As a photographer, Biān Chéng had been in a foul mood ever since the entire world went upside down.
There were no good photos to be taken. Everywhere he looked, there were ugly Zombies and collapsed walls. He was no enthusiast of wartime aesthetics; in his eyes, these sights were simply bad luck.
Which brainless, half-witted son of a bitch had made the world such a mess?
Chapter 167