Chapter 236: Green Radish
Chapter 236: Green Radish
The night is eerily quiet. In the distance, the faint roars of zombies can still be heard. The only sources of light in the vast, desolate world are the moon and stars above—and the flickering glow of solar-powered streetlights in the abandoned city.
Under those lights, zombies with blurred vision lift their heads, howling at them like sunflowers yearning for the sun.
The apocalypse is everywhere. There is no place that truly feels like home.
The motel has a quaint, almost literary charm. Its walls are built from red bricks, and beneath the green window frames stands a rustic wooden fence. It is a two-story building—the first floor resembling a bar, while the second floor houses five rooms.
Yun Tao goes upstairs to check the rooms and finds two naked zombies lurking inside. After taking care of them, Anran brings Little Mint and Hengheng upstairs to choose a place to rest.
Doll has cried several times during the bumpy ride. Anran has fed her and changed her diaper, and now that they have stopped moving, the child has finally calmed down, drifting off to sleep in Anran’s arms.
On the second floor, the silent Little Mint takes Hengheng to bed, while Anran settles in another room with Doll. Meanwhile, Yun Tao stays downstairs to deal with any lingering zombie threats that have followed them.
But despite the deep of night, Anran can’t sleep.
The heat is stifling. Cicadas screech outside, their cries blending with the silence. Moonlight streams through the wooden lattice window, casting silver beams across the floor. Restless, Anran sits up, gently pushes open the window, and looks at the soil-filled wooden fence just outside.
In the dark, nutrient-rich soil, a small cluster of green radish leaves lies limp and withered, as though they haven’t been watered in ages. They look close to rotting.
Anran reaches out and brushes the trembling leaves.
Under the moonlight, they transform.
Before her very eyes, the once-withered leaves flush with life, turning a deep, healthy green. The vines stretch and curl, extending rapidly until they cover the entire windowsill in a lush, springlike scene.
The green radish thrives, and Anran finds herself smiling.
She doesn’t stop it from growing. Instead, she lets the verdant vines spread freely, like a green carpet rolling into the room. They cover the floor, then climb up the walls, twining around the ceiling chandelier. Soon, the entire room is wrapped in emerald foliage, like a hidden garden.
Standing in this cocoon of greenery, Anran glances at Doll, who sleeps soundly on the snow-white sheets, undisturbed by the world. She lies down beside her, finally feeling at ease.
Only in a place filled with plants does she feel truly safe.
And yet, she wonders—is this all she can do? Grow plants endlessly? Let flowers devour zombies?
No.
It seems she can do more than just grow plants.
She can hear them.
When the second bronze-skinned, iron-boned zombie appears, it is far away from her—yet she hears it. Why?
Is it because of the roots beneath the ground?
Are the plants passing messages to one another?
And if so, does that mean… she can communicate with them?
Anran focuses, listening carefully.
But the plants say nothing. Not even a whisper of gossip. Perhaps they are simply quiet by nature, content to grow in silence, uninterested in meddling in the affairs of others.
Before she realizes it, sleep overtakes her.
Doll wakes up and cries twice in the night, and Anran, still half-asleep, feeds her before drifting off again.
By morning, the heat has eased, giving way to a rare, refreshing breeze.
A knock comes at Anran’s door. It’s Yun Tao.