The Master of the Manor
Judging just by the villa's sprawling footprint and the sheer number of rooms, Xiao Yi could easily believe there were hundreds of zombies hiding inside.
After all, the corpses littering the ground were proof enough that over a thousand zombies had once swarmed this place!
And those were just the ones on the ground—Xiao Yi figured there had to be at least a few hundred bodies there alone!
He gave the security room door a gentle push. It was locked tight.
Xiao Yi frowned. Using the chainsaw here would be suicide, plain and simple. Even if it was just those few freakish mutated zombies, he had no confidence of escaping unscathed right now!
And who knew how many more might be trapped inside the security room itself!
But without the chainsaw, there was no way he could pry open that reinforced steel door.
Damn it!
Now Xiao Yi was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
He glanced at his watch. It was already past four, and sunset wasn't far off. The zombies would start getting active soon.
After weighing his options, Xiao Yi gave up on the idea of forcing his luck.
In this apocalypse, caution came first. There was no rush—he didn't need to take stupid risks.
Back at the main entrance, he deliberately left the villa's front door wide open, then climbed back to the rear yard and shut off all the breakers except the one for the second-floor kitchen.
With his traps set, Xiao Yi returned to the first-floor kitchen window and peered inside. There should still be some useful supplies in there.
The zombies in the kitchen were stirring again, growing active. Three of them pressed their grotesque faces against the window, slapping at the glass while mechanically sniffing the air. Their sense of smell was shockingly sharp—they could detect human scent even through the pane.
Xiao Yi smashed the glass with a rock, then stabbed the lured zombies dead with his modao before firing up the chainsaw to cut through the kitchen door.
A wave of putrid stench—mingled with every kind of rot imaginable—hit him the instant the door gave way.
Borrowing the fading twilight, Xiao Yi rummaged through the kitchen for edible provisions. Most of the food had spoiled, but he scored some flour and rice, plus sealed cans of meat and seafood. In one freezer, he even found several dozen bottles of premium red wine, a few cases of Guinness beer, and all sorts of beverages.
He grabbed a few bottles of wine and beer at random, tossed them in a basket, and headed back to the second-floor kitchen.
Stephanie Seymour hadn't been idle in the meantime.
She'd not only toasted some bread but had even braved the backyard to pick vegetables for a hearty stew. Add in the canned seafood and meat Xiao Yi brought back, and their dinner looked downright lavish.
In this apocalypse, a hot meal was the height of luxury.
Starved after a full day on the move, Xiao Yi and Stephanie each cracked open a bottle of red wine, poured it into goblets, and settled in for an end-of-world feast fit for kings.
"I thought for sure I'd die here," Stephanie said softly, raising her glass to clink against Xiao Yi's before downing her wine in one go. "I never dreamed I'd meet you! Thank God... and thank you, Mr. Xiao!"
"This might be the best dinner of my life."
"The honor's mine," Xiao Yi replied.
He took a small sip of the wine. It was excellent—nothing like the cheap swill from his previous life. Smooth on the tongue, with a gentle warmth and hint of sweetness, no bitterness at all. A flavor that could easily hook you.
But in this apocalyptic hellscape, he needed to stay sharp. Drunk was dangerous, no matter how fine the vintage.
"Stephanie, is this manor yours?" Xiao Yi asked casually, probing with genuine curiosity.
1993 marked the golden ascent of Stephanie Seymour's career. If memory served, this was when she started turning heads in the supermodel world, laying the foundation for her reign as its queen.
The media fawned over her during this period; stardom was just around the corner.
But even so, she was just a wealthy supermodel at best.
And "wealthy" was relative—compared to regular folks, sure.
Next to the real power players and elites, she was little more than a toy to be toyed with.
With her current status and fortune, there was no way Stephanie could own a fortified luxury manor like this.
Sure, it was in the suburbs—but these were the Hollywood suburbs!
And how does a supermodel rate a special forces rescue team from the military?