Chapter Sixteen: The Uninvited Guest at the Museum

The basement door slowly creaked open, and a figure emerged, moving at a leisurely pace. A sudden tension gripped me as I thought, “Is that a person? Could it be that some ill-intentioned folks have discovered our hiding place and come to steal our food?”

The figure glanced around cautiously, and seeing no movement nearby, turned and headed toward the museum’s exhibition area. At that moment, Han Feng Xu burst out like a lightning bolt, pressing a knife to the stranger’s neck from behind, his voice cold and commanding.

“Who are you?”

We quickly followed, flanking Han Feng Xu on either side, eyes sharp and wary on the captive. As we drew closer, to our surprise, the figure was an old man.

His hair was streaked with white, deep wrinkles etched across his face, and age spots dotted his skin. Though well into his sixties or beyond, his clothing was impeccably neat and respectable. In his hand, he carried an old-looking device that seemed oddly out of place.

Han Feng Xu’s voice was icy: “Sir, who are you? How do you know we’re here?”

The old man trembled slightly, then spoke slowly: “Young friends, don’t be alarmed. I’m not here to find you. I am the retired curator of this museum—I worked here for decades.”

Han Feng Xu scrutinized him carefully, and seeing no threat, slowly lowered his knife. Yu Cheng Luo came around behind me, gently supporting the old man and kindly asked, “Sir, how did you come up from the basement? Is there a passage leading somewhere else down there?”

The old man, leaning on Yu Cheng Luo, sat down in a corner of the hall to catch his breath before speaking.

“Today is my granddaughter’s birthday. I wanted to find her a special toy, so I thought to look around the museum. I didn’t expect to run into you.”

Perhaps due to his age, he paused for a deep breath before continuing.

“There’s a secret passage beneath here, left when the museum was built in 1979. I discovered it by accident. It leads to a small warehouse behind the museum, and outside that warehouse is my home.”

At that moment, Han Chuan Jiang paid little attention to the old man’s words. His eyes were fixed on the device in the man’s hand.

“Sir, what is that you’re carrying?”

The old man glanced at the device. “Young friend, this is a simple ultrasonic emitter. My granddaughter’s father made it—it drives animals away.” He handed the device to Jiang.

Jiang took it, examining it closely, then whispered in awe, “The maker of this must be a genius. Though it looks roughly put together, it’s fully functional: piezoelectric transducer, breadboard, frequency generator, wires, power source—all complete.”

As we questioned the old man for more details, Jiang held the mysterious device and suddenly exclaimed, “Genius! Absolutely a genius! A design that rivals even mine!”

“Here we go again. How can you be more narcissistic than me?” I shook my head with a wry smile.

“Enough of that, Han Chuan,” I interrupted his self-admiration. “Let’s help the old man find some gifts for his granddaughter, then escort him home.”

We split up to search. I dashed to the third floor, rummaging through drawers to gather a collection of colorful paintings.

Yu Cheng Luo, meticulous as ever, found several delicate ornaments among the clutter, including an antique hairpin.

Han Feng Xu was straightforward—he brought a pile of weapons. Seeing this, Yu Cheng Luo and I burst out laughing.

I teased, “Boss, it’s a girl! Weapons aren’t quite the right gift. You really are the stereotypical straight man!”

Han Feng Xu realized his mistake, shrugged off the weapons to the side, dusted his hands, and awkwardly walked away.

We gathered all the items and handed them over to the old man. His eyes glistened with emotion as he repeatedly thanked us.

“You young friends must be hungry. Why don’t you come to my home? I still have some food. It’s not safe to stay here.”

None of us declined. Given our situation, food was scarce—almost nonexistent. Even without the invitation, we might have shamelessly used the excuse of escorting him home to get a meal.

Since the invitation was so sincere, we accepted graciously. We exchanged knowing glances; no words were needed to communicate our shared relief.

Quickly, we packed our belongings, donned the protective armor Han Chuan Jiang had carefully modified for us, and armed ourselves. Each of us looked like a formidable general preparing for battle.

Han Feng Xu and I led the way, Yu Cheng Luo supported the old man closely behind, and Han Chuan Jiang brought up the rear, alert to any dangers.

Passing by the corpse of the zombie cow in the basement, curiosity got the better of me.

“Sir, was that cow tied up by you before?”

The old man didn’t hide anything, sighing as he replied, “Yes. I don’t know how it got in. I used the sound from this device to drive it into a corner, then tied it up with some ropes.”

I exchanged a glance with Han Feng Xu, silently nodding. Indeed, ultrasonic waves were effective even against mutated zombie animals.

The old man sighed again as we walked. “I don’t understand how people living normal lives suddenly became these terrifying monsters—biting anyone they see. And then the animals... It’s what my granddaughter’s father calls zombies.”

We said nothing in response, unsure how to reply. We simply continued escorting him forward.

Winding through the underground passages, we turned several corners until a door with dim light ahead came into view. Pushing it open revealed the small warehouse the old man mentioned.

Judging by the surroundings, it had once stored antiques and relics but was now cluttered and disorderly. Han Feng Xu speculated it was a tunnel dug during the rampant tomb raiding in the 1980s.

Those tomb raiders were truly daring—daring enough to steal from a museum.

We didn’t linger. Following the old man’s directions, we proceeded onward. Exiting the warehouse, we faced a sealed civil defense door—could it be a garage? Excitement quickened my steps.

Sure enough, Han Feng Xu and I pushed open the heavy door to reveal an underground parking garage. Vehicles lay scattered and rusted in disarray.

“Almost there. Go through that door ahead; my home is on the seventh floor,” the old man said.

We entered the building and began climbing the stairs. By the time we reached the seventh floor, Han Chuan Jiang was breathless, gasping, “Finally... finally here. I’m exhausted!”

Yet, all along, a question nagged at me.

“The parking garage only has bloodstains and debris left behind by fleeing people—no zombies. The stairwell is the same. It’s very strange.”

I kept this to myself for now, not wanting to sow suspicion. I’d wait until I understood the situation better before speaking.