At 8:00 PM, An Yang sat on the living room sofa in deep thought, with Chen Yafei and Chang Hui also present.
Through the experiments over the past few days, they already knew that zombies were more active in darker, colder environments. They primarily relied on hearing to detect survivors, their eyesight was even worse than an average person's, and their sense of smell had degenerated further, though they remained sensitive to the smell of blood.
"Clack... sss..."
Chang Hui lit a cigarette, took a deeply satisfying drag, and turned to ask An Yang, "Want one?"
An Yang frowned and shook his head. "I don't smoke."
Chen Yafei licked his lips, clearly tempted, but after glancing at An Yang, he hesitated and said, "Forget it, I won't smoke either. This stuff ruins your health. Brother An is right, keeping a good state of mind in this apocalypse is better than anything else."
"Heh, you're right. I didn't care much for smoking to begin with, but whenever I think that if industry can't be restored, civilians like us might never get to smoke it again in a year or two, I just want to indulge while I still can."
Saying that, Chang Hui took one last deep drag before pinching the cigarette out.
Chen Yafei said, "Cigarette cravings only get stronger."
Chang Hui smiled, turned to look at An Yang, and asked with a grin, "You aren't an assassin, are you?"
Chen Yafei's heart skipped a beat, and he hurriedly cast a nervous look at An Yang. He had some vague guesses of his own, but he didn't dare ask. Through the past few days of getting along, he always felt that An Yang was mysterious and harbored many secrets he was wary of others knowing.
An Yang turned his head