novelTele Chapter 6 All the Lights Are Out
Chapter 6 All the Lights Are Out
At six o'clock in the morning, the sky was not yet fully bright.
Zhang Xun sat up from the sofa, his neck aching as if he'd been punched. He rubbed the back of his neck and tiptoed to the first-floor shop area, his first glance fixed on the roller shutter door.
The frantic crashing sounds of the previous night lingered in his mind like an indelible thorn, stabbing there for a full day and night. He had considered repairing it during the day, but the roaming infected outside continued unabated, and starting repairs rashly would be tantamount to suicide. He could only watch helplessly as the deformed door wrecked, his heart pounding throughout the entire day, unable to find complete peace even when he closed his eyes.
The door was still there. The dent was still there. But the morning light allowed him to see more details.
He walked over, crouched down, and ran his fingers along the aluminum railing of the roller shutter. The impact had torn a crack in the lower left corner, about three fingers wide. He crouched even lower, his eyes close to the crack—the street outside was hazy and gray, and he could see a pair of feet wandering in the distance, their trouser legs stained with dried black marks. Scanning the entire street through the curtain, he felt a slight sense of relief: there were significantly fewer infected people on the street than the day before.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Qin Wei came down from the second floor, wearing a dark gray outdoor windbreaker, her hair tied in a ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes—she hadn't slept well either.
He stood up. "The guide rail is deformed," Zhang Xun said in a low voice, tapping the dent with his finger. "If there's another impact like that, the door will derail."
Qin Wei crouched down to examine it. Her fingers slid along the edge of the crack, feeling its icy touch. "The crack is big enough to fit an adult's fist," she said, her voice even lower than Zhang Xun's, "If they learned to lie down and look..."
"They won't," Zhang Xun said. But he wasn't sure either.
He stood up and walked towards the warehouse. Qin Wei followed behind.
Zhang Xun rummaged through the corner and dragged out a rusty toolbox—angle iron, self-tapping screws, and several pieces of wood salvaged from an old shelf. There was also a bundle of portable outdoor rivet guns; there was no welding equipment, but it was enough to drill holes and secure metal.
"Help me," he said.
Qin Wei took the tools, and the two began to work together silently. Zhang Xun measured the deformation angle of the guide rail, while Qin Wei handed him the angle iron; Zhang Xun used a rivet gun to fix it in place, while Qin Wei held the wooden board. Their movements were very light, and the "click" of the rivet gun sounded particularly loud in the empty shop, causing them to stop simultaneously each time to listen for the reaction outside.
There was no response. The roar remained distant.
The reinforcement lasted for an hour. They attached two layers of wooden boards to the inside of the roller shutter door and fixed them in a cross shape with angle iron and rivets. They also piled six sandbags, each weighing about 6 kilograms, at the foot of the door to form a buffer slope.
After finishing, Zhang Xun took a few steps back and typed on his phone for Qin Wei: "I can handle two or three more times at the level of last night. But no more."
Qin Wei nodded. Her fingers paused on the screen for a moment, then she typed another line: "A second line of defense is needed. If the door breaks, retreat to the second floor and set up obstacles at the stairwell."
Zhang Xun looked at her. Morning light streamed in through the crack in the roller shutter, slicing a thin, bright line across her profile. He remembered how she had knocked on the door three days ago at dawn, her white coat covered in blood, but her hands steady. Now her hands were still steady, but something in her eyes was different—not fear, but something solidifying, hardening.
"Eat breakfast first," he typed.
A slight noise came from the second floor. Lin Xiaotang was cooking porridge on an alcohol stove, breaking up compressed biscuits and soaking them in, creating a texture somewhere between porridge and paste.
The three sat around a small coffee table in the living room, eating porridge with plastic spoons. No one spoke. The porridge was very hot, and they blew on it gently.
Lin Xiaotang suddenly put down her spoon, took out her phone from her pocket, and typed: "I just saw someone waving from the building across the street when I looked out the window."
Zhang Xun and Qin Wei stopped at the same time.
"Which floor?" Zhang Xun typed.
"Fifth floor. Third window from the left." Lin Xiaotang's finger paused on the screen. "It's an old man. He keeps waving, as if he wants us to come over."
Zhang Xun walked to the window and peered through the gap in the curtains. He watched for a long time, so long that Lin Xiaotang began to shift her body restlessly.
"It's gone," he typed. "You might be mistaken. Or..."
He didn't finish. Or what? Perhaps the old man gave up, or perhaps he became one of them, or perhaps he was simply too tired and lowered his arm. In this city, "or" means too much, and they are incapable of verifying any of it.
Lin Xiaotang lowered her head and continued eating her porridge. She seemed to be thinking of her grandmother again; her eyes were a little red, but she didn't cry.
---
At 10 a.m., Zhang Xun observed the street from the second-floor back platform.
He scanned the area carefully with his binoculars—there were more infected than yesterday; he counted twenty-three. They were scattered throughout the street, some crouching by the roadside gnawing on something, others leaning motionless against walls, as if dozing. Occasionally, roars could be heard in the distance, whether from fighting among their own kind or the discovery of prey, he couldn't tell.
He was about to put away his binoculars when he suddenly heard a voice.
It wasn't a roar. It wasn't an impact.
It's a human voice.
The sound came from the direction of the six-story residential building next door. It was far away, but in this desolate city, the sound traveled much farther than usual.
"Help—! Is anyone there—! Please—"
A woman's voice, broken and intermittent, trembling with sobs.
Zhang Xun's hand froze on the binoculars.
Then he heard a second sound—thinner, sharper, more piercing—
It was the sound of a child crying.
From below the platform, hurried footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Lin Xiaotang rushed up, her face deathly pale and her lips trembling.
"You heard it too?" she said in a whisper.
Qin Wei followed and stood at the top of the stairs, still clutching the outdoor knife in her hand.
The three people typed on their phones.
Lin Xiaotang: "It's the building next door! The third or fourth floor—"
Zhang Xun: "I know."
Lin Xiaotang: "Let's go save them!"
Zhang Xun didn't reply immediately. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone, his fingers hovering above the screen. He typed three words and deleted them, then typed two more and deleted them again.
Qin Wei picked up the phone and typed:
"There are at least twenty of them outside. If we go out, we'll surely die."
Lin Xiaotang stared at the words, her eyes instantly reddening. She snatched the phone, her fingers trembling as she typed:
"So we're just going to stand here and listen to them die?!"
Qin Wei did not type.
She looked at Lin Xiaotang, and in her eyes was something Zhang Xun had never seen before—not indifference, but a kind of pain worn down by having experienced too much death. She had seen too many scenes like this in the hospital: cries in the corridors, pleas from family members, followed by silent acceptance. She knew where that boundary was, and she knew the price of crossing it.
The woman's voice grew louder, hoarse and strained: "They're at the door—I can't stop them anymore—please—is anyone there—"
Then came the sound of impact. Not the dull metallic thud of a roller shutter, but the cracking, splintering sound of wood. The door had been forced open.
Scream—
The sound of a child crying—
Then, a sound Zhang Xun couldn't describe. It wasn't human, nor animal, but something in between—wet, bubbly…
Everything came to an abrupt end.
The entire process takes no more than three minutes.
Lin Xiaotang squatted down, covered her mouth with her hands, and cried silently. Large tears fell onto the sleeping mat, making a soft "tap-tap" sound. Her shoulders were trembling, but she didn't make a sound; even her sobs were suppressed in her throat.
Qin Wei leaned against the wall, her eyes closed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her right hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of the outdoor knife, her knuckles turning white.
Zhang Xun stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He stared at the window; the white hand was gone, the curtains were drawn, or perhaps torn down by something. The window was now a black square, like a closed mouth.
Nobody said, "We should go and save them."
Because they all know the answer.
No one said, "We did the right thing."
Because they already know the answer.
After a long time—maybe five minutes, maybe ten minutes—Zhang Xun typed a line on his phone.
He deleted it.
I typed it out again.
Finally, it was handed to the two of them:
"From now on, no matter what happens outside, we must not speak out. We must not expose ourselves. This is not being cold-blooded—it's about survival. Only by surviving can we help more people."
Lin Xiaotang stared at it for a long time.
Her tears were still flowing, but slowly, trembling, she typed a single word:
"it is good."
Qin Wei did not type.
She walked over to Lin Xiaotang, squatted down, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder without saying a word. Lin Xiaotang trembled, then turned her head, buried her face in Qin Wei's shoulder, and cried uncontrollably.
Qin Wei didn't move, but simply raised her other hand and gently patted her back.
Zhang Xun turned around and continued looking out the window. His expression was unclear in the darkness, but his hand remained gripping the binoculars, his knuckles white, as if he wanted to crush them.
In the distance, beneath that window, more and more figures gathered. Drawn by the sound, they lingered, like sharks that had caught a whiff of blood but couldn't find the source. Zhang Xun counted them: thirty-six. Thirteen more than before.
He remembered the number. It was part of the price.
---
2:17 PM.
Zhang Xun was organizing supplies on the second floor, moving several boxes of compressed biscuits from a corner to a spot against the wall—he found the original location inconvenient to access. Lin Xiaotang was wiping can labels on the first floor, insisting on attaching a handwritten expiration date label to each can, her handwriting neat and precise, as if performing some kind of ritual. Qin Wei was organizing first-aid kits in the living room, repackaging alcohol swabs into sealed bags according to quantity.
No one noticed that moment.
The light flickered twice.
Then, it was destroyed.
It wasn't a gradual darkening; it was a sudden, complete, and completely unexpected darkness. The humming of the refrigerator stopped, the sound of the air conditioner's outdoor unit stopped, and the traffic noise from the distant street—which had actually been sparse for some time—was now completely gone.
All sounds vanished simultaneously, and the entire building fell into an unprecedented silence—not a quiet silence, but a vast, unsettling silence that followed the loss of all background noise.
Zhang Xun stood still, not moving. His eyes needed time to adjust to the darkness, and his brain needed even longer to process the information.
The electricity is gone.
He groped his way down the stairs, his footsteps echoing softly on the steps. The first floor was even darker, with the only light coming from the crack in the roller shutter door—that crack now looked like a horizontal knife, cutting through the ground.
Lin Xiaotang stood beside the shelf, her hand still resting on a can label. Her body froze, as if a pause button had been pressed.
Qin Wei walked quickly from the living room to the window and lifted a corner of the curtain. Her movements were swift, but she was slow to close the curtain completely.
She turned around and typed on her phone, the screen's light illuminating her face: "It wasn't just the wheels stopping. The whole block went dark."
Zhang Xun walked to the window and looked out through the gap in the curtains. The residential buildings and shops on both sides of the street, with their usually brightly lit signs and LED signs—all of them were now dark. It was like a sketch that had been suddenly erased, leaving only gray outlines.
In the distance, a transformer emitted a muffled thud.
"Bang—"
It wasn't an explosion, but a heavier, metallic, weary sound, like a giant sighing. Then, utter silence.
Lin Xiaotang's phone screen lit up briefly. She typed, "They won't be coming back, right?"
No one answered. The answer was too obvious.
Qin Wei stood in the center of the living room, still clutching the freshly packaged alcohol swabs in her hand. Her face appeared exceptionally pale in the reflection of her phone screen, but her voice was steady:
"Everything in the refrigerator must be eaten by today."
It's not about comforting or worrying; it's a doctor's instinctive reaction when faced with irreversible damage—to stop the bleeding.
Zhang Xun nodded.
He typed: "The secondary water supply pump room needs electricity. Without electricity, the pumps won't last long. Find all the containers that can hold water, and store as much water as possible while the faucets are still working."
Qin Wei: "We still have 5 barrels of bottled water and 120 bottles of mineral water. But after the water was cut off, flushing the toilet and washing up became problems."
Zhang Xun: "There are rainwater collection buckets in the backyard, which are used for watering the flowers. There are also three outdoor folding buckets on the shelf, which can hold 60 liters."
Lin Xiaotang finally moved. She put down the can, groped her way to the warehouse, and rummaged through the two folding buckets and the stainless steel kettle she usually used for camping—all the containers that could hold liquids.
The three of them moved about in the dark, the faint light from their phone screens flickering in the gloom. Zhang Xun filled the large soup pot and stew pot in the kitchen with water. Qin Wei found two unused plastic storage boxes, cleaned them, and started filling them with water. Lin Xiaotang even took out the stainless steel mixing bowl she usually used for baking cakes and filled it with water under the sink.
The water flow from the faucet grew thinner and thinner, as if the pipes were struggling to breathe.
Zhang Xun lowered his voice: "Quick, while there's still pressure."
The water flow lasted for about twenty minutes, then suddenly stopped. It didn't gradually weaken; it abruptly ceased, as if a valve had been tightened.
Qin Wei turned the faucet, but there was only the gurgling sound of air being drawn into the pipe, followed by dead silence.
She typed: "The tap water is off."
Five words carry more weight than any lengthy discourse.
Zhang Xun quickly calculated in his mind: the two folding buckets were about 60 liters, the soup pot and stew pot were about 15 liters, the storage box was about 40 liters, plus the original 5 barrels of water (90 liters) and 120 bottles of mineral water, totaling about 270 liters of water.
Three people. Cooking, drinking, and basic cleaning.
Can it last a month? Twenty days? Ten days?
he does not know.
Qin Wei didn't wait for his reply. She typed directly, the screen's light flickering in the darkness:
Drinking water: 1 liter per person per day, strictly rationed.
Water for cooking: Use stored tap water to cook porridge and instant noodles, and keep mineral water on hand.
Sanitary water: Zero. Excrement is sealed in plastic bags and temporarily stored at the back door on the first floor.
Washing up: Forget about it, wet wipes will do.
Zhang Xun read it and typed: "If the stored water runs out, we'll have to go out and find more. The secondary water supply pump room in the nearby residential area should have had water stored before the power outage. There are also fire hydrants."
Qin Wei: "Are you going alone?"
Zhang Xun: "Yes, we have to go tomorrow. I need to get the water from the pump room early. You and Lin Xiaotang stay here; I'll be out for a maximum of two hours."
Qin Wei stared at the line of text for a long time, then typed: "During the day, the visibility is better. Tonight... tonight, I'll guard these waters for now."
Zhang Xun: "Okay."
Qin Wei typed another line: "Bring your bow."
Zhang Xun glanced subconsciously at the head of the bed—a compound bow leaned against the corner, its string taut. The one Su Nian had given him.
He typed one word: "Okay".
Lin Xiaotang did not participate in the discussion at all. She sat on the sofa, a rabbit doll on her lap, her arms wrapped around it, her eyes staring blankly into the darkness.
Ever since what happened that afternoon—the scream from the next building, and the horrific scene that followed—it was as if something had been ripped from her. Not a breakdown—she was even quieter after crying—but something deeper, quieter, and more worrying.
Qin Wei glanced at her, said nothing, got up, and groped her way to the back door on the first floor. Using her phone's flashlight, she cleaned the platform, laid down a plastic sheet, and made room for the sealed bags. Her movements were very quiet, without making a sound.
Zhang Xun walked to the window and looked through the gap in the curtains toward the building next door.
There was no sound from there. Nothing at all.
The infected are still roaming the streets, more so than in the morning. Some are gathering at the entrance of the building next door—the traces of that scream from the afternoon may take days to fade.
This means that, in the short term, the adjacent direction is a restricted area.
He silently made a note of this.
---
7 PM.
The refrigerator's insulation was rapidly diminishing. The three of them turned on their phone flashlights, the dim light flickering in the darkness.
Zhang Xun took things out of the refrigerator one by one and placed them on the counter. Half a bag of frozen dumplings, already a little soggy. A few sausages. Two cartons of milk. A small dish of leftovers from last night.
Lin Xiaotang took the milk, opened a carton, and poured it into three enamel cups. Qin Wei sliced the ham sausage and stir-fried it with the leftovers—she used a gas stove, and the flame was still burning, but the blue flame was smaller than yesterday, making it appear particularly bright in the darkness.
Frozen dumplings are pan-fried. Since there's no rice cooker, a cast iron pan with a little oil is used, and they're pan-fried until golden brown on both sides. Lin Xiaotang sprinkled some salt and pepper on the side, twice as much as usual—she couldn't explain why, perhaps she felt this meal deserved a stronger flavor.
The three of them sat around a low table on the first floor, eating their last "normal meal" by the dim light of a candle (only one was lit and kept in a metal box to protect it from the wind).
The dumplings were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, the stir-fried ham was savory and delicious, and the milk was warm. If you ignored the complete darkness outside the window and the silence that had to be maintained, this meal could even be considered sumptuous.
But no one ate much.
There were three dumplings left. Zhang Xun offered them to Lin Xiaotang, but she shook her head. Qin Wei took them and ate them one by one without saying a word.
After dinner, Qin Wei added a new rule to the survival guide by candlelight:
6. Electricity/Water Management (Updated)
On the afternoon of April 11, residential power was completely cut off.
Water supply was suspended on the evening of April 11.
Food in the refrigerator should be consumed within the day.
Flashlight/headlamp: Use only when necessary, at the dimmest setting.
Candles: One per night, in a windproof metal box.
Phone: Airplane mode + darkest screen, used only as a flashlight and notepad.
Liquefied petroleum gas (LPG): Use it sparingly, prioritizing cooking and boiling water.
Water resources: approximately 270 liters (including bottled water, stored tap water, and mineral water), rationing will be implemented.
Backup plan: Secondary water supply pump room in the residential area, fire hydrants.
Zhang Xun glanced at it and added a line below:
「电池库存：5号电池24节、7号电池8节、头灯电池4组。省着用。」
Lin Xiaotang didn't write anything. She cleared away the dishes, wiped them clean with a wet wipe (she was now too reluctant to wash the dishes with water), then went back upstairs, sat by the window, and held her rabbit, looking out at the darkness through the gap in the curtains.
Downstairs, the sound of the infected person dragging their footsteps was exceptionally clear in the silence, like sandpaper rubbing against the ground.
Lin Xiaotang took out her phone, the screen light illuminating her moist eyes. She typed, carefully choosing each word:
"It must be dark over at Grandma's place too. And the water's been cut off there too."
Zhang Xun sat beside her, looking at the screen. He didn't type anything, but simply reached out and gently ruffled the top of her hair. His fingertips were calloused, and his movements were so light, as if he were afraid of breaking something.
"I know," he said softly.
Lin Xiaotang: "But I can't see her anymore. I can't see her at all."
Zhang Xun was silent for a moment, then his fingertips slid down her hair and gently patted her shoulder.
"I can't see her either. But we're still thinking about her, and Grandma is definitely thinking about us too, so we're still in contact."
Lin Xiaotang hugged the rabbit, curled up, buried her head in the doll, and closed her eyes.
---
Nine o'clock at night.
The city was completely dark.
There were no streetlights, no neon lights, and no warm light shining from the windows of the residential buildings across the street. In the distance, only a faint green glow remained in the direction of the government building—the emergency generator was still running, but no one knew how long it could last.
This was the first time the three of them had experienced a real, complete night without any power supply.
The flashlight was turned on only at its lowest setting, and the bulb was wrapped in a red plastic bag to reduce its brightness and visibility. Only one candle was lit, placed in a metal cookie tin; the flame was only the size of a thumb, and almost invisible due to the obstruction of the tin.
Lin Xiaotang curled up on the sofa, hugging her rabbit. She wasn't sleepy; her eyes were fixed on the candle flame, watching it flicker as if it might go out at any moment.
Qin Wei sat on the chair next to her, using the dim candlelight to review the list of medicines in the first-aid kit and making notes on a piece of paper. Her hand was steady, and her handwriting was neat, as if she were making a regular medical record.
Zhang Xun stood guard by the window, his flashlight off, observing the street only by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The moon was crescent-shaped, its silvery light spilling onto the deserted street, illuminating the wandering figures.
Quiet. Utterly quiet.
There was no hum of the air conditioner, no vibration of the refrigerator, no low rumble of distant traffic. These sounds had always been there, but people never noticed them until they all disappeared.
It was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.
Lin Xiaotang suddenly spoke, her voice very soft: "Sister Qin Wei."
Qin Wei looked up at her.
"You saw a lot of dead people at the hospital before, right?"
Qin Wei was silent for a moment. "Mm."
Will you get used to it?
A longer silence followed. The candle flame flickered, casting swaying shadows on their faces.
Then Qin Wei said, "No."
She paused.
"But you will learn to live with it."
Lin Xiaotang lowered her head and hugged the rabbit even tighter. Zhang Xun listened without interrupting. He knew that the conversation between these two women was more important than anything he could say. Some things were beyond a man's ability to process for them. They needed to establish a certain connection, a connection he, as a man, could not participate in.
"Today..." Lin Xiaotang's voice trembled slightly, "I've been thinking about that child. How old was she? Three? Four? And then..."
She couldn't continue. But then, another image flashed into her mind—Grandma sitting by the window on Cuiping Mountain, was she also thinking of her? Was she also counting down the days, wondering what Tangtang ate today, and whether she slept well?
"And Grandma..." Lin Xiaotang's voice softened even more, almost like a sigh, "She used to say that when people get old, they're not afraid of dying, but they're afraid of not knowing if their younger generations are doing well. Now... now is she worried about me, just as I worry about her?"
Qin Wei placed her hand on the back of her hand, this time lingering a little longer.
"She knows you're safe," Qin Wei said. "That's enough."
"Is that really enough?" Lin Xiaotang looked up, her eyes glistening in the candlelight. "I don't even know if she's alive or dead. I don't even dare to think about it..."
"Then think of her as alive," Qin Wei's voice was steady, as if she were stating a treatment plan, "Think of her as thinking of how you're going to live. You're thinking the same thing; that's the connection."
Lin Xiaotang looked at her, her eyes shining in the candlelight: "You were like this... in the hospital..."
"Yes," Qin Wei nodded, "this is the only way."
Zhang Xun nodded in the darkness, though they couldn't see him. He thought of his father, the old outdoor enthusiast, who had taken him camping when he was ten. That night, it rained heavily, the tent leaked, and his father had said something similar: Don't think about when the rain will stop, think about how to dry your sleeping bag. Think about concrete things.
He recalled Grandma Lin's last voice message—"Listen to Zhang Xun, don't come back." An old woman, in that moment, was thinking only of her granddaughter's safety.
"Your grandmother's last wish was for you to listen to me," he began, his voice soft enough for both women to hear, "which means she believed I could protect you. All three of us are thinking the same thing—to keep you alive."
Lin Xiaotang lowered her head and hugged the rabbit even tighter. She didn't ask any more questions.
Zhang Xun looked out the window, half of his body hidden behind the curtains, only revealing the view of one eye.
On the street, the moonlight cast long shadows of the infected.
---
late at night.
An explosion came from afar. A muffled thud, coming from the industrial area in the north of the city. It could be a gas leak, a substation, or something else entirely.
The firelight illuminated a small patch of the northern sky, the orange-red light spreading beneath the thick clouds for about ten minutes.
There were no fire trucks. There were no sirens. No one came to put out the fire.
The firelight shone through the gap in the curtains, casting a reddish-orange hue on the three faces before dimming again.
No one speaks.
Zhang Xun typed on his phone: "Go to sleep. I have things to do tomorrow."
He turned off his phone screen. Darkness once again engulfed everything.
Only the occasional roars from afar and Lin Xiaotang's barely audible breathing, muffled by her throat.
This was the first night without power.
That was also the night they truly realized they "couldn't go back."
Before, no matter how terrifying it was outside, at least the lights could still be on, the water could still flow, and the refrigerator was still humming—those insignificant daily routines were like a thin veil separating the apocalypse from normal life, allowing people to pretend that everything was only temporary.
Now, the veil has burned out.
No electricity. No water. No rescue. The woman and child in the next building were alive just hours ago.
This is the end of the world.
It wasn't the kind of dramatic apocalypse depicted in movies, nor was it an apocalypse where zombies swarmed in like a tide—but rather, one light after another went out, one drop of water dried up, one person after another disappeared, until the entire city became a huge, quiet, dark tomb.
The three of them sat in the center of the grave, each holding a rabbit doll, clutching an outdoor knife, and guarding a candle that could go out at any moment.
Zhang Xun lay on the sofa, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, he will go out to find water.
He had no idea what awaited him outside.
But he knew he had to go.
[End of Chapter Six]