I run a resort hotel in the end times

Xiongxiong moved quickly, jumped out of the car and ran into the house.

Xia Yan was attracted by the paper on the wall and walked over. However, this paper was more rotten than the paper on the pillar. Not only was it yellow, but all the handwriting was fused together.

"Boss, come in quickly, there is glue under the table!"

Xiongxiong shouted in the house. When he saw Xia Yan, he showed his discovery. He stretched out his claws to hold the edge of the table and lifted it up, but the table did not move at all.

"Look, it's like this." Xiongxiong then went to lift the stool, but it couldn't move. There were also cabinets and beds. Basically, all the movable furniture in the house were fixed to the ground. "I was wondering why it was so neat. So that's the case. The cabinet door can't be glued together with glue, right?"

It muttered and pulled the cabinet door.

𝟿𝟼sʜᴜ.ɴᴇᴛ】

Xia Yan did not stop him. She was also very curious now.

The first time, Xiongxiong failed to pull it open. The second time, he stuck his butt back and pulled hard. With a clang, the two door panels opened, and the fine dust mixed with the musty smell rushed in like a tidal wave.

Xiongxiong covered his nose and stepped back, looking at the items inside.

On the left side of the cabinet, there were bedding and pillows with neat edges, and on the right side, thin clothes of the season were hung on hangers. Men's leather shoes were placed at the hem, which looked well preserved.

Next to it, there was a scarlet diary with gold-stamped handwriting.

Looking at the degree of wear on the cover and the color depth of the edges of the pages, you can tell that it is a record of something.

When the dust settled, Xiongxiong looked at the diary and asked, "Do we want to read it?"

It may record the protagonist's life, or it may record what happened in the village, and what exactly was written on the paper.

Xiongxiong looked at Xia Yan, and Xia Yan shook his head at it.

"Don't look at it. Seal the cabinet again and let it wait for the next destined person."

Xiongxiong did as he was told, but the glue on the cabinet door became disposable, which could only be opened but not glued firmly.

Xia Yan bought a bottle of 502 from the mall and handed it over.

"This stuff is not good for sticking shoes, but it sticks other things very firmly."

Xiongxiong: "Oh."

The furnishings in the house are simple, just like a bachelor's nest. There is nothing else worth surfacing, so Xia Yan went out.

She planned to walk around the village and see if she could find a few more well-preserved papers.

Putting away the mountain bike, Xia Yan walked along the road.

Basically, the furniture of each family was firmly in its original position, and there were even one or two families whose windows were intact.

There were no signs of fire on the walls here, and no blood had been sprayed. No one broke the glass or collapsed the roof. It seemed that this was just a village where everyone went out to work, leaving only the old houses.

Xia Yan found that there was a small flower bed in front of every house. Even if no one took care of it, the yellow wild flowers that she had just seen on the roadside were still blooming, so lush that they had no shape.

On the pillar next to the flower bed, she found the plastic wrap again.

Xia Yan found a pattern. Almost every upright object was covered with this kind of paper, all over the house and every corner.

After a long time, she finally found a piece of paper with recognizable words in a place with a covered roof near the charging port.

It was just a little high.

Xia Yan had to move a stool to pad her feet and get close.

"My mother... died at... 24 minutes after the treatment was ineffective... at the age of... my mother was... kind-hearted... the whole family was extremely sad... in view of the particularity of the disease, she was buried with other seriously ill people... in the garden."

There was also a photo on the paper, which was black and white and was much darker because of the wind. It showed an old lady with a smile on her cheeks, showing her kindness.

This turned out to be an obituary.

It turns out that those papers are...

Xia Yan jumped off the stool and looked at the obituaries posted everywhere in all directions. It was hard to describe the feeling in her heart.

The zombie virus spread all over the world, how could this small village be missed.

But who made those obituaries one by one and posted them in the village to express grief?

What kind of mood did the person who made the obituary have when he wrote and looked for the most suitable photos for the deceased in the place where he used to live?

What kind of mood did that person have when he watched or buried his once familiar neighbors?

Who is he...

Rustle.

Rustle.

Xia Yan looked back at the source of the sound. It was the sound of paper shaking, brought by the wind.

On the pillar, the old lady looked past her and looked into the distance.

That was the entrance of the village.

Xia Yan had a flash of inspiration in her mind.

She suddenly turned around and ran back, all the way to the first house.

Inside the room, the right door of the closet has been glued, and Xiongxiong is guarding the left door frame, counting down.

"8——Boss, I'll be ready soon, you stay outside first, huh? What are you looking for? Leather shoes? Zhikang's feet don't seem to be that small."

Xia Yan reached in, touched the thick book along the stiff upper of the leather shoes, and took it out.

Xiongxiong saw what she was holding and said in surprise: "Huh? So this is it? There is a big secret in it, right?! I knew it was like this."

It closed the door with a clang, followed Xia Yan, and sat on the steps outside the door.

Xia Yan wiped the dust off the diary, untied the rope respectfully, and then turned it over, turning the notebook from back to front - just read the key points, do you really have to start reading from the protagonist's youth?

The young man was frivolous, hot-blooded, and full of youthful hormones. If there were some bloody dreams or fantasies recorded in it, she would be a little embarrassed after reading it.

It looks best from behind.

Turning over the last yellowed page with strokes showing through, a piece of writing that looked like ghostly drawings appeared in front of my eyes.

The person who wrote was obviously in extreme panic. His lines were trembling and he was working very hard. It seemed that he could no longer squeeze the pen tightly with three fingers. Instead, he held it with his fist. He used all his strength to write every word.

Xia Yan raised the diary to face the sun and read it carefully.

"The day has finally come. It is inevitable that I will be infected. I have to go."

There is only one short sentence on this page, but it is spread all over the page, and the words are all stacked together.

Xia Yan turned forward to the next page.

"The little granddaughter of the sixth aunt's family was bitten. It only took eight seconds to turn into that kind of monster. She was small and flexible. In the end, she was hacked to death by me. When I went home to clean it, I found a wound on her hand. , no bleeding. Number of survivors: one."

Seeing this, Xia Yan felt that this might be the reason why he was finally infected.

Continuing to turn forward, almost every page records the names of the infected people in the village, and the number of survivors on that day is left at the end.

Because she turned the pages upside down, the numbers below became larger and larger, and the protagonist recorded more and more content. The handwriting gradually became clear and neat, like a neatly folded quilt in the closet.