Chapter 352: I Need A Bath
For several seconds after the last zombie stopped twitching, I stood on the porch and stared at what used to be the front gate.
To call it a gate right now felt... generous.
There were a few criteria, as far as I was concerned that made a gate, a gate.
A gate opened. A gate let people pass through. A gate suggested that there was a reasonable chance someone on the other side might knock, wait politely, and be allowed inside if they had a good enough reason.
The thing in front of me looked like it had eaten the old gate, digested the idea of loving your neighbor, and then decided that property lines were better enforced with thorns.
What could I say? I approved.
The plants had taken every bit of metal that Yuche had left behind and grown around it until the bottom of the driveway no longer looked like an entrance.
Vines as thick as my wrist wrapped around rods, broken gate pieces, twisted fencing, and blades that had been driven into the dirt during the fight. Thorns pushed through the gaps like teeth, wet and sharp and still dripping black zombie blood into the soil.
Ash clung to the leaves and burned flowers had been swallowed by new growth, but the new petals were darker than before, edged in a deep red that looked disturbingly close to dried blood. The grass at the base of the wall had turned itself into a dark mat, and every blade leaned outward toward the cul-de-sac like it was hoping something stupid would come closer and step on it.
That was new.
It was also a bit ugly.
But ugly had its uses, especially when it kept idiots, corpses, infected sympathy projects, and anyone with opinions on mercy on the correct side of my property line.
The mansion was cut off again.
There was no road that led straight to my door. No worker could wander up from Old Chen’s side and ask whether I had a minute. No one could drag a bleeding disaster onto my porch and act like I was unreasonable for objecting. The wall stood between my house and everyone else, and the relief that went through me was so sharp it almost felt rude.
Even better.
Lingyun stepped up beside me, smoke still curling from his arms. His face held the smug satisfaction of a man who had just burned something personally offensive and planned to bring it up for the next ten years.
"I think the ugly candle learned its lesson," he announced.
"It died," I replied.
"Exactly. Very educational."
I looked at the blackened patch where the fire zombie had been dragged apart and crushed into the road. "I’m sure it’s reflecting deeply on its mistakes."
"It should. Its fire was embarrassing."
Of course that was his takeaway.
A fire-breathing zombie had blown a hole through my plants, called a horde toward me, and nearly burned the front lawn into a dramatic apology letter, and Lingyun’s main concern was that its technique lacked elegance.
Yuche walked past us and stopped a few steps below the porch. He lifted one hand, and some of the loose metal near the wall shifted. Most of the metal inside the barrier didn’t. The vines tightened around it instead, pulling the rods deeper until the whole structure creaked.
Yuche stared at the wall. "It’s holding my metal."
"Your metal?" I repeated.
His gaze slid toward me. "I did bring it."
"My plants ate it."
"That doesn’t make it less mine."
"It does if they digest fast enough," I replied, a smile ghosting over my lips.
A quiet laugh left him, but his eyes stayed on the barrier. "If I need to move it quickly, they’ll have to let go."
The vines closest to him tightened again around the metal, which was either a warning or my plants developing excellent comedic timing.
I crossed my arms. "They said no."
"They said no?"
"They said mine."
Lingyun brightened immediately. "I like them."
"You like anyone with possessive issues."
"I have standards."
"You tried to become a zombie fifteen minutes ago because I smiled at one."
"That was strategy."
"That was brain damage."
Zhenlan came to stand on my other side before Lingyun could defend his romance with decomposition. His clothes were streaked with ash, and faint traces of lightning still flickered beneath the skin near his throat. He studied the wall without smiling, which meant he was thinking the kind of thoughts that eventually became lists, repairs, restrictions, and other things that made my soul itch.
"This isn’t the same barrier," he said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
He ignored me, proving once again that he had become far too comfortable in my house. "The plants didn’t rebuild the gate. They replaced it. The metal is acting like a frame, and the roots are using ash and blood to bind the soil around it."
"So it’s a wall."
"Yes."
"A murder wall."
His pause was small enough that someone less talented than me might have missed it. "If you prefer that name."
"I do."
Chenghai stepped off the porch and crouched near one of the zombie bodies the plants hadn’t finished stealing. He reached for a severed arm, then stopped and glanced at me first.
At least one man in this house still respected the possibility of being eaten by accident.
"Wanna test it?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow.
I looked toward the wall. The flowers had turned outward. The vines had gone still. The grass at the base shivered like it knew exactly what was coming and was trying not to look too eager.
"Go ahead."
Chenghai picked up the severed arm by the wrist and stood, keeping his attention on the wall instead of the rest of us. He tested the weight once, then shifted his stance so he could throw it without stepping any closer.
Lingyun leaned toward me while Chenghai drew his arm back, his eyes fixed on the severed limb with open, ridiculous envy. "Are we throwing body parts now?"
I glanced at his face and immediately regretted it. He looked far too interested for someone who had been allowed to burn things less than ten minutes ago. "You sound jealous."
"I am," he replied, not even pretending otherwise. "I wanted to throw one."
"Behave, and maybe I’ll let you throw the next corpse."
Lingyun’s expression softened into something disturbingly sincere, like I had just offered him flowers instead of dead-body privileges. "You understand me."
"Unfortunately."
Chenghai threw the arm before Lingyun could make the conversation any worse.
It didn’t touch the ground.
A vine snapped out from between two twisted rods and caught the limb in midair. Three more followed, wrapping around the wrist, elbow, and shoulder before the thorns sank into the rotted flesh. The arm vanished into the wall with a wet crunch, and the flowers opened toward the other side of the cul-de-sac like they had just remembered there might be more snacks outside.
Yuche’s smile thinned. "It attacked before contact."
"That’s efficient," I said.
"That’s aggressive," Zhenlan corrected.
"Even better."
The wall shifted as the plants pulled the last pieces of the arm deeper into the thorns. Nothing about it looked like an entrance anymore. There was no path, no hinge, no gap where a person might squeeze through if they were determined, desperate, or stupid enough to think my patience was a public resource.
Chenghai looked from the wall to Yuche, then to me. "Can it open?"
Yuche answered before I did. "Not unless I move the metal and Rouxi moves the plants."
The silence after that was almost pretty.
Not flower-pretty. More like locked-door-pretty.
My house was on this side. My plants were on this side. My men were on this side. Everyone else could go practice having opinions somewhere I couldn’t hear them.
"No visitors," I said.
Lingyun grinned. "I love this wall."
"So do I."
Zhenlan looked toward the sealed driveway. "Then this becomes the new boundary. No one approaches from the road without permission. If Old Chen or the workers need something, they can wait on their side until we decide whether to answer."
I waited for guilt to show up.
It must have gotten lost.
The wall dragged one last strip of zombie flesh into the thorns, and black blood dripped from the leaves before vanishing into the roots. I looked down and finally noticed the gore soaking my sleeves, shirt, pants, and the ends of my hair. Now that the fighting was over, the smell had become personal.
I lifted one hand, watched black blood slide down my wrist, and sighed.
"Well," I muttered, "I need a bath."