Although he didn't want to be a tasty morsel, he couldn't bring himself to deliberately ruin his health to make himself unappetizing. That would be like sending prey to the infected, putting the cart before the horse.
Thinking more broadly, he wasn't the only man or woman in the world who looked pleasingly plump. Instead of dwelling on what-ifs, why not focus on strengthening himself and increasing his chances of survival?
Wait.
Yè Xiǎochuān suddenly pressed his temples, a headache blooming.
Was he misapplying human descriptors just now? What did 'pleasingly plump' even mean? How did he get this feeling of being prey? These analyzing 'great gods' were toxic.
Little did Yè Xiǎochuān know that a large portion of these 'great gods' hiding behind their screens were in their incubation period. While they still had their consciousness, they were providing their real-time data to the remaining survivors, contributing to others' escape.
Perhaps they were unsung heroes, but their intentions could not be ignored.
Yè Xiǎochuān set aside the question of whether meat was tasty. Next, did the infected have excretory functions?
There were many differing opinions on that. Next.
Were the infected alive or dead?
This was what everyone cared about most. Life or death determined whether they had become murderers, whether they had to hide endlessly for the sake of law and morality. Moreover, everyone feared losing internet access the next moment. Under life-or-death circumstances, they actively joined the discussion, which became several times hotter than the previous topic, with hundreds of pages of replies. Although the online population had clearly decreased, they were all very active in posting and replying.
He remembered that Ān Zhǔnnán saw a heart monitor in the hospital, and also from his actual fights with the infected, it was evident they had no heartbeat. According to medical understanding, they should be dead.
But they came back to life soon after dying. Have you heard the ancient folktales, like 'The Painted Skin'?
Even if it's the same skin, everything inside might have been replaced.
It's like the plants growing outside; they divide, propagate, and change. They are no longer the original genes.
When the infected die and then come back to life, is it due to the virus within them?
Several seemingly real or fake virus structures were leaked online, but there was no scientific basis.
Yè Xiǎochuān shut down the computer and took out a blank notebook. He wrote down a series of chemical equations, their complexity making one's scalp tingle. As a lazy pseudo-academic who was ostracized everywhere, he didn't retain much knowledge, so he could only follow his memory to calculate these virus structures step by step.
After a long time of writing and modifying, with his knowledge reserves, he couldn't arrive at any definitive results. He could only confirm that some elements within were active. The infected were not entirely dead. The dead cannot hear or perceive their surroundings. They should belong to a type of active organism.
Knowing that the infected ran at speeds comparable to normal humans, and their daily activity likely exceeded that of humans, their stamina would deplete rapidly. Thus, their chase duration was limited, which suggests a very fast metabolism.
He recalled a detail: the frail young boy couldn't catch him at first, but after biting those workers and consuming fresh blood and flesh, he seemed to have been fully revived on the spot and chased him for several blocks, far more ferocious than the square-faced man.
Could he assume that human flesh contained the energy the infected needed to compensate for metabolic losses? And this energy could allow them to replenish quickly, even keeping their cells active?
If he followed this logic, this activity might even slow down the infected's decay rate... it's a bit chilling to think about. So they must keep 'eating' to maintain their energy?
This was just Yè Xiǎochuān's personal speculation, unverified. He wanted to conduct an experiment, but it required the cooperation of an infected person. The vicinity was currently a safe zone, so he had to wait patiently.
He got up and found the drill charger in the cabinet.
Yè Xiǎochuān listened to the commotion outside. Two hours later, people trying to break into the safe zone appeared downstairs again. However, they weren't as lucky as Yè Xiǎochuān. Because no one vouched for them, they clashed with the residents inside.
He smirked slightly, unplugged the drill, and under the cover of the noisy chaos downstairs, he drilled a circular, openable hole in the iron window of the bedroom. He opened and closed it several times, then again, and again. It was quite flexible, Yè Xiǎochuān nodded with satisfaction.
This large circular window allowed him to see downstairs without drawing attention.
You think this will completely trap me? Come on, my title of 'home improvement whiz' wasn't earned for nothing.
Of course, I'll stay inside obediently, but isn't it ignorance to not know the surrounding situation?
Two injured residents from downstairs fled back from outside, only to be ruthlessly driven away. Because they were being difficult, they were eventually killed by the tattooed man and his companions. Their bodies were dragged away. Although the residents sighed and couldn't bear to watch, they tacitly accepted the action.
As the environment changed, human hearts and kindness gradually deviated.
He noticed the residents rebuilding a cement wall next to the sandbag embankment. A group of men worked, very quickly, and by afternoon had built a wall sturdier than the sandbags. It would be completely dry in a few days.
As night fell, the chirping of cicadas disturbed the peace. Below the building, near the embankments, several patrol personnel were surveying the area, taking turns on