trying to pull itself up onto the counter. But with its large, bulky frame, it couldn't quite manage the climb. It just waved its arms and snapped its jaws.
"Boss really loved his stall, huh? Even turned zombie, he's still trying to serve customers," Lam Pham muttered. "Too bad… I'm the only one left."
He picked up the pork and placed it on the digital scale.
"Boss, this is hind leg meat—three jin in total. I know the price: nine yuan per jin, that's… uh, 27 yuan. No wait… 392—ugh, no, 27. Sorry, my math sucks."
Scratching his head in embarrassment, he pulled out his phone and scanned the QR code.
Ding!Payment Successful.
Even in the apocalypse, he insisted on paying. If the boss could stand guard as a zombie, still doing his "job," then Lam Pham had no excuse to take for free.
"See you next time."
He waved and left, heading to the vegetable stall.
He quickly picked out some fresh produce—two tomatoes.
Scanned the code. Paid.
He wanted to buy more, but he lived alone and didn't eat much. Buying too much would just be wasteful.
More importantly… he was kinda broke.
Still, he never let that get him down. He was happy—after all, he had a place of his own in Hoàng City. Sure, it was an old apartment, but he was content.
Leaving the market, he felt incredibly satisfied.
"Lunch is secured."
He prided himself on his cooking—he might not brag about anything else, but his food was good.
Carrying his groceries, he slowly made his way home.
The street was eerily quiet, damaged cars littering both sides. A breeze stirred up the dust, sending it swirling through the air.
The silence was unsettling.
He didn't know how long life would stay like this.
When would people return?
When would this city thrive again?
Still, he believed—if he lived each day well, then one day, Hoàng City would come back.
Back at his apartment gate, a small convenience store stood nearby.
The glass was shattered, like something had slammed into it.
"Hey Xiao Qing, I'm here to buy a case of water." Lam Pham called out. He was a regular.
The shop was run by a young man named Vuong Hoa Thanh and his girlfriend, Xiao Phương.
"Hmm?"
Inside, a zombie swayed by the shelves. Hearing his voice, it snapped to alertness, howling and charging at him.
Lam Pham raised his cleaver and slashed the zombie's head cleanly, then kicked the body aside, wiping the blade clean.
Xiao Qing and his girlfriend—both zombified—charged from the side, mouths dripping with black blood. Two quick strikes and they were down.
Throughout the whole ordeal, Lam Pham's face never changed—calm as ever.
Three zombies down. Three points gained.
"Sigh, this world, huh? Even as zombies, they should learn some manners." He went behind the counter and scanned the code.
He added some instant noodles and smoked sausages to his purchase.
"Xiao Qing, payment done. I'm not racking up a tab."
One last glance at Xiao Qing's body. Then he turned and left.
Outside the store.
He looked off into the distance. Zombies wandered, shambling slowly. That was just a trick—once prey appeared, they'd move like dogs off-leash.
Just moments ago, there was nothing. Now suddenly, they were everywhere.
Soon he found out why.
A bus sped toward his area, engine roaring.
The noise drew zombies from every direction, but the bus crushed them under its wheels.
"Hey loser, wanna get on or what? If not, stay here and let the zombies gut you!" shouted a punk with dyed yellow hair from the back door of the bus, laughing maniacally at Lam Pham.
"You idiot, shut the hell up! You trying to attract every zombie in the city?!" snapped a man in glasses next to him.
They were all passengers from the central station. When Hoàng City turned to hell overnight, they hid in the bus overnight but couldn't wait anymore. Now they were fleeing, hoping to find safety elsewhere.
"You four-eyed freak, you dare talk back to me? Die!" Yellow Hair exploded in rage, pulling a knife and slashing the guy's throat.
"This world's gone mad—who can stop me now?!"
Chaos erupted inside the bus. Yellow Hair was an ex-con with a history of violence, now even more unhinged in the apocalypse.
The street was jammed with abandoned cars. The bus veered and crashed repeatedly, horns blaring non-stop.
The noise drew even more zombies out of nearby buildings.
Bang! Bang!
Zombies smashed through windows, falling from buildings. Some broke bones on landing but still howled and crawled toward the bus.
They came from all directions—trapping the bus completely.
"We're screwed." The driver's face went pale. His only hope now was to keep moving—only the bus could give him a chance at survival.
Behind him, screams and blood. He didn't care. He just wanted to live.
The bus slammed into wave after wave of zombies. Tires rolled over flesh, blood spurted everywhere, painting the street black.
"What a brutal bus," Lam Pham muttered, still holding his groceries and water, watching calmly.
All the nearby zombies had been drawn away by the commotion.
No one noticed the lone man with soybeans and pork chops.
He turned and walked home.
"Help! Somebody help us!"
The bus, surrounded by zombies, slowed. Too much flesh clogged the tires. The engine struggled.
Zombies clung to it, layer after layer, climbing on top.
Yellow Hair climbed onto the roof through a window, frantically waving his knife as the undead closed in. He was terrified. He didn't want to die. There was still a bright future out there waiting for him!
Inside, men and women screamed in panic.
But to zombies, those screams were music. The louder, the more excited they became.
"Figures. People who laugh at others' misery never end well. Just like mocking or insulting someone—it always comes back to bite you."
Lam Pham turned and walked away.
The bus was completely overrun.
Zombies poured inside. Screams and chewing sounds echoed down the street.
And Yellow Hair's final, desperate roar:
"My fate is mine alone—not heaven's!""Get the hell off me!"