Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home-Chapter 27: Rouxi Would Be Safe

POV: Xu Zhenlan

Something was wrong.

Xu Zhenlan stood at the window of his office, his hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the massive backyard behind the mansion. The view was familiar—if not empty. The birds were still chirping, the rabbits were hopping around like they owned the place.

Everything looked normal.

But it wasn’t.

He’d felt it for days now. A wrongness that had nothing to do with what he could see and everything to do with what he couldn’t.

The sensation had started as a vague discomfort, easy to dismiss as stress or overwork. But it had grown steadily more insistent, settling in his chest like a weight that refused to lift.

The news reports were controlled. Measured. They spoke of isolated incidents, localized outbreaks, situations being managed by appropriate authorities. The language was careful. Reassuring.

His international contacts told a different story.

Zhenlan turned from the window and walked to his desk.

The office was quiet, insulated from the rest of the house by thick walls and soundproofing that made it feel like a separate world. Dark wood paneling. Leather furniture. Shelves lined with books he’d actually read. A space designed for thinking, for making decisions that mattered.

He picked up his phone and sent a single message.

My office. Now.

The response came within seconds.

On my way.

Zhenlan set the phone down and sat in the chair behind his desk. He didn’t open his laptop. Didn’t review documents. Just sat, hands folded on the polished surface, thinking.

The reports from his contacts had been fragmentary at first. A colleague in Singapore mentioning supply chain disruptions. A business partner in London noting unusual government activity. A friend in New York describing hospitals quietly expanding capacity.

Individually, the pieces meant nothing.

Together, they formed a pattern.

Something was spreading. Something the media wasn’t reporting accurately. And the gap between what was being said publicly and what was happening privately was widening.

That gap worried him more than any specific detail.

The knock on the door came exactly three minutes after he’d sent the message.

"Come in."

Zhou Chenghai entered, closing the door behind him with the kind of quiet efficiency that characterized everything he did. He was dressed casually—dark pants, a fitted shirt—but his posture was alert, professional. Ready.

"You wanted to see me?"

Xu Zhenlan gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit."

Chenghai sat without hesitation, his expression neutral but attentive. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words. Just waited.

That was one of the things Zhenlan valued most about him. The man understood when to speak and when to listen.

"Something’s wrong," Zhenlan said.

Chenghai’s expression didn’t change. "With Rouxi?"

"With everything." Zhenlan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "But yes, my concern is her safety."

There was a beat of silence.

"Tell me," Chenghai said.

Zhenlan pulled up his phone and scrolled through messages. "I have contacts in twelve countries. Business partners, colleagues, people I trust. Over the past week, I’ve been hearing things that don’t match what’s being reported publicly."

He set the phone on the desk between them.

"Jaihia City is quietly stockpiling medical supplies. Ashbourne hospitals are canceling elective surgeries and expanding ICU capacity. Brookhaven is seeing supply shortages that aren’t being explained. Tohama City has implemented travel restrictions that weren’t announced officially."

Chenghai listened without interrupting.

"Individually, these could be coincidences. Unrelated decisions by different governments responding to local situations." Zhenlan’s voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it. "But they’re all happening simultaneously. And none of it is making the news."

"What are your contacts saying directly?"

"That the situation is worse than what’s being reported. That governments are managing information flow to prevent panic. That the infection—whatever it is—is spreading faster than official numbers suggest."

Chenghai was quiet for a moment, processing. "How much worse?"

"I don’t know. No one’s giving me specifics. But the tone has changed. People who are normally direct are being evasive. People who are normally calm are worried." Zhenlan met his gaze. "That tells me more than any numbers would."

The office felt very still.

"What do you want to do?" Chenghai asked.

"Prepare." The word came out flat, decisive. "Without drawing attention. Without causing panic. But prepare."

"For what, exactly?"

"Isolation. Lockdown. A situation where leaving the property becomes dangerous or impossible." Zhenlan’s hands tightened slightly on the armrests of his chair. "I don’t know what’s coming. But I know it’s coming. And when it does, I need Rouxi to be safe."

There it was. The core of everything.

Chenghai’s expression shifted slightly—not surprise, but acknowledgment.

He had known, of course.

Everyone who worked for Zhenlan knew that Rouxi was the priority. The singular focus around which everything else orbited.

"How long are we preparing for?" Chenghai asked.

"Three months. Maybe longer."

"That’s a significant commitment."

"I’m aware."

Chenghai nodded slowly, his mind clearly working through logistics. "Supplies. Food, water, medical equipment, fuel. We’ll need to acquire everything without making it obvious what we’re doing."

"Can you handle it?"

"Yes." No hesitation. "I’ll spread purchases across multiple vendors. Use different buyers. Keep quantities below attention thresholds. It’ll take a few days, but it’s manageable."

Zhenlan felt some of the tension in his chest ease. This was why he trusted Chenghai. The man didn’t question. Didn’t argue. Just assessed the problem and solved it.

"What about security?" Zhenlan asked.

"What about it?"

"If the situation deteriorates. If people start panicking. If they come here looking for supplies, for shelter, for—" He stopped. "What do we do?"

Chenghai’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes. A hardness that was usually kept carefully hidden.

"You’re asking what happens if people try to get onto the property."

"Yes."

"What do you want to happen?"

Zhenlan looked at him for a long moment. The question was simple. The answer wasn’t.

He thought about Rouxi. About keeping her safe. About what he was willing to do—what he was willing to authorize—to ensure nothing touched her.

"I want them stopped," he said quietly.

Chenghai nodded once. "Then I’ll handle it."

"How?"

"You don’t need to know how. You just need to trust that it will be handled."

There was a weight to the words. An understanding passing between them that didn’t require elaboration. Chenghai was offering to take responsibility for whatever needed to be done. To make the decisions Zhenlan didn’t want to make. To carry the weight of actions that might become necessary.

It was a significant offer.

And Zhenlan knew exactly what he was accepting.

"The property has good natural barriers," Chenghai continued, his tone professional again. "High walls. Controlled access points. I’ll reinforce the gates. Install additional security measures. Make sure we can monitor approaches from all directions."

"And if that’s not enough?"

"It will be." Chenghai’s voice was calm. Certain. "I’ll make sure of it."

Zhenlan studied him. Zhou Chenghai had been with him for eight years. Head of security. Trusted advisor. The man who stood between his household and anything that might threaten it.

He’d never failed. Never hesitated. Never asked for more authority than he needed.

And now he was asking for complete control over the property’s security.

Zhenlan made his decision.

"Do it," he said. "Whatever you think is necessary. You have full authority."

Chenghai’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something—acknowledgment, perhaps. Respect.

"Understood."

"One condition."

"What?"

"Rouxi’s safety is the priority. Above everything else. Above me, if it comes to that."

Chenghai’s gaze was steady. "That was always the priority."

Zhenlan felt something settle in his chest. Relief, maybe. Or just the comfort of knowing that someone else understood what mattered most.

"When will you start?" he asked.

"Today. I’ll begin acquiring supplies this afternoon. Security upgrades will take longer, but I’ll have the basics in place within forty-eight hours."

"Good."

Chenghai stood. "Anything else?"

Zhenlan looked at him—this man he’d trusted with everything that mattered, who was now taking on the burden of keeping them all safe in a situation neither of them fully understood.

"Just... thank you."

Chenghai’s expression softened slightly. "You don’t need to thank me. This is what I’m here for."

He turned toward the door.

"Chenghai."

He paused, looking back.

"If it gets bad," Zhenlan said quietly. "If people come who want to harm us. If you have to make difficult decisions—"

"I’ll handle it," Chenghai said. "You won’t have to know the details. You won’t have to carry it. That’s my job."

He left, closing the door softly behind him.

Zhenlan sat alone in his office, the silence settling around him like a blanket.

Outside, the city continued its normal rhythms. Traffic. People. Life moving forward as if nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong.

And now, at least, they were preparing for it.

He thought about Rouxi, probably downstairs on the couch, watching television or scrolling through her phone with that detached expression she wore like armor. She had no idea what was coming. No idea that he was putting measures in place to keep her safe.

She didn’t need to know.

That was his responsibility.

And he’d just handed the execution of that responsibility to Zhou Chenghai entirely.

The weight in his chest eased slightly.

Whatever was coming, they would be ready.

And Rouxi would be safe.

That was all that mattered.