Gu Rong kicked the large rat dead, and Grandpa Ming roasted the rat. This dinner was considered a collaboration between the two; both contributed.

After eating the rat leg, Gu Rong patted his little tummy, burped contentedly, looked up, and saw Grandpa Ming dismantling discarded cardboard boxes.

After dismantling several, Grandpa Ming made a simple sleeping mat on the floor, lay down on the cardboard, preparing to rest.

Gu Rong didn’t know how to dismantle cardboard boxes, but being small, he directly crawled into a cardboard box and lay down inside to sleep.

Grandpa Ming turned his head and glanced at him.

Gu Rong poked out half his little head, also turned, looked towards Grandpa Ming, his big eyes blinking rapidly.

After staring at each other for two seconds, Grandpa Ming turned over, hugged his cane, and slept with his back facing Gu Rong.

Seeing this, Gu Rong awkwardly played with his own small hands, then shrank his little head back into the cardboard box, the entire cub fitting inside.

Zaizai sleepy time too!

One old and one young, one large and one small, lying left and right, with the gently flickering campfire between them, the boundary distinct.

The night passed without incident.

The next few days were relatively peaceful and calm. Gu Rong and Grandpa Ming maintained their clearly defined, somewhat distant relationship, each occupying one side of the bridge culvert.

Grandpa Ming seemed to have taken a liking to this bridge culvert, deciding to settle down here. During the day, he would go out searching for food, always returning here before nightfall.

Gu Rong, during the day, would go out looking for his Daddy and Mommy, but didn’t dare run too far, afraid of getting lost and unable to return. At night, he also returned to the bridge culvert.

There were quite a few rats under the bridge. Gu Rong basically couldn’t find any prey during the day, instead kicking quite a few rats dead, one kick each. He would place the large dead rats he kicked under Grandpa Ming’s side of the bridge culvert. Although this old grandpa looked fierce, the cub could sense there was no malice from him.

Grandpa Ming would glance at the little dumpling, usually saying nothing, just taking responsibility for roasting the rats. The old man and the young cub had a clear division of labor and a rare, excellent tacit understanding. But at other times, they lived their own lives. Grandpa Ming consistently ignored Gu Rong, acting as if the little cub didn’t exist.

One night, both were asleep in their respective spots. In the dead of night, Gu Rong was startled awake by a commotion.

He crawled out of the cardboard box, looked outside, and saw Grandpa Ming, who was old, frail, and seemed to have inflexible legs, using the cane in his hand to hit the heads of zombies. One strike per zombie, extremely efficient. One touch knocked off a zombie’s head.

There were about ten zombies in total, none of them a match for Grandpa Ming.

Gu Rong’s mouth formed an ‘O’, his eyes wide.

Grandpa Ming is so strong!!

Grandpa Ming’s expression was resolute. After knocking off the last zombie’s head, his sharp gaze turned directly towards Gu Rong.

Seeing this, Gu Rong immediately shrank his little head back into the cardboard box, pretending to be asleep.

But footsteps approached the box; Grandpa Ming walked over to him.

Gu Rong initially wanted to pretend sleep, but after Grandpa Ming came over, he called out to him: “Little Zombie cub.”

This was the second sentence Grandpa Ming had spoken to him in many days.

Hearing this, Gu Rong opened his eyes and looked up at Grandpa Ming.

Grandpa Ming said, “Little Zombie cub, you come out.”

Gu Rong obediently crawled out of the cardboard box, stood before Grandpa Ming, shook his little head, and said in a soft, cute, milky voice: “Zaizai not Little Zombie cub.”

Grandpa Ming said, “You are Little Zombie cub.”

Gu Rong crossed his little arms, huffed: “Zaizai just not Little Zombie cub!”

Grandpa Ming raised the cane in his hand: “My cane, when it hits a normal person, nothing happens. But when it hits a zombie head, one hit, one kill. You say not Little Zombie? Then I use a cane to hit your head once. Try to see if your head will be knocked off.”

Hearing this, Gu Rong immediately hugged his own little head with both hands, his little face pale with fright, looking fearfully at Grandpa Ming and the cane in his hand, afraid he would really knock his head off.

Grandpa Ming scoffed coldly: “If Little Zombie or not, one hit will know.”

Seeing Grandpa Ming really wanted to hit his head, Gu Rong’s little bun-face tensed.

A silent standoff with Grandpa Ming. After several seconds of standoff, his mouth puckered, and he burst out crying, “Waaaah!”.

Grandpa Ming: “………”

Grandpa Ming froze completely, the hand holding the cane even trembling slightly.

Gu Rong hugged his head tightly with both hands, mouth wide open, crying wawa, his little face crumpled, looking utterly wronged and pitiful.

Tears streamed down patapa, crying until he gasped for breath, his small voice choked: “Don’t hit Zaizai head! Don’t hit Zaizai head!! Waah wuwuwuwuwu!!!”

He had witnessed Grandpa Ming’s strength earlier, knocking off zombie heads with one blow, making him even more scared now!

Grandpa Ming was just trying to scare the little cub. From the first day they met, he knew this was a Little Zombie cub. Just now, if not for his alertness, this Little Zombie cub would have been snatched away by those large zombies long ago.

Seeing Gu Rong cry so pitifully wronged, Grandpa Ming’s face showed some discomfort.

Still just a two-year-old baby doll, how could he withstand being scared like that.

Grandpa Ming averted his gaze, his usually stern voice softening considerably: “Stop crying, so noisy.”

Gu Rong ignored him, already crying until he hiccuped. While hiccuping, he sobbed repeatedly: “Don’t hit Zaizai head! Bad grandpa! You bad grandpa!! Rongrong doesn’t like bad grandpa!!!”

Hearing him yelling, Grandpa Ming felt flustered, saying impatiently, “Stop crying.”

Gu Rong couldn’t stop crying.

Grandpa Ming said, “Stop crying! Go to sleep! Won’t hit your head.”

Gu Rong cried until his little body shook. One hand still hugged his little head tightly. With the other small hand, he wiped his own tears, obediently walked back to his cardboard box, and crawled inside to sleep. Even while sleeping, Gu Rong hugged his little head with both hands, afraid his head would be knocked off.

For the next few days, no matter what Gu Rong did, he always kept his little head hugged tight. He even ate with only one hand, the other small hand placed on his head, protecting his little head, although it offered no real protection.

Seeing this, Grandpa Ming increasingly regretted scaring a two-year-old child. The more regretful he felt, the uglier his expression became, and the uglier his face, the more terrifying he looked. Gu Rong became even more afraid to take his hands off his head.

Grandpa Ming sighed inwardly.

He wasn’t a good grandpa; he was a bad grandpa.

–

But after this incident, the relationship between Gu Rong and Grandpa Ming grew much closer. Grandpa Ming, due to remorse, also became much more indulgent towards Gu Rong than before. Although outwardly still grumpy, Gu Rong knew Grandpa Ming just looked scary but was actually good to Rongrong.

For example, whenever Grandpa Ming went out to find food, he would always bring back a bottle of milk for him. Whenever he talked back to Grandpa Ming, Grandpa Ming would say he was going to hit him, but never actually did. Whenever large zombies came over, Grandpa Ming always shielded him behind him, protecting him, not letting the large zombies snatch him away.

The space under the bridge was originally very empty and simple, but after some time, they even set up a tent. Grandpa Ming scavenged daily, bringing back food and supplies. Like picking up scrap, he found a small stool and carried it back. Found a relatively intact bowl, brought it back too. Found cotton quilts and clothes, brought them all back. Gradually, the space under the bridge was turned by them into the semblance of a “home,” complete with pots, bowls, pans, tables, chairs, beds, and stools – everything needed.

Nearby bridge culverts also gradually became inhabited. These people had more or less evolved powers. Although not particularly strong powers, unable to enter bases, but they could protect themselves somewhat. Like Grandpa Ming, whose cane could knock off a zombie’s head with one swing – that was also a type of power.

The nearby grandpas, grandmas, uncles, and aunties all knew Grandpa Ming had a lively, cute, and sweet-talking little grandson. Usually, when they had good food, drinks, or fun things, even though scarce for themselves, they would gift some over. It was as if they had returned to the human society before the apocalypse, because of this cub, a trace of human warmth returned.

Gu Rong also developed the habit of picking things up. Whenever he saw something good, he’d pick it up and bring it home. Sometimes, what he considered good might just be a small tile shard, a relatively round little stone, or a small bundle.

Grandpa Ming found it hilarious and exasperating, wanting to throw it away: “You little cub! Is this place a garbage dump? Picking up everything and bringing it home.”

Gu Rong carried the small bundle on his back, protectively shielding it, not letting him throw it away: “This Zaizai found scavenging!”

Grandpa Ming didn’t bother with him anymore.

If he wants to keep it, keep it. Anyway, it doesn’t take up space.

Gu Rong carried the small bundle, very happy. Whenever he went out with Grandpa Ming to find food, he’d carry his small bundle, his little face eager, rushing to the front.

But one time, the small bundle accidentally got snagged on a tree branch and torn, creating a large hole. He only discovered it upon returning home. The small stones and cards Gu Rong had picked up had all fallen out halfway.

Seeing the bundle was ruined, Grandpa Ming told him to throw it away. But Gu Rong refused. Looking at the large hole in the small bundle, thinking about all the things he picked up that were now lost, he couldn’t hold back and cried wawa.

Grandpa Ming watched him cry for a while, feeling frustrated and helpless: “Damn dead kid! Stop crying!”

Gu Rong ignored him, clutching his small bundle, his little body shaking with sobs.

Grandpa Ming was truly helpless. He could only find a needle and thread himself, eagerly trying to mend it for him. But he didn’t know how to sew; the more he sewed, the worse it looked.

Seeing this, Gu Rong cried even more sadly. Crying until the end, tired from crying, his little body leaned against his small bed, huhu falling asleep, tear tracks still visible on his little face.

Grandpa Ming remained silent for a long time, looking at the sleeping little baby doll. He picked up the small bundle and went to find Auntie Zhang next door.

–

Gu Rong woke up, couldn’t see Grandpa Ming, and forgot about the small bundle. He sat at the entrance of the bridge culvert, waiting for Grandpa Ming. After sitting down, just a tiny little thing, hands propping up his chin, he stared eagerly ahead, waiting for Grandpa Ming to come home.

Before Grandpa Ming returned, a large zombie appeared instead. As soon as Gu Rong saw the large zombie, he stood up and ran.

After being chased for two streets and successfully shaking off the large zombie, Gu Rong got lost again. It was already evening now, the sun about to set, and soon it would be dark.

Gu Rong walked into an unfamiliar place, calling out “Grandpa Ming,” but couldn’t find the way home. He couldn’t help feeling scared, his small voice becoming choked.

“Rongrong! Rongrong!” A familiar voice called from the distance.

Gu Rong’s eyes lit up. Looking towards the source of the voice, he saw Grandpa Ming leaning on his small cane, walking anxiously towards him.

Gu Rong ran dadada towards Grandpa Ming. Running close, Gu Rong hugged Grandpa Ming tightly with his short little arms: “Grandpa Ming! Zaizai here!”

Grandpa Ming’s eyes were full of worry and fear, but his tone was stern: “You little cub! Why run around randomly for no reason?”

Gu Rong pouted, tilting his snow-white little face up: “Big zombie chase Zaizai! Zaizai lost!”

Grandpa Ming’s expression softened. He raised his hand and patted Gu Rong’s fluffy little head. He took out the small bundle that Auntie Zhang had helped mend and tied it onto Gu Rong. A small red flower had even been thoughtfully patched onto the bundle.

Seeing the mended small bundle, Gu Rong’s eyes lit up. His small hands gently touched the little red flower back and forth, extremely happy.

Gu Rong said: “Grandpa Ming fix bundle for Zaizai! Grandpa Ming good!”

Grandpa Ming huffed: “Grandpa is bad grandpa.”

Gu Rong said: “Grandpa good! Good grandpa!” He patted the small bundle on his body, meaning: Grandpa even fixed the bundle for Zaizai!

Grandpa Ming’s eyes were full of amusement, but he deliberately put on a stern face: “I say bad, then bad!”

Gu Rong was small, but after his senses were enhanced, he was best at reading faces and capturing others’ emotions. He wasn’t scared at all. Spreading his small hands like a little adult, he sighed helplessly: “Grandpa say self bad, then bad okay.”

Grandpa Ming: “…”

He really was getting more muddled with age, actually being more childish than a two-year-old cub.

But the next second, Gu Rong grabbed Grandpa Ming’s two fingers and shook them gently, his milky voice saying: “Rongrong likes bad grandpa!”

Grandpa Ming: “………”

Grandpa Ming looked towards the distant horizon. A sour feeling welled up in his chest, his eyes slightly moist.

“Rongrong, let’s go home,” Grandpa Ming said.

Gu Rong nodded his little head: “Okay, Grandpa Ming! Let’s go home quick! Zaizai’s little tummy already growling gu gu gu!”

Grandpa Ming held Gu Rong’s small, meaty hand. The hand was soft and chubby, completely different from his own rough old hand like tree bark. Gu Rong obediently let Grandpa Ming lead him, carrying the mended small bundle on his back, happily swinging his little arms.

“I am happy little frog, gua gua gua gua gua gua gua…”

Grandpa Ming listened to his little grandson finish the song, offering rare praise: “Sang well.”

Gu Rong became happy, shaking his head, hopping along.

The sun gradually set. The afterglow of the sunset shone on the old man and the young child, casting two shadows on the ground, one large and one small. As they walked further away, the shadows slowly stretched longer, the entire world left behind them. …

Behind the two, another little dumpling, dressed in a dark blue hoodie set, quietly watched the figures of the grandpa and grandson walk away into the distance. Gu Rong separated from his past self’s body. This time, he didn’t follow anymore.

He waved his small hand: “Goodbye, Grandpa Ming.”